Holding his tattered suit up in his room, he noticed how the glass had frayed the fabric. Sighing, he dropped it down. That would take ages to mend, but he still had homework. He tossed it across the room where it dropped into his hamper. He gingerly touched his scraped up arms. They'd heal fast, save one of the gashes, but one is always easier to explain than a hundred. May came in, first aid kit in hand and concern on her face.

"What was it this time?" She settled onto the bed next to him, popping it open.

"Uh.. just some girl," he mumbled, extending his arm.

"Peter! You're fighting girls now? I thought I-"

"No no no!" He hurriedly corrected, "I didn't want any business, but she got me with.. With her keys, and I was like, woah, I don't want to hurt you, but she was totally after me… so. Yeah." He cleared his throat.

"Her keys? What did you do?"

"Some guy did something and she thought it was me. Which it wasn't. Like, catcalling. I'm glad she was prepped to knife- I mean, key him, but you know… wrong guy. I would've gone after him, too." May shook her head.

"It's guys like that who ruin it for everyone." She peeled the band-aid and pressed it on. Thankfully it was the huge kind that didn't come in minion print. Knowing May, she would've put one of those suckers on, hell-bent on embarrassing him as always.

"Yeah. Thanks, May."

"Now get on with your homework. I'm making chicken lasagna," by which she meant, "I'm heating up a pre-made Stouffer's in the oven."

"They make it in chicken?" It's like the man-n-cheese all over again.

"Light meat is healthier, you know," she preached, leaving with the first aid kit. Just like walnut date loaves are healthier than cinnamon rolls, and the classic sneaking avocado into his brownies for nutritional benefits. He hopped into his desk chair, trying to catch up on Algebra from yesterday, but found himself checking the news on his phone by googling "Spider-Man." Nothing. "Spider robber." 127 results. Slick. He clicked on the first, scanning the page for… here it is. The Daily Bugle had no qualms immediately marking him as a prime suspect for the hospitalized coach, who Peter recalled as Mr. Derringer. He couldn't help his relief that they'd brought him back to consciousness, taking a moment to breathe. He did it.

Had he? That warm breeze wasn't just a perchance happening. There was something there, something he didn't manage to catch, and they're still out there. The metal bit of the pencil he had been chewing snapped in his teeth, and he spat it out onto the desk. Ew. super chewing strength. That's just weird. He pushed the bit into the trashcan and set down the pencil before he could snap it in half amidst his thoughts. Sliding his chair back, he rested with the chair on its back two legs, shifting into the optimum position to stare at his phone. Not a single mention of the real perpetrator, just his name all over and blurry pictures plastered as a reference. He hid his face in his shirt and groaned. This was not how it was supposed to work out. He had made two well-known idols into his enemies just because he kept finding himself in the wrong place at the wrong time. He tossed his phone across the room to his bed, ridding himself of Spidey-distractions, and went back to simplifying logarithms, but every free thought was lent to that mystifying breeze.

He was still thinking about it the next day during decathlon practice, which Ned had triumphantly dragged him along to, knowing Peter couldn't "stuff" his way out of this one.

"Which kind of mutation does not usually change the length of a chromosome?" Ned hit the bell.

"Inversion." MJ nodded, placing the card down.

"Correct. Who in this room isn't paying attention?" Flash hit the bell.

"Peter!" Someone shouted, breaking into his invisible thought bubble.

Peter looked up, glancing around.

"I was.." His gaze hit flash and he rolled his eyes. "Yeah, sure, next question." MJ gave him a suspicious look but brought up the next card.

"What are the main assumptions of the kinetic molecular theory of gases?" She gave Peter a pointed look, who hit the bell without looking at it in a sudden bout of fear.

"Uhm.. gas is a collection of molecules in constant motion, collisions are perfectly elastic, there's a lot of space relative to particle size, and the speed of the particle varies directly with the temperature." MJ nodded, seemingly convinced back to neutrality in his favor.

"Good. Next," and the cards shuffled again. "What's the boiling point of mercury, in Kelvin?" Peter heard Sally's response, but the thoughts in his mind were much clearer now.

A warm breeze. A mobile gas. That means…

Mr. Harrington stood, stacking his papers and stretching. "All right, that's all. Shark Week is on Discovery tonight if any of you are wanting some casual learning, but other than that, go team." Peter leapt up, grabbing his bag and jogging for the door.

"Peter!" Ned shuffled up behind him. "You love Shark Week," he suggested as an attempt to by sly, "and… smoothies." He pulled the coupon out of his pocket.

"Ned, I.." Peter stuffed his hands in his pockets.

"It expires in two days! Come on, fifty percent off a jumbo, you really can't turn this down. Again," he added, keeping the pink and orange slip where Peter could see it. "Strawberry Surprise?" He waved it once, but MJ brought his hand down as she passed.

"Ned, let him live out his mysterious ways." She turned, still talking as she walked backwards. "He's transcended past the Strawberry Surprise."

Ned leaned forward with a new urgency, whispering, "Peter. You can't transcend past Strawberry Surprise." Peter shrugged, trying to squirm out of his gaze.

Peter sighed. "Maybe?"

Ned rolled his eyes. "Not even if we go to the new one?"

At this, Peter's face changed.

"The new one?" he asked, his interest spiked.

"Yeah, across from the stadium. I hear they have spinny chairs at the bar and all the new flavors in little tiny testing cups-" Ned pinched the air and made his voice high pitched on "tiny" for emphasis.

"And tiny spoons?"

"The tiniest!" Ned grinned.

"How could I refuse?" Peter gave him a half-hearted smile, pulling his hands out of his pockets, "stadium" echoing in his ears.

Ned punched the air. "Yes! Jumbo smoothie, here we go!"

Peter laughed, then felt the wild sensation of his spidey sense, hopping on one leg back from where he nearly stepped into a tray of pink paint.

"Woah, sorry," he apologized, stepping away. The girl dipped her brush in and smiled.

"No problem." A gaggle of Student Council girls had been painting on paper mounted up against the wall to advertise the next school fundraiser, the majority of which was covered in flowers.

"Hey, Penis Parker!"

Peter's face visibly imploded with embarrassment and the girl pretended to be really invested in the flower she had been painting. He turned back to face Flash, expecting all of the worst.

"You left without saying goodbye," Flash chided, opening his arms like he was preparing for a hug. Peter kept walking, keeping his face down, when one of the girls, a little freshman, stood.

"You've got no right to call him that!" She held the paintbrush threateningly at Flash, which dripped yellow onto the floor below, dangerously close to his prized Nike's. He moved his hands into a defensive position.

"Keep your brush to yourself." He spoke to Peter's back, "You've got freshman girls doing the heavy lifting for you now, huh? Then again, you're still a bit wimpy for a sophomore."

"Just keep walking," Ned whispered, but Peter couldn't leave that girl up against Flash. If he did anything to her, it'd be on Peter, so he turned.

"What do you want?"

Flash clapped his hand onto Peter's shoulder. "Just saying hello to my favorite guy." He shoved him forward, leaving Peter to stumble around paint trays, just barely missing a cup of wet brushes. He put a hand back to stabilize himself when he felt the squish of wet paint between his fingers. Grimacing, he looked at the yellow and blue patchwork that snuck its way onto his sweater's sleeve. Flash laughed at him. "Not as good as stepping in a tray, but I guess you don't have nice shoes to ruin, anyways, do you, Peni-"

Flash was cut off as he looked down at the girl with the long black hair. While her friend had stood in his defense, she snuck up on him, painting a clean line of pink across his left Nike. He stuttered in shock.

"You- you're going to pay for this! My father-" The brunette with the yellow brush broke out in a smile, wrinkling her nose as she gave her best British accent.

"My father will hear about this!"

Ned snorted into his hand. Flash moved closer to her.

"What did you just say?" The girl continued to beam, holding her brush out and jabbing it dangerously close to him until he had backed up into the lockers.

"I'm going to go run to my daddy like the little boy I am and have that hippogriff beheaded, hear me, beheaded!" She swiped the brush as she quoted the iconic scene, drawing a yellow line across Flash's neck. He laughed nervously.

"So is this some kind of nerd joke, because I've got no idea what you're…" Ned barked out a laugh, then hid his mouth, petrified. "Alright, that's it." He grabbed the brush away from the girl, pointing it back at her, but she didn't so much as flinch.

"What're you going to do, ruin my paint clothes?" She gestured down at her front, which was already splattered with green, blue, pink, and purple. Flash huffed, shoving her brush back into her hand.

"You win this time." His gaze turned to Peter, who had grabbed Ned's arm and already started to, as the veteran victims put it, "get lost."

"You just wait until 8 A.M. tomorrow, Penis!" He called.

When they had made it out the door, Ned burst out laughing.

"Dude, that was awesome!"

Peter looked down at his ruined sleeve. "Yeah, for the most part. Do you think this comes out?" He did his best to inspect it without touching the paint, twisting his arm at a strange angle to get a better view. The blue and yellow had seeped in a little, coalescing into a murky green.

