Peter slumped into one of the auditorium's cushioned seats, tucking himself into a quiet corner where he could take everything in. His class schedule was in his hands, still crisp and warm from the printer in the guidance office.
The first class on the list was Advisory. Whatever that meant. Then came Calculus, physics, chemistry, Spanish, English–that all looked pretty normal, fun even. Physical education… Peter winced. Was that gym class? He'd have to spend the whole time carefully holding back so he wouldn't appear too strong, or too fast. But otherwise that should be an easy class.
The last one listed was SGI. No clue what that meant. Two spots in his schedule were empty, with a note that they were to be filled by an elective or club of his choice.
As students filtered into the auditorium, Peter pulled out his phone. He had a few minutes before things got started, so he shot a quick text to Harley:
Peter: Hey
Got my schedule
hows it going over there?
The little typing bubble popped up, disappeared. Came back. Disappeared again.
It took a couple minutes, and Peter was expecting quite the update from all the typing. He glanced back down at his phone.
Harley: Good. You?
Peter frowned. That was… short. Harley normally shared a dozen mundane updates in the most interesting, un-mundane ways.
Peter: nervous but kinda in a good way
If that makes ssense
Hey what's SGI?
Harley: not sure
Peter frowned. He fully expected a fake acronym aimed at messing with him, like "Sad Geek Integration, a program to help all those hopelessly nerdy kids who go to specialized schools like Midtown Tech." That's the sort of response Harley would send if he didn't know the answer. Hell, that's what he'd send if he did know the answer-just to mess with Peter.
Peter: What r u up to? Do you have work today?
This time, it took even longer for the dots to return. When they did, it was just as brief.
Harley: Not much. Just stuff.
Gotta go. ttyl
Peter stared at the screen. Where was his eager rant about whatever small-town nonsense he was dealing with back home? Where were all the questions about Peter's class schedule? Or even just an explanation for why he hadn't texted much at all since going home?
Peter had zero friend experience but even he could tell something was wrong.
He chewed his lip and thought about just outright asking Harley if he was okay. But before he could type another message, the podium microphone crackled to life. Peter put the phone away as the principal, Mr. Morita, took the stage to give a welcome speech.
"Midtown is a school that thrives on curiosity, innovation, and a commitment to excellence. As students here, you are expected to challenge yourselves, to work hard, and to contribute to this academic community. We hold our students to a high standard, and we believe each of you has the potential to rise to meet it."
Peter absorbed every word, filing away every expectation in his mind. Work hard. Challenge yourself. Contribute. He could do that. He wanted to do that.
Would it be weird if he got a notebook out and wrote all this down? Peter glanced around as he rooted around his bag for a pen, but no one else was taking notes. He eased back into his seat with a little cough.
Morita moved on to policies, outlining the school's rigorous coursework, the importance of integrity, and the many academic and extracurricular opportunities available. Peter took mental notes.
When the principal started to speak about collaboration and teamwork, Peter frowned slightly. He hoped interacting with the other students would be as easy as working with Tony and Harley.
Before he could dwell on it too much, Morita wrapped up his speech and they were divided into groups and paired with a student volunteer.
Everyone in the group seemed excited. They started talking to each other, asking which school they'd come from, which borough they lived in. Peter tensed.
Pepper had prepped him on some basics. She'd told him to be vague when possible. They sat down together and reviewed the specifics of his file and his fake identity, so he could easily fill out forms and answer any adult's questions.
She had been adamant that, above all, he should try to keep people from finding out about his enhancements, at least until the accords were amended.
But the rest? Pepper told him it was all up to him, and that he could share as much or as little as he wanted. But she'd also cautioned him about all the possible unintended consequences of over-sharing.
So, he figured he would just keep his head down, and fly under the radar as much as possible. "Why would I want to share anything? I'll just keep quiet about all of it. Problem solved."
But Pepper had just pursed her lips in the smallest hint of a smile. "You won't always feel that way, Peter."
Peter doubted that.
He followed his group as they were ushered out into the hall, where their student volunteer slouched against the lockers, looking distinctly unimpressed with his current situation.
