Today is perhaps the first day this month that Anthony and I have both been in the cafeteria at the same time. Since bro code all but forces me to eat with him, I find myself sitting at a table with him, Ned, MJ, and Peter. Not that I have a problem with any of them. It's just more than obvious that Peter has a crush on me. The universe has decided that I'm off the market.

"Darcy Delmar," Anthony snaps his fingers in front of my face.

"I'm not zoned out, I'm ignoring you," I tell him, staring down at the sandwich that my Papa packed for me. Since I stayed up late last night with Dantae again, it feels like breakfast, and I don't eat breakfast. I'm too tired to want to digest food, maybe ever again. "You can try all you want, but I'm not interested in robotics."

"I was talking about how it's your birthday soon," he tells me, shaking his head back and forth.

"Please don't remind me," I tell him. Last year was quite frightful, with the whole Quinceañera versus festa de debutantes debacle. Not only were Mama and Papa bickering a lot, but when they finally agreed that I could have a court, it became very apparent that I only have one friend. Other than Harry, but he was a nightmare.

"Why?" Anthony asks. He furrows his brow, leaning across the table. "Do you mean when Harry-"

I kick Anthony under the table. With a quick glance to the side, I look at Peter and Ned. "Do you guys speak Spanish?"

Ned looks at me with a puzzled expression across his face.

Peter shrugs. "Like, sort of."

"Que te folle un pez," I grumble at Anthony. "No tengo el chichi pa farolillos."

Beside me, MJ lets out a chuckle. Fuck, I should've checked to see if she understood me first. You know what? I wish I could blame the school for this, but there is no way her Spanish is even passable if she learnt it in the American public-school system. From now on, I need to start teaching Anthony some Portuguese insults.

Across from me, he raises his hands in defence. "I'll shut up."

"Surprised that worked," MJ notes. "Come up with some more creative insults."

I don't even bother to look up at her. It's more my tone than my words that tell Anthony what is and isn't acceptable.

"When is your birthday?" Peter asks me.

I try not to look at him, letting my attention go back to the sandwich in front of me. To avoid answering, I stuff myself with it. My mouth feels extremely dry, but I try my best to chew.

"Sunday," Anthony takes the opportunity to answer the question for me, despite my glare.

"Are you doing anything fun to celebrate?" Ned asks. His leg bounces against the table, vibrating the bench that I'm sitting on. "Are you going to drive?"

My family doesn't have a car. Even if we had somewhere to park it, we couldn't afford one. The metro and I are best friends.

"Ned," Peter warns. He glances over at me. His lips are slightly parted, and his eyes look soft.

I ignore the look on his face, forcing more food in my mouth. Then, I begin to cough. This is what I get for daring to try and figure out what is on Peter's mind. Rather than finding an answer, I find myself trying to swallow food.

It gets stuck in my throat. My hands reach up to my neck, tightly wrapping around it. As I cough, food spews out all over the table, narrowly missing Ned.

Anthony gets up from the table. He stands behind me. "Oh my God. Do you need help up? I can do the Heimlich."

"Go get serviettes," Peter instructs as he gets up from the table.

Now, I can feel my eyes watering, my coughs are loud, and I can feel everyone's eyes on me. Again. Their eyes are all on me. More food comes coughing out of my mouth, dripping down on to me. Next to me, Peter grabs my hand and keeps telling me to cough. Like that's helpful, but I don't argue because I can't speak. I squeeze his hand as I finally swallow.

There is sandwich on my shirt and all over the table. My head spins around, but my vision is blurry from the tears that leak down my face.

When Anthony comes back, he has brought a garbage can and about a thousand serviettes. He uses my brown paper bag as a scoop to dump the chunks of bread I spewed out on to the table.

"Are you okay?" Ned asks from across the table.

MJ lets out one single chuckle. She quickly coughs to cover it. I'm thankful that she is laughing at Ned, and not at me.

Everyone's eyes are on me. I can feel it.

"Darcy, do you need to leave?" Anthony whispers beside me, dropping the garbage can on the ground.

