Just Your Friendly Neighborhood Spiderman
“Hey, Peter!” Ned said enthusiastically as he walked up to Peter’s locker before holding his hand out for a high-five. Peter happily obliged.
“Hey, Ned.”
“I’m gonna go to the toy store to pick up my Millennium Falcon Lego Set after school. It’s five thousand pieces. Wanna come and help me assemble it?”
Peter smiled fondly at the thought, before looking down and deciding to decline.
“No thanks,” he said, “I’ve got plans.”
“Aw man. Well, do you wanna go to the library? I heard they’re adding a graphic novels section.”
“Yeah, man. As long as I get home in time for dinner. Aunt May’d be mad if I didn’t.”
Although Peter was happy to hang out with Ned, he was his best friend after all, Peter had other things planned for that day. Things that he’d, honestly, be too embarrassed to admit.
After they’d checked out the ‘Graphic Novels’ section (which was filled with a bunch of cool superhero comics, though they’d only served to make him sentimental), he had gone home to put away his stuff and do his homework. He didn’t think Auntie May would like him going out without doing his homework.
Who was he kidding.
He didn’t think Mr. Stark would approve.
Because he probably wouldn’t.
Mr. Stark had always told Peter to stay out of trouble, but had he ever listened? He’d always gone against Mr. Stark’s warnings, and even actively disobeyed them on multiple occasions. But only now was he really considering what he’d have wanted.
Now that he was…
Choking down the knot in his throat, Peter took out his math book.
Question one: Write 2 log3 x + log3 5 as a single logarithmic expression.
He scribbled down an answer.
Question two: Evaluate the algebraic expression |-2 x - y + 3| for x = 3 and y = 5
Another question that took only seconds to process. He wrote down his answer.
Question three: Which equation best describes the relationship between x and y in this table?
x y
0 -4
4 -20
-4 12
8 -36
A) y = - x/4 - 4
B) y = - x/4 + 4
C) y = - 4x - 4
D) y = - 4x + 4
He quickly chose C and moved on.
He needed to finish this.
He had to finish this.
And twenty questions later, he did.
He looked back at his clock. It flashed 5:00p. That was more than enough time. Probably.
He could only hope it was.
Once he was at Shawarma Palace, he had time to relax (if you could call it that) while waiting for his meal. Pondering everything that happened was his only option, wasn’t it? Was there a point in even denying that it did happen? Or was he, by thinking of it in such an emotionally restricted box, just closing himself off from looking at it from another, more rational, point of view? A sort of inevitability that he refused to notice? Maybe this was bound to happen, but…he didn’t think it’d happen so…abruptly.
Maybe his first step was to accept what happened. Maybe Peter just needed to understand.
But the more he thought about it, the more frustrated he became with himself. He knew, semi-realistically, that he couldn’t do anything about it. But some part of him thought that there must’ve been something he could’ve done. Anything to prevent the harsh reality that was slowly creeping up on him the more that he thought about it.
He drew in a deep breath.
Tony Stark is dead. He thought unhappily. He’s gone and there’s nothing I can do now. Because there was nothing I could’ve done. Maybe. But even if there was something that could’ve happened, it didn’t. He fumbled with the strings on his hoodie. And that’s fine, he desperately tried to convince himself. Maybe if he kept saying it, he would eventually believe it.
He let out a shakily cold breath. Maybe he’d get over it, maybe he wouldn’t.
But for now, he just wanted to try some shawarma.
…
Maybe the people seeing him strolling down the street would just think he was some high school student out for an afternoon walk. And they were partially correct. But Peter knew exactly where he was going.
As he passed the cemetery gates, he looked to the shrine for Mr. Stark, and the abundance of flowers, and notes, and cards that had been placed there. He stepped towards it.
He almost reached out to touch it before pulling his hand up to his face to wipe away a stray tear.
He thought of all the strangely fond moments they’d shared.
All the moments where Peter had been scolded for doing something stupid and reckless.
All the moments where Peter had pestered him with something close to insolence.
The moment when he became an Avenger.
That was thanks to Mr. Stark.
Tears were streaming down his cheeks now, blocking his line of sight.
“I am Spider-man,” he said to himself quietly.
Mr. Stark would never get to see any of this. Any of the great or inspirational memories he left behind. Memories that can never again be created.
Because Mr. Stark was gone.
He unconsciously felt his hand moving towards the memorial. Skin met stone. And life met death.
“I am Spider-man.”