Spider-Man | Doesn't Need Help

CHAPTER 33

"Peter, that’s not how you do it!” I looked pointedly at May, who took the small knife I was trying to cut the cake with from my hands.

I snorted, rolling my eyes, and glanced at a smiling Ned and MJ, whom we'd promised would train together for the decathlon. They both happened to have free time today, and since I was supposed to be at my place of residence, they decided to visit me.

And me? Well... May took something to bake, so I decided, or rather was forced by Happy, to help her.

"So what's wrong with that? You did it just like I wanted!" I said, outraged, watching as my aunt cut the cake in half, only with a different knife.

The brunette looked at me, smiling.

"You'll never be a cook," MJ said, walking over to the oven May had abandoned, saving the cake I wanted to cut the same way!

I rolled my eyes and walked over to my friend and my aunt's boyfriend.

“Baby,” I muttered quietly to myself.

“Excuse me?” the two women asked simultaneously.

“Oh, kid, you’re stealing,” Hogan hummed, nodding his head at the brunettes.

I muttered a quiet "Mhm" before returning to my aunt, who was pouring pudding onto a layer of cake on a baking sheet, beneath which were already grated apples and cinnamon.

I watched as she took the second piece of dough and began tearing it into pieces, arranging the torn pieces throughout the entire cake. At one point, she split the cake in half and handed one half to me.

Without a word, I moved closer to her until our shoulders were touching, and I started doing the same thing she was doing.

“I don’t want to sound like a bad aunt, but this is the only thing you’re getting right here,” she said quietly, but loud enough for me to hear.

I snorted, trying to suppress the smile that was creeping onto my face.

The woman nudged me in the side, laughing loudly.

"So what? Is it over?" I asked when we both had nothing left to arrange.

Meanwhile, Happy took my friends somewhere for a while, saying they would be back in ten minutes.

“Yes, now we’ll put it in for fifty minutes and it’ll be ready,” she replied, walking over to the barely functioning oven.

I wondered how this device was still functioning...

"Wait, what was it called?"

"Apple pie."

“Makes sense, there are apples after all.” I nodded, leaning against the counter.

The woman took the freshly poured tea. She picked up the cup and started toward me, but suddenly tripped over her own feet, tumbling straight to the ground. Instinctively, I took a few steps toward her, catching her at the last moment and keeping her from falling. However, the boiling tea spilled onto my sweatshirt.

I hissed loudly, instinctively grabbing the ends of my clothes and lifting them up to quickly take them off.

It was only after I had done this and dropped my sweatshirt to the floor that I fully realized what had just happened.

I automatically tried to cover myself as much as possible, but it was impossible. Scars from cuts, arrows, and burns covered my arms.

I glanced briefly at May, who was looking at my hands.

I tried to read something in her face, but I couldn't.

I looked away. I don't know why, but I felt ashamed. Shame because it was the first time anyone had seen those wounds—except Mr. Adams.