The last chapter was kind of short, so I made up for it in this one. Due to the plot, Amy may not be getting a lot action or fight scenes, but I intend to make up for it in other ways. Not necessarily in the romance, I also intend to introduce other characters and re-enter the Rose plot.

Also, Venom, because he's always a problem.

Anyways, hope you enjoy!

Chapter Eighteen

Ego Te Provoco

It had been two weeks and I was ready to lose my mind.

Two weeks stuck in Aunt May's house. Two weeks warm, well-fed, and sleeping long hours. Watching re-runs of Friends, chowing on turkey leftovers from Christmas (there was a lot), and learning to Actually, I slept more in those two weeks than I probably had in two months.

And in two weeks I was still no better than before.

I could only take three days indoors before I started taking walks outside. Not running, which at least would've been mildly exciting, because I still got a little faint if my heart beat too hard.

While I got caught up on school work and tried to keep my muscles of atrophying, Peter got to have all the fun, sneaking out at night and excelling at not getting caught out past curfew. He got to fight the Master Planner (new player), and destroyed his secret lair on New Year's Eve. I didn't even know who Master Planner was, but apparently he has some super-enhanced goons on his side. Which, you know, is a comforting thought.

But they were now safely locked up in Ryker's now. I mean, I would've helped, you know, if I could lift my right arm higher than my chest.

Aunt May noticed I was favoring it and I had to be careful what I did around her lest she started asking too many questions. I couldn't just show her or lie about what happened, because I didn't want her to send me to the hospital. Not only did I want the doctors to identify my injury as the knife-wound it was (would that get reported to the police? I hoped not.), but Aunt May couldn't afford the cost anyways.

That left the remaining problem: school.

I, along with everyone else, returned to Midtown High a week after New Year's. I knew my arm couldn't handle everything at school, especially gym, for what was going to be most of January, if not February, too. But I couldn't just tell the teachers that my arm hurt to get out of arduous tasks. So that's why I needed a solution. Something no one could argue with.

It was Peter's idea really.

I had to wait by the bus stop, and he decided to wait with me until it arrived. Sometimes the bus liked to skip us, because the driver is a jerk. He planned to zip off as Spider-Man as soon as we saw it coming down the corner.

I couldn't complain, really. Since I myself couldn't fly (Peter offered to take me with him, but that was obviously nixed by Aunt May's interference), the bus was the only passage to school.

It was as we huddled together by the sign, he handed me something. "Here, put this on. I got a slip, too."

"What?" I examined the blue fabric. A sling. I threw him a bewildered look. "Where did you get this?"

"It was in the first aid kit. No one's going to miss it," Peter said with a shrug, like sneaking around Aunt May's back was no big deal. I guess it wasn't — it was practically second nature now. He held up a piece of paper, "And you'll need this, too."

I saw the words across the page and gasped, snatching it out of Peter's hand and tucking it under my coat as if there might be spies around, just waiting to snitch on us to Aunt May. "Is that forged? Peter, if we get caught we could be suspended!"

"Hey, that signature is totally legit!" Peter said, throwing up his hands in protest. "I found one of my old doctor's notes and edited it on the computer. We still have the same family doctor. No one's gonna know."

"And what if they call the doctor, huh?"

"They won't."

"But how do you know?"

"They won't, Ames, trust me," Peter said, smiling. I just threw him a dark look, pulling out the slip to glance at it again. "And hey, if they don't believe you, all you have to do is pass out. I mean, you probably would for real, and that would be bad, but it should do the trick, right?"

"Let's just say your planning skills leave one wanting," I said, not entirely pleased with Peter's idea of a full-proof plan. I especially didn't want to faint in class and have everyone think I was some baby. Especially after my mean streak, which I intended to continue regardless of my injuries. Hell, if I played this off just right, I could get people to think I got this in a street fight.

I put it on despite my doubts, and luckily no one called me out on it. Peter disappeared shortly after that, and I resigned myself to the fate of stinky, obnoxiously loud bus-rides for the rest of the winter. Ugh.

