CHAPTER TWELVE
The Girl and The Ghost

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            THE EMOTION BUILDING through Cecelia threatened to show in the cracks on her face. With every twitch of her lips, a scream came close to releasing, and every time she blinked, the tremors shooting through her nearly showed in her eyes. It was so difficult—nearly a Herculean effort—to keep her face neutral, a blank slate, to pretend she was paying attention to what was in front of her instead of constantly replaying the events of just a few hours before. It required taking cues from the others—every time they laughed, she laughed. Every time they frowned, so did she.

The Olivier family was having a movie night. Usually, Cecelia would have protested that they'd already spent the day watching movies, and Come on, she had homework to do, but today she'd said nothing, just curled on the couch (it was a tight fit—even with Alex sitting in his bean-bag chair and Eva on the sofa, they were crammed together) and let the Studio Ghibli movie binge continue. Apparently, Alex, Jules, and Eva had watched Princess Mononoke without her—something Mom had vehemently protested ("That movie's too violent for an eight-year-old!"; Jules argued that he'd seen worse)—so now they were on My Neighbor Totoro. Dad had picked it because, besides Ponyo, it was the most family-friendly of the bunch.

Cecelia wasn't focused on it, though. Not that she didn't know every beat of the movie—she'd actually watched it in one of her foster homes, and quickly grown addicted. In fact, just based on how much time had passed, she could assume that they were at the part where the girls and Totoro grew the ginormous tree. Instead, she was thinking of the afternoon's revelation—Spider-Man has been a lot closer to you than you thought—and the second bombshell Toomes and Uncle had dropped on her at the warehouse.

There was a deal tomorrow. Probably, either Toomes or Uncle had told her that weeks ago, which was the reason they'd all been making so much tech lately, but she'd forgotten about it. Fortunately, it was after school, so Cecelia wouldn't have to miss anything, and on the Staten Island Ferry. Mac Gargan, the client's name was. Sometimes called himself Scorpion. Apparently, he had a big project coming up, and needed as much as he could get his hands on for it.

Perhaps Cecelia shouldn't have expected much of her uncle, especially after he'd called her in today, but regardless, she'd been aghast when Uncle told her that she had to come. She'd nearly died yesterday. Spider-Man might be working with someone on her Academic Decathlon team. And she already had a mission to try and figure out who Spider-Man was.

Still, she didn't complain. Not because she didn't want to—in fact, she was nearly bursting with all of the complaints that nearly freed themselves—but because she'd been reminded that her opinion was worthless. If she complained, Uncle would just punish her again, and maybe this time, he'd do worse than just a beating to her face.

(He'd done it before, after all.)

So, tomorrow at four-thirty PM, she'd be sitting there in civilian clothes, ready to become Phantom if anything went wrong with the deal. Making an excuse to her parents would be difficult—she couldn't play the Christine card again—but she'd manage it. She always did.

But for now, here she was, sitting squished in between Mom and Jules on the couch, eating popcorn absentmindedly and watching the characters on-screen without really hearing them. Well, at least, that was what she was doing, right up until her phone buzzed.

During movie nights, the Olivier family had a firm rule: no electronics. This was in an attempt to get the Instagram-addicted Eva and iPad-obsessed Jules to actually interact with their family for once in a blue moon. But no one was paying attention to Cecelia. Dad was too busy stealing popcorn from Jules, and Mom was laughing at something Alex said, one hand squeezing Cecelia's arm. She'd been extra touchy lately, and though it made Cecelia uncomfortable, she didn't say anything. Mom needed that tangible proof that her children were alive, and, as much as that could prove to be annoying, she couldn't keep that from her.

She took a quick, sneaky look down at her screen, heart pounding in her chest. When this happened out of the blue, eighty percent of the time it was Uncle. The other twenty was Christine, and that was usually to ask her a question about homework. Which she certainly wouldn't be doing tonight, after all that had just happened.

But when her lock screen flickered into view—just a white heart on a black background—she found the notification there wasn't from a text message. Instead, it was a private message from Instagram.

From peter_parker.

Cecelia's eyebrows raised. Why would he be messaging her?

Surreptitiously, she unlocked her phone.

peter_parker: Hi Cecelia! I don't have your number, so I decided to message you here. I like your account, BTW. The picture of you and Alex is really cute.

