II
Peter and I met up after 7th period to walk to his house. My dad was in San Francisco for a job. That was a thing about my father I never quite understood, he never told me about his pieces. I've only ever found out just before it comes out, or even hours after when it's already out.
I guess it helps when on the off chance one of the guys he's investigating ends up calling the police on him. Accusing him of stalking or defamation. Then they come to the school, pluck me out of class, and ask me questions. It's only happened twice but both times I was never able to give them information. My dad's plan was fool proof, he doesn't allow his work to affect our home life. But then again we don't speak very often. And I'm home alone.
That's why he's started letting me go stay with Peter on the weekends. My dad trusted Peter and Uncle Ben and Aunt May. We'd known the Parkers since I was five. It's hard to not trust them. Hence why I'm walking with Peter to his house.
"Gwen knows my name," Peter said, randomly as he pushed lightly off his skateboard. I turned to look at him. He glanced at me, "She said it in sixth period."
"Just out loud, for no reason?" I joked but was still confused.
He scoffed out a laugh, "No, no. She asked me to say my name in case I had a concussion," he told me almost dreamily.
"Maybe you do," I told him, observing how smiley he was now. "He did hit you pretty hard-"
"How's your hand?" He asked, hopping off his board and stopping me in my path, changing the subject. He stepped on the board to keep it stationary as he turned to examine my hand. "You hit him pretty hard."
"It's okay," I trailed off, trying to fight the butterflies I felt when he slowly ran his hand over my bruised left hand. The way he held my hand gently made me want to melt into the ground.
"And your back?" He asked, not letting go of my hand. He looked up, causing me to blink a few times.
"Huh?"
He smiled in amusement at me, "Your back?"
"Oh!" I pulled my hand away easily and shrugged. I re-adjusted my bag, "It's not too bad. It just hurt a little when I sat down in Jordan’s class."
He nodded, eyeing me carefully. "I can look at it when we get home?" I furrowed my eyebrows before he realized what he said. "Or Aunt May can! You'd probably be more comfortable with that…"
I shook my head in amusement, continuing down the sidewalk to Peter's house. "I don't think I need an examination Dr. Parker," I told him, hearing his skateboard roll closer to me. Then he appeared in my peripherals. "But I appreciate the sentiment."
"Right…" He trailed off, keeping his eyes on the sidewalk.
I glanced over at him, noticing the bruise on his jaw. "I actually think I should be the one asking if you're okay."
"Huh? Oh!" He reached up to touch his jaw lightly. He waved it off and shook his head in dismissal. "It's fine, doesn't hurt too much."
I narrowed my eyes at him suspiciously. He looked over at me when I didn't say anything and laughed at me. "What? Jolene?"
I gasped and looked at him in betrayal. "What did you just call me, Benjamin?" He winced at the mention of his own middle name and laughed.
"Yeah, I guess it does sound weird," He said, scrunching his nose in playful disgust. "But really, I'm fine, AJ"
I sighed and shook my head at him. "So you went to the nurse? She said no concussion? No broken or bruised ribs?"
I watched Peter purse his lips and then his face scrunch up as he thought of something to say. I waited in an amused anticipation to see what excuse he was going to say. Especially since I knew he didn’t go to the nurse.
"Well, I-"
"You didn't go to the nurse?"
"I didn't go to the nurse… but in my defense-"
"You felt fine?"
"...I felt fine."
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Peter ran up the steps at the front of his house, pulling the door open. He held it open for me and slightly bowed when I thanked him. I giggled as we stepped into the house and greeted Aunt May.
"Hey!" He called out as we set our bags down by the bottom of the stairs. We slowly made our way into the kitchen.
"Hi, Aunt May!" I said once I saw her at the small island chopping up onions. She immediately looked up and smiled at me.
She set down the knife and walked over to me, giving me a hug. I giggled at the spontaneous affection I still hadn't gotten used to after all these years.
"Hi, Alina," She said softly, letting go of me before she walked back to her onions. "I'm making spaghetti and meatballs tonight."
"Ooh, can I help?" I asked, walking over to the sink to wash my hands.
"Are you serious?" Peter muttered efeatedly. "Spaghetti and meatballs?" I turned my head around to look at him strangely as I pumped soap into my hands. He opened the fridge with a pout on his face.
"Since when don't you like spaghetti and meatballs, huh?" Aunt May asked as she collected the diced onions and threw them into the pan. They sizzled as they hit the pan, the smell of them slowly filling the kitchen.
I crossed over to stand with May in front of the stove just as Peter started walking towards the counter. Right as he walked by, I flicked the remaining water from my hands onto his face. He flinched from the contact and stopped in his tracks. I snorted when he opened his eyes and glared at me.
May turned around and smiled at our antics before she noticed the bruise on Peter's face when he stood in front of the counter. "Oh, my god!"
"Huh?" Peter asked, turning around to face us.
"What happened to your face?" Aunt May asked in horror. I gave Peter an amused look as he slowly came up with a lie.
"No, I'm alright," He said, hopping up onto the counter. "Just fell… skating."