I did get a few stares, though, getting on the bus but especially when it finally dropped me off at Midtown. I guess it would be quite a shock to see the resident troublemaker with a broken arm or whatever. I could now join the ranks of Astor Sloane and Flash Thompson in the stupidity-induced handicapped league. From what I heard (since Aunt May wouldn't let me leave the house for more than a few hours at a time, and never more than a few blocks away), Flash had been milking his injury for all its worth, getting his girlfriend Liz Allan to take care of him like she was his mother or something.

I didn't know how she could put up with him. Maybe it was a cheerleader thing.

Students were still gathered in the courtyard, even though it was freezing out and the cobblestones were slippery. I didn't spot any of my friends right away, or for that matter, Peter — he was going to be late if he didn't hurry it up. But I guess he just wanted to nab a few crooks before first period started.

As I was looking around and pretending not to notice the people glancing at me and the fingers pointed at my sling, my foot slipped out from underneath me, a patch of ice hidden beneath a thin layer of snow that caught me off guard.

"Whoa!" I tried to scrabble for balance but my feet had completely abandoned me. I would fallen had not a pair of hands caught me at the last second.

"Hey, careful!" It was Peter to the rescue. He grunted as he braced my fall, remaining firm on the slippery ground. Of course, Peter didn't have to worry about that, what with his fly-paper hands and feet.

I was mildly surprised by his sudden appearance, but didn't comment on it as he helped me back up and pull me away, which was embarrassing even without the fact that there were definitely a number of people staring at us now. Me, specifically. I shook him off, trying to regain whatever dignity I had left. "Let go! I'm not helpless!"

"Sorry," Peter held up his mittened-hands, wincing in apology. "I just didn't want you to get hurt."

"A fall's not gonna kill me," I muttered, throwing a glare at a group of girls who were glancing at me and whispering amongst themselves. Caught, they yelped and scattered. I smirked to myself. Well, at least my reputation wasn't completely shot. "I'll be fine. Let's just get inside before my fingers freeze off."

"Well, a 'thank you' would be ni —" Peter started to say, until a flash of giggling brown hair suddenly tackled him.

It was none other than Liz Allan, grabbing Peter's hand and hauling him away before he could even finish his sentence. I just stared as he waved me off, turning to the cheerleader with a happy smile on his face. If I had been a comic book character, there would be a million question marks popping up around my head.

Okay, when did that happen?

"What's that about?" I heard someone say, voicing my thoughts exactly. That's when I spotted Gwen and Mary-Jane off to the side, watching as the new couple headed inside the building. Gwen was looking particularly displeased. Not surprising, since she obviously still had a crush on him, and they almost got together last semester. But it seemed Liz had beaten her to the punch.

That, and the fact that Peter was an idiot who just couldn't decide what he wanted.

"Oh, haven't you heard?" Gwen replied with an eye roll, and I found myself drawing nearer. Finally, familiar faces. "They're a couple."

They saw me coming and waved, and I had just opened my mouth to add my two cents to this lovely conversation when Sally stormed past. "OH NO THEY'RE NOT!"

She shoved me aside so hard I almost fell again, but Sally didn't even act like she saw me. I threw a dirty look in her direction, brushing myself off where she had touched me. At least she hit my good shoulder.

"You know," I said, finally recovering and looking back at the other two, who gave me raised-eyebrows. "Peter somehow failed to enlighten me on that new development. I'm sure it just slipped his mind."

"Yeah, I'm sure," Gwen agreed, although the look on her face changed. "Then again, no one's seen you in weeks. What the heck happened? Did you fall?"

"Oh," I said, glancing down at my sling. I had to take a second to recall my cover story. "Yeah. I was at the ice rink and landed on my arm wrong. Just popped right out. I'll be fine in a couple weeks."

"Is that why you stood-up that guy from the coffee shop?" MJ asked, as though that were the most important part of my predicament. I just made a face. "I mean, I guess it's not a bad reason. You still should have called him."

"I don't have a phone, remember?" I reminded her. Why was this suddenly about my dating life now? We were just talking about Peter's a second ago. "Besides, I'm not interested. In fact, I'm even less interested."

"Wait, who're you talking about?" Gwen asked, switching her head between me and MJ. Her eyes were alight with curiosity, and I realized just how stupid I was to bring this up in front of her. Great. Now everyone was going to know. "Amy met a boy?"