He was talking about the only post she had on her account—a photo Christine and Alex had made her put up last year. In it, they were posing in front of a wall full of graffiti, making it seem like the speech bubbles spray-painted there were coming out of their mouths. Alex's said, Birds aren't real. Cecelia's was just a frowny face.

peter_parker: Anyway, I've been trying to get a hold of everyone so I can apologize for missing the Decathlon finals yesterday. I know it was really disrespectful of me, and I'm probably going to be kicked off, but I just really wanted to tell you how sorry I am.

peter_parker: I'm proud of the team though! You guys did amazing!

peter_parker: And I'm sorry about what happened after that. That sounds really scary.

Cecelia heaved in a deep breath through her nose. Then, with one thumb, she composed a reply.

ceceliaolivier: thanks for the apology. still don't know why you skipped out on the competition though.

The three dots that indicated that Peter was typing hovered under her message for nearly a minute before the response came.

peter_parker: Something came up. I can't really tell you everything about it, because it's private.

peter_parker: But yeah. Sorry.

Cecelia's thumb danced over the screen for a moment before an idea came to her mind. As Dad and Jules had a popcorn-eating contest, she messaged Peter back.

ceceliaolivier: you missed out on seeing Spider-Man, though.

peter_parker: Ha, yeah. I mean, I've met the guy before, but I guess it would've been cool.

peter_parker: Minus the whole elevator thing.

Cecelia's heart stilled. That was right. Peter had claimed to know Spider-Man. He'd said it had happened through Stark Industries. Before, it had sounded like a lie from Ned to get Liz's attention (Peter, like half of the guys at Midtown, seemed to be harbouring an intense crush on her), but what if there was an element of truth to it?

But... Peter hadn't been on the elevator. The blast from the Chitauri energy core had come from a member of the Academic Decathlon that was there. So, even if he knew Spider-Man, it hadn't been him.

Cecelia blew out a sigh. She needed more information.

ceceliaolivier: I've actually met him before, too.

peter_parker: Oh, really?

ceceliaolivier: yeah. just last week. he walked me home.

peter_parker: That's really cool!

ceceliaolivier: yeah. how many times have you met him?

peter_parker: Just a few. Mr. Stark made his suit, you know? I once got to go in his lab and take a look at it, and he was there.

That made Cecelia pause. He was lying. He was definitely lying. What Flash had said last week was true—he'd never been in the same room as Tony Stark. So there was no chance he would've been allowed in his personal lab.

She might as well be blunt about this. It was what she did best.

ceceliaolivier: yeah, right.

Peter was quick to respond to that.

peter_parker: It's true! I was just bringing Mr. Stark coffee while he was working, but Spider-Man was there.

ceceliaolivier: okay, sure.

peter_parker: I can feel your sarcasm through my screen.

ceceliaolivier: sorry if I'm a little skeptical.

peter_parker: Not everything Flash says is true, you know.

ceceliaolivier: okay, fine, fine. but what do you do at the Stark internship? besides bringing Tony Stark, billionaire and superhero, his coffee?

peter_parker: I just work on some of his tech. Just minor stuff.

Cecelia's breath hitched. Peter was nearly as adept with technology as she was—he'd been in the robotics club with her, after all. He was the naturally curious type of person to find a Chitauri core on the ground and pick it up. He might even have brought it to school to try and take it apart.

He hadn't been in the elevator, though. But... but if he'd been somewhere important—somewhere apparently confidential—during Nationals, maybe he'd gotten someone else to hold onto the technology. Someone like his best friend.

Ned Leeds.

A memory came to life in Cecelia's mind. In the chaos of the elevator malfunction, there was Ned, throwing his backpack to the floor. There was Ned, backing away from it like it was a bomb that had just gone off.

Oh, Creator. Were Peter and Ned somehow in league with Spider-Man? They both definitely had the brains for it. Not only was Peter a technology whiz, but Ned was one with computers. They'd be perfect agents behind-the-scenes for the vigilante.

She couldn't be sure, though. Maybe she was just reaching. Maybe it hadn't even been the Chitauri core that had exploded, but something else entirely. But she had to stay on this trail. If this was a real lead—and maybe it was—then she might be the one to lead her uncle and Toomes straight to Spider-Man. If she was the one that helped finally get that pest out of the way....

Her thumb was darting across her screen again, but she'd only gotten halfway through her text when a firm voice made her look up.

