𝐏𝐇𝐎𝐄𝐁𝐄 𝐃𝐈𝐃𝐍'𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐋; 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐃𝐈𝐃𝐍'𝐓 𝐌𝐄𝐀𝐍 𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐍𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐖𝐀𝐒, 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐋𝐖𝐀𝐘𝐒 𝐇𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐈𝐓 𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐃. She sighed angrily to herself as her shoes slid against the linoleum floor, nearly sending her into the lockers, just barely catching herself and shooting forward down the hall, the loud squeak of her skidding shoes screaming into her ears, her vision momentarily clouded from the pain, sending her stumbling; this didn't normally happen, but she seemed to have trouble controlling her heightened senses as of late, which was anything but comforting.

By the time she reached her second period classroom—she had missed first period entirely—her head was pounding and she was ready to just collapse on the ground for a few minutes to re-center herself, but she knew that it wouldn't be taken well by anyone if she did, so all she could do was lean against the door for a few moments, gripping the handle and taking deep breaths, forcing herself to relax her muscles and eyes, having squeezed them shut in an attempt to hurry the process.

When she was able to relax the tension in her temples and shoulders, it was much easier to breathe and center herself, and while it did cost her extra time in being late, she would at least be able to get right to work, rather than lowering her head on her desk and running the risk of getting in trouble.

Opening the door, she stepped inside, looking around, startled to find that everyone had decided to find new places to sit, all of them looking towards her as she struggled to find an empty seat.

"Phoebe," her AP Environmental Science teacher, Mr. Jewells, greeted, "It's good you're here. After the blatant cheating that went on during the last test, I've decided that we're going to have a seating chart. You're sitting next to Ms. Moon. Cindy, raise your hand."

Phoebe turned to look at the desks, catching sight of two hands raised in different parts of the room. Feeling her heart rate quicken, she turned back towards her teacher with wide eyes, unsure of what she was supposed to do; her class didn't have any Cindy's in them, which meant that these two had to be from another class, which just made things so much worse.

"Oh, I mean, um...I'm sorry, how did you say we were supposed to tell you apart?" Mr. Jewells asked, looking rather flustered as he searched for his roster where he had no doubt written himself an explanation; it was still the beginning of the school year.

"Well, both of our names are Cindy, but during practice people just say 'Cin,' so I'm Cin and she's Cindy," the Cindy with shorter hair explained, practically drowned in her Midtown High Hockey Team sweatshirt.

"Oh, okay, 'Cin,'" Mr. Jewells began, and he didn't seem sold on the compromise, but it wasn't as if he had much choice, "Phoebe will be sitting with Cindy, you still get to sit next to Mr. Parker."

"There are a lot of freshmen in this class," a junior that Phoebe didn't recognize whispered to her friend, none too quietly, and many other upperclassmen agreed with the observation, looking around to point out all aforementioned freshmen.

"Raise your hand if you're a freshman!" a senior called, with all the carefree attitude of someone who was so close to leaving, yet still had one semester to care about before officially being able to slack, looking around the room.

Five hands were raised and Phoebe allowed herself a moment to scan over them all, trying to see if she recognized them. She hadn't known about either of the Cindy's, nor the boy in the corner sitting next to someone in Phoebe's grade who was fast asleep, but she did recognize the other two boys, though she wished that wasn't the case.

The boy dressed in all blue with his hair slicked back was the son of a police officer. She didn't care to find his name, but she had gone with her father during a press conference to hear a statement from Commander Stacy about how the NYPD would not tolerate police brutality and were taking great steps to work towards ending the problem as a whole, but first in New York.

The boy in blue had stood next to her, looking as if he were the one on display, his little sister's hand grasped in his own as he tried not to fidget. Phoebe wouldn't have paid him any attention if he hadn't snorted when his father was commended by Captain Stacy as an example of an upstanding officer and member of society, which earned him a glare from his father in question, the boy paling to the point that Phoebe thought he would faint.

She didn't know his name, but she kept an eye out for him every time she visited the station—which was hardly ever, but after what happened with Sonny, she had been there a few times—and while she hadn't seen him in person, there was a picture of him and his family on his father's desk. Of course, pictures only showed so much, but from the way that they were positioned, they didn't seem that happy.