"Alright, listen up, freshies" he drawled, arms crossed. "I'm Flash. I'm in charge of you and I'm supposed to be taking you on a tour. Keep your questions to yourselves and keep up, and this should all be over with shortly."
Peter pulled out his schedule, scanning the room numbers. Hopefully he'd get a look at where some of them were located.
Flash led them through the hallways in a half-hearted tour, lazily pointing out classrooms, the cafeteria, and the library with minimal enthusiasm. "That's the chem lab. Don't blow anything up. Over there's the computer lab. Try not to break anything."
Peter, for his part, paid close attention, mentally mapping out the building. He didn't want to get lost on his first day. But from what he'd seen of the outside of the school as he walked in, they were missing out on a huge portion of the building.
"Um, are we going to be touring the East side of the school?"
Flash stopped, turned around slowly and glared at Peter. "Excuse me?"
"I think we missed part of the building. I was wondering if you'd be taking us to see that?"
Flash looked Peter up and down, bewildered. "Look, freshie, I know you're practically pissing yourself with fear that you'll get lost or something, but–"
Freshie? Did he think Peter was a freshman?
"My name is Peter," he corrected politely. "And I'm a sophomore."
Flash's irritation quickly dissolved into a smirk. "A sophomore? What, you didn't pass the entrance test the first time around?"
Peter didn't know what to say to that. He didn't want to volunteer any unnecessary information, and he especially didn't want to entertain someone as obnoxious as Flash with any more attention.
"Are we not going to see that end of the building, then?" he asked, unperturbed.
Flash grinned triumphantly, obviously thinking his assumption was correct. "Sure, Re-Pete , I'll take you to see it."
Peter let the nickname slide and followed as Flash begrudgingly led them through the East wing. There, Peter found his calculus and physics classrooms. They meandered through the music department and art department before coming to a stop at a woodshop room which kind of reminded Peter of Stark's workshop.
Then Flash led them toward the gym, which had been transformed into a club and extracurricular fair. Tables stretched across the floor, each booth showcasing different opportunities—sports, science clubs, performing arts, student council. The buzz of excited students filled the space as upperclassmen pitched their clubs to newcomers.
Peter's gaze swept the room, taking it all in, until a familiar voice cut through the noise.
"I know you."
He turned and found himself face to face with a familiar-looking girl, who stood behind a table stacked with books, trophies, and flyers. She pointed at him, expression unreadable.
"You're the kid from the mall. The one with amnesia."
Peter blinked as recognition clicked. "Oh—yeah, that was me." He rubbed the back of his neck. "Uh… I'm Peter."
She tilted her head. "MJ."
Before Peter could say anything else, an equally familiar boy appeared at his side, his face lighting up with excitement.
"Dude!"
Peter turned toward him, and they both gasped in unison, pointing at each other's science pun shirts in mock disbelief.
Peter's t-shirt read: " You R-O-R get it or you don't."
Ned's shirt had a Sith eating a slice of pie and said: " Come to the nerd side, we have π."
"That one's awesome." Peter grinned, already feeling an instant sense of camaraderie. "I'd totally come to the nerd side for pi."
Ned beamed. "Chemical formula for an ether, right?"
MJ shook her head slowly, her expression still completely unreadable. "You two were made for each other."
Peter just smiled. He couldn't believe his luck. He actually sort-of knew someone here.
He glanced at the table, taking in the flyers and trophies. "So… what clubs are these?"
MJ tapped a stack of brochures that read: ACADEC. "This table is Academic Decathlon. If you like knowledge and crushing the dreams of kids in rival schools, this is the place to be."
"Or," Ned interjected, "if you like engineering, problem-solving, and world domination—then Robotics Club is clearly the superior choice."
Peter's eyes darted between the two tables, considering.
A voice behind him scoffed.
"Maybe try a club without an entrance test, Repeat. I hear Pep Club has spots." Flash smirked as he joined MJ behind the table, leaning against it like he owned it.
Peter's lips twitched. "Oh? What are the requirements to get into Acadec?" He feigned polite curiosity, watching as Flash's smirk deepened.
MJ, unfazed, plucked a flyer from the table and handed it to Peter. "There's a tryout quizathon two weeks after school starts."
"I'd think twice about it, Repeat. Wouldn't want you to embarrass yourself." Flash warned.
