Chapter 6
Gwen adjusted the strap of her backpack, trying not to look as annoyed as she felt while Mr. Hedges droned on about partner project expectations.
Of course she'd get paired with Sketchshade himself.
Well—not Sketchshade exactly. She didn’t know him by that name here.
Here, he was just Miles Morales—the kid she'd bumped into at the coffee shop last month, at the corner bodega last week, and at the art supply store just yesterday. Brooklyn was huge, and yet somehow he kept showing up like some walking coincidence.
"Morales and Stacy," Hedges announced. "You two are tackling the Harlem Renaissance presentation."
Gwen blinked.
Miles blinked.
They both gave identical small "you again?" smiles.
"Guess it's fate," Miles said, swinging his backpack onto one shoulder with a little laugh.
"Or a conspiracy," Gwen muttered, grinning despite herself.
He chuckled, and the easy sound made something in Gwen’s chest relax just a little.
"Cool if we, uh... work on it after classes today?" Miles asked.
"Yeah, totally," Gwen said. "No biggie."
Internally? Biggie. Huge.
Because right as she gathered her things, she caught sight of him again: a ghost in a battered marching band uniform, strutting proudly across the back of the classroom with an invisible trumpet.
Oh, come on.
Gwen squeezed her eyes shut for half a second. Please don’t make a scene. Please don’t make a scene.
The ghost ignored her silent begging, adding a little hip shimmy to his nonexistent tune.
Meanwhile, Miles was already pulling out a notebook, giving her a patient look.
"Maybe," he offered, "we could focus on the music part of the Renaissance? You’re into music, right?"
Gwen blinked.
He noticed that?
"Yeah," she said, flashing a genuine smile. "That could be cool."
She had to force herself to focus, tapping her pencil against her notebook while behind Miles’ head, the ghost was miming an entire jazz solo. And he wasn’t alone now—two other spirits floated in from the hallway: a Revolutionary War soldier missing a boot, and a woman in a glittery 1920s flapper dress.
They began a sloppy, slow-motion conga line around the classroom.
Gwen pressed her lips together tightly.
Just breathe. Focus on Miles. Pretend you don’t see them.
"So," Miles continued, tapping his pen on the desk, "after your practice, maybe library? I’m free after five."
"Sure," Gwen said through a tight smile.
Just then, the flapper ghost twirled straight through Gwen’s shoulder, making her shiver violently. She fumbled, grabbed her phone, and held it to her ear like it was ringing.
"Hello? Yeah, I’ll call you back!" she blurted into the dead phone.
Miles tilted his head. "Busy afternoon?"
"You have no idea," Gwen muttered.
The bell rang, mercifully, and students flooded the hall. Gwen scooped up her stuff, practically vaulting over her desk.
"I’ll text you," she said quickly, backing toward the door.
"Yeah, cool," Miles replied, looking amused but not weirded out. "See you later."
Gwen let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding. "Right. Yeah. Totally."
As she darted into the crowded hallway, she risked one glance back.
The ghosts were gone.
Finally.
But the uneasy knot in her stomach stayed — because if Aaron and Peter weren’t hovering around like usual today, something had to be up.
And Gwen wasn’t sure she wanted to know what.
Gwen tucked a strand of hair behind her ear as she slid into the booth at the back of the library’s second floor, textbooks in one hand, latte in the other.
Miles was already there, sketching absently in the margins of his notebook, hoodie sleeves pushed up to his elbows.
"Hey," Gwen said, setting her stuff down.
"Hey," he echoed, smiling that easy, slightly crooked smile.
She sat across from him, flipping open her binder and trying very hard not to be awkward. They had run into each other like ten times by now—you’d think the universe was trying to tell her something.
And for once, Aaron and Peter were still suspiciously MIA.
Maybe she’d actually get through one project session without—
"Yo."
Gwen almost flinched when the voice hissed from behind the bookshelf.
She turned slightly, pretending to reach for a pencil in her bag.
There he was.
Peter Parker.
Previous Spider-Man. Slightly transparent. Standing like he owned the place.
"There you are," Peter whispered, pointing at her like an annoyed camp counselor. "I’ve been looking for you, Ghost Girl."
Gwen widened her eyes meaningfully, then darted a glance at Miles, who was watching her with polite confusion.
"You good?" he asked.
"Yeah, totally," Gwen said quickly, flipping open the thick Harlem Renaissance book between them. "Uh. Harlem. Renaissance. Big. Important. Yeah."
Peter rolled his eyes. He drifted around their table, peering over Gwen's shoulder at Miles like a curious cat.
And then—he froze.
Peter squinted hard at Miles.
Leaned in closer.
"Wait a second," he muttered, almost nose-to-nose with the living boy. "I know this kid."
Gwen stiffened.
"You do not know him," she hissed under her breath, trying to shuffle papers loudly to cover her whispering.
Miles looked mildly alarmed. "You sure you’re good?"
"Yup! Coffee hit weird, you know how it is," Gwen said, forcing a bright, totally unhinged smile.
Meanwhile, Peter was circling Miles like a shark.
Snapping his fingers. Pacing.
"I know him," Peter insisted, ignoring Gwen’s death glare. "Not from... not from the Bugle, not school—"
He snapped his fingers again. "—Spider business."
Gwen choked slightly on air.
Miles blinked. "You okay?"
"Fine! I’m fine," Gwen gasped.
Miles slid his notebook over, showing a rough timeline he sketched for their presentation. "I was thinking we could split it in half? You do the musicians, I do the writers?"
"Perfect," Gwen squeaked.
Peter wasn’t letting up.
He leaned one elbow on the table, smirking at her.
"You gonna tell him you can see me?" he asked. "Or keep pretending you’re not being haunted like it’s a nine-to-five job?"
