CHAPTER 4
THE BOY WHO LIKED SWIRLIES

SLOANE HADN'T BEEN ABLE to get started on any work for two days. Her second day in Queens was spent nursing a major hangover after drinking half the bottle of Grey Goose the night prior. She pretended she had a stomach bug in front of Sabrina, but she could tell that Frank had an inkling of what was going on. Sloane was known to handle her liquor well, so this didn't make sense. On the other hand, she was equipped at handling cheap liquor.

Maybe Flash was right. She was getting old. Practically a geriatric.

Karma must've also wanted her to bite her in the ass, because the next day, she woke up with real nausea and cramps from her period. Sabrina's mothering instincts kicked in like a ton of bricks, but Sloane shooed her away and locked the door. As she knelt over a bucket and waited for the gagging to kick in, she closed her eyes and got a split second of a distant memory. Or was it a dream? She couldn't quite tell what was real anymore, even after all these years. It had only been a second long, an image of Sloane when she was fourteen: head over the toilet bowl, puking her guts out. Her mother was holding back her hair, and when she moved, she was pretty sure she saw blood in the vomit. Sloane heard just a syllable from her dad's voice before the memory went away, and she wiped the sweat off her brow.

She didn't puke, thankfully. A couple of aspirin and two Tums an hour later, Sloane felt as good as she would on a normal day. She decided to go down to the street corner at two PM and pick up a greasy pastrami sub before bringing it back to the penthouse. Just as she sat down to eat, both her mother and Everett came into the kitchen, ruining her appetite. Everett grabbed a banana after getting home from school and received a kiss on the cheek from Sabrina. Her mother then shut the patio door and took off her gardening gloves. Sloane had the sub up to her mouth until she noticed the soil-covered gloves. "It's almost winter, Mom," she said. "What could you possibly be gardening?"

"Snowdrops," Sabrina replied cheerily. Her tone threw Sloane off. "Bet you didn't know there are flowers that start blooming in the snow. I always plant them in the balcony planter at the start of fall." She eyed the sub dripping with grease. "You're feeling better?"

"Better than ever," Sloane muttered, and finally took a bite of her sandwich. She practically moaned at the taste of grease and salt and Swiss cheese. Now, this tasted like home. Her dad used to get one of these every Sunday for them to share when she was little.

Sabrina stepped closer to her at the counter. "Actually, honey, since you're feeling better, can I make a request? Only once you're finished with ... that."

Sloane raised her brows, attempting to get down the large bite.

"I'd really like you to spend some time with Everett. Get to know him better." She squeezed her arm. "You two are siblings now."

"You know," Sloane said after swallowing, "I never really wanted a sibling."

Sabrina gave her a hard look. "Don't give me that, Sloane –"

"He's a teenager, Mom." Her hand smacked against the counter. "I have nothing in common with a seventeen-year-old. What am I supposed to do with him?"

Sabrina glared at her daughter, and despite Sloane's protests, she found herself walking beside Everett at four o'clock. He had just finished his homework and they had time to kill before dinner. God, homework – Sloane wondered when was the last time she had homework. Well, technically this article was homework, and she was way past due on her research already. She needed to get a move on tomorrow or Bobby was going to kill before some Jawbreaker could.

Everett wanted to go to the skatepark to hang with some friends, and Sabrina had practically shoved Sloane out the door with him before she could blink. Lucky for her, she had a full flask to keep her company while she watched a bunch of teenagers skate around in a hole for an hour. This couldn't go by quick enough.

They walked down the street at the same slow pace. Everett was dragging his skateboard against the pavement, while Sloane was taking tiny sips from her flask when he wasn't looking. She admired the stickers on the back of his board until her phone vibrated. For a moment, she tensed, expecting it to be Bobby asking for an update. But it was worse. She got a text from Flash.

FLASH THOMPSON: Still have your number somehow! Julia's down to grab some grub sometime. When are you free?

