The Interview
"Stark Industries? Ain't that like really good, and shit?" Miles questioned, while shuffling a pack of cards.
"Yeah, I mean - if I get this, I'll be set. Get into any college I want, despite my - you know, record," Peter replied, twisting his hands together, "And I might miss out on it cause of her hatred for kids."
"That sucks balls man," Felipe inserted. He was lying on the floor throwing a ball up and down, "You know what fuck her. Go to your science shit or whatever!"
Peter laughed at his strange enthusiasm, "I think you're just projecting, Felipe."
"Yeas, do you even know what he's going to?" Miles added, dealing out the cards in a clockwise circle.
Felipe hesitated, with a confused look on his face, "Yeah, some talk at the... ummm the Stark Company?" he guessed.
"Close enough," Peter said, shrugging at Miles with a look, that caused him to burst out with laughter.
"Get your cards, get your cards," Miles insisted, after recovering from his laughing fit. Each boys scooped theirs up, glancing at them before turning them back over facing down.
"How am I gonna change her mind?" Peter asked absentmindedly before playing his turn.
"I dunno - maybe just try pestering her or something. How many times can she say no?" Felipe suggested, with concentration still evident on his face. He laid his one of his cards down, mirroring Peter's movement.
"That is the stupidest idea I have ever heard," Miles retorted, a smile breaking out on his face, "Are we talking about the same Matron? That woman could say no for years! Years, man. I bet she even has some kind of fetish for the word no." There was a beat of silence before, "Haha, Felipe, pick up the pile," he cheered.
A murmured grumble, and few swear words under his breath, but he reluctantly complied.
"Yeah no, pestering probably isn't your best option. Sorry mate," Felipe added as he tried to sort out all of the cards in his hand.
A few cards were laid down accompanied by some random hisses or the odd cheer.
"Maybe I'll get the school to email her. She can't say no to the school right?" Peter started again - the panic just wouldn't fade.
A sarcastic chuckle came from the top bed of the bunk furthest in the corner. It was the only one where you could catch a glimpse of the tiny barred window in the corner of the room. All you could see was a tree and some of the sky, but a window none the less. Head turned towards the chuckle's direction.
Peter thinks it might have been Alex, although the voice hadn't bothered to prop himself up so they could see.
"If you want something, you can't ask for it - that just gives her power to deny you," the voice continued cynically.
"So what I won't get to go cause I've already told her?" Peter retorted.
"Nah, you've got a chance."
"How?" Peter responded desperately, discarding his pile of cards.
Miles looked outraged, "but my game?"
"You praise this place - it's like her baby. The uniforms, the haircut, the order, the chores, the punishments, it's all fucking her. It wasn't actually too bad before her. But she got rid of stuff, like nice people who ran it. There used to be outings, and family visits. You could do courses you wanted or request books or movies. Anyway, she ruined all that, with her fucking militant strategies and vindictive tendencies. So you praise all of this shit. Tell her she's right about everything - that this place is perfect or genius or something.Then, subtly suggest that this interview or internship or whatever the nerdy shit you want, as an chance to show her success to world. That the residents here are successful members of the community, the world even. Present it like that - it's not you getting that internship, it's a resident troubled boys at St Edmunds beating the odds by achieving highly. Make her think it was her idea to begin with."
His eyes were closed the entire time, like he'd been thinking about this for a long time. Like he knew every trick in the book when it came to Matron. Like there was a passion, an anger burning within in. Like there was a long history of regret there.
The others were speechless, like actually speechless. Well apart from Felipe of course.
"Well shit, that is some smart shit," he whooped loudly before lowering his voice and leaning down to Peter and Miles, "I think that's the most I've ever heard him talk, like ever."
"Thanks, a lot," Peter replied.
"Yeah whatever new kid," he concluded, turning over away from it all, "Now shut up about it."
They took that as their cue to quiet down, reducing reaction to small smiles or frowns. To be honest, Peter was preoccupied with his manipulation plans. Trying to imagine the conversation he would have, and remembering the steps Alex suggested. The drawn out, painfully long chores only gave him more time to dwell on his situation.
