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DESPITE HER ARGUMENT with Sabrina last night, Sloane woke up in a better mood than the day before. Her mother's words had not been a comfort at all – what a shocker – but Sloane wouldn't let Sabrina's harshness kill her optimism. She, Sloane Bernstein, had managed to somehow track down New York's favorite masked vigilante – or at least, at one point he was their favorite. Nevertheless, she had gotten Spider-Man to agree to help her, and that called for celebration.
Sitting on her bed cross-legged, Sloane closed the ancient phone book in front of her and typed the phone number into a new text message. She hoped this worked and it wasn't some old man on the other end trying to get her to send feet pictures. It had already happened once before.
SLOANE BERNSTEIN: Hey, it's Sloane! I hope me finding your phone number doesn't come off as creepy. Although, now that I've said that, I feel like it comes off as creepy 😶
She placed her phone on the bed, biting the end of her fingernail. The sun was starting to set on a day spent researching, and the bright glare was beginning to hurt her eyes. Just as she was about to pull down the shade, her phone vibrated. She immediately picked up her phone and opened the notification.
PETER PARKER: Hey, Sloane. Surprisingly, this is the first time I've gotten a text from a random number that I haven't found to be creepy. Can I ask how you found my number???
SLOANE BERNSTEIN: There's this thing called a phone book
PETER PARKER: THOSE STILL EXIST??
SLOANE BERNSTEIN: When you're living with old people at the moment, you can find just about anything. Even something as ancient as a phone book
PETER PARKER: How do I know this isn't actually an old man texting me?
Damn, she thought, great minds think alike. Sloane opened her camera then and snapped a photo of herself doing a thumbs-up before sending it to him. He replied a second later.