Sloane rolled her eyes and slid the phone back into her pocket. There was no way that she was going to meet up with them. In fact, now that she knew they were both still in Queens, she was going to actively avoid them at all costs. She wondered, for a second, if they were still fucking. Flash was the kind of guy to have an affair, no matter how "in love" he was with his new wife. She was pretty sure Julia had lost her virginity to him in sophomore year, and for some people, there was just something about getting back with your first love.

Sloane didn't see the sentiment in it. She had lost her virginity to one of Flash's best friends – honestly, she couldn't even recall his name now – when she was sober, before her dad had died. And somehow, the hazy memory of her losing it to Whatever His Name Was seemed like a worse decision than the first time she had a nip of alcohol.

"So," she said aloud, breaking out of her thoughts, "do you skateboard often?"

Everett eyed her suspiciously for a moment. "Uh – yeah, when I can."

Sloane nodded, pretending to be interested. "Can you do any cool tricks?"

"I guess." He shrugged.

"Like what?"

"You don't need to talk to me like I'm five, you know?" He snapped. "I'll be eighteen in, like, six months."

Sloane stared at him for a second, and then whistled. "Alright then," she sighed. "So ... my mom says her and the, like, PTA moms are quite distressed about the murders of those two girls. You guys have a curfew now because of it, right?"

She hadn't forgotten about how he'd disappeared last night. He could've been in Frank's office or doing laundry, for all she knew. But if he'd been out of the house, he had to have done it secretly. She couldn't blame him. Sloane couldn't count how many times she snuck out as a teenager, but she also didn't have a curfew because a known murderer was running around the city.

Everett laughed at her question. "Yeah."

"What's funny?"

"Nothing." Another shrug. "You're visiting to write about them?"

"Well, yes, and for Thanksgiving –"

He chuckled again. "You're not here for Thanksgiving."

He was practically asking for a swift punch to the face, but Sloane knew she had to ignore his tone. Instead, she ignored everything he said in the last two minutes and decided to start over. "Did you know the two girls?" She asked, sticking her hands in the front pockets of her parka. "The ones that died? They were around your age."

Everett glanced at her and retorted, "No."

The skate park was two blocks away, and once they were close enough, Everett got on his board and skated towards a group of teenagers waiting for him by a ramp. He waved to them excitedly and they yelled for him. Sloane kept trudging at a snail's pace towards the park. Looks like their conversation was over. At least they were able to have a sliver of family bonding time to appease her mother.

Sloane plopped herself on a rickety bench by the skate pool. It felt like it was ready to collapse under the weight of her. She watched Everett glide through the various ramps and half-pipes, pushing his friends out of his way. He even shoved another guy off his board so he wouldn't fall. Sloane cringed at the sight of it.

As Everett began talking to a girl at the handrails, Sloane took out her flask and sipped. It was filled with Smirnoff, her tried and true. She scrutinized Everett and deliberated in her head if he was flirting with the girl or not. He started to help her with a trick, and it was so innocent, the way nice teenage boys treated nice girls. He shouted her name with a laugh: "C'mon, Naomi!" Sloane's heart couldn't help but ache a little. She had thought her new step-brother seemed like kind of an asshole, but there was some sweetness underneath. He hadn't inherited any of her or her mother's sourness just yet.

The bench creaked as more weight was put on top of it. Sloane thought for a second that the wood was definitely going to break, but like most old things, it held together well. She looked to her left and gave the person a quick once-over. It was a man around her age, sporting a similar pair of dark circles and a chin scrape under his stubble-covered chin. He took off his helmet and revealed short, unkempt dark brown hair. His arm muscles tensed when he felt the scrape on his chin, but besides that, he looked pretty skinny under his baggy clothes. Sloane quickly looked away when he went to grab a bandaid out of his bag, feeling his eyes on her.

She ignored him and continued to take another sip from her flask. But try as she may, she could basically feel his stare burning into her cheek. He kept glancing at her. She tried to keep her focus on Everett and his friends – oh, he just wiped out in front of that girl – but she couldn't just pretend this guy next to her wasn't totally freaking her out.

