Chapter Five
Disclaimer: Peter Parker is not my creation, nor do I earn money off of this story. As sad as both of those statements are.
CHAPTER FIVE
JANUARY 2014
Peter had two duffel bags walking out of the apartment for the last time. He settled it on my shoulders, and felt the chill of the early morning.
He had emailed a man about a run down apartment in Queens, his prefered location. It was tiny, but Peter was more than okay with that. He told the man that his relative was coming into town the following week and he was securing it for him.
So Peter walked to the subway, physically weighed down by everything he owned. He tried not to think about how strange it looked that a fourteen year old boy was walking down the street with two large bags.
He sighed.
Thirty minutes later, he knocked on the door of the apartment. It was an older African American man, who cocked his head when he looked at Peter.
The area was terrible and run down, but at least it could be a home. Peter could take care of himself, physically that is.
"You Peter?" the man asked, "You didn't tell me you were twelve."
"I'm not twelve," Peter swallowed.
The man raised an eyebrow at him. "You sure about that."
"I think I would know my own age," Peter snapped back, then immediately regretted it.
The man laughed at him, thankfully. "You got guts kid. I'm not sure about this. You said you relative was coming into town."
Peter shook his head viciously. "Yes, my uncle will be here in a couple of days."
The man raised his eyebrows at Peter, "I'm not sure about this, kid. I don't like the idea of having of having someone as young as you alone in here."
Peter insisted, "I'm not a child. And I can pay the rent up front if need be. I have the money."
The man looked critically at him, "You have no uncle, do you?"
The look on Peter's face must have said it all. The man sat down in the wooden chair that adored a small two person table. He sighed at Peter and looked at him critically. "Sit down boy."
Peter sat down.
"What are you doing here?" the man asked, "You're young, whatever is wrong at home can be fixed. You shouldn't be here alone."
Peter looked at his hands silently thinking about what to tell the man. He suddenly felt ashamed of himself, as if not having family was something to be ashamed of.
"They're dead," Peter said simply. "I want nothing more than to go home, but I don't have a home."
The older man must have seen something in Peter because he put a hand on his shoulder, "I'm sorry kid. Did you run away from the foster system."
Peter nodded, that was not the truth, but it was close enough.
"I see a lot of you guys. Okay," the man looked him in the eye sharply, "Here's the deal- and I'm nicer than most you will come across- I can't lose money on this apartment, this is my livelihood too. As long as you pay, you can stay here. The second you don't, I'm calling social services and I'm going to sit with you and make sure that you go somewhere safe. Do you like that deal?"
Peter could barely believe the kindness of the man. These were the people he put the suit on everyday for.
"Thank you, sir, thank you so much."
"Don't thank me Peter," the man told him, "Somebody needs to look out for you kids. God knows parents aren't these days."
Peter smiled at him, feeling himself relax in the man's presence. "So," the man continued. "My name is Jacob Davis. I go by Jacob. My number is one the fridge. If anything is wrong with the apartment, you call that. The last friday of every month, I expect you to-" the man paused, looking at him critically- "You don't know how to do electronic billing do you?"
Peter shook his head.
"Okay," the man said, "then in your case, I expect $700 in an envelope. I will come get it for you. I live on premise, I'm three floors above you, appartment number 560. You can always come and knock on the door. I don't like to be disturbed in the middle of the night, but don't let that deter you if something is seriously wrong."
"$700?" Peter asked. That was $120 dollars less than the price that was advertised on craigslist.
The man looked at him critically. They both knew what he was asking. "Yes," the man confirmed.
"Everything clear," Jacob asked.
"Yes, Mr. Davis. Thank you."
"Jacob, kid. Call me Jacob."
…
As soon as Jacob left, Peter dropped his stuff onto the ground and looked around. It was open style. There was no furniture, bar the tiny kitchen table he was sitting at. As soon as one entered the apartment, they would find themselves in the middle of the kitchen. There was an oven and refrigerator and Peter was glad he didn't have to worry about that.
Sadly, there was no microwave, but Peter could probably get one for less than a hundred. All the appliances were lined up along the right wall and there was just enough space between the refrigerator, which was shoved into the corner next to the door, and the oven for a small sink and a tiny amount of counter space. On the left side, there was a blank wall.
