CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Exit, Stage Left

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IT ONLY TOOK CECELIA HALF an hour to get ready for Homecoming. Even then, most of the time was spent in the shower, standing under the hot water and letting it steam onto her skin. When she exited, the only makeup she put on was the faintest hint of blush and mascara, which took under five minutes. Her hair—fine and straight as it was—wasn't difficult to wrangle into a braid, either. This meant that all that was left was stepping into her dress and fastening flats onto her feet.

Unfortunately, the dress—beautiful as it was, with a silky pink skirt and a sparkling silver top—was a real pain in the ass to get into. Cecelia was just zipping up the back, letting it glide over her scarred skin, when it jammed beneath her shoulder blades. She yanked at it, frustrated, but it refused to move.

With a curse, she twisted, attempting to somehow get a better grip on the zipper, but it alluded her. When she realized she was resembling a dog attempting to chase its own tail, she relented, letting go and crossing her arms. To her misfortune, she wouldn't be able to do this alone.

"Need some help?" a voice blurted from the doorway. Cecelia jumped and whirled around. There, leaning against the frame, a smirk on her face, was Eva.

Cecelia put a hand to her heart. "Creator, give a girl a warning next time," she said. "When did you get so sneaky?"

"Since I started watching Game of Thrones behind Mom and Dad's backs," Eva responded. She put a finger to her lips. "Don't tell them that, though."

Cecelia rolled her eyes. "Really? Game of Thrones?"

"Mom and Dad say I can't start watching it until I'm sixteen. Even you're not old enough, Cecelia."

"I will be in less than a year."

Eva gestured to her sister's dress. "Do you need help or not?"

"Yeah," Cecelia admitted. "Come on, help your favourite sister out."

"What?" Eva glanced around the room theatrically. "Who? Tara's not here."

Cecelia lunged forward, and Eva backed up with a shriek. Cecelia swiped a pillow off Eva's bed and hurled it right at her sister, trusting her aim to do its job. It did. The pillow collided right with Eva's face, and the girl beneath it let out an oof!

"My bad," Cecelia said dryly. Eva caught the pillow in her hand and narrowed her eyes.

"I guess you don't need my help, then."

"Okay, okay, fine. Get your ass over here. Don't hit me with a pillow, though, you'll mess up my makeup. I spent at least five minutes on it."

Eva giggled and scurried into their shared room, expertly maneuvering the obstacle course that had become her side without trouble. When she'd reached Cecelia, she seized onto the zipper and pulled it up. The jam came undone in an instant.

"Oh, that's annoying," Cecelia muttered. "But thank you, Eva."

"No problem, Lia." Eva rested a hand on her older sister's shoulder. "I know this is your first time going to anything like this, so for once, I'll be serious. You look beautiful. Are you going with anyone?"

Cecelia raised her eyebrows. "Who would I go with? It's not like anyone likes me. And it's not like I like anyone at Midtown, either."

"Well, what about Peter Parker?" Eva suggested, bouncing on the balls of her feet. Cecelia nearly choked on her own spit.

"Peter Parker?"

"Yeah! He came over the other day, didn't he? Dad told me."

"Just because I hang out with a boy doesn't mean I'm in love with him, Eva," Cecelia said. The very thought of her and Peter as a couple... that was laughable. They may not have been strict enemies now, but they were still on different sides of the conflict. There was a stalemate between them now, but soon—fairly soon—there would have to be some kind of resolution. "He just wanted to talk about a school project."

"Mm-hmm. Sure. Is that why you went for a walk afterwards?"

Cecelia's face went hot at the accusation. Perhaps she didn't hate Spider-Man as much as she had before—though he was still a royal pain in her behind—but he was still incredibly infuriating. The conversation they'd had in the park... he'd tried to bring her away from Uncle. From everything she'd worked for during these past five years.

Toomes and Schultz may have abandoned her. Uncle may have both played a role in that and hurt her. But they were still... they were still her family, in a way. And Peter Parker did not get to take her away from them.

"I would rather make out with Jules's underwear than go out with Peter Parker," Cecelia snapped, shoving her sister away. "All right? Thanks for the help with the dress, Eva, but I think we're done here. Unless you put that subject to rest."

Eva's lip quivered, and she ducked her head. "Sorry," she muttered. Here, in today's outfit—overalls atop a pink-and-white striped shirt, and a headband pulling back her hair—she actually looked her age. Only three years younger than Cecelia, and yet, she had far more innocence than Cecelia had ever had at that age.