She didn't make it a habit to think of him, and she wasn't about to, but she had memories for a reason, despite all that she wanted to forget, and seeing him in class did nothing to quell the feeling of suspicion and discomfort that had settled in her stomach when she saw him pulled to the side after the press conference and tongue lashed by his father who seemed to start towards him, only to pull away when the boy flinched back; Phoebe didn't know anything about it, but he seemed like the type of man to act like not hitting his kids was a mercy they should thank him for.

She never liked thinking about him, but seeing him in class only ever reminded her of the way his father had snarled, "Eugene," at him after the press conference, and the sound was ingrained in a corner of her brain along with many other overheard conversations she would have much rather ignored.

Speaking of overheard conversations, the other boy was less concerning and more irritating, and Phoebe didn't like to be petty, but she was her father's daughter and, despite how hard she tried, she had a short fuse and easily lit temper.

Perry-Paul Parker—Phoebe couldn't remember which was his name, so she just resorted to both—made himself known in quiet ways. Whereas Flash—Phoebe didn't know which was worse, the ridiculous nickname or the name his father gave him—wanted to make himself known and establish himself in the class, much to the chagrin of everyone around him, Perry-Paul Parker made himself known in ways that only Phoebe could find annoying.

The way his foot tensed and shook just above the floor during lessons to when it switched to his heel tapping against the floor during quizzes, the constant shifting of his pen to various hands and into his mouth despite only ever being able to write with his right hand, setting it down far too many times to rummage through his bag for half a minute before realizing that his packet of gummy worms were already on his desk in the corner where he had placed it.

Those gummy worms. Phoebe never thought she would have such a visceral reaction at the thought of candy, but the very idea of sour gummy worms sent her into a rage that rivaled her father's when it came to superheroes. The way the packaging would crinkle every few moments because Perry-Paul was either reaching over to get another gummy or simply wanted something to mess with was driving her up the wall, and when she once turned around to ask him to stop, she realized that he hadn't even been paying attention to what he was doing, staring at a spot on the floor so intensely, his foot still tensed and shaking, that she had to wonder if he needed to see the nurse.

The boy couldn't seem to sit still and she could still hear him talking a mile a minute on his phone as he exited class one day, chewing on one of his jacket strings, his thoughts so scattered and the chewing so jarring that, despite her wanting to find some semblance of understanding for him and to mind her own business, she just couldn't help but be annoyed.

If only he wasn't so loud.

Not to mention, he was smart. Unfairly smart. The kind of smart that could answer a question easily even if he hadn't been paying attention to the teacher—which he seemed to not do often, what with all his fidgeting—and Phoebe couldn't help but sympathize with Flash whenever Perry-Paul answered a question he had previously gotten wrong, especially when Flash had been flipping through his textbook and Perry-Paul had been fiddling with his pen for the past forty-seven seconds—Phoebe knew the exact time because she counted, unable to focus on anything else.

She didn't have any issue with Perry-Paul, she didn't, he seemed like a generally decent boy, but it was the little things that made him unbearable, and Phoebe knew that she should work on her temper, and she was, but if people had senses as heightened as her own, they would understand exactly why she was so grated.

"Hi," Cindy greeted, looking rather flustered having to talk to Phoebe, which was probably how Phoebe would have felt if she had been in a class with students older than her, "I'm Cindy."

"I'm Phoebe, nice to meet you," she replied, because her father raised her well and these freshmen didn't seem to be too bothersome, or so she'd heard from some of the older students while walking through the halls; she didn't have an inherent issue with them, which she felt was a good thing.

Cindy looked like she wanted to say something else—or felt like she had to—but all conversation was interrupted by Mr. Jewells who had resorted to playing the theme song to Game of Thrones in order to get everyone to quiet down, which was a staple in his class from what he had announced on the first day, and from what Phoebe had heard when listening for whether she should sign up for the AP class.

"Okay, we actually need to start class now, and while this has been very entertaining, we actually need to learn, so I want phones away, we're going to watch a Crash Course before we begin," he said, and Phoebe was one of the few people that didn't groan because she did enjoy the Crash Course's, she was able to keep up with the fast pace and it was no surprise that Mr. Jewells was fond of the YouTube channel.