Gwen smiled tightly at Miles. "I'll take musicians, cool cool cool."
Peter wagged a finger at her.
"You're lucky he’s cute. Otherwise I’d be pulling all kinds of poltergeist pranks right now."
Gwen kicked her bag under the table hard enough to rattle it. Peter dodged it effortlessly, laughing.
Meanwhile, Miles just smiled like he thought she was a little bit odd, but maybe charming.
Or at least not weird enough to bail on the project.
"Okay," he said. "You good to meet again tomorrow? I got a free block before basketball practice."
Gwen nodded so fast she thought she might sprain her neck. "Yes! Tomorrow! Good!"
Peter let out a long, whistling ooohhhh behind her.
"Somebody’s got a crush," he sang under his breath.
Gwen turned a full shade of crimson.
They packed up in semi-awkward silence, trading numbers officially this time for the sake of the project.
As Miles left with a little wave, Peter crossed his arms and looked at Gwen thoughtfully.
"You know he’s got something to do with Spider-Man, right?" he said conversationally. "Like... I’m like, ninety percent sure."
Gwen stared at him.
"What?"
Peter shrugged.
"He's got the vibes. The... Spider-vibes. Trust me. I know these things."
Gwen wanted to scream.
Instead, she grabbed her bag, stormed toward the exit—and pretended she couldn’t feel Peter Parker grinning the whole way after her.
Gwen slammed the door shut with a little more force than necessary, dropping her backpack onto the floor like it personally betrayed her.
"Bad day, huh?"
Aaron’s voice floated lazily from the corner.
She didn’t even flinch anymore.
Instead, she threw herself face-first onto her bed, muffling a scream into her pillow.
"I hate everything," Gwen groaned.
Aaron snorted. "Big feelings for someone who just had a cute study date."
"It wasn’t a date," Gwen muttered into the fabric.
"You sure?"
Peter's voice joined in now, way too smug for someone technically dead. "'Cause you were blushing so hard I thought you were about to combust."
Gwen rolled over, glaring at the ceiling. "I wasn’t blushing."
"Denial," Aaron and Peter said in unison.
She threw a pillow at them — it passed right through Peter, who at least had the decency to fake a dramatic death scene, clutching his chest and spinning in slow motion before hitting the floor.
"Oh no," Peter moaned. "I’ve been ghost-murdered again."
Aaron just cackled, perched upside down on her ceiling like a gremlin.
How? She didn’t know. She refused to ask.
"You’re both so helpful," Gwen deadpanned.
Aaron grinned. "That’s what unlicensed ghost therapy is all about, kid. Now, tell Uncle Aaron everything. How’d it go? Did you two lock eyes across the Harlem Renaissance, realize you’re soulmates, and run off into the sunset yet?"
Gwen covered her face with her hands. "We worked on an outline. That’s it."
"Boring," Aaron said, flipping midair to float cross-legged.
Peter chimed in, wagging a translucent finger. "Except for the part where I’m pretty sure he's Spider-Man."
"Wait, what?" Aaron said, blinking.
"Yeah," Peter said casually. "I mean, I got Spider-vibes. I know Spider-vibes. It’s a thing."
Aaron stared at Peter, then at Gwen. "Hold up. Are we saying the cute study buddy is also the masked vigilante?"
Gwen made a strangled noise. "No! We are not saying that! We are not saying anything!"
Peter shrugged. "Denial. Part two."
Gwen sat up, gripping the edges of her mattress. "Look. Even if—IF—he was Spider-Man, which is insane and wrong and crazy, it’s not like I can just... bring it up! 'Hey, cool outline, are you also the neighborhood Spider-Man?'"
"You could," Aaron said. "Would be a hell of a convo starter."
"Yeah, right after he calls the police on me for stalking," Gwen muttered.
Peter flopped into the beanbag chair by her desk, arms crossed behind his head, looking way too relaxed for someone dropping life-altering bombs.
"Maybe it’s fate," he said dramatically.
"Maybe you should shut up," Gwen snapped.
Aaron cracked up. "Listen, all I’m hearing is: you like him, he’s Spider-Man, you also have a weird ghost problem — sounds like the universe is setting you up, girl."
Gwen buried her face in her hands again. "I cannot deal with this right now."
Peter leaned forward, his expression softening just a little. "You’re doing better than you think, Gwen."
She peeked at him between her fingers.
"Seriously," he said, more earnestly. "You’re balancing... a lot. Ghosts, school, friends, maybe-sorta-crushes. Most people would’ve crumbled by now."
Aaron floated down next to Peter, smirking but nodding.
"Yeah," he said. "You’re kinda a badass."
Gwen sighed.
It was ridiculous, getting pep talks from two dead guys, but somehow... it helped.
Just a little.
"Thanks," she muttered.
Aaron grinned. "Anytime. Now—" he clapped his hands together. "—we plotting your next move or what?"
Peter perked up. "Ooh, yes. Step one: charm him with your wit and obscure jazz knowledge."
"Step two: throw a book at him to establish dominance," Aaron added helpfully.
"Step three: accidentally reveal you can see ghosts and cause an emotional breakdown," Peter finished.
Gwen stared at them, deadpan. "I’m gonna do my homework."
Aaron floated after her as she grabbed her laptop. "Homework’s lame. Emotional chaos is fun."
Peter gave her a double thumbs-up from the beanbag chair. "Rooting for your inevitable breakdown!"
Gwen smiled despite herself.
Maybe her life was an absolute mess.
Maybe she had two dead idiots as her self-appointed life coaches.
Maybe she was slowly losing her mind.
But at least she wasn’t doing it alone.
And... maybe bumping into Miles all the time wasn’t the worst thing either.