MJ
Fuck. “No.”
“Oh come on, this is gonna be awesome!” Ned laughed, holding up a pamphlet. “Queesnborough Community College Art Show,” he read, but MJ already knew what was written. “Listed artists: Michelle Jones. Yeah, we’re totally going.” Fuck.
“No,” she repeated, threatening his cunning smile with her cold stare. “You’re not.”
“How’d you even get a spot at the art show anyways?” Peter asked through a mouthful of sandwich, and she desperately wanted to pin his lips shut. “I thought they were only showcasing their own students.” Double fuck.
“I am one of their students,” she sighed reluctantly, pointedly staring at her book and avoiding all eye contact. Why couldn’t they just leave it alone? Showing her art to random strangers was one thing – she’d never have to see them again. But her friends? She wasn’t ready for that. “I’ve been taking classes with them part time.” She popped another French fry into her mouth before turning the page on Goodnight Mister Tom. Art was a revelation of the soul, and she didn’t know if she wanted her two friends to see that yet.
“WHAT?” she heard Ned cry out, oblivious to her inner turmoil.
“Oh we’re so going to this show,” Peter piped up.
The conversation immediately descended into chaos as her best (only) friends started yelling about injustices at the same time. It was difficult to keep track of what both of them were saying, so MJ just shut her book with a thud and looked up, effectively silencing them. “No,” she spoke.
“Okay, okay,” Ned laughed. “We won’t go.” She believed him.
“Oh, we’re totally going,” Peter argued, and unfortunately, she believed him too. Triple fuck.
“In fact,” he continued, as only he would dare. “We have to get the flashiest brightest suits we can find to pretend like we’re important art buyers-”
“Art collectors,” MJ interrupted in frustration.
“-you know what I meant-”
“And art collectors don’t necessarily wear flashy loud suits to art shows.” Please just shut up and don’t come.
“Still gonna do it,” he grinned deviously. Fuck.
“The art pieces aren’t even for sale,” she made a final attempt at resistance. “It’s just an exhibition to showcase the school’s students!”
“Still. Gonna. Do. It.” Damn you, Peter Parker, and that goddamn grin that makes my heart do funny things.
She sighed and pinched her eyebrows. “I’m gonna be so embarrassed,” she grit out. She ignored the flop that her heart did at the sound of Peter’s triumphant whoop. Fuck.
MJ plastered a smile on her face at the polite visitors who spared her work a glance. Behind her back, her fingers were nervously finding new ways to imitate spaghetti, and she held her breath in hopes that one would just stop and look carefully. Artists were, after all, contradictory in that manner. They desperately wanted someone to look at their soul on the canvas and understand them, but the chance was so small that they often dared not reveal the art. Please look at my art, they often cried out inwardly. Even thoughI’m afraid to show it to you.
Where the hell is Peter? She thought furiously, glaring at her watch that read 9 o’clock. Again, another contradiction. She had dreaded his presence at the expo, but now that it seemed he wouldn’t show, MJ felt the disappointment pooling in her gut.
She watched University recruiters and photographers talking to a few of her classmates, and others with their families, smiling and taking selfies with their works. Taking a deep breath, she looked at her watch again, albeit almost in vain. 9:10. There was 20 minutes left, so he probably wasn’t coming after all.
Her neighbours started taking down their canvases, and she saw Professor Latham helping some students clear up. Well, this was an absolute waste of everyone’s time. An evening down the drain. MJ sniffed softly as she felt her eyes sting from the warning of tears. Don’t cry. Not now.
“Aha! There she is! MJ!”
Her breath hitched and she dared herself to hope again. She turned around.
“Peter?” She whispered, almost in disbelief.
“I’m so sorry I’m late,” he finally stopped, looking up to catch his breath. “There was a huge thing with the police and a baby and-” she could barely hear him over the thumping of her heart, but she assumed it was Spider-Man business. “Ah I’ll explain it to you another time.” You’d better.
“You came,” she tried to hold back her smile, but it turned into a sort of grimace.
“Of course we came!” He replied excitedly. “We came to see amazing art!”
Wait. Hold up a minute. “We?” MJ wondered out loud. Did Ned come too?
“Hey MJ.”
She spun around again to see the epitome of motherly love beaming at her with pride. “Aunt May,” She breathed. “You came too.”
“Of course, sweetie!” May laughed. “This is important to you right?”