"A cute one," MJ said with a cheeky smile, making me throw my head back and groan. "Big eyes, nice lips," she winked at me and I continued to wallow in mortification. "It was practically love at first sight."

"For him, maybe," I muttered, stuffing my hands in my pockets. The Universe must be having a great laugh at my expense right now.

"And a way better arrangement than whatever's going on with Peter," MJ added, a controversial point that I wasn't sure I could agree with. Jeez, Peter and Liz or me and Dorian? I mean, he was good for an excuse, but that didn't even work out in the end. "Hey, I can call him for you!"

"I'm sure Dorian's already forgotten about me," I said. The bell rang and we all started heading towards the front doors. "I don't think he'd want anything to do with me after I blew him off."

"Well, we won't know until we find out," MJ said, taking out her phone and waving it in the air. I saw it and on instinct reached out to snatch it, but MJ dodged out of the way, laughing. "Oh, come on, Amy. You even remembered his name! It's not so bad! Just one little coffee date. He probably won't even be mad."

No, but I sure as hell will be. But there was nothing I could do. I just gave Mary-Jane one last sour look before ducking through the doors, a warm blast of air meeting my face and melting my cheeks. "That's not really what I'm worried about right now."

Somehow, the hallways seemed even more crowded than outside, and I wondered why no one was in their homeroom. "What's going on?"

"It's Principal Davison's Start-of-Semester speech," Gwen said, poking me in the arm. We started heading up the stairs. "You must be really off your game if you forgot about that lovely tradition."

"I'd rather dislocate my shoulder again."

"You should take it easy," Gwen advised, frowning a little. Apparently she knew me better than I thought. "Don't push yourself. And don't get into any more fights."

"It was one time!" I exclaimed, throwing up my free arm. "You're never going to let me forget, are you?"

Gwen just gave me a sweet smile, patting my arm. "Not on your life."

I just gave her a disgruntled look before finally deciding to change the subject. Maybe there was something we could talk about that didn't make me feel so uncomfortable. "If I skip class, will you tell on me,"

"Amy," the other two said in unison, throwing me disapproving looks. As if to dissuade me of any rebellious notions, MJ linked her arm through my injured one, gentle enough so that she didn't hurt me. "This is going to be a good year, Amy. You just gotta think positive. Come on, let's head over to auditorium and get the good seats before they're taken."

I made a face — as if there were such a thing as good seats in a school auditorium. But I followed Mary-Jane and Gwen anyways, going up a couple flights of stairs (that startlingly had me worn out at the end), which they were kind enough to slow down for me. I was frustrated at myself for looking so weak, but there was nothing to be done about it.

Maybe Gwen was right. Maybe I should take it easy.

...Nah.

But before we could reach the auditorium, Gwen spotted someone at the top of the stairs and squealed so loud I nearly toppled down the flight of stairs we just climbed. Luckily, MJ was there to support me, while Gwen scrambled up and tackled who I thought was a complete stranger.

When we reached the landing, though, I realized I actually recognized him.

"Harry, you're back!" Gwen exclaimed, still clinging to him from behind.

It was Harry Osborn in the flesh, red hair and gray eyes just like his wacko father, having returned to Midtown High. He laughed, turning his head to grin at Gwen, who seemed to be strangely clingy to him. "Hey, Gwen! Man, I've missed you — I mean, all of you."

Then I realized Peter and Liz were standing right there, and figured out what Gwen was doing pretty quick. Peter just smiled and motion to the girl next to him, "Harry, you remember Liz? We're— we're, um..."

Although he couldn't get the words out, Peter's meaning was quite clear. Harry took it all in stride. "So I gather. Congrats!"

Gwen didn't look too pleased with the matter, but it was MJ who intervened, letting me go to usher the girl away, towards the auditorium doors, with Peter and Liz behind them. That's when Harry turned around and noticed me, jumping a little as though he were surprised. I guess I had been pretty quiet. Or maybe it was the sling. I don't know, I was pretty out of it lately.

