A Bad Idea (Spideychelle)

Ch. 5: Waiting For You To Make A Move

Peter POV

The next day at school, MJ looked absolutely exhausted. Her skin was pale and colourless, and her eyes were dark and sunken.

"Hey," I said softly, approaching her at her locker. "Are you okay?"

She nodded stiffly. "Yeah, why?"

"You look really tired, and you never showed up last night."

"Oh, shit, I'm sorry, I completely forgot. I ended up pulling an all-nighter."

I frowned. "Why?"

"My marks aren't quite good enough, I guess. It doesn't matter." Her voice was quieter and a little more raw than usual.

"Pulling an all-nighter is counter-productive. You should know that, you tell us to rest more than we study in decathlon all the time."

"Yeah, well, it's a little different for you guys," she snapped, shooting me a sharp glare. Her eyes widened a little. "Peter, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"It's okay," I assured her.

"No, I shouldn't have-"

"MJ, you had a long night. It's fine, I promise. I'm not mad."

That seemed to calm her down, telling her I wasn't mad. Her shoulders relaxed, and she turned back to her locker, pulling out a textbook. It seemed to take more effort than usual, her face scrunching up in pain as she leaned back to compensate for the weight.

"Okay, whoa, be careful." I put a hand on her back, trying to steady her, and she winced, almost dropping her textbook.

"Sorry, I'm a mess today," she muttered hurriedly. "I should get to class."

I watched her brush past me and rush down the hall to her first period.

My hand was still hot from touching her back. Did she have a fever? Is that why she hadn't slept, why she looked so pale?

I forced myself to focus elsewhere. There was nothing I could do for her right now.

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After school, when I was at my locker, I saw MJ coming down the hallway out of the corner of my eye. Careful not to move too quick, I waved her over. She seemed a little hesitant, but she came over anyways.

"Hey, so, May and I are making lasagna tonight. I mean, it's, like, frozen lasagna because she can't cook to save her life, and between the internship and homework I don't have the time to cook and...anyways. Do you wanna come over for dinner?"

She stared at me, eyes wide, expression unreadable. And then she looked down. "Peter, I'd love to, but my dad will kill me if I'm home late again and-"

I tuned out. Her voice shook when she mentioned her dad, heartrate picked up, hands tightened around her books. She was scared of her dad.

"-if you're hurting for time, that is, it might help."

I blinked. "Sorry, what?"

"I wanted to know if you wanted a ride home. The next bus doesn't come for half an hour, and if you're tight on time it's faster to drive anyways."

She had the same expression on her face as before. It was, like, a mix of hopeful and eager to please. It was the same look I probably had on my face whenever I talked to Mr. Stark, the same look little kids have on their face when a teacher asks to use their work as an exemplar.

It made me a little sad. She was scared of her dad, working overtime to please him, probably sick, jumpy, and seemed as though she'd been trained since she was a kid to do whatever the people around her wanted from her, whether it was clearing a table or quizzing a classmate for a test.