A twist of guilt went through Cecelia, and she softened her tone. "Okay, that was rude," she said. "It's just... I'm not the biggest fan of Peter right now. There have been some problems with the project, and it's been frustrating me."

Eva looked up again. "Okay," she said. "I can tell you're trying to apologize, Cecelia, so I accept it. Do you want to go out to the living room? Alex is already there, and Mom and Dad want to take pictures. I think they even got you a corsage."

"Really?" Cecelia asked. Something warmed in her at the idea. Even if corsages were generally supposed to be given by dates, and it reminded her just how single she was—not that she minded being single. Obviously not. It wasn't like she sometimes pictured what it would be like to have someone to take her to parties like Homecoming, even though she disliked them. It wasn't like she dreamed about a boy who would be content with her, who wouldn't mind never sleeping with her. No. Cecelia absolutely, one-hundred-percent, didn't mind not being single—the fact that her family had gone out of their way to get one for her was sweet.

"Yeah. They also got one for Alex to wear in his suit."

"That's... nice." Cecelia glanced at herself in the mirror again. Unlike what she assumed would be the majority of her classmates, she hadn't gone all-out. Her face, though a little dolled-up, was still her face—the sallowness of her cheeks was still prevalent, as well as the freckle at the corner of her right eye and the spots of acne on her forehead. Her legs still hadn't been shaved, either.

Still, she looked... pretty?

She had never been overly focused on her appearance. Not that there was anything wrong with that—it just had never been her thing. When you were often greasy from the workshop or grass-stained from missions, you quickly came to realize that there was no need to put in the effort to fix your hair or makeup. It was a little ironic, considering the self-consciousness she could sometimes hold about her body—she was still Cecelia Thin-As-A-Stick Olivier, with no boobs or ass to speak of—but then again, Cecelia hated a lot of things about herself. She hated how much she craved a normal life. She hated that she was different—enhanced, as the media would call her. Uncle preferred freak. She hated the anxiety and PTSD that made every day a living hell.

But... right now, even with the constant churning in her brain that everything with Spider-Man and Uncle had wrought, Cecelia liked how she looked. And that was revolutionary.

Eva smiled at the look on Cecelia's face. "I told you. You're beautiful."

Cecelia's eyes were strangely watery. "Thank you, Eva."

With a final intake of breath, she followed her sister out of their room.

When she arrived in the living room—not quite the typical 'descending down the stairs' routine that was always shown in the movies—she was met with an in-unison gasp from both Mom and Dad. Alex, who'd been sitting on the couch, looking fresh in a black suit with a pale pink rose in his pocket, shot to his feet with a grin.

"Oh, honey." Mom put a hand over her heart. "You look so gorgeous."

Dad wiped his eyes. "Our children are all grown up, aren't they, Ellen?"

"Okay, you don't have to make it a big deal," Cecelia said, shuffling over to Alex. Jules was there, too, but he was too busy on his iPad, headphones over his ears, to take in his siblings' appearances. "It's just Sophomore Homecoming, not Prom."

"Still!" Dad slung an arm around Cecelia's shoulders. "I remember the first day you came to live with us. You were about this high—" he demonstrated with a hand out at a frankly insulting height, "—and still slept with your favourite blanket. Now look at you!"

Cecelia's cheeks burned. "Okay, Dad."

Mom hustled over, a clear container in her hand. In it sat Cecelia's corsage—pale pink roses, just like Alex's. She handed it over to her daughter with a fond smile on her face. "Here you are, my beautiful girl."

"Thank you." Cecelia gently opened the box and extracted the corsage. She slipped it on her wrist, relishing the way it further brought out the pop of her dress. "It's beautiful."

"Damn, you clean up well, Cee," Alex said, making his way to her. His brown curls were perfectly teased, and, for once, he didn't smell like a teenage boy. When Cecelia inhaled, she took in hints of Dad's cologne. "Maybe if you smiled, it would complete the look."

"Ha-ha," Cecelia said dryly. "You look nice, too. I suppose."

"I think it's time for pictures!" Mom said, bouncing up and down. Cecelia nearly smiled. Even though they weren't biologically related, Eva was a lot like her. "Michael, can you get the camera? Jules, get off your iPad, please. We're going to take some family photos, too."