I narrowed my eyes at him comically and tried to cover up my smile with my hand. Aunt May shook her head at him and sighed. She looked at me for some input but then her eyes fell on my hand. I quickly put it away and just as she was going to say something, Uncle Ben came waddling in with a box of trophies.
"Ben Parker!" Aunt May exclaimed, causing the older man in question to look at her like a deer in headlights. "Don't you dare even think about leaving that filthy box in my kitchen!"
He looked at her offendedly, "These are my bowling trophies," he explained.
Peter and I looked at each other with amused smiles. He took a drink of an apple juice he pulled from the fridge, watching them argue back and forth.
"Oh, then, by all means, please leave that filthy box in my kitchen," Aunt May said sarcastically, reaching into the fridge to grab out a jar of tomato sauce. I motioned to Peter to hand me the apple juice. He reached over and handed it to me as Uncle Ben shuffled the box off the table and onto the floor.
"What happened to you?" Ben asked once he noticed Peter's face. I took a drink of the apple juice and glanced over at Peter.
"He fell," Aunt May said with a scolding tone. Peter gave me another knowing look as I handed him back the juice. "Why you kids ride those things, I'll never know."
I hummed in agreement. Peter looked at me confused as he put the cold apple juice bottle on his jaw, "Didn't your dad teach you how to ride a motorcycle?"
"That's different," I said, grabbing the tomato jar from Aunt May and opening it with ease. She stepped back as I stood over the pan and poured in the chunky tomato sauce.
"I stand by what I said," Aunt May said, crossing her arms. "I don't understand how you can ride those things."
"Because it's stupid and dangerous." Uncle Ben said, placing his hands on his hips. "Remember when we were stupid and dangerous?"
"No," Aunt May said, pointedly. I smiled to myself at the idea of them being young. Even now, they were so youthful despite their old age. It was refreshing and heartwarming at the same time.
"Trust me, we were," Ben said to us as he took the towel off his shoulder and threw it into the trophy box. I hummed in amusement, reaching into their spice cabinet and grabbing the powdered garlic.
"Alright, good to know," Peter said with just as much amusement as I felt. "Hey, where's the flood?"
"Follow me, I'll show ya," Uncle Ben said as he walked off with the trophy box.
Peter looked at me skeptically. "You serious?" he called out to his uncle.
"Yes," Uncle Ben called back, getting farther from us in the kitchen. Peter mumbled an 'alright' and hopped off the counter. He made his way out of the kitchen to follow Ben, but not without bopping me with the half empty apple juice bottle.
I shoved him away playfully, causing him to stagger his steps. He turned around to grin at me as he walked backwards towards the basement. He stuck out his tongue before turning and disappearing from my line of sight.
I shook my head, amused, and continued stirring around the base mix of the spaghetti sauce. That's when I realized I had added in the sauce too early. I sucked my teeth and sighed, using the wooden spoon to dab some of the sauce onto the palm of my right hand. I licked it off my palm and tasted it to see what I could add to fix it.
"So, when are you and Peter going to cut to the chase and start dating?" Aunt May asked nonchalantly, causing me to lightly choke on the sauce. I coughed and looked at her, bewildered. "Oh, don't act like nothings going on there."
I shook my head, reaching into the same cabinet for the olive oil. "There isn't!"
"I'm old enough to know two people like each other when I see it. I'm not old enough to let it happen on its own," Aunt May said, leaning against the counter. I laughed nervously, shaking my head.
"I don't know what you want me to tell you," I said, intently looking back at the sauce. I lightly drizzled in the olive oil, watching how it sat on top of the red sauce.
"I want you to tell him to hurry up and realize there's a perfect girl for him and she's right in front of him," Aunt May said obviously with an annoyed tone.
I sighed, "He already likes someone else," I watched May deflate a little. She thought for a moment.
"I doubt she's nearly as great as you," Aunt May told me with finality. "Peter has terrible judgment. Why do you think I don't let him buy the produce."
I snorted, remembering when he brought back bruised parsley after May asked him to get cilantro. "Yeah… but she's nice. Really smart. Top of our class. Really pretty. People love her…"
It's true, everyone knew who she was. I couldn't even bring myself to hate her because of it, she was nice to everyone. She was easy to talk to and get along with. I hadn't much in the past, but she really was a great person. It made sense Peter liked her. Almost every guy at Midtown liked her.
“So, what?” Aunt May shrugged. I looked at her and furrowed my eyebrows. “You don't have to be top of your class. She sounds like she kisses up to people and cares about what people think."
My eyes widened at Aunt May's words. "Don't say that!"
"I don't care. That's what makes you different," She said, the silence following her words was filled with the sizzling from the pan. Her words rang through the air and echoed in my head. "You don't care what people think. And you're beautiful without trying. People might love her, but Peter loves you. You're his best friend and I bet he knows you better than her. If he doesn't see that, he's far blinder than I thought he was."
I looked away and just let her words sink in. She made good points, but they would make sense if didn't know Gwen was a far better person than me. Far better for Peter. From the few times I've spoken to her and the countless times I've spent with Peter, they would just work well together. So much better than me.