After school the next day, he was still thinking about what Alex said. He was better prepared now, knew exactly what he was gonna say and how he was gonna say it.
Knocking once again, a major sense of deja-vu bubbled up again. It was the same polite, three rap knock that he had copied off his Aunt May when he was younger. She used to say that there was her lucky number so knocking like this gave her good luck and if Peter needed anything right now, it was good luck.
"Come in," Matron's voice sounded out again.
As soon as he walked in and tried to open his mouth, she held a hand up silencing him.
"I thought I had a conversation with you. To be frank, Mr Parker, my position hasn't changed in the last twenty four hours. Now if that's it, my time is very precious, and you need to clean your room if you don't want another infraction."
"Of course, yeah. I just came to say that you're right about earning things and everything. This institution is really great for people like me - it's stricter than I've experienced before but very valuable. The structure is helpful and has improved future habits. I think I've become a better person, and citizen. And I want to prove that. The Stark internship would help with my future and getting my name out there cause this is quite a famous company, but now I think the most important thing is my time here."
Peter took a breath, and tried not to look too hopeful.
"Thank you, Mr Parker for understanding our values here at St Edmunds. This internship would be a valuable opportunity to showcase these values, so I will generously allow you to go to this interview. Do not let me down. You may go now."
Not trusting whatever will come out of his mouth next, he pursed his lips and nodded, before scurrying the out of there. Fucking Alex, who knew he'd be good for something?
Harrington was delighted when Peter said he'd do the interview accomplished with a signed permission slip, especially after his hesitation the day before. A hesitation that was met with outrage and confusion. Peter remembers him repeatedly raising his voice and emphasising 'Stark Industries Peter!'
Anyway, all of that was sorted and Peter had an interview in less than a week at Stark fucking Industries! The little kid inside him squealed with joy, and all he wanted to do was tell May.
When he won his school's science fair age nine, it wasn't the shiny trophy or the being called up onto the stage in front of all the teachers, parents and students that made him cherish the memory, it was the look on his Aunt May's face and the hug he received after he told her. It didn't even matter that she couldn't be there because of the twelve hour shift she pulled to pay the rent, all Peter remembered was the warm feeling inside of him, and he'd bet just about anything, she'd be insanely proud of this. It wasn't fair, that he had to fight so hard to get his and the one person who would fully support him and the one person that he wants to tell isn't here.
It was a week of nerves and random shaky hands and a racing heartbeat, but above all else excitement overwhelmed him. At 9 o'clock on Thursday, he was waiting in the corridor for Harrington to finish his lesson, when Mj came and collapsed beside him in the floor, leant against some lockers.
"Hey loser."
"Hi, Em."
She nudged him with her shoulder when he failed to meet her eye.
"Stark Industries might be questionably unethical in terms of the environment, but they can't do anything to children, too many rich parents complaining about their angel children," Mj joked.
"Yeah thanks Em, I was really worried about being kidnapped," he retorted sarcastically.
There was a moment of silence - they often sat together in silence. Sometimes you know a person so well, that you don't need words.
She took his hand into hers and traced over his fingers in circles.
"Peter, you're smart, and everyone loves you .." she started before she was interrupted by a snort of disbelief, " alright, anyone not involved in the state New York's foster care system, loves you, so you got this. And even if you don't by some discriminatory nepotism, this is Stark Industries like your biggest wet dream, so I dunno just enjoy it or something. Have this to look back on positively, don't worry about every tiny thing."
"Wow, I wasn't expecting a pep talk from the Michelle Jones, should of recorded it," he laughed, and received a strong punch in the arm for it.
"Dickhead," she muttered as she retracted her arm, ignoring his grunt of pain.
Harrington then came rushing down the hallway, carrying a pile of sheets, with a beaming smile.
"Ready Peter? This will be amazing - wait, Michelle, shouldn't you be in class?"
"Yeah sorry, just came to wish him good luck," she responded, standing up and slinging her bag over her shoulder, "See you later loser."