"Hey, Amy," Harry threw me a wide grin, looking as fresh as the snow outside. I had to admit, I was still a little taken aback. It was such a change from when I last saw him in October — gaunt and broken and addicted to Globulin Green. "How are you feeling? I heard about what happened. I'm glad you're all right."

"Hey to you, too," I said, wondering just who the heck told him. Was it Peter? It was probably Peter. "I'm fine. You look good."

"I wish I could say the same for you." Harry said, giving a sympathetic wince in reference to my arm.

"You should see the other guy," I said, smiling and hoping that he wouldn't keep asking questions about it. Pretty much everyone had asked me that, which varying expressions of shock to smugness (in Astor's case). "It's all right. Just a broken shoulder. I'll be copacetic by February."

"Is it true you also broke Astor's arm?" Harry asked, tilting his head and looking more amused than weirded out.

"Uh, ah-ha," I chuckled nervously. So he heard about that, too. "Yeah. I'm sure she's ecstatic that karma came back to bite me in the —"

I was cut off by the shrill call of the bell, and everyone made a rush for the auditorium. The sound was jarring and made me wince, nearly disorienting, and when I looked around again, I saw the Green Goblin, standing in the hall way and giving me a nasty grin.

"You coming, Amy?" He asked in that gravelly, cackling voice.

I jumped at the sight, wondering how the hell the Green Goblin was back — how he was in school, how he knew my name — when I blinked and the image was replace by Harry, waving me to follow. "You don't want to miss Principal's Davison's riveting speech, do you?"

"Uh, right, yeah," I said, shaking my head and trying to get the weird shivers out of my body. What the hell was that? I didn't even know what I saw, or what my brain had wanted me to see. Taking a deep breath, I put a smile back on my face and followed him. "I'm sure it'll be just as great as last time."

Maybe I took too much pain medication this morning.

Or maybe it was something else.

OoOoO

It was difficult to focus in class. Although I was glad to finally have something to do, I realized that I still wasn't ready to re-enter normal society — I was far too restless, and being caught in a sling was not helping. I couldn't even use Gym to get rid of excess energy.

That wasn't the only thing, though. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't forget the fact that Goliath was actually Franklin Koppel, back from the dead and apparently brain-washed and turned into a crazy Terminator cyborg. I didn't care about the Key anymore — I wanted to know who created him, who thought that this was somehow a good idea. And if there were more like him.

My first instinct was that this was Kane's doing. I mean, who else besides her would be capable of such a thing? She created Dr. Grace's new form, this would hardly be a challenge. But did that mean she wanted to protect the Key, or did she sell Goliath who needed some freaky guardian?

Of course, any investigating I made in the past few weeks led to absolutely nothing. It was one thing to be rendered physically useless, it was another to feel stupid on top of it all. God, why couldn't I get anything done?

And if I wasn't thinking about Koppel, I was wondering about the Doc. Although I had tried over and over to convince myself that I didn't care, that I hated him, that he tricked me, I still couldn't help but feel sad. Sad for what? I wasn't sure. I was resentful, sure. But maybe that was my fault. I expected too much. I asked for something the Doc couldn't give, and got angry when he rebuked me.

I still couldn't reconcile that. Why would he tell me all that stuff back in November if it wasn't even true? Was it just a quick fix, something to get myself back in gear to fight off Venom? After all, it was Smoke's idea, and apparently Doc owed him a favor. Maybe he was just doing his best.

It didn't help with the fact that I was still having trouble controlling my emotions. Just last night I had a nightmare and nearly broke the window (thankfully I missed). The loud noises on the bus made my hands shake. I felt like I was on a slow descent into chaos, spiraling out of control. And I didn't know how to stop it.

Even then, despite the anger and hurt and all the other emotional turmoil, I still felt as though the Doc could help me. There was something I missed about being in his house.

It took me nearly a week after returning to Aunt May's to figure it out. Safety. I felt safe there. I wasn't afraid to talk to the Doc, at least it was fun to annoy him, and he didn't treat me like a little kid. Well, okay, it was pretty obvious he thought I was stupid, but he didn't try to 'fix' me in that way that school counselors did; he wasn't condescending like they were, he never told me I was wrong or misguided for acting the way I did. I wasn't a lost cause waiting to be saved by just the right person, a child to be pitied and coddled. Ugh.