"Cecelia. You remember our rule, don't you?"

Shit. Mom was onto her.

"Sorry." Cecelia turned her phone off and stowed it in her pocket. "It was just a text from Peter Parker. He was apologizing for ditching us yesterday."

"Oh, yeah, I got that text, too," said Alex, holding up his own phone. At Mom's admonishing look, he put it away again. "I haven't replied yet, though. I don't really know what to say."

"Well, you can reply after we're done," Mom said. Then she looked to Dad. "Michael? A little help here?"

"Huh?" Dad turned to her, cheeks stuffed like a chipmunk's. Jules was practically on his back with the force of his laughter.

Mom rolled her eyes. "Never mind."

Cecelia sat back in her seat, keeping her phone firmly in her pocket. She hadn't been paying attention to the movie before, but now she was on a whole different level. Everything seemed blurred; voices were distorted, colours were smeared. All she was thinking was Peter and Ned.

She wasn't able to look at her phone again until after the movie was over. Even then, the only reply she sent to Peter was a purposefully dry one.

ceceliaolivier: cool.

I'm onto you, Parker.

AS SOON AS CECELIA got to school the next day, she wanted to leave. Not for the usual reasons a teenager doesn't want to go to school—work, crummy teachers, obnoxiously early wake-up times—but because, today, everyone who walked the halls seemed to have fallen into a specific fever. A Spider-Man fever.

When Cecelia and Alex headed to their lockers, at least three students stopped them to ask what Spider-Man was like. Alex was much more receptive than Cecelia—he actually described the event in detail, while Cecelia was busy huffing and crossing her arms. And when a freshman girl selling Spider-Man wristbands for two dollars held one out to him, Alex actually took it. He spent a portion of his monthly allowance on a red fabric bracelet with black webs.

You've got to be kidding me.

As per usual, the daily newscast played on the televisions as they walked. Given that this was probably the most exciting thing that had happened in Midtown history since the chicken revolution of 2011 (don't ask. Cecelia had only heard stories), Betty and Jason were, of course, talking about what had transpired on Saturday.

"This past weekend, Midtown's Academic Decathlon team defeated the country's best to win the national championship," Jason said. A collage of photos from the event whirred past, including a very candid one of Cecelia, Christine, and Alex celebrating. In it, Cecelia's eyes were half-closed, and her mouth was open. It wasn't a very attractive look. "Later that day, they also defeated death."

The background momentarily cut out into green before Abe appeared on-screen. He was standing in front of a police car and a fire truck, and there were a few police officers milling in the background.

"Explosion! Sally screaming. Flash screaming. Christine screaming. Everybody screaming!"

The video cut to Charles. "There were purple lasers and smoke. It was—" a cat emoji appeared over Charles's mouth, and a bleep cut out his next word, "—tight, just like a Bon Jovi concert."

Then Alex appeared. "It is safe to say that I'm traumatized, but, man, at least I got a good story to tell the grandkids."

Cecelia glanced at her brother. The real Alex grinned.

"What?"

She returned her eyes to the television screen, shaking her head. Alex's slightly reddened face was replaced with Mr. Harrington's. "As you know, we made it out alive, and that's the important thing. I couldn't bear to lose a student on a school trip." The camera zoomed closer to his face for the next sentence. "Not again."

"Thankfully, no one was seriously injured thanks to the Spider-Man," said Jason. A grainy picture of him climbing the Washington Monument came on-screen, with THE SPIDER-MAN!! written in Comic Sans. Cecelia slapped a palm to her forehead.

"Thank you, Spider-Man." Both Jason and Betty spoke at the same time.

"Up next, the Spider-Man mania is sweeping the school," Jason continued. "How can you show your spider spirit?"

"Yeah, Cecelia." Alex nudged her. "Where's your spider spirit?"

"I hate spiders." Cecelia started walking again, and her brother hastened to follow her. "All bugs, really."

"Aw, come on."

Cecelia had nearly made it to her locker, where Christine was undoubtedly waiting, when she nearly slammed right into Peter. The collision was only avoided at the last second when he leaped out of the way, almost predicting her presence.

"Oh! Sorry! I guess I wasn't—I guess I wasn't paying attention. Again."

As per usual, Peter couldn't get a sentence out. It was almost endearing. So was the broad grin that split his face and the lightness to his steps. His hair, as per usual, was tousled, and Cecelia got this weird urge to fix it. The thought made something squirm in her belly, and she quickly pushed it away.