"Bye Em," he rushed out, nerves rising up again within him, as he was ushered towards the door by Harrington.
"Right so it should take us twenty minutes, but with traffic we have thirty minutes to get there. And we have to sign in at reception, where they will tell you.." Harrington continued to ramble, as if he was as nervous as Peter.
However, the rambling faded out to Peter as they approached the street of Aunt May and Ben's apartment. Crazy how he used to take this journey to and from school every day, and now he felt alien to him. Everything that happened felt so far away. When the car passed their actual building, Peter sat up and turned, watching it fade into the distance. The overflowing bins and wonky step were still all there, as well as the broken window with black tape holding it together, and the one nice apartment with flowers on the balcony that belonged to Ms Joyce the old lady that used to give him sweets when she babysitter. All of that remained, yet everything had changed.
"Are you alright?" Harrington asked, noticing his lack of concentration.
"Yeah, yes ... I just used to live down there," he admitted quietly.
"Oh cool," an awkward, unsure response came from his teacher. That was often the case for people in his life that didn't know how to approach anything about his past, but it was painful that he couldn't talk about May to anyone. His favourite person in the world and he didn't even mention her for fear of awkward conversations.
Eventually, after a few awkward attempts at small talk that purposely avoided Peter's home life, Stark Tower became visible in the distance. Butterflies in his stomach, Peter forced himself to take a few deep breaths and swallow nerves. He straightened his jumper and thanked the heavens that his forgetfulness meant the nicest pair of jeans he'd ever had had been left at Mj's and not banished to some locked cupboard at the group home. He was still embarrassed about his outfit - an interview at his dream company probably called for something more smart but out of the limited wardrobe selection he had, he'd done quite well. Ned, being to amazing friend he was, had fulfilled his promise and gifted him a pair of white trainers (Peter had insisted that he only buy the cheapest option available although he suspected that he had not paid any attention.) Therefore he was alright - he was here, on time, presentable and ten minutes early.
Peter received a lanyard from the reception and was guided to small empty conference room. Mr Harrington, much to his dismay was whisked away with only applicants allowed for the process. From what they disconcerted, he was the only applicant under the age of eighteen, this competition was open to high school kids but all of the other successful applicants were of college age. He was also the first one there, thanks to Mr Harrington's preparation skills. Sitting quietly, twiddling his thumbs sorely missing his phone once more, he waited.
Until the door opened abruptly, and another kid walked in quite confidently. He was dressed swankily with a dress shirt, straight black trousers, and shiny shoes that screamed wealth. Realistically, Peter knew that most successful applicants would be the wealthy privileged kids, whose trust funds would be larger than anything Peter could dream of. Still he was surrounded by rich kids every day at Midtown and it didn't phase him at all.
"Hi, I'm Peter. Are you here for the interview as well?" he asked politely, offering out a hand for him to shake.
He held a sneering look as he peered at Peter's outstretched hand.
"I didn't realise they were letting everyone in for an interview. Their standard is really lowering. How unfortunate," he stated smugly, while looking Peter up and down in scrutiny.
Embarrassed, he retracted his hand but nodded calmly, and returned to sitting down on in one of the chairs around the large table and once again inspecting his hands. The rich kid scoffed, before also collapsing in a chair with his legs spread arrogantly as he pulled out a very new model of some flashy phone and began tapping furiously. Peter put his head on the table and hoped someone else, someone nice would be next.
