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Felicia Hardy hated funerals. If it were her choice, she would never attend another one in her life. They could say what they wanted about being disrespectful, but gathering in a graveyard and saying the Lord's prayer whilst people that barely knew the deceased reminisced on how they bumped into one another once at Walmart was an absolute nightmare. The way the girl seen it, everyone wanted to know you when you were dead. The man with the dark glasses filled her vision. It was him. It was funny how things happen. People pass you that change somebody else's life, that refracts and changes a few other lives in the process. And for what? Because one happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time?
Benjamin Franklin Parker's funeral was a solemn one. It was raining, as if there couldn't be more of a pathetic fallacy. Peter Parker's blank look as the water poured down from his hair, was still in the girls vision as she sat down at the table for dinner, the smell of her mother's meat loaf filling her nostrils. It was there the following morning, and then re-ignited the following week when Peter himself walked through the doors, in a world of his own, his earphones in. There was a sudden hush as he walked through the corridors, eyes flickering in his direction. Everyone knew what happened by now, it was plastered all over the news. Ben Parker's killer was on posters all around the city. The boy kept his head down, cracking open his locker, fumbling away, as Flash Thompson came over, seemingly sticking to the usual bullying routine. Felicia was ready to tell him to get lost, when Peter span round grabbing Flash by the shirt, pushing him up against the locker violently. The girl stumbled back in shock, the Thompson kid's eyes as equally bewildered, the entire hallways gaze darting in their direction. Peter slowly released his grip, quickly grabbing his books, and pushing past the attention towards a concerned Gwen Stacy who stood in the middle of the corridor. As Felicia Hardy hissed a profane spat at Flash, Gwen hugged the boy, or tried to, as he stood for a moment, before striding out the door, tears streaking down his face. As soon as he left, the corridor erupted in noise once more, movement commencing, proving another of Felicia's point about death. Life moved on, whether you wanted it to or not.
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"Hello Felicia! I'm making spaghetti and meatballs if that's alright with you" Mrs Stacy smiled warmly by the hob stirring the contents of a pan, as the brunette walked into the large apartment, Gwen closing the door after them.
"Mrs Stacy that's more than alright. It smells great" Felicia enthusiastically did a chefs kiss, in the air, making her best friends mother laugh, the two girls making their way to Gwen's room to finish up some homework before dinner. The girl gave a fist bump to each of her friends younger brothers who had come out of their rooms hearing them arrive. In all honesty the entire Stacy family loved having Felicia around for dinner, and Gwen would never tell the girl, but she thought some part of them pitied her. Her mother worked back shifts at the hospital as an nurse to afford rent, as well as a second job cleaning and ironing people's clothes.
"This entire week has just been....awful" Gwen mumbled, too low in mood to even look at the books she sprawled out in front of them on the bed. Felicia nodded in agreement, heaving out a sigh.