Peter felt his confidence waver as MJ handed Peter a quizathon study book. What if he really did end up embarrassing himself?
But before his self-doubt could take hold, MJ snorted. "Speak for yourself, Flash. You could do with some studying, too, since you're just a probationary member."
"Yeah, whatever. That was freshman year. I'll outrank you after these tryouts, you'll see." Flash threatened with a roll of his eyes, but he'd deflated a bit.
Ned shook his head and leaned in to whisper. "I'd like to say there's less drama in robotics. But... Flash is in that club, too."
Peter sighed. Great.
"Here, show me your schedule. Let's see what classes we share." Ned held out his hands.
Peter handed over his schedule, watching as he scanned the list with interest.
"Hey, we have gym together. And English!"
Peter nearly sighed in relief. Just knowing there'd be a familiar face in some of these rooms helped his nervousness.
"What is SGI?" he asked, hoping it wasn't something glaringly obvious. And then he immediately regretted it when MJ looked surprised, and Flash snorted.
Ned shot Flash a glare before answering. "Small group instruction. It's like a study hall, but you can go to different teachers for help."
"You have permanent SGI on your schedule?" Flash laughed and grabbed the schedule from his hands to examine it. "I didn't even think that was possible!"
And just like that, Peter's relief and burgeoning confidence deflated.
"Shut up, Flash." MJ snapped, yanking the schedule from his hands and shoving it back at Peter. "It's probably on there because he's a new student. He can fix it with the counselor later."
Flash ignored her, his grin sharp. "Were your tests that low, Repeat?"
Heat crept up Peter's neck. Were they? Mr. Stark had seemed impressed, but what if he was just being nice?
Peter reached into his backpack, rummaging for the folder that contained his test results.
"He got in didn't he?" Ned defended. "Leave him alone, Flash."
"I got 350 in math, 310 in language arts." Peter muttered, almost to himself.
The group fell silent. Peter looked up to see their stunned faces.
Flash was pale with shock, and then red with anger. "The fuck you did."
Ned leaned over Peter's shoulder to read the scores. "Woah. Dude, that's insane."
Peter stiffened. "Insane good or insane bad?"
Ned gawked at him like he'd just grown a second head. "Your schedule is all wrong, man. You need to go to the counselor."
Anxiety twisted in his gut. Was it that bad?
"I'll take him." MJ grabbed Peter's bag from the floor and thrust it into his arms. "Flash can watch the table. Let's go."
Stunned, Peter followed her wordlessly out of the gym and down the halls.
She barely made it two steps before she snorted. "The look on Flash's face." Her lips twitched, as if she was suppressing a grin. "If only I had my sketchbook."
Peter didn't have time to wonder too much about that, because they were soon in the office. MJ steered him to the correct door and knocked lightly below a sign that said: "Mrs. Lott - Guidance Counselor."
A harried voice called out, "Come in. What is it?"
Inside, the office was a mess of stacked folders and a printer that spit out a constant stream of new schedules. A tired-looking woman in her forties sat behind the desk, rubbing her temple as she scanned an overflowing inbox.
"Mrs. Lott? Peter needs a schedule change." MJ announced.
Mrs. Lott sighed, not bothering to look up yet. "Already? Well, you're first in line. Hand it over."
MJ gave Peter a little push forward, and he quickly stepped up, passing over his schedule.
Thankfully, MJ had no problem speaking for him. "He needs AP classes. And take the SGI off."
Mrs. Lott finally looked up, adjusting her glasses as she studied Peter. "Let me pull up your file."
Peter shifted awkwardly. AP classes? He still wasn't entirely sure what those were. Were those for struggling students?
Mrs. Lott exhaled sharply as she pulled up his record. "How do you feel about that, Mr. Smith?"
Peter blinked, thrown off by the name for a second. Oh, right. That was him now. "Uh… well…"
She cut in before he could answer. "This is your first year in a traditional school setting, correct?"
Peter tensed.
"You were homeschooled, before?"
"...Yes."
Mrs. Lott's gaze flickered to MJ, and she blessedly remained vague, "And with your new living situation… Do you feel you have the support at home for a rigorous course schedule?"
