"Darcy and Peter, you'll be partners," Mr. Harrington assigns us.

I blink, looking over behind me. Peter stares back at me in shock.

Mr. Harrington continues to assign everyone partners, and the class begins to shuffle around. Meanwhile, Peter and I are caught in a stalemate. Who's going to move first? I don't know.

We both stand to move. Then, we both sit. I get up and drag myself over to him.

The silence between us is palpable. If it weren't so cliché, I would cut it with a pair of scissors store in the desk that we are to use to help us build a Rube Goldberg machine later this semester. It seems that Peter and I are trapped together once more.

We begin to set up our experiment. We've got to make a mouse-trap car, and we are graded based on how far the car moves as well as all of our research and math backing it up. I'm not keen to do it, even though I am partnered with a genius. Homework has never been my thing, and this won't be either.

Peter gets up to go collect some materials and then he brings them back to our desk. We have some CDs, wooden dowels, and some rubber bands. This project should take weeks, and for now, I'm stuck with him.

"Why are you mad?" I whisper.

He looks up at me and furrows his brow. "What?"

"You're still mad at me, why?" I ask him.

He scoffs, looking back down at the things in front of him. Nothing can be more important than this conversation, right? "You could just read my mind and find out."

"I'm not going to do that," I say. It hadn't even crossed my mind as something to do, not that he would believe me if I told him that.

He looks at me, pausing what he is doing. His eyes scan my face, and I don't think he is going to find whatever he is looking for. "Why didn't you tell anyone about me?"

"Why would I?" I ask.

He shrugs, "I don't know."

"I've never told someone's secret before, even if I do pry into them," I tell him. I'm not a secret breaker. He doesn't need to know about Tony Stark and the bribe he gave me. After all, I had no intention of telling Peter. "I wish you could trust me."

"I wish I could too," he admits. He gets up to go get some duct tape.

When her returns, he grunts and sits down. I don't speak, instead beginning to work on the project. I catch him looking at me, his eyes softened.

"I just want another hero to talk to," he says, his face sweet and soft.

I almost laugh. "I'm not that hero, Peter. I'm a criminal."

"I know," he says, and he sighs.

The rest of the week is just as miserable. We work in the library on the assignment, wordlessly. Peter does most of it and doesn't bother me to do any. I never catch him staring at me, even though I want him to look at me. Maybe then he will see how sorry I am.

He mentions going to the decathlon with Mr. Harrington, so he might be gone for a while. After he leaves, it's just going home and going to school over and over again. The days are so monotonous. Occasionally, I'll hang out with Sergio, Dantae, and Anthony, but not much comes of it.

Eventually, Peter comes back. Again, I am met with radio silence. I try to congratulate him because I heard that Spider-man saved a bunch of people at the Washington Monument. He nods but doesn't say much else.

One day, Peter is really late. So late that I worry the library is going to close and leave me with the assignment.

Just as I'm packing up, he comes storming in. His face is bloody and bruised, and he hurries in, wearing his backpack and his clothes, which are normally pressed but have wrinkles from clearly being stuffed in a backpack.

"Peter!" I run up to him and go to touch his face.

He turns away from my touch. His hands are balled into fists and he stares at me, shaking his head. "What the fuck, Darcy?"

"What do you mean?" I ask confused. Quickly, I retreat back to the table and shove our project in its bag. Whatever is going on needs to be happening outside.

Eventually, I'm with him. He grabs my wrist and drags me outside. We go to the side of the building, pulling away from pedestrian traffic.

He crosses his arms over his chest and looks me up and down. "So you took a bribe."

Shit.

"I would've kept quiet anyway," I tell him. "It hardly matters."

"It hardly matters my ass," he rolls his eyes. "Why? Just why?"

"My family needs the money," I tell him. I hush my voice. "If Tony Stark is going to throw around money like, like I don't know... like an idiot, then I am going to take it."

He shakes his head at me. Back and forth over and over. "I know you took it before the Bodega broke down. You didn't need the money back then."

"I'm glad I took it because I need it now," I snap back.

His ears turn red, as does the tip of his nose. The rest of his face is already red, the blood flowing to the areas that have been injured.

"Peter, what happened?" I ask, moving to touch his face again.

He flinches away from me. "Nothing. I'm fine. Just, let me finish the project on my own."

"We're doing it together," I tell him, because I refuse to cheat any longer. I need to prove that I can do things myself. This isn't just about him. "We don't need to talk ever again, about anything but the project, but I'm not giving up on it. Not now."

He runs his hands through his already messy hair. "I can't do this. Not today. Aunt May is already going to ask me so many questions when I get home."

"What are they from?" I ask. "It's broad daylight. You usually act under the cover of darkness."

Peter pulls up his phone and does a quick google search. He shows me the results. There is a picture of him, holding together a boat. Well, a boat is an understatement. It is the Staten Island Ferry.

"Just say you were on it," I tell him. "Say you got hurt in the commotion."

He sighs. "She'll ask why I was going to Staten Island."

"Just say you were going to a museum, or something," I tell him. "It doesn't really matter, I doubt that will be her focus. She'll want to make sure you're okay. Are you okay?"

"I am okay," he says. There's an underlying thought, and I don't need to read his mind to hear it. No thanks to you.

I put my hands up, and sigh. "Well, let's just regroup tomorrow and finish the project, then, okay? No use working on it tonight when you are clearly upset."

"You don't get to be pissed off," he hisses. "I'm the one who is angry."

Anger isn't even the way I would put it. Dantae is the one who reads emotions, not me, but Peter feels different than angry. He still seems soft, more upset than enraged. He keeps running hands through his crazy hair, and he keeps huffing out sighs. Clearly, it's exhaustion that plagues him, rather than me.

"Do you want me to walk you home?" I ask, trying to diffuse him.

He shakes his head and exhales. "I'm fine. Really, Darcy. Don't worry about me. Ever."

~~~~~

I know this is short and it's been a while, but I have really no excuse. Sorry? I like this chapter, but not that much. Oh well.