Jules pulled his headphones off. "Why?" he whined. He was in the most casual outfit of the household—while even Dad had put in the effort to wear a nice button-down, Jules was in a Minecraft T-shirt and sweatpants. "It's not my Homecoming."

Mom snapped her fingers at him. "Up, or there's going to be no iPad for a week."

Jules sighed, but scrambled to his feet nonetheless. "Happy?" he asked, spreading his arms out.

Mom reached out and ruffled his hair. "Very."

Dad returned with the camera and forced Cecelia and Alex to pose for several photos. There were individual shots—which were definitely the most awkward—pictures with just the teenagers, then pictures with the whole family. At Mom's insistence, Cecelia even posed with just Jules a few times, then just Eva. By the time they were finally finished, Cecelia's cheeks were twitching from all of the forced smiles she'd pulled.

"You ready to go, monkeys?" Dad asked, tossing his car keys into the air. "I'll be your chauffeur this evening. We're not picking Christine up, are we?"

"No, she's going with Ned," Alex said. "I don't know about Cecelia, but I don't want to be the third wheel."

"And I don't want to be the fourth," Cecelia added. "We're good—wait. Let me just make sure I have everything."

"Okay, but hurry up, sweetie," Dad said. "If you want to be there by seven, we've got to leave within the next five minutes."

"I know," Cecelia called, then hustled back into her bedroom. She already had her phone and her wallet with her, but there was one more thing she wanted to take with her.

The Phantom costume was hidden where Eva would never be able to access it—inside the wall. Cecelia reached inside, her fingers dipping right through the plaster to grab onto the sleek fabric. She seized hold of it, then tugged it right through the small gap she'd hammered in. The mask was next—it was hidden in the second layer of her desk—and then the boots. She stuffed them all into her backpack and slung it over her shoulder.

Why did she bring it with her? Habit. Cecelia hadn't gone somewhere without the familiar jumpsuit with her for years, now, and even though she was taking a break from the whole business, she didn't feel comfortable without it. What if something happened? What if Uncle needed her, badly, and she had to drop everything to go to him?

She had to be prepared. So, Cecelia brought everything.

She arrived back in the living room, said goodbye to Mom, Jules, and Eva, and headed out. Homecoming. Probably the stupidest excuse for a dance ever, and something Midtown had been way too obsessed with. Something that upheld gender roles and played shitty music and made those without dates feel lesser.

Cecelia hadn't wanted to go. But now... there was a minuscule, practically microscopic piece of her that was a little bit excited.

DESPITE THE FACT THAT SHE AND ALEX ARRIVED at Midtown early (courtesy of some expert traffic maneuvering by Dad), the school was packed. Even the front steps—every railing of which decorated with bunches of yellow, white, and blue balloons—were clustered with students, all of whom were dressed in their finest. A few parents took pictures of their children by the entrance, which effectively blocked off one of the doors, and a group of girls were sitting on the front steps, chatting and giggling with each other. The pop music coming from the school's interior was so loud Cecelia could hear it through the closed car windows. Alex had been right when he'd claimed it was shitty—Hotline Bling by Drake was the current song of choice.

Dad turned to his children and flashed them a blinding smile. "All right, have fun, kids. Try to be home by eleven or your mother will throw a fit. Take lots of pictures, drink lots of punch, and, um... eat lots of pizza? I haven't been to a school dance in a while."

"We appreciate the thought, Dad," Alex said, nervously straightening his tie. Cecelia figured that Dad had helped him with it, because there was no way in hell he'd figured it out himself. Or maybe he'd used YouTube.

"And tell Mom to not worry about the curfew," Cecelia added. "Ten dollars says I get bored in an hour."

"Twenty says it's half an hour," Alex corrected. Cecelia slugged him in the arm.

Dad laughed. "Well, call me when you want to be picked up. Now, get out of here. No one wants to be seen sitting in the car, talking to their dads. No matter how cool they are."

Alex laughed, and even Cecelia cracked a smile. Then, with a final goodbye, they slid out of the car and headed towards the action.

"You think Christine and Ned are here yet?" Cecelia asked as they mounted the steps, shouldering past their fellow students and their dates. Nearly everyone they passed had someone on their arm, which certainly proved to be a little bit of a mood sourer. Hopefully, no one would think she and Alex were dating. Again.

Alex looked down at his phone. "I'll text her to meet us at the snack table. In the meantime, let's go in. I want to catch up with Perry and George."