A few of the most boring yet nerve racking minutes Peter had ever experienced passed very quickly, until a blonde young girl walked in. She had a nervous energy around her, as she skirted in the room which wasn't helped by the rich kid's blatant purposeful ignorance to her presence. Peter chose to smile comfortingly and pull out the chair next to slightly in a subtle way to welcome her into the room. For my heir quiet discussion, he discovered her name was Cara and she was studying engineering at Colombia University, and submitted some sort of alternative to fossil fuels. Cara was also like Peter unsure of the appropriate dress code for this Henry, but Peter assured her that the checkered trousers and brown cardigan she had suited he very well. They steered clear of the topic of Peter's own outfit which sort of confirmed that he was seriously underdressed, however she was thankfully too polite to say so. She was shocked that he was sixteen and only a sophomore in high school, and Peter couldn't decide that if him being the youngest was good or bad. Two other people filtered in, both of a similar demographic to rich kid and both ignored Peter and Cara. The were laughing loudly at the other end of the table and Peter and his new ally exchanged looks. Despite also being quite wealthy, Cara was a minority in terms of race and gender and could understand Peter apprehension at the group of rich, white boys with their flashy watches and clothes. He'd experienced enough bullying from those types of people. But he and Cara balanced each other out in a way, together they just about made up a whole rich white boy.
Another girl walked in, also a college student, wearing similar attire to Cara. She sat close to them, either in an attempt to avoid the little crowd of boys, or finding comfort in another girl, Peter didn't know. This girl was a little more quiet, only revealing her name as Amy, and she was studying at quite a prestigious college judging from Cara's reaction, however he didn't quite hear the mumbled name, and didn't have the heart to tell this obviously shy girl to repeat it. She mostly just nodded along to whatever Cara was talking about. He suspected she was really intelligent but struggled with some form of anxiety. The bitten nails and some sort of tremor in her hands indicated that.
The glass door they had all entered through opened once more, and everyone looked up expecting another young applicant, however an older woman with her hair in a tight bun dressed in a navy suit and white shirt marched in carrying a clipboard, with another rich white but older man in a suit and tie behind her. Peter was thankful that the woman took the lead - the group on the other side of the table didn't need another reason for their egos to be inflated.
"Good morning everyone. I'm Ola Baird and I work under Pepper Potts, welcome to your interview for Stark Industries. You are here because you are intelligent, promising young scientists and Stark Industries wants to help you fufill your potential. If you succeed then you will be working alongside some incredibly experienced scientists in an area of your expertise. So let's look forward to a good day! I'll pass onto my colleague to tell you a little about what's happening today," she spoke with a sophistication that rivalled Mj.
"Right, so, there will be a written portion to get some more insight into some of your ideas, then some time in the lab to showcase some of your practical skills, and the day will finish of with some individual interviews after which we will decide who will be a good fit. There are several other groups like this one that will also be completing the same interview, but we have no set a limitation on the number of applicants we can accept so you are not competing against each other, but trying to show us your best work. Good luck everyone," the man in the suit declared.
"Thank you Walter, your written section will last one hour in here without conferring. This is less of a test, and more of a gauge of the way you think, areas of interest and creativity in your ideas. Please divide your time between the questions," Ola continued as she walked around the conference table handing out sheets of paper.
Once receiving his, Peter reached to the pot of pens in the centre of the table, uncapped a biro and scrawled him name at the top of the sheet. Being the true nerd he is, Peter loved tests and a chance to really delve into his interests to integrate research from his favourite scientists, will elaborating on his own ideas. He spend an hour furiously scribbling but loved every second of it. He didn't get much time anymore to really think about this kind of stuff, especially since St Edmunds and all the lack of technology. The questions ranged from 'Which scientific theory in an area of your choice did you not agree with and why?' from 'Is there a personal project or idea you have that will change the world?', and each one re-ignited a passion inside him. Invigorated by his test, Peter made a promise to himself to find time again to read more articles - a once loved hobby that had be discarded due to various home issues. The hour flew by, the click clacking of Mrs Baird's computer created a sort of rhythm for him, until she stopped quite suddenly, closed her laptop firmly and stood up. Clearing her throat she announced that time was up, and started collecting the papers. Peter couldn't tell from the looks of the others how it went, but Cara smiled at him.
The room descended into quiet chatter once the test papers were cleared away.
"You looked in a world of your own Peter - it was quite something," Cara told him. Peter squirmed in his seat, feeling hot under her gaze. Noticing his shame, she added, "Oh no, it's not a bad thing, I've never met anyone so passionate."
Peter paused, almost speechless.