"While condensed and not in-depth, it is providing free education on an easily accessible platform, and you have to commend them on their commitment to philanthropy with their various charity organizations outside of simply that YouTube channel," her father had explained to her when they first discovered Crash Course together when she first moved in with him, struggling to get caught up with her grade.

She was shocked out of her thoughts by the lights turning off, the only light coming from the projected video on the whiteboard, the sky too cloudy outside to provide much sun to peek through the closed blinds.

Phoebe's eyes adjusted quickly, a perk of her heightened senses, and she was able to see as easily as if it were perfectly bright, though it was initially startling when the switch was made, which hadn't happened in some time; disconcerting, but she didn't pay it too much mind.

Taking a deep breath and leaning back in her seat, she was fully prepared to simply calm down and have a nice few minutes to just try and understand her lessons without the worry of being called on and not having the right answer prepared.

Of course, Perry-Paul Parker wasn't about to let that happen.

Phoebe gritted her teeth as her focus was torn away by the sound of plastic wrap crinkling; the exact same sound that she was very well accustomed to, unfortunately. Turning towards the noise, she found him reaching into his bag, waiting until a particularly loud part of the video to pull it out completely, and while no one else seemed to be particularly bothered—to the average ear, it was a sound, but nothing so jarring as to cause anyone any problems, especially with the way Perry-Paul was being careful not to make too much noise—Phoebe was put immediately on edge.

This was her nails on a chalkboard, though that sound wouldn't have been any better.

It seemed that Perry-Paul was more fidgety than usual that day, and Phoebe was treated to the sound of him switching between shaking his foot and tapping his heel against the ground for the rest of the class, his pen hitting his skin as he twirled it in his hand, only stopping when, just before the bell rang, it flew out of his hand and onto the ground, skidding right past Phoebe's table, sending him sprawling after it, his glasses slipping from his nose and clattering right by her boot.

"Sorry!" he cried, his entire face red, and for all that Phoebe felt for the second hand embarrassment, part of her hoped that this was the wake up call he needed to just stay still.

Reaching down, she picked up his glasses, checking to make sure that they weren't broken before holding them up, waiting for him to find his pen and make his way back to his seat, Mr. Jewells giving a friendly reminder to be careful with pens and that they were made for writing, not baton twirling.

"Sorry, Mr. Jewells," the freshman mumbled, and Flash snickered from his seat, coughing an insult that Phoebe heard all too clearly, and she this was getting far too much for her to handle.

"Here," she said, catching his wrist when he started past her table, forgetting his glasses in favor of just getting bak to his seat and hiding until the bell rang, "They're not broken."

"Thank you," he breathed, trying to smile, but only managed to grimace, taking his glasses and stumbling towards his table, his hip catching on the edge of one, Perry-Paul yelping softly in pain, and no matter how annoying he was, Phoebe had to feel bad for him.

Before he could deal with any more embarrassment, the bell rang, everyone jumping up to get to break as quickly as possible, whether that meant being able to rest or finishing the homework that they weren't able to get done the night before, Mr. Jewells just barely able to tell everyone to check online to find their homework.

Phoebe sighed, glancing back towards Perry-Paul who was shoving all his things into his bag, only for them to fall on the ground, and it was painful to watch him groan and hiss to himself at his own clumsiness. The crinkle of the gummy worm packaging demanded pity over rage, and Phoebe couldn't help but feel bad for him, to the point where her sneakers started making their way over without her assent.

Bending down, she helped gather up the things that had fallen, Perry-Paul opting to deal with what was still on his table before crouching down and dealing with his things later. She grabbed his notebook and stray pens, placing them in the fallen pencil case before reaching for his backpack and placing everything inside, ignoring the way Perry-Paul was apologizing and explaining that, "No, it's okay, I was just going to leave them on the ground and, okay, well, thank you, that's really nice."

She gave him a pursed lipped smile, finally giving in and looking at his face, taking in the red on his cheeks and ears, the brown doe eyes behind his wide-framed glasses, and the way his hand rubbed at the back of his neck, avoiding eye contact before darting back to hold it, only to look away again.

"No problem," she said, reaching out and placing the rest of his things in his bag, unable to help the smile that played on her lips when he groaned, reaching to grab at them, but too slow against Phoebe's quick hands, sighing in acceptance as he watched her zip up his bag, placing the straps in his hands, "Don't worry too much about it, we'll all forget by next period. No one has enough energy to care about something like this."

