Bruised But Not Broken - Irondad/spiderson

Neds Away

The burning in my stomach does not let me sleep.

I toss and turn until it becomes pointless, the ache sharp enough to keep me awake no matter how still I lie. Eventually, I give up. I stand, get dressed, and decide I might as well go in early to finish yesterday's homework.

Aunt May is still sound asleep when I slip out the door. I leave a note on the counter, telling her I am getting extra study in before class.

It feels easier than explaining why I could not sleep.

There are holes in my shoes.

And in my socks, for that matter.

The cold pavement bites straight through them, frost clinging to my toes as I walk. Each step echoes through the empty streets and narrow alleys. The smell of hot dogs and street food is just beginning to fill the air, rich and painful all at once.

My stomach twists.

I keep walking.

The school is silent when I arrive. I head straight for the study hall and sit down, spreading my books out neatly. Science has always come easily to me. My dad used to say it was because curiosity ran in our blood.

He was a scientist. A good one.

I wish he were still around to teach me some of the things he was working on. That curiosity is how all of this started.

A few months ago, I was going through some of his old things in the attic. A key slipped out of one of his books, attached to a note with an address scribbled on it. I did what anyone would do. I went to look.

The lab was dark and abandoned, equipment left behind like it had been forgotten in a hurry. I barely noticed the spider until it dropped from its web and landed on my hand. The bite was sharp, hot, and immediate.

I still do not know what is running through my body now.

But I cannot say I regret it.

My phone buzzes, pulling me out of the memory. Ned texts to say he will be away today. Something about helping his dad at work.

I stare at the screen for a moment longer than necessary.

It looks like I am on my own today.

The first bell rings, and I hurry to English Literature. Luckily, Flash is not in this class. Homeroom with him is not until the last period.

That thought does not help as much as I want it to.

By the time someone finally speaks to me, my voice feels dry and hoarse.

"You're Parker, right?"

I turn in my seat.

MJ.

Curly brown hair, the colour of caramel. That same unreadable expression she always wears. I have spent more time than I should have wondering what she is thinking behind it.

"Uh, yeah. Hi, MJ," I manage, coughing lightly.

"Right," she says slowly. "Where's your buddy today?"

"Ned's, uh... away," I say. "Helping his family with something."

I look down at my shoes, waiting for her to move on. She was probably looking for him, not me.

"Oh. Okay, Parker."

She pulls a chair over and sits beside me, already sketching in her notebook. I have seen her draw before, but never this close. I let out a breath I did not realise I was holding.

"What are you drawing?" I ask quietly.

She looks up, a small smile tugging at her mouth.

"People in crisis," she says. "And you look like you are in crisis."

"I'm not in crisis," I mutter.

She hums, unconvinced.
"Well, you look like it."

She goes back to drawing.

Mr Harrington bursts into the room moments later, clapping his hands together.

"I have some exciting news for everyone," he announces, dropping a thick stack of papers onto his desk.

"It's that time of year, people. Excursion time."

Great.

My mind flashes back to my last excursion. Flash shoving my head into a toilet filled with someone else's puke. The hour-long bus ride home, where I smelled like barf, and even Ned could not sit near me.

"Thompson. Morris. Hand these out," Mr Harrington says, passing the papers forward.

"This excursion is going to be the best day trip of your life," he continues, far too enthusiastically.

"This place will not only expand your minds, but you may also be assessed for a part-time internship. This could be your future career."

That would have caught my attention if Flash were not currently trying to shove my permission slip into my mouth after spitting on it.

"We are going to Stark Industries."

My breath catches.

Stark Industries.

I stare down at the paper in my hands, heart pounding. The science. The engineering. The innovation. The chance to even step inside that building feels unreal.

"Get your slips signed and handed in by Monday," Mr Harrington says. "No exceptions."

The bell rings, and the class floods into the hallway.

I stay behind.

I lean over MJ's shoulder, studying her drawing.

It barely looks like me.

The boy on the page has hollow cheeks, shadows under his eyes, a body that looks like it might fold in on itself. He looks fragile. Worn down. Like he has not eaten in days.

I swallow hard.

Do I really look like that?

I glance down at my permission slip. It is crumpled, damp at the edges.

I grab a fresh one from the desk and tuck it carefully into my bag. Before stepping into the hallway, I pause and listen, hoping Flash has already left.

Then I head out.

Down the corridors.
Out the doors.

Home.