Heroes of New York

THREE - SPARKY

Chapter Three

~Peter Parker~

     Okay, so Percy was a little weird. I accept that about him. He's smarter than he looks; has a hard time reading and writing English, even though he speaks it almost fluently; the glasses he wore didn't seem to be for anything specific because he could see fine both near and far without them; he knows really weird, random things, mostly based around mythology; he never has anyone over; and I don't think I've ever seen him with any of his other friends, despite the fact that he talks about them rather enthusiastically (though one of them seemed to be a little more than that from the description, but Percy didn't say anything, so neither did I).

     He didn't like telling people about himself, and when he did, it always seemed like he was holding back, even with simple things like what he did on his summer break. On top of that, Percy sometimes disappears for days, like he's dropped off the face of the earth. But each time he returned, it was almost as though he had never left. According to some other students that had been at Goode longer, Percy had completely missed last year, even though he hadn't retaken anything and didn't seem to have transferred schools.

     Along with that gossip came the rumours that Percy was covered in scars. Sure, everyone could see the little ones on his arms and legs, and the few pale lines on his face and neck, but his torso is said to look like a road map, lines of varying width and length crisscrossing the expanse of skin. No one ever said much other than that, though. As odd and intimidating as Percy seemed, he was probably one of the nicest people you would ever meet, and most felt it was the least they could do to keep him safe by never mentioning Percy Jackson to anyone outside of school or to a figure of authority unless strictly necessary.

     I tried not to think about it too much, but it kept coming to the front of my mind.

     His parents didn't seem to care where he went, or when, or why, or with whom. It didn't even seem like he told them that he wasn't coming home.

     What could possibly be going on with him? Was he being hurt by someone at home? This wasn't the first time I had thought about this.

     I finally decided that when he went home tonight I would either drive him or follow him home. Okay, that was pretty stalker-ish, but we'd been friends for a while now and I was honestly getting a little worried.

     At first, I thought he might be a vigilante like Spiderman, but there hadn't been sightings of any other masked heroes in this part of New York (there were the Avengers, who watched most if the city, but didn't really step in unless it was a bigger threat [except Hawkeye, clearly he does whatever he wants]; Spiderman, suspiciously running my area of New York; and at least four probably-super-powered people running around Hell's Kitchen and Harlem [though Daredevil was the most well-known]) and none of the existing ones really fit the description. He didn't seem the type to be a villain either, and none of the recent ones had fit his appearance anyway.

     Realizing it was getting late, I turned to Percy, who was putting the pages of our print-out into a folder.

     "You need a ride home?" I asked as he finished.

     "Nah, I think I'm good. But I really should go before it gets too dark out." He stood up and stretched, his fingertips brushing the low ceiling. "You know how it is now, with all those super-dudes hanging around. Thanks, though."

      "Yeah, okay. Be careful out there, then." Percy grabbed his stuff and I walked him to the door. Saying our goodbyes, I gave him a good head start, changing into my Spiderman outfit before leaping out the window after him.