He nodded earnestly, looking so hopeful that Phoebe desperately hoped that she was right. "Yeah, let's hope so. Thank you. Uh, I should get going, my friend is waiting for me."

"Yeah, mine is too," she said, already heading towards her table, grabbing her own bag, heading for the door.

She heard Perry-Paul start to apologize and held up a hand. "It was really no problem, my friend is fine waiting, he's got homework to finish up anyways, don't worry about it."

The freshman seemed to want to say something else, but after it was clear that Phoebe was being polite and nothing more, he merely nodded, scrambling to open the door for her, which was sweet, if not a little ridiculous, given that he had to sprint to catch up with her.

"S-see you later," Perry-Paul called after her, and Phoebe just raised a hand, not bothering to turn around; she wasn't interested in spending any more time with him than she needed to, and he seemed like a sweet boy, he did, but that didn't mean she had to be his friend.

By the time she arrived at the cafeteria, Gabriel was already finishing up his homework, which was surprising given that he always seemed to leave it to the last minute, always preferring to do all his work on his computer, leaving his math work for last, given that their teacher needed it done on either paper or a tablet, and seeing that Gabriel had yet to acquire the latter, he had to stick with the former.

"Where have you been, Phoebe?" the boy asked, his fingertips glowing blue as he turned off his music without needing to reach for his phone, reaching up to pull his earbuds out, raising his head up from his notebook.

She sighed, settling down into the seat across from him, pulling out her phone. "Helping out an embarrassed freshman."

Gabriel's eyes darted up from his work. "The one from the press conference?"

How Gabriel was able to remember so many small details he was told was beyond Phoebe. He was good at multitasking and it seemed to bleed into his everyday habits, but it never ceased to amaze her; after all, he hadn't been there and had only heard of Flash once, when she told him on the first day of school about how she recognized him.

"No," she said, tapping her fingers against the table, "the one that's always moving."

Gabriel groaned, rolling his eyes as he went to his work. "Phoebe, I get that with your senses you're aware of everything, but you hear noises all the time and they've never bothered you, why are you so fixated on this kid, lots of our classmates make noise."

"Because his are quiet and consistent enough that they only ever really bother me," she exclaimed, running her hands through her hair, "And I can deal with pen chewing or foot tapping or whatever, but not everything coming from the same person, and the gummy worms—"

"I know, I know, it's different because you haven't been able to adjust to the sound enough that it won't bother you, you've adjusted to the plastic water bottles and the sounds in here, and pretty much every other sound ever, but Phoebe last year we were in a class with Neal Krawford and that kid opened and closed his pencil case for fun, you didn't hate him," Gabriel pointed out, and it was clear that there was a point to this other than Phoebe's petty feelings towards Perry-Paul.

Phoebe sighed, glancing around the cafeteria. She was used to focusing her attention, allowing everything to fade into white noise. She was meant to always stay alert, to be able to focus while be completely present, something that had taken much skill and practice and, over time, became too much for her to handle, especially in a place like New York. Whereas Gabriel was able to do so with his abilities, he was able to turn his off, she wasn't. So she only utilized the practiced skill during their nightly excursions, teaching herself how to shut everything out, which wasn't always helpful if she was too dialed in, but it kept her sane.

It was the still the same now. Pulling away from her focus on Gabriel, she was able to hear the rest of the room. Normally, it was just a louder version of what everyone else heard, but ever since school started a month prior, she couldn't help but notice the way she seemed to tuning in and out of several conversations throughout the room, the most concerning being the whispered conversations in the corner of the room opposite of Phoebe's own.

"Is everything okay?" Gabriel asked, leaning forward, "'Cause you know I'm with you for literally everything, but you're way too heated about this kid, and I wouldn't care about it if I wasn't worried that something else is going on."

Phoebe shrugged, sighing heavily and rubbing at her shoulders. "If something's going on, I don't know what it is, all I know is that I'm still able to function and it's not that big of a deal. Maybe it's just that I'm rusty after summer break, give it a few weeks and I'll be fine."

Gabriel didn't seem convinced, and Phoebe didn't blame him; she felt the exact same way. Of course, she wouldn't admit that to him, there was no need to bring more trouble than there needed to be, and if there was something to be fixed, she would fix it on her own.