"I've struggled a lot, I struggled to even be allowed here and ... ummm, I wouldn't be in a good place - I mean I'm not a great place - but I'd be in an awful place without my intellect, I guess. Being good in school is the only thing I have, my school has saved me, and I've sacrificed a lot to be there, and still do. So yeah science is important to me," he shared.
"I get that I think," she replied, "My family's very successful so I feel a lot of pressure sometimes - I know it's really different but I get clutching onto the thing that you're good at."
They smiled at one another, two vastly different people united by their similarities. Peter had heard the six degrees of separation- that all people are connected by six or fewer social connections. He could adapt that to all people could relate to each other not though social connections but emotions. He had met all sorts of people through foster care, school, decathlon competitions and now this, and despite all of the million glaring differences between them, despite the depth of loneliness he felt every day, he could always relate to someone. Even him and rich kid were united by their love for science.
It was already 11 o'clock but the time that the group moved to the labs, and Peter was vividly aware of the time. He was on thin ground already with the Matron, and he didn't need to aggravate her with this interview any further by arriving home late, but all he could do was hope the rest of the day sped up. However unfortunately, these college students didn’t exactly have the same time constraints as him so his hopes weren't too high.
As a group, they trailed along the corridors following Ola as she marched ahead. There was much time to stop and oogle as much as he wanted. He tried to fake nonchalance, but this was a dream come true. Passing a windows, there were workspace cluttered with sheets, and tools, and half finished engineering project. Equations and numbers and letters of all sort were scrawled all over whiteboards, with brightly colored post-it notes added all on top.
The next window had the same kind of organized chaos with multi-clouded beakers with signs of danger attached. There were multiple scientists in lab coats crouched around a computer, discussing intently. More windows passed, some similar, some different. All incredible, but he didn’t expect anything less of Stark Industries.
They were led into an sleek lab, but in contrast to all of the others that Peter had snuck looks at all, all of the tables were empty, except one at the front, which was covered in a bunch of scrap material, wired, screws, parts and coding boards. All in a messy pile, they appeared to be a bunch of discarded parts - a reject pile. On the other side of the table, there was an array of tools neatly laid out in line.
There was an older man in a lab coat sat behind the table fiddling with some heap of metal concealed by his grip. He looked up once they entered, and fixed a tight smile on his face, and offered them a polite hello. Most people wouldn’t see anything wrong with the welcome, but Peter wasn’t most people. After years of lying, tight/ smile, and fake emotions to please various psychotic foster parents, or originally not to worry May about bullies (some in school, the worst at home), Peter could easily dissect body language. This man’s was screaming that he wanted to be anywhere but here. Everyone filed in orderly and filled the chairs behind the benches.
“Good morning … umm, everyone. This is one of the spare labs here, errr and we will be doing some engineering. I’ve errr organised some scrap parts from various projects and I’d like you to complete a project of your own as a group. You are all proficient young engineers and I’d like you to work together. Oh yeah and I’ve got a brief petites out somewhere,” he paused, turning and moving some random pieces until he pulled out a folded piece of paper covered in some sort of grease, smoothed it out and placed it an empty table, “it’s got the criteria you must fulfil,” he said leaning over to read it “and you will have, umm two hours I think. I’m here if you have any questions, or anything. Today isn’t about the final project but your working strategy - the parts you pick, and tools you use, ideas you aim for, changed you make, everything really. I’ll be walking around asking questions that kind of thing,” the man announced, finishing with a slight nod that almost confirmed he had remembered everything. “Oh yes, and good luck!”
With that, he ducked him head back down to resume fiddling with the unidentifiable project. Peter had a feeling he was relatively high up on the chain of command because of his lack of care and organisation didn’t seem to mean much to him. He was something of a mad professor, but nobody seemed to mind him, including the uptight pair in suits who had taken a seat in the corner of the room. Ola had her laptop open, but was looking up intently at the group once the mad professor’s speech was over. Her friend with the tie seemed to be doing the same. Their stares gave him an uncomfortable feeling.
