Stupid Fridays
Peter hated Friday. Hated them with a burning passion. In fact, he'd rather relive thousands of Monday mornings, rather than endure one more stupid Friday.
His classmates, however seemed to rejoice in Fridays - another glaringly obvious difference between him and them. Much to Peter's annoyance, the chattiness seems to increase tenfold, and the polite small talk that is normally bearable for him becomes absolutely intolerable.
“Sup, loser,” a voice called from behind him, slamming down a tray. MJ was one of the many reasons that made Midtown a safe haven - she rivaled him with her dry sarcasm which according to many judgy old teachers and social workers was impossible due to the rarity of his snarky rudeness.
”Harringtons looking for you. What have you done now?”
”What do you mean Em? I'm a model student!” he retorted.
”Yeah and I'm Tony Stark,” MJ replied, “you've missed the last three decathlon practises, Peter - you promised to be there.”
”Yeah, yeah I'm sorry Em,” he muttered, “I-i just couldn't, okay?”
”Why not?” she spit out, accompanied with a menacing glare.
”I'm, umm I'm grounded - things have just been shitty, really shitty - I just can't give them anything reason to hate me okay, I just - I dunno need to be on time, especially on Fridays.”
He'd been living with the Wilson's for a couple of months. The husband is ex-military, strict type that clearly misses the whole army thing but his dishonourable discharge is a strictly forbidden topic in the household and frankly Peter doesn't need to cause any more offense than simply his presence. He reckons that either the wife is sick of the anger and outbursts and needs a pet project - another person to blame or the limited money they had is cannot stretch any further.
It's mostly alright - there's a bed and food even if the quality and quantity are both shocking, but he'd had worse. The boys closest to his age is always up to playing cards when weekends get boring and the older one has the decency to smoke outside but other than that mostly avoids the house. He feels bad for the younger boy - only thirteen but he did overhear an aunt promising to get custody so he supposes that he's gonna be okay.
He could do without the wacky disciplinary methods like running until he feels faint or kneeling on uncooked rice, but at least their predictable. He stays out of the way after 9 o'clock and if he catches Mrs Wilson at just the right time, he often scrounge a tenner off her or a plate of homemade food.
The incident that had resulted in him enduring the week- long revenge punishment was an attempt to sneak money out of Mr Wilson's wallet - a stupid idea really considering that he's always home when the football is on. It was Ned's birthday and after the brilliant gift Peter got from him last year, the least he could do was throw together some sort of present despite however shitty it would be based off the measly five bucks he tried to steal.
Despite, several reassurances and fake smiles, Peter still felt sick from turning up empty-handed with only a feeble happy birthday to greet him best friend of five years. The guilt still bubbles within him a week later.
He looked back up at Mj, blanking on what she just said. “Are you done with that?” he asked, eyeing up the untouched slice of veggie pizza on her plate.
She sighed and slid over her tray.
“Listen, I gotta go, English tutoring for freshman gets me extra credit. You know we're here for you, Peter , me and Ned yeah?”
”Yeah .. yeah okay,” he muttered, chewing on the last bit of crust.
”And go see Harrington,” she called out, already walking away.
Peter glanced at the clock and realised if he was gonna talk to Harrington, he would have to find five minutes between classes because as soon as that last bell rang, he would be running home, trying to meet the impossible curfew that the Wilson set him. He might even cut last period early, just to ensure he got a head start. He really didn't fancy another night of going hungry.
Oh how he hated Fridays.