"So." She wanted to arch an eyebrow, like all the badass people in the movies did, but she hadn't mastered complete control over those muscles. Instead, she raised both. "You're not expelled."

"Ha, ha, I guess not." Peter rubbed the back of his neck. He always seemed to be doing that. "I am, like, totally in trouble, though. I probably have detention until the end of the school year. Maybe into Junior year, too."

"It's your own fault for ditching."

"Cecelia," Alex hissed. Cecelia crossed her arms.

"Am I wrong, though?"

"Ha... no, you're not." Peter bounced from foot to foot. By Creator, could he ever be still? "Sorry. I mean, I know I texted you last night, but... sorry. Yeah."

"Apology accepted," Alex said. "At least, from me. I don't think you're the type to ditch us unless it's important."

"Oh! Yeah. Um, thanks, Alex."

"No problem."

"Where's Ned?" Cecelia blurted. "I need—uh, Christine needs to talk to him."

Sorry for using you again, Chris. But also, maybe not, considering the way you look at him.

"I was just meeting up with him," Peter responded. "Do you wanna—do you wanna come with?"

"Sure. It'll be a party." Cecelia ignored her brother's questioning looks and started off again. "Christine should be by our lockers."

"Okay."

Sure enough, there she was, leaning against her own locker. There was a chip in the door's paint right by her shoulder, and Wren Pickering, 2009-2010 written in pencil above her head. She'd tied her hair—still in braids from the party—into a ponytail, and it tickled her shoulders. She was wearing a pleated skirt, and around one wrist was a familiar red bracelet.

Cecelia sighed. "Not you too."

Christine tilted her head. "What?"

"Cecelia doesn't have any spider spirit," Alex said. Peter's shoulders slumped. Cecelia caught the gesture and made note of it. "Even though the guy, you know, saved our lives on Saturday."

"I'm just not a fan of vigilantes," Cecelia said. "You ever heard of that Daredevil guy?"

"He's awesome," Peter blurted. When all heads turned to him, he pinked. "Uh, I mean... I don't know. I just like the guy."

"Okay."

"How's it going, Peter?" Christine asked, polite as usual. "Thanks for your text last night."

"Oh, yeah. Don't mention it. It was the least I could do," Peter replied. "Now, uh, you wanted to see Ned?"

Christine blinked. "I do?"

"Yes, you do," Cecelia hissed, gripping her friend's arm. "You've got something to talk about, don't you?"

"Uh..." Christine's eyes darted over to Alex. He just shrugged. "Uh, yeah. Yeah, I do. Let's go?"

"Okay." Peter's face was twisted in confusion. "You sound hesitant."

"Nope. Not hesitant. Not at all. Let's... go."

"I'll be here," said Alex, moving towards his locker. With swift fingers, he spun the lock, inputting the passcode. "I've got an essay to write for history that I've kind of been putting off. So... actually, I'll be in the library."

"Good luck," said Peter.

"Thanks."

The three of them headed down the hallway, descending the stairs to the lower level. There, they found Ned making his way through the crowd, wearing a pink button-down shirt and a blue sweater. Christine slowed at the sight of him and ducked her head. One hand went up to her ponytail, as if making sure it was firmly in place.

"You look great," Cecelia affirmed. Christine gave her a weak smile.

"Oh, hey, guys!" Ned greeted. "Good to see my fellow winners. And fellow near-death experience dudes. How's it going?"

"Great, great, really great," Christine said, speaking faster than normal. "I mean, my parents totally freaked out about what happened, and they barely let me even come to school today. I actually don't think they would have if Mom wasn't here to keep an eye on me."

"Literally same. I had to reassure them multiple times that I wouldn't use the elevator. Even though the one here is slow as a snail and only one floor."

"What do you think happened?" Cecelia asked. Be subtle. "I know the cause of the explosion hasn't been figured out yet, but you seem to know about that kind of stuff."

Her years with Uncle had made her particularly adept at reading body language; with him, it was a necessity. It was because of this that she noticed the way he immediately shifted his weight, and the dart of his eyes to Peter. His brown skin paled a shade, and the faintest sheen of sweat glimmered at his temples.

Bingo. He did know something.

"Uh, no. I've been looking into it, but I still have no idea. Maybe there was something up with the support cables?"