Forcing himself to concentrate, he quickly finished reading the brief. Had to an intelligent piece of tech worn on a person’s body. Simple but clever. His admiration for the mad professor only grew.
The discussion had quickly turned unsavoury, when Cara’s pretty genius idea of a necklace alert that sent locations to police and other chosen contacts when pressed a certain amount of times. He could see several advancements that could be made on that and it was a feasible project within the time limit that showcased a range of skills from coding to engineering. She rudely interrupted by rich kid.
“You want to build a necklace?” he scoffed dismissively.
“Tracking technology disguised as - ” Cara started again before being cut off with a raise of a hand.
“I think it’d be better if you stepped back and allowed us to take charge on this project. This is an important project and I don’t need you messing it up with a stupid necklace alright.”
Rich kid turned to to face his group of followers, filling Peter with disgust as Cara hunched her shoulders resigned and silenced. There was some discussion about a phone stand or something that Peter couldn’t hear because the circle of boys had cut him out but he refused to let Cara’s brilliant idea go unheard.
“I think the necklace is a great idea. We could even include some sort of scan for a heartbeat to study vital signs and send out the same signal location if it’s in trouble,” Peter piped up, stepping forward. “Is anyone good at coding?”
The boys looked at him oddly, perhaps an attempt at intimidation. Their age over him might be deemed as a form of superiority or power from their perspective, but if they knew the kind of people Peter lived in the same room as, intimidation would not be their strategy.
“We said no, kid,” another of the boys insisted. “Why don’t you look through the tools while we come up with a plan,” he continued condescendingly.
Peter nodded pliantly with another fake smile, before turning away. He took a few steps over the work bench, and leant over to where Amy was studying the different assorted parts.
“Hey Amy, if me and Cara went rogue, would you join us? She thought of a tracking necklace that sent out a message or location if pressed or something,” he suggested.
Receiving a nod and glancing over to Cara who was inspecting the brief carefully, he made up his mind. He strode determinedly towards the mad professor and gene he didn’t look up, Peter cleared his throat.
“Excuse me, Sir? Is it possible if we could have two groups. Cara has come up with a great idea, but I don’t think some of the others quite agree,” Peter asked, biting his lip nervously. He really didn’t want to work with those jerks for two hours.
“Two groups? Umm yeah, sure, why not?” the professor answered, and a wave of relief flooded Peter.
“Thank you Sir.”
Pleased with this outcome, he walked back to fill the two girls in, suggesting that they should pursue their necklace idea. He even offered the other group to join them, and although only received some snarky comments and a rolling of eyes, he could tell one of them was divided about the choice.
The lab was amazing. There was an coding system on the computer that would have put Ned in coma, the chance to access proper tools, and he was in engineering heaven. Working in a group was great, turns out Amy was a computer whizz, and completing all of the location tracking stuff linked with texting numbers through an app easily. Peter had been working on the mechanism to alert the chip if the necklace was pressed three times, and Cara was working on the scanner bit. If this is what a Stark Industries internship would be like, then Peter would do just about anything. He’d even fielding off questions from the mad professor, letting Cara explain her original idea, and adding the mechanics behind it - he praised Amy’s genius app, and accepted critique and adapted his ideas. Peter was in his element.
The two hours flew by, and suddenly they had a little necklace, that worked and everything. Peter even made a chain from a wire, wrapped it around with some sort of rubbery material.
They were now sat side by side with their project set in front. Just before they were ushered out, the mad professor stepped in front of him.
“Parker was it?” he asked holding on his shoulder.
His hands became clammy, but he mumbled “ummm, yes.”
“You’re going places kid. Keep your head up yeah, cause you’re smart, smarter then all those nepo kiddos. Don’t let all their shit stop you, and keep supporting the underdog. Between you and me,
your project was miles ahead of that pile of shit over there,” the mad professor continued, waving crazily towards the projects. He finished talking and put pressure on his shoulder to keep up with the group.
The world was full of shit, but humans had a funny way of finding the good amongst it all.