She capped the flask and whipped her head in his direction, startling him. "Can I help you?"

He immediately looked forward. His body went rigid. "Sorry, I – it's just –" He shook his head and took a breather before his next set of words. "You look familiar."

Her eyes narrowed. "And you look too old to be at a skate park."

"You ... you can skateboard at any age, you know." His brow knitted together as he touched the bandage now on his chin.

Sloane huffed and turned away. She gripped the edge of the bench and leaned forward, hoping Everett would come over soon and tell her she wanted to leave. She couldn't just leave him here by himself or Sabrina would wring her neck.

The man beside her snapped, bringing her wide grey eyes back to him. "Wait, you're Sloane, right? You were a cheerleader at Midtown back in the day. We were both class of 2013."

Sloane's brow shot up. She could hardly remember what she had for breakfast yesterday, and this stranger somehow remembered what year they graduated high school. "And you are ...?"

"Oh, um – I'm Peter." He stuck his hand out and smiled. Sloane noticed his brown eyes crinkle. "Peter Parker. We were sort of acquaintances."

Sloane hesitated, and then reached out. Once her hand touched his, she recalled a cloudy moment from high school.

She was standing by her locker with Julia. They were already in their purple and gold cheer uniforms for the pep rally later that day. They were giggling while passing a nip of watermelon-flavored vodka back and forth, and Flash was telling them to slow down. Before they could tell him off, one of Flash's friends shouted out a name Sloane didn't recognize, and when the two girls glanced up, Flash and his friends were huddling around another boy in a threatening way.

"C'mon, guys," the boy said, trying to put his skateboard between him and the group of taller students. "Don't you have better things to worry about? Like that pep rally?"

"I'm not worrying about a thing, Parker." Flash grabbed the back of the boy's collar and pulled. "Let's go for a swirly, shall we?"

The boy tried squirming away. "No, Flash, please –"

But Flash was already bringing him inside the closest boy's restroom, while the rest of his friends chanted, "Peter likes swirlies! Peter likes swirlies!" Julia snickered at the sight of it, and Sloane looked off, pretending she hadn't seen a thing.

Sloane wasn't even sure how long the memory lasted, but it went away in a quick flash. Could she be sure that it was real? Sometimes her imagination liked to play tricks on her. Peter Parker, she thought, studying his face. The boy who liked swirlies.

"I'll take your word for it," she finally replied, slipping her hand from his. "My memories have gotten so hazy." She held out her flask as an offer. "Do you partake?"

"Oh, thanks." He brought her flask to his lips, and Sloane admired them for a second. They were large and his bottom lip was fuller than the top. Those were what made his nice smile.

He tipped the flask back and took a sip, automatically coughing as the liquid felt like fire down his esophagus. "Okay," she said, plucking her flask away, "I'll take that back."

"You like cheap liquor, don't you?" He asked in between coughs.

"If you don't like the cheap then how will you ever appreciate the expensive?"

Peter smiled. "Who said that? Einstein?"

Her expression matched his. "No, I did."

He nodded and she looked back to see Everett saying goodbye to his friends. She sighed, stuck her flask back into her pocket, and got to her feet. There was no way her new step-brother was going to wait up for her. He was already starting to head down the block.

She awkwardly waved towards Peter. "See you later, skater boy."

"Sloane," he called, kicking his skateboard into his hands and just narrowly missing. The board fumbled in his grip. "Um – maybe I'll see you around."

She smirked and glanced back at him from over her shoulder. "Maybe you will."

AUTHOR'S NOTE: first meeting!!!!! 🥰 idk how many of you read the one-shot I wrote on ao3 that this fic is based on, but in it, I had sloane not know peter or spider-man. for this chaptered fic, I decided to have them be kinda acquaintances in high school and sloane will also kinda know who spider-man is. it's gonna make the story flow so much better!

hope you guys enjoyed!! 💘