Peter's hand is still on mine, his fingers holding on to me strongly. I close my eyes, trying to blink back my tears. Mostly for Anthony's sake. Honestly, I'm not crying from everyone staring, but from the choking part.

"Does anyone have a spare sweater?" I ask, gesturing to my shirt. "Because, like, this is gross."

"I do," Peter offers.

While I had assumed Anthony would have everything possible in his locker in case of a hurricane, he doesn't offer anything to me. Little bitch. So, I nod at Peter. When we stand, I slip my hand out of his.

We walk to his locker in silence. The hallways are mostly empty, except for one teacher who sees us. He doesn't approach, maybe because he can smell the sandwich on me, probably because he can see it. After what feels like a silent eternity, we end up at Peter's locker.

His fingers fumble with the lock. "I... I uh... I only have a robotics club hoodie in here. If you want, you can have the shirt I am wearing."

Both of those options sound equally mortifying. At least if it's a robotics shirt, I can play it off that I'm boring Anthony's hoodie. Not that anyone will care. Or maybe, everyone will care. Maybe I'm the talk of the school. After all, I did just vomit all over myself when a cute boy who has a crush on me looked me in the eye.

"Robotics is fine," I tell him.

Finally, he unlocks the door. He looks like he is going to throw it to me but thinks better and gently places it in my hands. I take it from him, sizing it up against me. Since Peter is like, half a foot taller than me (although, who isn't, really), his sweater will be massive. At least he is basically the same height and size as Anthony, so I can pass the sweater off as his.

When I turn to walk to the bathroom, I spot Liz Allen standing behind us. At first, I think she is looking at me. I'm not wrong, but she is also looking at Peter. More than she is looking at me.

"You okay, Dar?" Liz Allen doesn't take any steps closer to me.

I look down. It's easy to hate Liz Allen when she isn't in front of me. It's impossible to avoid her sweetness and kindness up close. Yet, I have to hate her because she is Dantae's ex (and also because Dantae thinks dating pretty rich girls like her makes him somehow better than the other guys who live in our apartment building). "I'm fine."

With that, Liz Allen nods her head. She doesn't smile, doesn't even pretend that she might, when she walks away.

"You..." I turn back to Peter, having nearly forgotten that he was here. It seems that he has forgotten too since he can't meet my eyes. "You know Liz Allen?"

Even though I promised I wouldn't try to weasel away his secrets, I can't help myself. Mostly because Peter Parker is not able to hide his massive crush on Liz Allen. It's in the bright pink blush in his cheek and the nails that scratch the back of his neck. It's in the pause between us.

"She's friends with my brother," I can feel myself compressing. Which is idiotic, because I'm the one who ran out on him when we were locked in the biochemistry lab. The feelings of the Youths™ are fickle and fleeting. Almost a week and he's already over me, and it's okay. Honestly. Totally. After all, boys like Peter Parker only fall in love with girls like me to piss off their Moms, and his Mom is dead. "I don't really know her that well."

Peter nods. He seems lost in thought, which must be usual for him because his brain is massive and probably like a maze. Just to make sure, I check behind me for Liz Allen. She is still gone, thankfully. I don't know that I could bear her presence.

So, I squeeze his sweater while I adjust it in my hands. "Anyway, I'd better get this on."

"Wait," Peter interrupts me as I step away. "I was wondering if you'd be my partner for the umm... English seminar? English isn't my strong suit."

"Neither is Spanish," I point out, forcing a grin on my face. When Peter's eyes narrow, I laugh. "I mean, I'm surprised you aren't good at something."

"Please," Peter rolls his eyes. "I'm not that good. Besides, Anthony says you are crazy smart and you don't even work hard for it. Which works for me."

The moment with Liz Allen has left us. Thankfully. I hold the sweater tighter against me. Even though I still reek like stomach bile, and I feel gross, I can't help but think that Peter doesn't see me for all that is disgusting on me.

That's his loss. He should know better.

"Sure," I tell him. "I'll work with you on the project, I mean."

In response, Peter smiles.