He respected me, or at least I thought he did. I knew what disrespect was, and what I experienced there was far better than anything like that.

I had trusted a complete stranger with my well-being, and wasn't disappointed. It was such an amazing feeling, this optimism, this happiness in learning that there was still good in humans that I wasn't sure what to make of it.

I was broken out my reverie by Peter poking my arm. "Hey, Amy. Amy!"

"Mm, what?" I asked him, frowning. We were in Physics II together. So far the class was straightforward; all the material I read so far was familiar and anything new I understood with no trouble. The calculations I made were so far correct (minus a few double-checking's revealing some rookie multiplication mistakes) and I had faith that I could pass the test from last semester's class.

Peter ducked his head, whispering, "I have to talk to you about something,"

He was quiet enough not to be overheard. Immediately realizing it must be important, I leaned in as he said, "I saw something today, on the way to school. I just...I don't know if it's real or..."

"Or what? What happened?" I frowned at him. Peter looked pretty shaken, now that I thought about it. Whatever he saw must've been bad.

"It's just..." Peter shook his head, scratching his cheek and staring at his worksheet, seemingly at a loss for words. "I saw Eddie. On a roof. I was swinging over to school and he was just...there. I didn't even know what I saw until I looked around again. But he was gone."

Eddie Brock. My eyes went wide and my jaw dropped, but I couldn't think of what to say. Just the name sent a cold stab of pain through my gut. The memories alone were painful to recall. "Are you...are you sure?"

"That's the thing, I don't know," Peter just shrugged, giving me a helpless look. "But what if he's back, Amy? What if he — what if he wants revenge?"

I just blinked, shaking my head. I refused to overreact, to let my fear get the better of me. Logic was on my side this time. "Well, even if he did, he wouldn't get it. He doesn't have the symbiote anymore. We got rid of it, remember?"

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Peter nodded, starting to look a little relieved. We had buried the symbiote, or what was left of it, inside a bag within some still-wet concrete somewhere in Chinatown. There was no way Eddie knew where it was, and no one was going to be finding it on accident. "I guess maybe I was just seeing things."

Apparently, we were having a bad day together. I decided to add, "I saw weird stuff too, today. With Harry. For a second, I saw...Well, I thought I saw the Green Goblin. It totally freaked me out."

"But Harry isn't the Green Goblin," Peter said, his turn to give me a weird look. "At least, not anymore. He's clean now."

"Well, duh," I rolled my eyes, throwing up a hand. "I know that. I'm just saying. Maybe we're both seeing things today."

"You think we're just overreacting?" Peter asked me, raising his eyebrows in concern. "I just feel like I can't relax sometimes. Like everyone's out to get me."

"It's called hyper-vigilance," I said, recalling a lesson from an old Psych class. "I guess we're too used to fighting, to being on our guard. Maybe we just forgot how to be normal."

"Well, being normal would sure be nice right now," Peter admitted, scribbling an answer onto his sheet. Then he looked back up and smiled at me. "Hey, are you going to Flash's party?"

"Uh," I stared at Peter, wondering if he was serious. "No?"

"Oh, come on! It won't be so bad!"

Why does everyone keep saying that? I threw my gaze to the ceiling, wondering why the Universe wanted my life to suck so badly. "You know, that sounds really tempting, Peter, but I really don't want to celebrate the birthday of someone that stuffed both of us into lockers."

"But he's in crutches now! And I got an invitation." Peter said, looking mighty smug about it. "I'm taking Liz. He can't say she can't come now."

Why the hell would Flash invite Peter? I mean, I'd understand if Flash wanted to the chance to humiliate him in front of his friends, but Flash wasn't really in the position to do so now that he's got a broken leg. I sure as hell didn't get an invitation, and even if I did, I wouldn't have gone.

Well, okay, I might've. But only to see what a party would actually be like. I'd just check to make sure I still had a good reason to hate them.

And yet, I saw the opportunity to turn this conversation around. I leaned against the table, smirking a little. "Right, about Liz. I think you forgot to mention you're little affair while I was home."