But considering that she wasn't dead yet, she wouldn't worry too much about it. There was no reason to fix what wasn't broken. Unfortunately for her, Phoebe wasn't so sure how to tell when something was.

º º º

"Please tell Hewitt that sighing heavily and flaunting his free time because he finished all his work isn't going to make me change my mind," Jameson said in lieu of a greeting when Phoebe poked her head into his office.

She rolled her eyes, finding that her father was going to be taking one of his longer nights at the office, if the way he was spreading out papers with all the screens on the wall behind him turned on were any indication. "Aren't you glad that one of your top reporters is so dedicated to his job?"

Jameson snorted. "Don't let anyone hear you call him one of my top reporters, Phoebe, you'll sound biased and wrong."

She stuck her tongue out at him, knowing that he could see even if he wasn't paying attention. "Whatever, my point is that you should let him go to something, even something small. He wants to work, and you're always talking about work ethic and accountability and stuff."

His gaze flicked up at her and he raised an eyebrow. "Good to know that you listen to me, Phoebe, it's so refreshing."

She shrugged. "It's hard when all you do is yell about superheroes and why they're bad. People don't listen when you yell, dad, you told me yourself."

The man splayed out his hands. "That's why I told you in the first place, because at least you'll be better than me. It's hard to unlearn what you're used to, Phoebe, I've had to yell to get people to listen and even then no one did. So I want you to be better."

She smiled, tilting her head at him, the same smile that she and her brother shared, the smile Jameson always said they inherited from their mother, and she didn't know if that was possible, but it was her special smile and it seemed to make him happy, if not a little sad.

He smiled back for a few moments, allowing himself the time to just look at the daughter he never knew, the daughter he had missed growing up, before clearing his throat and turning back to his work. "Now go bother, Hewitt, I'm busy."

She laughed, walking towards his desk, looking up at the screens. "What's the scoop?"

"Never say that again," the man groaned, turning in his chair to motion towards the general direction of the screens, "An anonymous source just informed me of another possible embezzlement scandal, I'm trying to do my research independently before possibly reaching out, it's hard to verify what they're saying and it's too soon to say for certain, but this could be another Vistacorp."

Phoebe blinked, remembering the story her father had told her when she asked about any news he had covered that had taken place in San Francisco, if he even did that, and he told her about Scott Lang, the man who had turned on the company he worked for and went to jail. Her father had defended Lang, and received some criticism for it considering his stance on superheroes and their need for regulating and accountability, and it had been a field day for Jameson trying to explain the nuance, but it had been a rousing debate that he had thoroughly enjoyed despite the energy that had been drained to do so.

Her father tended to pour his energy into everything he did, even if it was something as simple as explaining news to Phoebe, so while she would have loved to talk more of San Fransisco or his work or her day, she could tell that he was already being run thin as it was, and she would much rather talk to him when he was able than when he wasn't.

"Good luck on your work, dad," she said, reaching out to squeeze his shoulder with one hand, swiping some of his mints with the other.

He laughed at the sight, though it was too soft to be anything but tired. "Good luck with yours, Phoebe, I'll see you later. We'll probably order in today, you can choose."

"Yes!" she cheered, grinning at him before leaving the room, feeling rather embarrassed when he caught sight of Ms. Brant who was smiling at her, though she hadn't been listening in; she never did.

Walking over to Sonny's desk, she found him watching Netflix, his headphones plugged in, and she grinned, knowing that he had a double aux cord so they could listen together. He had gotten it when she admitted that she had never watched TV and knew nothing about the shows that he talked about, and while Jameson was more than happy to remind Sonny that he was a reporter and babysitting wasn't part of the job description, he did turn a blind eye as frequently as he could, and Phoebe had to appreciate that.

"Hey, Sunshine, you want some snacks?" he greeted, pushing his headphones around his neck to pull out a plastic bag from under his desk.

"How come you never offer any of us snacks?" Emma Payton called from where she sat in the desk across from Sonny's; she and Phoebe were friends, just not to the extent that Phoebe and Sonny were, and it was always entertaining to watch the two of them banter.

"Because you're not my favorite. And you're also mean, so you can get your own," he taunted, sticking his tongue out before pulling out various snacks from the bag, dropping them onto the desk.