"My mom can get anything out, don't worry. I think as long as it's wet, we can wash it off. Maybe the bathroom at Smoothie Palace?" Peter nodded, sticking out his arm, afraid he might brush his pants with the sleeve if it wasn't at least two feet away.

"Sure, we can try that." Ned kept chuckling the rest of the way, nicknaming the girl who had stood up to Flash the Ginny of the day.

"Think about it. She's younger, bold, and totally awesome. She painted his neck!" Ned waved his arm out for emphasis, whacking a tree. "Ow." He brought his hand up to his eyes for close inspection.

"But Hermione was the one that punched him, remember?" Ned shook his head.

"But when they went to buy textbooks at Flourish and Blott's and Draco was being," he waved his hand vaguely, "Draco, Ginny was like," Ned made his voice high pitched, pointing forwards at an invisible perpetrator, "'leave him alone!'"

Peter shook his head, laughing. "Man, your British accent is awful."

Ned shrugged, pushing open the door to Smoothie Palace. "Could you do better?"

"Hey, I know to quit when I'm ahead."

"Do you?" But Peter was already craning his neck back at the menu.

"Can you order me the strawberry? I'm going to try to wash this out."

Ned nodded. "I'll be sure to get you the teensiest spoon."

Peter went to the restroom, laughing to himself. He kicked open the door to the bathroom, then got to scrubbing at his sleeve in the sink. "Please get out, please get out.." Peter squirted a bit of foamy soap on the sleeve, rubbing it in for good measure and rinsed again. He heard a stall open behind him, but he didn't look up, not until the man beside him was washing his hands.

Peter had to swallow a little bile in his throat when he saw who it was.

He tried to hide his shock, quickly turning his focus back to his hands. A boy jogged up on his other side, scrubbing quickly and shaking his hands out.

"Soap, Dash," the man reminded him, and the boy scrubbed again, faster this time, and shook them hard enough that a few drops sprayed Peter. Peter flinched, looking up from the hole his eyes had begun to bore in the sink.

"Oh, sorry," Dash said, only after his father had given him a look.

"N.. no problem." Peter kept scrubbing, harder now with the nerves in his hands sparking on overdrive.

"Oh… uh… alright!" The boy sped out of the bathroom, his dad walking behind him, glancing over at Peter once. When the door shut, he shuddered, gripping the sink. Breathe in three seconds, out five, in three, out five. When someone else opened the bathroom door, he nearly yelped, but caught it in his throat, clearing it a little louder than necessary. He grabbed a few paper towels, rubbing them against the vague stain that was still left, and tossed the ball into the trashcan across the room. He was so intent on beelining out of the bathroom, he forgot to overreact to his perfect shot.

Ned was sitting at a table for two, sipping contentedly on his smoothie, when Peter jumped into the seat across from him. He spluttered.

"Dude, that almost came out my nose." Peter was sipping quickly, head down until he hissed and gripped his forehead.

"Agh, brain freeze."

Ned tilted his head slightly. "Yeah, slow down."

Peter nodded, then tried to slip it into the conversation as casually as he could. "You know… maybe we should drink and, like.. Walk down the sidewalk."

"Nah, I like it here," Ned dismissed, looking out the window at the stadium. "Look at that. It's huge."

Peter tried his best not to glance too many times at the family in the booth. The terror from the vents started to set in again, and he sipped even faster than before, which had him choking on ice.

"Woah, you okay?" Ned watched him, ready to leap up, but Peter waved his hand, hacking.

"I'm- ack- just fine." He nodded with a cough to the side. "See? Fine."

"You don't seem so fine." Ned's face softened and he moved his smoothie to the side. "You know, if it's bothering you again-"

"It's not!" Peter squeaked, then he coughed, purposefully deepening his voice. "It's not."

Ned nodded slowly, clearly not buying into it. "Would… walking help?"

Peter brightened instantly. Please, get me out of here! "Yes!" But the instant he went to leap out of his chair, a girl was in his way. She smiled- the brunette with the brown bob cut.

"Hey." He adjusted back so that he was sitting properly again, touching his sleeves nervously.

"Hey. I was just wondering if the paint got out." She motioned toward his shirt.

"Oh… yeah, mostly, thanks for asking." She took a smoothie from her friend's hand, then turned back to him, scooping some grape shaved ice into her mouth.

"It's nothing. I'm Lucy, by the way, and this is Violet."