Passing through the kitchen, the small table was lined next to the stove. Then there was another hundred square feet of empty room. There was a door on the left which Peter opened to a tiny bathroom that had a toilet and shower. It was old, but clean. There was no bathroom sink, so Peter would have to wash his hands in the kitchen. That wouldn't be the worst seeing that it was another five steps.
Peter was ecstatic to have a place, despite how run down it was. He was no longer homeless, and he never had to sleep in the streets or spend his savings on a hotel room. He had no blankets or a washer and dryer. There was also no bed, which Peter realized might be an issue.
Even buying one on craigslist seemed like an expense he couldn't really pay. Maybe he should buy an air mattress or something.
Peter took out his phone. Staring at it, he realized that he would need to cancel his carrier. It was under his aunt's name, so he would have to go in and explain that she died to AT&T.
He set up his laptop. He realized he had no wifi. On a hunch, he looked at the fridge. Sitting there is read: wifi code- JRC467FT. Peter typed it in. It was slow, but it was internet. If Peter really needed to do anything fast on the web, he would need to go to a free wifi spot.
He googled walmart. There showed one three blocks over.
Peter grabbed the keys on the counter, looked at the place that was now his and left the apartment.
…
Peter walked through the aisles of Walmart finally stopping at the air mattress section. There was a fifteen dollar one with a pump. He placed it in his cart. He similarly went over to the sheet section. At this point, Peter wished he had kept the ones ones from his house, but hindsight was 20-20.
He grabbed at thirteen dollar set in gray and a black fifteen dollar comforter. A pillow and pillow case was added to the cart.
"Almost done," Peter said outloud.
"Getting stuff to college?" the woman standing next to him asked.
"No." Peter shook his head.
"Yeah," the woman said, "You look too young. Well, have a good day." The woman walked away. Peter wasn't used to shopping on his own. Most of the time, he went with his aunt, or she took care of it for him.
He pushed the cart over to the kitchen supplies. He grabbed the $35 dollar Hamilton beach one. Then he bought a knife set, forks and knives, two bowls and two plates, a couple of glasses, and looking down at his cart, he realized that this would be really hard to take back to the apartment.
Peter knew he had to grab something for meals that day, so he wandered over to the frozen isle. For simplicity sake, he bought a frozen pizza. He knew he will be forced to learn to cook fairly soon, but he would sooner handle corrosive chemicals than a kitchen stove.
A little over a hundred dollars later, Peter walked out of the store, bags dangling on his arms as he wrapped them around the microwave.
Trekking back to his apartment, he noticed a group males circling around him.
"What's a white boy like you in this type of neighborhood?" One of them, ironically also white, asked him. Peter knew he looked a bit preppy with his slicked over hair style and very much picked out by his aunt clothing.
Peter smiled at them. He just wanted to get back to his apartment, not fight.
"If you will excuse me," he tried to push through the ring they had made around him.
"How about you give us the stuff you have in your hands," one of the boys said, "and we might think about letting you get through without too much blood."
Peter sighed, "I didn't want to have to do this." And Peter didn't. Using his Spidey powers without his suit also was a danger. Who knows who might connect the dots.
The leader cocked his head, "Do what? Get you white ass whipped. Maybe you should think about not walking alone without you mama to protect you."
Peter backed up a little bit, his back hitting the wall. His mind raced as he went over the options.
Then suddenly, he heard Jacob's voice. "Boys, you harassing my new tenant?"
The leader's eyes shifted over to the older man. He said nothing, but Peter could tell there was something akin to respect in them. That however, was also mixed with annoyance.
"Jacob," the kid said, "why do you have to interfere."
"I house you all on the condition that you do not harm the others living in the building. I would suggest leaving if you want to have a continued place to live."
"You lucky kid," the leader of the group spit at him. Peter righted himself as the group dispersed.
"What were you thinking?" Jacob snapped at him.
"I can take care of myself," Peter grumbled.
"Never, walk around with that much money in items. You are asking to be robbed."
Peter nodded at him. "I'm sorry."
Jacob rolled his eyes, "Don't be, just don't get yourself killed. It would be a shame to find another tenant so soon. Let me help you get that stuff up," Jacob grabbed the microwave off the top.