"Uh, yes?"
Mrs. Lott didn't look convinced. "How about we take things slowly and go from there? Let's keep all these classes the same for now. You don't really know how much of a courseload you can handle, and I wouldn't want you to get overwhelmed and then have to be taken out of the AP courses, or hurt your GPA. Sound good? Okay. Have a nice day."
She handed him the schedule back, and just like that they were ushered out the door.
MJ looked disgusted. "That was bullshit. You know that, right? Based off test scores alone, you should be in the most advanced classes."
Peter frowned. "…I should?"
MJ crossed her arms. "You have the highest score in math in the entire school."
"No way. That's not possible."
"You can't get higher than a 350. That's a perfect score. If anyone had ever gotten close, we'd have heard about it for months. This school brags. I would know. No one here would stay quiet about that."
Peter stared down at his test sheet, gripping the edges a little tighter.
"And I want you on the Acadec team with us."
"I don't think Flash would like that very much."
"Flash can screw himself."
Peter barked out a surprised laugh.
MJ shot him a sideways glance as they walked back to the gym. "So… you were homeschooled?"
Peter hesitated. Pepper's advice echoed in his head. And of course she'd be so happy to find out she was right. Peter did want to share a little about his past.
He didn't have to. He'd already told MJ he had amnesia, but he could explain it away as a lie, a silly meaningless comment. He could say it was just a joke.
But MJ had befriended him and looked out for him.
"I was homeschooled." Hydra had apparently taught him a lot, so it wasn't a stretch to call it homeschool. "But I don't really remember."
MJ nodded, looking thoughtful. "So, the amnesia's real?"
"Unfortunately."
Peter exhaled, shifting his bag higher onto his shoulder. He wasn't sure he wanted to admit to anything else just yet. But MJ didn't pry. She accepted his answer and kept walking.
Back in the gym, the club fair was wrapping up. MJ steered Peter back to the Acadec table and pointed at the sign-up sheet.
Peter hesitated for a fraction of a second before scribbling his name down. It felt strange committing to something like this—being part of a team, a school, a club. But it also felt good.
Ned grinned from the robotics table next door. "Why not go all in?" He tapped the Robotics signup sheet.
The counselor's lack of confidence in his ability to handle rigor was still fresh in his mind. Peter smirked, leaning down to add his name to that list, too.
"Nice," Ned said, nodding approvingly. "Alright, we need to get you in the group chats."
Peter blinked. "Group chats?"
MJ handed him her phone. "Put your number in. It's for Acadec."
Peter obliged.
Ned shoved his phone into Peter's hands next. "And this one's for Robotics. Fair warning, Flash spams both chats with dumb memes and his insta posts."
Students began to disperse, some heading out together for lunch, others lingering to finish conversations. It was almost 12pm. Orientation was over.
Peter glanced at his phone. No texts from Harley. Maybe he could get him to video chat tonight. Then Peter could get a good look at him and maybe have a better idea of what was going on.
Eager to get back to the tower, he helped MJ and Ned gather the last of the flyers and their sign-up sheets, and then they walked together to the parking lot. The moment Peter stepped outside, he spotted Happy's car idling by the curb, and he couldn't hold back his grin.
"That your ride?" MJ asked, her brow raised as she eyed the sleek black Audi.
Peter rubbed the back of his neck. "Uh… yeah."
MJ and Ned exchanged a look.
"Later, man," Ned called as Peter gave a wave and then climbed into the car.
Happy glanced at him in the rearview mirror. "You make it out alive?"
Peter exhaled, slumping against the seat. "Barely."
Happy smirked. "Yeah, well. That's high school for you." He pulled into traffic. "Let's go. Pepper's waiting for the debrief."
"With ice cream?"
Happy glared at him in the mirror before glancing at the time on the console. "With ice cream, if we hurry." He grumbled. "Put your seatbelt on."
"Sure. Hey, do you know what Acadec is?" Peter buckled his seatbelt and immediately launched into a description of the clubs, the classrooms he saw on the tour, the welcome speech, and every other detail he could think of.
"Kid. Kid! Save it for the debrief." Happy growled, but there wasn't much heat to it, so Peter continued on.