Peter flushed and didn't meet my eyes, and his hand wandered to the back of his head, scratching in nervousness. "W-what? It's not an affair — everyone just apparently thinks we've lost our minds. What's up with that?"

"I don't know," The fact that Peter was a nerd and Liz was a cheerleader wasn't what I was really worried about. Screw the norms, they could date whoever they wanted. I just wanted to know why Liz and not Gwen. "I thought you and Gwen had something nice going on. What happened to that?"

"I dunno."

That was the lamest answer ever. I just shook my head, disappointed. "You know, for a smart guy, you can be really stupid sometimes."

"I'm not the one who almost got myself killed," Peter shot back.

I glowered at him, my mouth clamping shut. Dammit. I was never going to win another argument so long as Peter had that against me. The only chance I had of ever having the upper hand was if he'd do something even stupider.

Unfortunately, that was a high bar to reach. Oh, well. It wasn't like I wanted Peter to get hurt. Of course not. I just wished he'd wise up already.

OoOoO

"MJ, I'm not going to that stupid party!"

Mary-Jane practically had to shove me through that door, planting both hands between my shoulder blades and putting as much weight into my superhuman frame as possible. She said through gritted teeth, "I got two invites thanks to Flash, and there is no way you're making me waste them! I invited Dorian, and I swear to God if you don't talk to him for at least five minutes I will personally tell Aunt May how you skipped English class."

I gasped, throwing her a horrified look. "You wouldn't."

She gave me a vicious grin. "Oh, you better believe it, sister. My mom and your aunt are tighter than knot — she'll believe anything I say."

"You are so evil."

"Go talk to him," MJ ordered, swiping a finger across her lips. "And I won't say a thing."

"You drive a hard bargain," I finally relented, letting go of the doorframe and tripping inside. At least it was warm inside, and surprisingly a lot of people here I knew, and most of them weren't jerks.

Sally might be an issue, but at least Astor wasn't here.

I didn't see Dorian at first, so I took the extra time to mentally prepare myself. I was only doing this for MJ's benefit and because I really had nothing better to do. With all this extra free time, I had finished my homework from now till the end of the next week, and I was just kind of bored.

Not bored enough to go to parties, but still.

As MJ looked around to find him, I was intercepted by Peter, who had already arrived earlier. He gave me a curious look. "Hey, you showed up after all! I didn't think you would."

"It's not by choice," I muttered, stuffing my hands in my pockets. I didn't really know how to act in a social environment like this. There was music, but not the kind you dance to. There was food, but too many gathered at the tables. And there were people, but none I wanted to talk to. "MJ made me."

"Ah," Peter nodded his head in clear understanding of the situation. "That explains everything."

Peter had been in a sour mood ever since last night, when the Sandman got away with some priceless Greek vase from the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Apparently when you feed him sand, Marko Flint got bigger and stronger. Who woulda thunk.

Oh, yeah, and Peter spotted Eddie Brock again, right before the Museum break-in. This time, we weren't so sure it was just an illusion. Did Eddie have anything to do with the heist?

It was unlikely, but it was awfully convenient how he always turned up at the exact moment Spider-Man needed to be somewhere else.

Still, Peter seemed determined not to let the random appearances get to him, and so far hadn't brought it up to me again. If he was trying to have a good time at Flash's party, then so was I.

There was a minor fight when Flash demanded why Peter and I showed up to a party he didn't want us at (wow, can't believe we all agreed on something) — only to learn that it was his mom who was in charge of sending invitations. She had been under the assumption Peter and Flash were still friends from nursery school.

I knew parents could be blind sometimes, but that was mindboggling. Flash had been pushing Peter around since the sixth grade.

It made for a good laugh, though, and no one got kicked out. Flash just pouted for a little bit, at least until Sally and Rand cheered him up a bit.

I was amused for a bit, and I got to talk to Harry and Gwen a bit more since yesterday. Harry got a new, bright green convertible as a welcome-home gift (!) from his mother, and he and Gwen were currently on a date-date. How that was different from a regular date, I didn't know; I wasn't good at this relationship stuff. While they avoided the question of whether or not they were official, I figured I'd just make it easier on myself and assume it was so until proven otherwise.