It was heavy and yet Jacob carried it up the stairs no problem. Placing in on the table, Jacob turned to Peter, "Come to my place for dinner. You haven't settled in yet, and you need to eat a good meal." He glanced over Peter's small frame which was drowned in a long sleeve baggy shirt and ill fitting jeans.
Peter couldn't wear anything tight for fear that people would connect how his physiology had changed overnight. It was worrying enough to change in the locker room with his skin always being varying shades of black, purple, blue, green from slamming into walls. Peter was made fun of by the other boys because he changed in the bathroom stalls.
Flash was one of those people. He gave Peter shit about it and called him names such sissy boy and faggot. Peter told Flash that if he was going to pick on him, he should at least not insult a whole group of people and that being called gay was not an insult.
That did not go over well. Peter stood still as his Spider sense went on overdrive as Flash plowed his fist into his nose. Peter's nose broke, but seeing as if had repaired in three hours, it was not worth the trip to the nurse and the headache that it would cause.
Peter would rather Flash beat up on him that another poor innocent kid that lacked the healing factor that Peter had.
Peter spider sense had yet to go off around Jacob and it genuinely seemed as if the older gentleman was trying to be nice. Peter nodded at him.
"Thank you," Peter said out loud, "What time do you want me to show up."
"Say how about six thirty?" the man said.
….
Peter needed to eat lunch. He grabbed the pizza out of the his Walmart bag. He stared at if for a moment wondering how one did this. Time to get out trusty google. Preheat the oven, take it out of the shrink wrap. Place it on the middle rack.
Peter could do this, he believed in himself. Ironically Peter feared this more than staring down the barrel of a gun, but he needed to eat. Necessity was the mother of invention.
While the pizza was in the oven, Peter started to unpack. He hooked up the microwave and pushed it to the back of the clear counter space. He unpacked the bowls, forks, knives, and glasses. Peter then unpacked the blow up mattress and used to hand pump to get it to shape. He put the sheets and it finally looked a little bit like a room.
He finally unzipped his duffle bags when the open timer rang. Peter went and turned it off, realizing he didn't have an oven mit.
He sucked in a breath realizing her would have to ask a neighbor.
He closed his eyes and tried to listen in through the walls. It sounded like a mother and a small child lived to his right.
He knocked on their door. The woman who answered looked young twenties. Her hair was ragged and she looked like she was dressed from coming back from a waiting job.
"What?" she snapped at him.
"Excuse me ma'am," Peter smiled his goofy grin, "I just moved in next door and I forgot to pack an oven mitt. I was wondering if I could borrow one."
A little girl peeked behind the woman's legs. She looked to be about five. She had big brown eyes like her mother. Peter smiled at the child who ducked out of sight as soon as she realized she had been seen.
The woman pursed her lips. "Bring it back."
"Thank you," Peter said exuberantly, "My name is Peter."
The woman gave him a dark look as she opened her top drawer of her kitchenette. She handed Peter the oven mitt. "I don't care what you name is," the snapped harshly, and closed the door.
Well, Peter thought, she was plenty pleasant.
He went back; he ate; he unpacked his clothes in neat stacks on the floor. He took out a couple of posters he had rolled up from his old room and stuck them on the walls. He unpacked a couple of frames with pictures of Peter with his aunt and uncle. He had most of the old photos scanned on his laptop.
Peter had never been as happy for that project he had undertaken a couple of years ago when he wanted to print his aunt a shutterfly book for Christmas and had scanned every photo they owned. Now Peter had them stored in a third party storage online and on a hard drive backup. He would not lose them.
There was only one overhead light in the apartment, and Peter would need to pick up a cheap lamp. He clicked on the notes on his phone. So far, he needed a lamp and an oven mitt. There was sure to be more.
It was now three in the afternoon and Peter planed on going out that night as Spider-man. He plugged his phone in the wall with his charger and set an alarm for 6:15. He would nap now, eat, come back and nap for another hour, then go out. Yes, Peter decided, that would be his plan.
He smiled to himself as he looked around the room. This was his home now. He had somewhere he come back to after school. He had somewhere he could sleep when he needed to. He might still be alone, but he wasn't lost or helpless.
Peter Parker let out a deep sigh of relief; he would be okay.