"And so, it is quite clear in Julius Caesar, that heroism is not clear cut. If the plebeians can so easily believe that Caesar is a hero and Brutus a villain, and vice versa, we can assume that-"

"This is the worst," I groan, letting my skull rest against the desk. The cold doesn't even save my massive headache.

At first, Peter doesn't answer. "Do... do you think that we ought to change our topic?"

I look up to meet his pink blush. God, does he wear his heart on his sleeve. "No. That's not what I meant. It's good."

"You just don't want to practice anymore?" He asks.

I look around at the empty classroom, glancing outside. A few students are on the lawn, despite the chilly air. Lunch hour should be ending soon, and though I have eaten, I haven't learnt anything new.

"No," I admit, hoping I don't upset him.

Peter folds up the page between his hands. The skin isn't chapped from the cold like I might expect. The only reason that I am safe is because I bought black gloves for Crime Reasons™. I bet his Aunt bundles him up every morning, and packs him a lunch every day. My Mama would do the same if she weren't pulling doubles now. Since they cut back my scholarship to Midtown, and since Marty has put me out of work (correction, Spider-man), money's been a bit tighter.

"Want to cut class with me?" I ask him.

Peter bites his lip but tucks the script into his pocket. He spins around, shoving things in his backpack.

"Wait, seriously?" I peel myself out of the desk, racing up next to him. I can't help the smile that beams out of my face.

"Yeah," he exhales a bit too heavily. He's nervous.

My brother is right about me being scary, but I don't know how to turn it off. "Okay. Meet me out front in five?"

Rather than wait for his answer, I head to my locker. There, I grab the rest of the stuff I need for the day, and go over to Peter's locker.

We meet halfway and race out the front of the school. When I am standing on the front steps, I see Anthony smoking underneath the wet leaves of a tree. It rained recently, but Anthony will take any opportunity to hide himself while he lights up. Peter doesn't see him, so rather than acknowledge his presence, I blow him a kiss when Peter's back is turned.

"Where are we going?" I ask him.

He looks at me, puzzled, as we make our way down the steps. I can tell he is following me, but I'm following him. We gravitate towards the nearest subway station, thankfully.

"I thought you had a plan," he says.

I blow out my lips. Sure, I'm the man with the plan when it comes to my work. Everything else I wing, especially skipping school.

"Well, we should stay out of Queens," I tell him, because obviously. "My brother will spot us no matter where we are, and he's been a little difficult the last few days."

I don't mention it's because his friend is a drug dealer, and Dantae wants anything for me but becoming like him and his friends. I'm the only one without a record, including Alessandria. Being a hoodlum on the street, skipping class with a boy who tucks his shirts into his pants is not a good look for me.

"Where do you normally go for fun?"

No place for him, that's for sure. If I didn't know better, I'd bring him to the docks and show him graffiti. Now that would actually piss off Dantae, and probably draw the attention of a nearby security guard.

The only other places I go for fun are illegal, or will definitely get me busted for skipping school, or are secret traditions between Anthony and me. Even if he has been distant lately, I'm not breaking our unspoken vow.

"No place that would be good for you," I tell him.

He raises an eyebrow at me, but smiles. We bump into each other. On purpose, or by mistake. I don't believe in accidents.

When we get to the subway, I follow Peter. He races down the steeps, and we barely make the first car. Even though the subway isn't full, we stand and hold on to the same railing. My fingers are lower than his but they're making their way upwards. I don't forget that he likes Liz Allen. Rather, I ignore it, because maybe, if I'm lucky, I can win him back.

Not that I should want to do that. It's only unfair to him, but I am deeply selfish.

We get off the subway, switching once more, and we finally get to the surface. The skies above us are a darker grey than the tall charcoal buildings around us. The storm is passing over us, blocking out the sun so it doesn't kill his fragile skin. Maybe the universe is on to me. Maybe it is doing me a solid.

Then, we get to Central Park.

"Is this an okay place?" He breaks the silence between us.

My mother has always told me to stop rambling around boys. I'm not even that chatty, but she has always emphasized the importance of silence. It lets comfort grow, she tells me. Anyway, I am sad to see it go.

Still, his voice is scratchy, and nervous, and adorable. It doesn't fit with mine, but I don't care.

"No," I shake my head. When his face drops, I laugh. "I'm just teasing. Manhattan is fine. It's not upstate, but I'll manage."

The silence grows again as we walk up through the park. We are headed towards the rather large pond near the centre. Really, I don't get anyone's fascination with this place. It's a bunch of trees, for Christ's sake, and it's cluttered with tourists. At least with our backpacks, Peter and I sort of blend in.

"Do you have family outside of Queens?" I ask him.

His jaw tightens, and then he shakes his head. "It's just me and Aunt May."

I follow his gaze out to the pond. Due to the wind, the water ripples. One lone toy ship clings to the sides. The wind is picking up and threatening to capsize it. Like a car crash, like my relationship with Peter, and like my brother's relationship with Liz Allen, I can't look away from the boat. Something draws me into impending doom like nothing else.

"My family is large, but they are mostly in Brazil," I tell him. "I have a few cousins upstate that I don't get to see often, but they're on my Papa's side, and the Delmar's are pretty small."

"I mean, I always see a horde of them in your Dad's shop," he chuckles.

I'm still watching the toy boat. It's getting closer and closer to shore. I wonder who it belongs to, and who will get lost in the wake if it sinks. The sky is only getting darker above us. "Well, it's really just my brothers. Dantae is a tool, but he's actually nice if you get to know him. And Damien seems nice, but he's actually a tool."

"Good to know," Peter laughs.

I look over at him and realize that he has been staring at me. Like he would stare at Liz Allen. As if I mean something to him, and I'm not just a girl who can show him darkness. I remind myself that he is a success story from the same area as mine, that he has lost more family to violence than I have.

Peter Parker is not what he seems to be.

We stand, inches apart (a great deal of the space between us because I am so much shorter than him). Even though I want more than anything to close the gap between us, I bet I'm his first kiss. I don't want to steal that from him. I don't want to take anything from between us.

As he moves in towards me, thunder rolls above us. Rain begins to barrel down towards the Earth, practically in buckets. Since Spider-man doesn't have the power to change the weather, I can't blame him for this (though I don't doubt that he would ruin my day with Peter).

People begin to bustle around quickly on either side of us. Peter doesn't move since his backpack is waterproof and so his papers are protected. Mine aren't, but that's just one more awful thing to add to my day.

"I don't think we're going to be able to sneak back to school undetected," he swallows. Peter raises a hand above his eyes, to stare up at the sky. "It doesn't look like it will clear up soon either."

"I'd invite you back to mine, but my brother will be home, and he's a dick," I remind Peter, wiping water off my face. My hair is already clinging to me, tangling in my hoop earrings.

"My Aunt isn't home," Peter tells me. He takes a step closer. "We could go back to mine."

Nope. I heard the universe loud and clear. "I'm okay, thanks."

"We should... we should get together to work on our project soon," his nervousness is back, or maybe he is shivering from the cold. I know better, but I hope it's the chill of the rain and not me. "Does Sunday work?"

I nod, once again wiping the rain from my face.