Gwen and I were talking about her dad, Captain Stacy, teaching the new Criminology class at Midtown — nearly everyone in our grade was taking it, including myself — when we were interrupted by someone behind me.

"It's, uh, it's Amelia, right?"

Gwen paused, her gaze drawing away from me, a small smile pulling at her lips. I glanced over my shoulder, surprised to see Dorian standing there. He was wearing the same hat from the day I met him, covering nearly all his hair except for a few tufts sticking out over his brow. Under the lighting, it looked almost white. Dorian shifted nervously on his feet, a cup of punch in one hand like he didn't know what to do with it. He met my eyes with trepidation, as though I might snap at any moment.

I gave him a quick once-over before saying, "People just call me Amy."

"Oh, okay." Dorian flushed a little, his eyes flicking away and down.

I guess I could've been friendlier, but that was the only way I could think of saying that. Apparently, it was sub-par, because I felt Gwen's elbow jabbing into my ribcage, making me wince a little. So I added, with a sigh, "Sorry about...last time. As you can see," I turned around so I face him fully, wiggling my arm inside the sling. "I had an accident."

Dorian's shyness evaporated as he took in the sight. You could even spot the bandages poking out from beneath my shirt. "What happened — I mean, are you okay?"

"I'm fine, I just slipped on some ice," I said with a shrug, throwing off his sudden concern. He didn't know me. Was it an act? I remembered the words Smoke had told me — PUA. But if Dorian was a pick-up artist, he was either really bad or I was even more naive than I have myself credit for. "I was in the hospital for a few days, so I missed the parade. I also still don't have a phone, so I couldn't have called you even if I wanted to."

"But you didn't want to," Dorian surmised, the corners of his eyes pinching a little.

I tilted my head, vaguely aware of Gwen slipping away behind me so that we could have this conversation alone. Maybe she thought she was doing me a favor, but I wanted to be anywhere else right now. Even fighting Goliath again. "...No. Like I said before, I'm not interested in making new friends."

"Then why are you at this party?" Dorian asked, motioning with his cup to the room at large. There was a critical tone in his voice, one that had me slightly impressed — I underestimated him; Dorian was more daring than I thought, not as timid as I thought.

"Why do you think? MJ made me." I told him. Critical or not, I didn't appreciate the fact that he thought I was trying to pull one over on him. This was something I'd lie or beat around the bush about. "I know she invited you here. What did she tell you?"

"I dunno. That I should give you a second chance."

"You should give me a second chance?" the idea was laughable, and laugh I did. Dorian fixed me with a frown, and I just scoffed and said, "Please. She black-mailed me, and I just wanted her to stop bugging me about it."

"So you're just acting out of the kindness of your heart, then?" sarcasm practically dripped from his voice. "Am I a pity case?"

"No, I didn't say that," I snapped back. "I honestly thought you hated me after the way I blew you off. Which maybe you do, I don't know, I'm not exactly trying to get you to like me. If MJ knew you didn't, she'd probably drop the whole thing. I'm just here because I'm bored, man. I don't even like parties."

Dorian had just taken a sip from his cup. He snorted into it, saying, "Heh, neither do I. I shouldn't even be here, really — I go to Brooklyn Heights, and they hate you guys after ruining our football championship streak." He cast a thumb over his shoulder, towards Flash. "You wouldn't believe how happy they were when they found out the Flash Thompson broke his leg and might never play football again."

"Eh, I'm sure he'll be all right by next season," I said, shrugging my shoulders and making a face. I had never heard of Brooklyn Heights before, although that was probably because I didn't give two fiddlesticks about high school sports. "You're probably gonna lose again."

Dorian just laughed, shaking his head. "Man, you don't care at all, do you?"

"Are you kidding? Flash used to bully me. I'm just as ecstatic as you are that karma finally caught up with him."

"Hey, I never said I cared. I don't watch football."

"Well, neither do I." I said. "But you could probably already guess that."

"So, do you live nearby, then?"

"Just around the corner," I replied. I wasn't joking either — I could walk home in less than a minute if I wanted to, Flash and Peter lived that close to each other. It was a marvel how much hate could exist so near each other, yet never touch except within a school half a mile away.