"I don't know. It seemed more like something in the interior caused it to me."

"Oh..." Ned's expression resembled a deer in headlights. He looked to Peter again, who just grinned awkwardly. Again, he rubbed his neck. "Uh... maybe."

"Well, I'm interested in figuring it out," said Cecelia. "It was really scary."

"Uh-huh."

"We've got to get to class!" Peter blurted. "And I have to talk to Ned. About something. Um, see you guys later?"

"Okay, sure," Christine said. "Bye?"

"Yeah. Bye."

Peter gripped Ned's arm and hurried him further off into the hallway. Christine whirled to face Cecelia.

"That was definitely a ploy."

"What?"

"When did you figure it out? You have to promise not to tell Alex. Promise me. I'll tell him when I'm ready."

"What are you talking about—oh."

"Is that not why you said I had to talk to him?" Christine gnawed on her thumbnail, even though it had been freshly painted blue. "I thought I was being so subtle about it. And before you ask, I don't know how it happened. I just came to AcaDec practice one day, and there he was, and... I don't know. When he smiled at me, I swear my heart stopped."

"That sounds like something you should go to the doctor for."

"Cee! I'm serious. I know you've had crushes before."

"Not since Howl Jenkins, the love of my life."

"Sure. Like you weren't into Jason in the eighth grade."

Cecelia made a throat-slitting motion. "We don't talk about that."

To be honest, Cecelia hadn't actually noticed that Christine had a crush on Ned—sure, she'd known he liked her, but not that his feelings were reciprocated. She was latching onto this excuse now so as to not raise suspicion.

"Okay, but seriously, Cee. I appreciate the effort, but... I don't know if Ned actually likes me back. I mean, surely, he's into Liz. Everyone's into Liz."

"He's not into Liz," Cecelia said. Her mind was only half on this conversation; the other half was focused on the fact that Ned had practically confirmed her earlier theory. She hated herself for it. She should be able to support her friend—should have noticed more about her—but she'd been too caught up in Phantom stuff to notice.

You can think about it later. Right now, you've got to be just Cecelia. You've got to be a normal teenager.

She still didn't know what that was like.

"What do you mean?" Christine asked. "He's staring at her like, all the time."

"Only because Peter Parker likes her. Girl, he's into you. I've seen the way he is around you. Even in a crowd full of people, he'd have eyes only for you."

"Oh." Christine smoothed out her skirt. "Do you—do you think I could have a chance?"

"It depends on what you do. You know I've never had a boyfriend. I don't know how these things work."

"Do you—do you think I should ask him to Homecoming?"

"If you want to."

Christine narrowed her eyes. "Hey, you're coming to Homecoming, aren't you?"

Cecelia scratched the Scooby-Doo Band-Aid on her head. She was pretty sure the mark underneath it had healed, and the Band-Aid itself was worn and peeling. She dug her fingers underneath and, in a moment of impulsivity, tore it away. "It doesn't really sound like my jam."

"No. No, no, no. I am not going to Homecoming alone."

"Well, if you asked Ned, you wouldn't be alone..."

"No, shut up, we're going to the mall after school tomorrow. You're gonna buy a dress, and you're gonna come to Homecoming, and you're gonna have fun. Just like at the party. You know, before you got sick."

And mugged, her eyes seemed to imply.

Cecelia was about to shoot back at Christine when the bell rang, signalling a two-minute warning before their first class. "Oh, look at that," she said. "I guess we've got to go now."

"We are not finished talking about this."

"No, we're not. We've still got to figure out how you're going to ask Ned to Homecoming."

"Cecelia!"

Cecelia laughed; a rare sound, coming from her lips. Her suspicions about Ned and Peter were still clamouring for attention, but a larger part of her just wanted to be a normal girl right now. One who had Boy Talks with her best friend and had the biggest worry on her mind be whether she was going to Homecoming.

I can be Phantom later, she thought, letting Christine link arms with her as they headed for class. Right now, I just want to be Cecelia.

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HAVEN:  petercece and weeds (sorry, i can't resist. that's literally the funniest ship name ever) nation rise!! i love giving you guys the bare minimum of romantic content 😍

next chapter is the ferry scene!! i wonder if it'll finally be the moment where cecelia figures out peter's identity 🤔 i guess we'll have to see. 

thanks for reading!! :)