Peter needed someone like Gwen. She was so refreshing to talk to. And just unbelievably kind. Her humour was unmatched and if Peter was in that mix… forget about it. It's bound to happen. Something will get them together and I won't be able to be around them. They would work so well together that it hurts to even imagine.
And I can't think of any reason why Gwen wouldn't immediately love Peter. It would be a mistake for her to reject him. I don't think I would be able to handle how heartbroken he would be either.
"Here are the meatballs," Aunt May said quietly, pulling me out of my thoughts. She placed a tupperware container next to the stove with a few meatballs inside. I pulled the wooden spoon out again, tapping my palm with it and tasting the sauce.
"Do you have basil?" I asked, tapping the spoon on the edge of the pan and resting the spoon on the edge of it. I watched Aunt May think for a second.
"It's not fresh," She told me. I shrugged and mumbled an 'alright' to her. She reached back into the spice cabinet and moved around a few containers with spices before she pulled out a plastic container with dried bay leaves.
I pursed my lips when she presented them to me, giving them a little shake as to show them off to me. I took them cautiously and shrugged, I pulled the lid off and sniffed the leaves. The smell was strong enough to use.
"We need to call someone to fix the fill line," Ben said as she waded into the kitchen once again without Peter.
"So… Plumber?" Aunt May asked, lifting the lid to the spaghetti and forking out a strand. I grabbed a bunch of basil leaves and crushed it up into the sauce. I turned to grab a glass from the cabinet next to the sink and filled it with water.
"A plumber, May?" Uncle Ben asked, setting down another box on the floor of the kitchen. I walked over to the stove and slowly poured in less than half of the water.
"What?" She asked, exasperated. I stirred the sauce around, waiting for it to start bubbling. When it did, I grabbed the tupperware and dumped the meatballs into the pan.
"You don't call plumber's for fixes," he said, shaking his head. I thought about it for a moment as I took the empty tupperware to the sink.
"Yes, you do!" May argued as she started stirring the meatballs now. I smiled and watched them quietly as I sat up on the counter where Peter had been earlier.
"Plumbers don't fix appliances," Ben said exasperatedly.
"Yes, they do!" Aunt May argued again. Just then, I saw Peter walk into the dining room holding an old leather briefcase. I watched him for a moment before hopping off the counter and walking over to him
"They fix pipes and they pump things!" Ben argues back.
Aunt May moved in front of the island again. "If you ask them to-"Â
Peter briefly glanced at me once I stood next to him. A silence fell over the other two. I watched them give each other a look.
"I forgot all about that thing," Ben said, chuckling nervously. "It was your dad's."
"Yeah?" Peter asked softly, looking through the pockets of the bag. I looked into it as well. Nothing of note was inside.
"He asked us to keep it safe," Uncle Ben explained. He waded over coming to sit down at the dining table right across from where we stood. Peter smiled, admiring the buckle at the front that had the initials. "He saw it in the window of that leather shop over on 9th Avenue. He was 19. What does a 19 year old need with a briefcase?"
"Did he see it with the initials originally on it too?" I asked sarcastically. Peter huffed out a laugh.
"Yeah," Uncle Ben chuckled. "The person who sold it to him did it for him. But guess who sold it to him?"
Peter shrugged, "I dont know." I looked over at Aunt May who just smiled with unshed tears in her eyes.
"You're mother," Ben told us. I smiled imagining Peter's parents being young and cute. I didn't remember much of them, but they weren't very affectionate from what I remember. I just thought they were normal parents like the ones I saw in the movies.
"He asked you to keep this? Keep this safe?" Peter asked, shaking his head. Tears were slowly starting to well in his eyes. "Why? Theres no-nothing in here. Have you looked in here? Theres nothing here."
He looked at me with a look in his eyes that was desperate. He showed me the inside of the bag as to emphasize his point. I shrugged and shook my head.
"You're father was a secretive man, Peter," May said, stepping closer to Ben.
Peter took in a breath, nodding, "Yeah, I know." He laughed humorlessly. Uncle Ben looked at him with pursed lips before diverting his gaze to the briefcase. May just frowned at us as Peter dug into one of the pockets.
He pulled out an old newspaper clipping. It was a printed picture of his dad standing next to a man. Both of them sported lab coats and ties. He looked at it silently for a second before turning it around to May and Ben.
"Who's that?" Peter asked breathily. But there was a hint of hopefulness that made my heart warm. "Do you know who that is?"
"Some guy who worked with your dad, I guess." Ben said as he looked at the picture with an indifferent appearance. Peter wordlessly showed it to his aunt who just looked at it.
"Just take this off the table, alright?" May reached with the towel she had pulled off her shoulder. Peter lifted it when she started wiping at the table. "We're gonna eat. Off…! and wash your hands, now."
Peter mumbled an 'okay' under his breath while he stuck the newspaper clipping back into the briefcase. Ben nodded to him when Peter just eyed him cautiously.
"Alina, you can go wash up too. I think I can handle the spaghetti from here," Aunt May told me from the kitchen. I looked at her curiously, noticing the frown on her face.
"You sure? Is everything alright?" I couldn't help but ask. The mood switch was so glaringly obvious.
She swallowed and nodded. "Yes, sweetheart. Go ahead."