At school, an idea strikes me.

Mr. Giuseppe runs the biochemistry lab, and he is currently patrolling the cafeteria. He is an old geezer, the kind of guy who would have a notebook full of passwords lying around. I stare at him for a while, as I think. Would he bring it to school?

It's easy to pick up on things that people are thinking. You wear your heart on your sleeve after all. It's less easy when you are staring from someone across the room, and trying to discern if a secret exists, and if so, where it is located. If I had the time, I could find it but lunch is almost over.

When Peter doesn't sit down, I quickly figure out that he is in the biochemistry lab, working on his independent project (whatever that is, I've yet to discern, not that I really care about Peter and his interests). It's a crappy idea, I know, but it's the best I've got.

"What are you thinking about?" MJ asks me, from her spot across the table. She leans in closer, peering at me.

I pull back and cross my arms over my chest. "Where's Ned?"

"Working in the office, why?"

My plan just might work. I nod my head at MJ, before I head off. It's a quick dip, dodging teachers in the hallway, before I end up at the biochemistry lab.

"Hey, Peter," I peer in through the doorway, making sure Peter is alone.

"Darcy?" he looks up his work, turning off the Bunsen burner to stare at me. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to get you," I tell him. "Ned told me he needed to talk to you in biology. He's in the office."

Peter sighs, staring down at his test tubes. He lifts one up and brings it to the front of the classroom, to the disposal bucket. Before he can pour it down the sink, I put my hand on his arm.

"I can watch your stuff, while you run over," I tell him.

"Thanks Darce," he smiles. He quickly puts the test tube back, and jogs out of the classroom. "I'll only be a minute."

As soon as he is out of the classroom, I shut the door behind him. From there, I move through Mr. Giuseppe's desk. He has about a dozen notebooks, all of them full of writing and none of them full of passwords.

I get to the bag under his desk, and pull out a notebook. It's a hone book (he has always been the most old-fashioned). As I flip through the pages, I finally find the password to his school account. I pull out my phone and take a picture of the page, unsure if the information I am looking for will be on any of these websites.

The door opens, and I close the book, quickly putting it back.

"Why are you riffling through Mr. Giuseppe's things?" MJ asks as she crosses the room over to me. She frowns deeply at me.

I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, resisting the urge to bite my lip. What can I say to her to throw her off the trail.

"I've already figured out that you sent Peter on a wild goose chase," she scrunches her nose, placing her hands on her hips. "Don't think you can trick me."

I step away from the crime scene, sitting down on top of a desk at the front of the room. "So, Randy Robertson was a bust. Thanks for the camera by the way."

I wait for her face to twitch into a smile, but it doesn't. The pause is palpable.

"Anyway," I sigh, fixing my hair again, "I wanted to see if I could gain access into whatever system they use for detentions. Mr. Giuseppe seemed like an easy target."

MJ steps closer to me, until there is only a foot between the two of us. Her eyes rake up and down me, before a grin spreads across her face. "It's called Justify. Mr. Giuseppe should have admin access. How did you know he would have passwords?"

The easy answer is a gut feeling.

The door creaks open, and so MJ steps back from me. Peter walks in, his brow furrowed. "Are you sure that Ned wanted to talk to me?"

"He mentioned something to do with a lego death star?" I tell Peter, lying through my damn teeth.

"Well, yeah," Peter steps back in the classroom. "Sorry, I had... he just forgot. Ned can tend to be absentminded."

MJ winks at me as she leaves the room.

I, on the other hand, feel my stomach sink into my brand-new boots. As Peter goes back to his beakers, I feel myself finally biting my lip. God, I am a bad friend. It's not like Peter would have understood. I mean, putting him through the ordeal of Anthony's father was enough. Why don't I know when to stop?

"Listen Peter," I take a step closer to him before tucking my hands behind my back. "I'm sorry."

"Hmm?" he looks up at me, his dark brown eyes narrowing in. "What's wrong Darcy?"

I try to maintain my composure, taking in a deep breathe. In all these years, I've never even felt this bad cheating on a test. God, I promised myself that I wouldn't behave like this about boys anymore. They're all rotten like me; I know the terrible things they think. But then there is Peter, with his soft eyes but strong jawline.

"Don't worry about it," I say, blinking over and over again. I can't tell if I am going to cry or not.

"Is this about Anthony's Dad?" he leaves behind the counter to come stand next to me.

I nod my head, lying again. He moves to put a hand on my shoulder, but I take a step back.

Peter likes Liz Allen, I reassure myself. He doesn't like me. He can't. He wouldn't. Peter has a crush on Liz Allen. She certainly is much more his speed, as much as I resent her for having money.

"Listen, I've got to go," I tell him. Before he can say anything, I step out of the room.

From there, I walk into the computer lab. It's time for more research and less reflecting. We are over halfway through lunch, but I've still got time.

Once I'm in the computer lab, I pick a computer tucked far in the back corner, to keep myself out of the limelight. There are a lot more kids working in here, and thankfully, none of them pay much attention to me.

As I log into Justify, I try not to think about Peter's light pink lips, hung open, as I lie directly to his face. I also try not to think about the course skin of his hand reaching out for me.

Instead, I compile a list of the white male students in the eleventh and twelve grades who have gotten in trouble for fighting. I don't know that Spider-man even seems like the type to get into fights anymore, but it's much easier to look through a list of records that aren't squeaky clean than those that are. All in all, I have maybe a dozen students to comb through, which might take me the next three months.

When the bell rings, I head off to class. It's English with Peter, and our seminar is tomorrow. I feel decently ready, even though I could be way more prepared than I currently am. Not that it really matters. I mean, it's riding on my shoulders since Peter isn't that good at English, but I'm nothing but a liar and a cheat.

During class, Peter passes me a note. I look up at the wannabe-bad-boy next to me, but he is staring straight-forward at the blackboard.

You know that you and Anthony aren't a burden, right? You are my friends.

While the teacher's back is turned, I scribble down on the paper.

I know that. I just felt bad that Ned didn't want to talk to you, that's all.

When I pass Peter back the note, I watch as his eyes quickly scan it.

Under the desk, his leg touches mine. I feel a spark run up and down my spine. Nerves about the presentation, surely, and nothing more. I shuffle in the seat so that my leg isn't touching his anymore.