"So you could make friends, but you just don't want to." Dorian remarked, looking quizzical. It was kind of cute, I suppose — he had a way of wrinkling his nose when he asked a question and for some reason I couldn't help but notice it every time. What the hell was wrong with me?

"I think I've said that, yeah." I said, not letting that weird distraction both me. "I'm not much of a people person."

"You could always get better,"

I exhaled through my nose in frustration, glancing over at the door and mildly considering just walking out of here. The guy just didn't get it, did he? "That's not what I meant. I'm not interested in making friends because I don't have the energy to maintain an extensive connection of friends. I'm just...too busy."

"But not busy enough to come to a party, though, right?" Dorian raised an eyebrow, and I nearly cursed out loud. He had a point, and I wasn't sure how to refute it now, since my usual excuse was in the same state as my shoulder. Useless. "I'm not asking you to add a hundred new friends to your Facebook account, Amy. It's just having a decent conversation between two like-minded people, like the one we're having right now. Would you have more friends if you had the time?"

"Yeah, sure," although they probably wouldn't be in Midtown High. There were very few people I liked there, and 1/4th of them were related to me. "I could be the most popular girl in school if I tried. I'd have plenty of friends."

"What about me, then?"

I just rolled my eyes. "I don't know, maybe. But you're not making a very convincing argument."

"You seem to think I want something." Dorian surmised, an accurate guess considering I hadn't actually said it out loud.

"I don't know!" I just shrugged my shoulders helplessly. I had no idea why Dorian wanted to be my friend, especially when I explicitly expressed my disinterest, as lame as my reasoning was. This situation was just so alien to me that I didn't know what to make of it. "There are plenty of other girls out there that would probably love talking to you, would be more than glad to be your friend, or more than a friend. You can probably find some in this party! Why are you even wasting your time with me? It just doesn't make sense. There has to be something else."

Dorian looked just as perplexed as I felt. "Because you're interesting in ways they aren't? Is that so hard to imagine? I mean, you seem like the kind of person who's got a lot of secrets to tell."

"Well, you're not gonna hear them." I retorted.

"So you're not denying it, then."

"Not denying what?"

He smiled. "You do have secrets."

I glared back, wanting to punch that smug little face of his. Feeling particularly sarcastic, I snorted. "Yeah, it keeps me up at nights. I'm a terrible person that way."

But my attempt to scare him off didn't work. Dorian just kept smiling, pointing a finger at me. "See, you say that, but I don't believe you. I bet you care more than you want people to know."

"Really, you think that?" I asked, tilting my head in challenge and planting my good hand on my hip. "Let's say, hypothetically, you're right, and I do care, because I hate myself for some reason. Why the hell would I keep pretending?"

"Because even though you won't admit it, you're starting to like me,"

It was such a bold statement that it made me laugh. "Oh, I like you? And how are you going to prove that?"

"Well, I can ask you out on a real date," Dorian said just as quickly, smiling as though he was enjoying this. Maybe he was. And maybe I was, too. "Somewhere not a party, something you might actually like. You can pick, and if it goes well, then we'll know I'm right."

"There is no way."

"You wanna bet?"

Not for one second did I take a step back to reconsider what I was about to do, so caught up in the moment was I. All cocky, I said, "Sure. Next Friday, seven o' clock, movies at the Big Screen. New movie, that one with George Clooney that just came out. But you're not gonna win."

"Oh, I think I have a pretty good chance."

"The odds are stacked way against you,"

But Dorian just shrugged, as if the challenge didn't bother him in the least. "How about we wait and see?"

"Fine!"

"Fine!" He repeated. "I'll see you Friday. Don't be late."

"Oh, I won't."

"Good." A big grin formed on Dorian's face, and it wasn't until he waved good-bye and disappeared out the door did I realize my mistake.

I smacked a hand to my forehead, groaning at the ceiling. What an idiot! I had just agreed to go on a date with him! I totally fell for the pretense of the bet. And now there was no backing out, not so long as MJ kept her nose in my business. I had no choice but to follow through.

Oh, man, I better not lose.