Lying Heart
Chapter Three
It's his photography teacher who calls Peter into his office before the rest of his teachers notice his grades slipping.
"You're a very talented photographer, Peter," Mr. Carter says to him from across his wide wooden desk.
Peter stares at some sort of art deco pattern that is framed on the man's desk. "Thank you," he says, because it's an appropriate response, even though he's fully aware that he's about to be chewed out.
Just as he suspects, Mr. Carter leans forward in a manner that Peter supposes is meant to intimidate him and says, "You're a very talented photographer, which is why, I'm sure, you know that it makes it that much harder for me to tolerate the less than impressive work you've been turning in the past few weeks."
Peter bites his lip. Scratches the back of his neck. "Yeah," he says stupidly.
"Now, I know you've had a rough year," Mr. Carter starts.
Peter looks up at him in alarm, trying to search his eyes for meaning.
"Losing your uncle so unexpectedly," Mr. Carter continues, keeping his eyes level. "I know that you're probably still struggling with that."
Peter blinks at him. Hearing someone say that his uncle is dead still sounds kind of surreal. He and his Aunt May almost never talk about him, and Peter spends so much time trying to live up to his words that he can almost trick himself into thinking Ben is still alive. Peter lives his life as if his uncle still watches his every move.
Mr. Carter is waiting for a response. "Yeah," Peter says again, at a loss for what else to say.
"But you show a lot of promise. I'd hate to see you waste your potential in your last few months here," says Mr. Carter. He looks at Peter thoughtfully. "Have you made any plans for college yet?"
Peter almost laughs. "Um, no," he says honestly.
"I didn't think so." Mr. Carter starts rummaging through his desk. He pulls out a few papers. "Did you know that there are a lot of scholarships in this city for photography students?"
"No," Peter says, unable to help his eyebrows from furrowing. He loves photography, but he has never really considered studying it. Sure, he has entertained the idea of college, but he always thought he'd end up studying something like biology or engineering, something solid and dependable and normal. "What kind of scholarships? Do you think I could get one?"
"I do," says Mr. Carter, "but not at the skill level you've been demonstrating these past few months."
Peter nods and says, "But you think—"
"Here." Mr. Carter pushes the papers toward Peter, and he sees that it's a scholarship application, outlining all the requirements and formatting rules for submitting a portfolio for consideration at Empire State University. "It's the first time they're offering this scholarship. Some rich alum is offering a full ride to the photography program, and of all my graduating students I thought of you."
Peter doesn't know what to say. He has never really considered his photos that worthy of attention, and in truth hasn't even thought of taking out his camera for the longest time. But suddenly his fingers are tingling at the notion. His head is spinning with a hundred ideas. He has literally crawled over almost every inch of this city, and until now he hasn't even considered the possibility of taking his camera with him, of capturing pieces of the world that he has seen.
"Wow," he manages. "Thanks for thinking of me."
"You'll have to work hard. The deadline is in a few weeks. You'll have to apply through the school, as well."
"Yeah, yeah," Peter says enthusiastically, still skimming the papers in his hand. "This looks really cool." He has no idea where he'll get the money to apply, but he decides he'll find a way. He grins up at Mr. Carter, and it's the first time it feels natural in months. "Thanks for this."
"Earn it, Peter. You have a midterm project coming up. I'd better be impressed."
"You will be," says Peter, carefully folding the papers and sticking them between the pages of one of his textbooks. He touches his camera, forgotten at the bottom of his backpack, and it's like meeting a long lost friend.
The meeting with Mr. Carter inspires Peter. He goes home and cleans his room, cleans the kitchen, vacuums the floors. He goes out to the grocery store and restocks on everything. He makes Aunt May's favorite rosemary chicken, or at least attempts it to the best of his ability, and even manages not to burn the oven rolls. His timing is perfect—she arrives just as he finishes setting the table.
"Peter," she says, taking in the spread. "Oh my—did you do this all yourself?"
He nods, feeling proud of himself. "Surprise! I'm not completely inept in the kitchen after all," he quips.
She gives him a hug, and this time it's not one of her please-be-careful hugs or her thank-god-you're-home hugs, but a real, genuine hug, the kind she used to give before this whole mess started. He knows because her shoulders aren't tensing up, because she doesn't linger as if she's trying to hold him together, to keep him as long as he'll let her.