Phoebe was happy to sit and watch with wide eyes and a grumbling stomach as Sonny pulled out various bags of chips and other goodies, plastic and cardboard crinkling and creasing as he did, but soon tensed at an all too familiar sound.

"No!" she cried, unable to stop herself before her arm shot out and swiped the packet of gummy worms off the desk, sending it flying right into the face of her father who had stepped out of his office to ask a question.

Everyone froze.

It was no secret that J. Jonah Jameson was a force to be reckoned with on the best of days, but on his worst, one would much rather throw themselves out the building before having to face his temper head on; from what the stories said, he only ever yelled, but that didn't mean that it wasn't terrifying when he did.

The man bent down slowly, picking up the packet of gummy worms, turning it over in his hand as he examined it, as if it were key evidence in the crime scene of the murder of the poor soul who had decided to bring it into his office where his daughter could launch it across the room and at his face.

"Hewitt," he called, raising the packet in his hands, "You get what you want. Field work, but only when I clear it and you don't get anything interesting. You're also benched for two weeks after your doctor clears you, so you stay busy, but nothing fun. Phoebe, please remember, this is an office, people have work, and if you can't stay focused, I can't let you be out in the pen anymore. Understand?"

"Yes, sir," the two chorused, looking down at their hands, ears burning.

The man walked back into his office, still holding the gummy worms, and it took a few moments before Phoebe and Sonny found the courage to start moving, everyone in the room waiting to see what they would do, going back to work as soon as they did.

Phoebe glanced up from beneath her lashes, feeling a pang of guilt at Sonny's blank expression as he shoved everything back into the bag, heading right to work. Feeling her gaze, he glanced over, his expression softening as he winked, letting her know that there were no hard feelings; that didn't mean she still didn't feel terrible and personally embarrassed about the entire ordeal.

She wondered briefly if this was how Perry-Paul had felt that morning, but immediately pushed away the thought, not wanting to think anymore about Perry-Paul or his gummy worms, which were what had gotten her into this mess in the first place; she wouldn't have reacted so badly if there wasn't such a negative feeling attached to the sound.

Pulling out her homework and setting it on the desk, she scowled down at her work, inwardly grumbling to herself; like she had said, Perry-Paul Parker seemed like a sweet kid, but she wasn't his biggest fan.

Looking up at the feeling of a tap on her shoulder, she found Sonny holding up the other end of his double aux cord, staring at the screen that now had his email where Jameson had given him a new assignment.

Phoebe tried to smile as she pulled out her earbuds and connected them, the uncomfortable feeling in her stomach subsiding slightly as she dialed in and began to work.

She and Sonny Hewitt were friends, she liked Sonny a lot; she didn't like Perry-Paul Parker.

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄

( 07.05.17 ; 07.15.19 )

In Homecoming, there were characters that were honestly nothing more than references to certain characters, one of which being Cindy Moon, and in the Marvel wiki they did in fact state that her name was, in full, Cindy Moon, so I decided to add in the original Cindy Moon and have the Homecoming Cindy just be another Cindy, because we've all had those classmates that have the same name and we as a class had to find a way to differentiate between them (of course, we don't usually have them with the same last names, but, you know)

Also, if you read the original version, you'll realize that I switched this to an AP course because I decided that it would be easier to explain why Phoebe and Peter are in the same class since they're in separate grades, but while I have been in my fair share of AP courses, the closest to AP Environmental Science I've gotten is AP Human Geography, and the reason why I switched to this class specifically is because the project that Phoebe and Peter did seems to make more sense for that, especially since the people that I did know who took the class had to do projects in the same vein...my point is that I'm not gonna be super accurate with anything, but I'm gonna try my best, but also remember that each school has a different teaching method, be kind to me, please, I'm not in high school anymore.

If you read the original version, you'll also noticed that I changed Paul Parker to Perry-Paul Parker, because I read in a non-Marvel fic on AO3 (I don't remember it, so don't ask) where one of the characters couldn't remember the name of a secondary character, so he called her by the two names that he thought she was called, and it's just funny to me, so I decided to let Phoebe do the same thing.

Also, you guys have no idea how much I love writing Peter Parker with ADHD. I had seen a headcanon where someone did a few doodles of him with ADHD, and I connected on such a spiritual level that I couldn't help but write it into at least one of my stories.

Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed!