Truly Blind | p. parker

xvi • to the decathlon

You and Peter headed to the back of the bus in order to avoid the driver's lingering coffee breath. It was nasty according to Peter.  

"Okay team," MJ called from the front. "Make sure not to overwork your brain on the drive. We've done this before, we can do it again."

"Maybe they've done this before," Peter muttered, sliding into the seat next to you.

The decathlon team was on their way to the state qualifier, and you felt incredibly ready.

"We're going to do just fine." You assured him quietly. You made sure to use the term 'we' rather than 'you' in order to instill inside him the idea that he wasn't taking on this new adventure alone. Which, he wasn't.

You were, for lack of a better term, his seeing eye dog for this trip, as well as his guide, his eyes on the scene, his tutor, and his caretaker. You were to walk him places, read signs and instructions to him, buy his meals, and manage his money, wardrobe, and schedule.

You were so heavily involved in the proceedings of the event, that MJ had offered you a yellow participants jacket that had once belonged to a girl called Liz. But you decided against it so as not to be mistaken for a contestant. After all, your job was slightly more consuming than answering intelligent questions. Speaking of which....

"May packed your suit, right?"

At these words, Peter started in his seat and looked confused and apprehensive. "What suit?"

You squinted at him in suspicion. Was he trying to be funny?

"Your pressed one. For the event. It's all grey and stuff with a blue tie for the congratulatory dinner after the competition."

"Oh," Peter relaxed. "Right, that suit. Yeah, I think May put it in the suitcase."

"Okay, good, because I didn't see it in the duffel bag."

"Yeah, me neither." Peter smiled.

You knew he was making a stab at humor this time.

"Okay, should we study for a bit?" You suggested, digging through your backpack.

"Ah, come on, we've been studying for weeks, I've got this." He said.

"Let's just go through the flashcards once. Alright?"

Peter was gazing in the direction of Ned, Flash, and Abraham near the front of the bus. Even though Peter couldn't see them throwing paper airplanes across the aisle, you knew he could tell they were having fun.

"Just once through. And then you can go sit with Ned and Abraham."

Peter relented and so you began to flip through the cards, reading out definitions and Peter giving you the answers and such. After a while, You flipped over the last card. "In a classic story of greek history, a man ignores his fate and instead challenges his passions—"

"I know this, all of it." Peter said before you could finish.

"But Pete—"

"___, relax, you have too much on your plate already. I know this stuff. Let's just enjoy the bus ride and worry about it tomorrow when it matters."

Battling your nerves, you nodded and tucked the cards back into your backpack. "Sorry, I just want you to be well prepared."

"I am, I promise. You've done everything so amazingly well." Peter smiled at you and you felt his hand cover yours.

Childish giddiness rose from within you but almost instantly it was quelled by Peter's regretful look and the way he pulled back, as if burned.

To say you had not expected this would be a lie. Ever since the incident in Peter's room, he'd been acting hesitant, frightened— ashamed, even, to show the slightest inclination of closeness between the two of you. You couldn't understand why, as you constantly observed that he seemed to be happiest in the flickering moments before he realized he had apparently overstepped his reach.

Without another word, the newly familiar stale awkwardness in the air, he stood up and felt his way towards the front of the bus where the boys greeted him with yells of delight. You saw Flash aim a paper airplane at his face.

As you watched him go, you thought of how things used to be. The two of you had shared more than one romantic occasion on his balcony, and countless more on walks home from school, errands for May, and general shenanigans at his apartment. Why had all of that changed? 

You swallowed, looking down at your phone. And the same thoughts that had persisted for the past month attacked you. Did he not like you enough? Was he perhaps uncomfortable with getting close to you? And the worst yet: was the happiness before the rejection all an act to spare your feelings?

Before tears could find their way to your cheeks, as they had so often done in the recent past, you tugged a book from within your crammed bag and forced yourself to delve within its pages.

A few hours later the bus came to a stop in front of a grand looking hotel with posters and signs decorating its front, advertising for the decathlon event.

"Alright, find your buddy and let's move out!" Mr. Harrington called as the doors opened.

People began to jostle and move about, trying to get to the exit. You made your way up to just behind Peter and touched the small of his back to let him know you were there.

Right as the two of you reached the exit, Flash stuck out his leg and Peter went sprawling to the floor.

There were stifled laughs and surprised gasps, but Peter seemed to be alright.

You caught Flash's eye and he smiled at you, slightly apologetic, but mostly enthused.

You punched him hard in the arm as he left.

Peter found your ankle with his hand and reached up. He didn't need your help to right himself, but you grasped his hand anyway and pulled him to you, his legs pushing up to ease your strain.

"I slugged Flash for you."

Peter looked deeply touched. "You shouldn't have."

"Let's get going," You said, offering your sleeve. He took hold and you led the way.

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