They share a normal meal together. She tells him about work, about the younger women there who are always gossiping and crying to her for help with their love lives. He tells her about the scholarship and how he's thinking about getting up early on Saturday to capture New York before most of the city wakes up. She tells him the chicken is fantastic, and he tells her not to lie, even though it's much better than he expected.
"We should rent a movie," says Aunt May as they're clearing up the dishes. "Remember when you were little, and we'd rent a movie and eat cookie dough on Fridays?"
"Yeah," he says, remembering their little tradition. Uncle Ben usually worked late on Friday nights, and Aunt May would let him eat cookie dough and watch PG 13 rated movies if he promised not to tell. "You said you wanted to watch that movie with what's-his-face in it, right? Because I saw it on RedBox down the street, I can go grab it."
Aunt May smiles. "That sounds lovely."
Peter pulls his bike out of the side of the house, dusts a few webs off of it, and heads down to the drugstore a few blocks away. He hasn't ridden his bike in ages. He remembers an age where flying down a hill on his bike was the most reckless thing he could think of. He would pedal and pedal with all his might until the hill was so steep and the wheels were going so fast that his legs couldn't keep up, and then he'd let go of the pedals and fly.
Now riding his bike seems so familiar and safe. He dodges the pedestrians and some light traffic and thinks of Aunt May, how she must be glad to have an excuse to keep him home for part of tonight. It will probably be past ten by the time it's over. Enough time for her to console herself that he'll stay in, but not so long that Peter can't make a difference on the streets tonight.
It takes him a few minutes to find the movie Aunt May wants. The machine spits it out and somebody behind him says, "I didn't peg you for the romantic comedy type, Parker. Hot date tonight?"
Peter turns around and sees a classmate of his he recognizes from more than a few classes over the years, but can't remember the name of. "What can I say? Ryan Gosling's a real hunk."
The classmate laughs. Before Peter can explain that he's watching it with his aunt, an all to familiar voice calls from the aisle over.
"Richard, I found the—"
Gwen stops short when she sees Peter, still holding a bag of Twizzlers in her hands. "Peter," she says. Her eyes are wide and stuck on him. "Hey."
"Oh, good, you found them. Here," says Richard, taking them from her. "You got the movie, I'll buy the snacks."
She doesn't say anything to Richard, just lets him take the candy and stares at the floor.
"It's not a date," she says.
"I don't care," says Peter, surprising himself with how petulant he sounds. He takes a breath. "I mean. I'm sorry. I didn't meant it like that."
"It's just a bunch of us hanging out at Richard's place," says Gwen.
Somehow Peter doubts that, and if it is, he is sure that Richard only invited everyone as an excuse to hang out with Gwen. He has to hand it to the guy. He's doing an excellent job of worming his way into Gwen's life.
"Have fun," he says, reminding himself not to tense his fists, because he will snap the DVD in a second. He takes another breath and puts it in his pocket, where he knows it will be safer.
Gwen nods politely. "What are you up to tonight?"
"Nothing," he lies. He doesn't want to tell her anything. He wants her to wonder, wants her to feel as tortured as he does in this moment, and he can't think of one rational reason why. It isn't her fault they're not together, and she should have the freedom to do whatever she wants without him being this unsettled and angry. He understands that. But it doesn't do a damn thing to change the way he feels.
"Why don't you come over, too?" asks Richard, joining them. The poor guy is completely oblivious to the tension. "We've got plenty of room for one more."
Peter forces himself to smile. "Some other time, maybe."
"Sure thing, man. You ready, Gwen?"
Gwen nods. "Bye, Peter," she says.
Peter raises his hand half-heartedly to acknowledge her leaving. He walks outside a few moments later to collect his bike. He steals a glance down the block and sees that Richard is now holding Gwen's hand, and that the two of them look sickeningly sweet together, fading into a beautiful New York sunset as they get further away.
He walks his bike back. He knows if he tries to ride it now, he'll break something for sure.
Ahhhh, thanks for all the reviews, guys! It's quite inspiring. I'll keep trying to churn them out. I'm working full time for the summer but the good news is that means there's no pesky homework to stop me. Anyway, bear with me for all the Peter x Gwen drama ... I'm hoping it'll be worth the wait ;).