Peter tried to keep his nervous spasming to a minimum, mouth open. Ned flew to the rescue, thankfully, announcing, "I'm Ned, and he's Peter. Thanks for standing up to Flash earlier. That was boss of you guys."

"Oh, it was nothing," Violet shrugged, "I've seen much worse." Peter nodded numbly, murmuring a "yahuh." Ned gave him a weird look, then turned back to them.

"Don't mind him, he just got a brain freeze."

"Ouch, the worst! Try your tongue on the roof of your mouth."

Peter nodded and complied, even though it was mostly gone, and his frog in the mouth face made a brief appearance. Ned kicked him under the table and his mouth popped open. Lucy paid no mind, fixing her olive green messenger bag on her shoulder. "Okay, see you around?"

"Yeah, bye!" Ned replied brightly. Peter nodded again. Ned turned his head to Peter, leaning forward across the table.

"Dude, that was so uncool," he hissed. "They were just saying hi."

Peter watched as the girls sat at the booth with the massive Mr. Incredible and gaped. Ned snapped his fingers in front of his eyes.

"Earth to Peter? Houston, we have a problem. Peter? You just won the lottery. The sky is falling." Ned veered on the outrageous in his attempts to grab Peter's attention. "You got a hot date with-"

Peter snapped up. "Walk?"

Ned stared.

"You wanna.. Go?" He jerked his thumb towards the door. Peter nodded vigorously.

"Yeah."

Ned slid out of his chair slowly. "If that'll break you from your trance…" He picked up his smoothie off the counter and took a sip, "I guess so."

Peter grabbed up his backpack and sped out the door, two steps ahead of Ned, gasping once he was out like he'd just broke the surface after being tossed underwater. He grabbed at his chest, remembering the smashing glass and the darkness and the fear and-

Ned's hand rested on his shoulder. "Peter. Peter, look at me."

Peter glanced up. Ned's brow furrowed.

"Are you… dude, is this some kind of anxiety attack? It was just two girls." Ned's eyes widened when Peter didn't respond. "Here, we can go home, right now, want a cab? A cab is faster. Hey, Peter." He shook his shoulder gently, but Peter just kept shaking his head.

"Just gotta… go breathe… for a second," he gasped, stumbling into the nearest alleyway. Ned trailed immediately behind him like a concerned parent. Once Peter stopped moving away, he grabbed the smoothie from Peter's hand- peeled it, rather; the only thing keeping the styrofoam cup in his grip was his abilities- and set both jumbo cups on the ground.

"Why don't you sit down? It'll be fine." Peter leaned on the wall, nodding. He swallowed, trying to right himself.

"It's, it's no big deal, Ned, I got it, I just think I should go home for a while."

Ned nodded again. "Okay, in a minute. You were really freaking me out for a moment there." He tried to break the tension with a smile, but Peter's ears were pink with embarrassment. Ned dropped the smile and nodded. "Yeah, okay." He leaned against the wall on Peter's right and waited until Peter seemed to have some semblance of control. Peter picked up his smoothie, shaking out his shoulders.

"All good?"

Peter nodded. "Yeah."

Ned got his own smoothie and nodded to the street. "Want that cab still?" He was reaching into his pocket for his phone when Peter grabbed his wrist.

"No, uh, I can get home by myself."

Ned pocketed his phone. "Sure, I'll walk with you."

Peter nodded, moving out of the alley, but his gaze was on the massive stadium. He stopped short, thinking he saw a girl, bent over by one of the vents coming out of the side of the stadium-

"Hey!" Peter barely managed to keep his smoothie from splashing onto the girl he had run into.

"Sorry, sorry." He moved around her, ignoring her judgemental look as she kept down the street, fixing her grip on a hot coffee. He looked back at the stadium wall, half expecting something dramatic, like a ripped open grate, but nothing. He started to walk towards it when Ned grabbed his arm, pulling him back.

"Dude! No walking into the street! The crosswalk is this way," he led him off to the side. Peter nodded vaguely, the gears moving in his mind.

He hadn't caught them. They could still be out there. They might return. It wasn't unheard of.. Peter shook his head.

"I've got to go," he said, a little apologetically. "Thanks for the smoothie!" Before Ned could protest, he was jogging across the crosswalk and around the corner adjacent to the stadium. Ned was lost into the mass of passerby crossing the street, and once he had reached the sidewalk, looking around, there was no Peter to be found. He looked down at a pigeon who was floundering in a circle with deep understanding.

"Mood," he muttered, walking down the street on the way to his house.