“Well…I mean…Um…” she struggled out a stutter.
“Oh hush,” the older woman pulled her into a hug, and MJ would never admit it, but she always yearned for an Aunt May Hug. “We’re all really proud of you. Now why don’t you start showing off to us?”
“Ok,” she mumbled, eyes stinging even more than before, but her heart infinitely warmer.
She turned to explain a few of her paintings, but Peter was already staring intently at them.
“Holy crap you did oil paintings?!” He whistled. “This cannot be cheap.”
“Yeah I-” How do you know that?
“Dang, these are pretty amazing! Aunt May! Look, it’s Queens! You could see our apartment from here!”
“It’s not-” It is. That’s exactly what I was trying to get.
“How did you get such detail with oils? I just make a messy blur and call it interpretive art.”
“You-” You are overwhelming me with these compliments.
“And this one’s Midtown! You even painted the school?? I thought you hated school!”
“I-” I did, but now I love it because I get to see my favourite people every day. And my favourite person.
May placed a gentle hand over Peter’s mouth. “Let the poor girl talk, you’re overwhelming her.”
MJ just stared at the corner of the Midtown portrait and struggled to regulate her breathing. Be still, my heart, she scolded herself. One, two, three, four…
“Excuse me, sir, ma’am.” Oh good, Professor Chang.
Peter and May turned to regard her teacher. “The exhibition will be closing in 5 minutes. Can I help you with anything before we close?”
“Yeah!” Peter chirped up, the wonderful idiot that he was. “Is purchase of these art pieces allowed?”
Professor Chang smiled again, and was that a wink? “Purchase of the art pieces are between you and the artist,” she replied. Oh no, Professor Chang. “The purpose of this exhibition isn’t for the sale of art, but if the artist agrees, who are we to hinder their budding career?” MJ wished that the ground would open up and swallow her whole. Now she had to go over to the Parker’s residence and see her own work permanently? Talk about being mortified.
“Now, wait just a minut-” she tried to protest weakly, but for the second time that day, to no avail.
“Aunt May! Can we buy one please?” Peter interrupted, eyes shining.
“Okay, Peter,” she smiled. “Just one though, ok?” She warned. Was she allowing Peter to buy candy?
“Peter, you can’t,” MJ protested weakly. “These aren’t any good.”
“What’re you talking about?” He laughed. “As far as I’m concerned, you’re the best artist in this entire gallery!”
“I’m just a high school kid in a college exhibition,” she mumbled.
“And that’s what makes you amazing,” he replied, and she could tell that he meant every word. He turned around to choose while Michelle quietly struggled to process the sudden influx of emotions.
“This one. I want this one. How much d’ya want for it, Ms Jones?” He teased. She looked up and smiled weakly. Of course he’d choose that one. The New York skyline that she’d painted from her rooftop. From there, she could see Peter’s apartment building, and sometimes, she’d wonder if he could see hers too. The sun was setting, and she’d tried her best to incorporate every colour that had been present, but her oil paints were limited, and the sky was just too beautiful to be captured. Too free and wild to be held still in the four walls of a canvas frame. Too beautiful for one to do it justice. Just like the little spider in front of her.
“Nothing.”
The word popped out of her mouth before she could shut it, and she hugged him before her mind could deny her body. Here goes nothing. “Because I love you,” she whispered. She felt his body stiffen and she and immediately regretted her words. He didn’t speak for five seconds, and that was five seconds too many. Her throat seized up and her heart dropped. The buzzing in her gut turned into a scream and she squeezed her eyes shut.
Abort mission. She pulled away and flicked him on the forehead.
“I’m kidding, loser,” she smirked, even as her chest ached and the colours on the canvas looked sadder than they had before. “It’ll be 50 bucks. Do you have any idea how expensive oil paints are?”
“Yeah, I do,” Peter replied, clearly a little nervous. “Good thing I asked Mr Stark for some cash before coming here.”
“In that case, it’ll be 70.”
“Hey!” he gasped in mock offence, but she’d already hopped forward and given May a big hug.
“I love you, Aunt May,” she said, distinctively more audibly. And she meant it. Peter didn’t love her that way, so it was better if she didn’t give him any ideas that she did. The truth didn’t matter, as long as he was happy.
“Aww honey!” cooed May. “I love you too!” and while the words comforted her, she’d have preferred to hear them in a different voice.