"Okay, as long as you don't mind me awkwardly following you around."

Alex let out an exasperated sigh. "You have friends, Cecelia. Go talk to them."

"Yeah, whatever."

The entry to the gymnasium—where the actual dance was taking place—was wreathed with an arch of balloons. A few of them had been detached, and a cluster of students—likely Freshmen, judging by their short stature and horrific B.O.—were playing with them, tossing them back and forth. One of them nearly hit Cecelia in the face, and she smacked it so hard it popped.

"Hey!" a boy whined. Cecelia stuck out her tongue at him.

She and Alex pushed open the gymnasium's doors and entered the rapidly filling area. Lights decorated in the shapes of stars adorned the ceiling, and tables covered in white cloth were stacked with pizza boxes, punch bowls, cheese puffs, and vegetable platters. The music—by now, Party Rock Anthem had replaced Hotline Bling—drowned out the sound of shoes squeaking on the slick floor.

"This is so lame," Cecelia droned.

"Hey, we're gonna make it fun," Alex insisted. His phone chimed, and he glanced down at the screen. "Okay, Chris says that she and Ned are going to be here in a few minutes. In the meantime, I'm gonna find my friends, and you can go talk to the AcaDec Team. Look. Abe, Charles, Cindy, Sally and Michelle are all right there."

Sure enough, five of the members of the Academic Decathlon Team were hanging out by one of the snack tables, joking and laughing. They all looked fantastic—Cindy and Sally both wore glittering black dresses, Charles had on a light grey tux while Abe's was a few shades darker, and Michelle was wearing a collared dress with yellow flowers. When Cecelia approached hesitantly, they all turned to greet her.

"Cecelia!" Charles bounded forward to sling an arm around her. Cecelia flinched at the touch—don't think about Uncle, don't think about Uncle—but let it happen. "You're here! Hey!"

"Yep." Cecelia's shoulders twitched with the temptation to shrug Charles off.

"Don't mind him," Cindy said. She was practically glowing, even though the makeup she was wearing was fairly minimal. "He's had three cups of punch already. I think he has a sugar rush."

Michelle, her hair pulled back into a loose ponytail, rolled her eyes good-naturedly. "Let go of her, loser," she told Charles.

"Yes ma'am." Charles finally unhooked his hand, and Cecelia breathed an internal sigh of relief. "Where's Alex? And Christine and Ned? What about Peter?"

"Peter's going with Liz, remember?" Sally said. "He's gonna be hanging out with her crowd all night."

"Alex is here, he's just talking to his chess club friends," Cecelia added. "And Christine and Ned will be here in a few minutes."

"Oh," said Charles. "Okay."

"Does anyone want to dance?" Abe asked, wiggling his hips. Sally chuckled.

"Not to Party Rock Anthem, I don't. Where's DJ Flash when you need him?"

"DJ Flash?" Cecelia repeated incredulously.

"The guy may be a dick, but he's got pretty good music taste."

"I'm getting more punch," Cindy announced. "Anyone want some? Barring Charles?"

Charles put a hand over his heart. "Hey, I take offense to that."

"Could you get me some pizza?" Sally asked. "I think Abe and I are gonna... you know." She gestured to the dance floor. "Maybe I can convince this DJ to put on something better."

"Sure," Cindy said. "Cecelia? Michelle?"

"I'll have punch, but I can get it myself," Cecelia said.

"I'm good, thanks," Michelle said, leaning against one of the tables.

"Okay!" Cindy chirped. "Come on, Cecelia."

The two girls headed over to the punch and pizza tables. Cecelia got punch for herself and Cindy, while Cindy filled a bowl of cheese balls and wrapped a square of pizza in a napkin for Sally. She offered the bowl to Cecelia, who took a handful and popped them into her mouth.

When they arrived back at the group, Alex, Ned and Christine had joined them. Ned was wearing a suit jacket over a blue button-down shirt. A red bowtie sat at his throat, and an honest-to-Creator cowboy hat was perched on his head. What made things even more ridiculous was that he didn't look stupid in it. He actually looked good.

Christine, beside him, was simply radiant. She wore a silvery dress that just skimmed her knees. The specific fabric it consisted of made it so that it caught the light, it would glitter in a rainbow of colours. Both her makeup and hair were pristine, and one manicured hand was clutched in Ned's. The smile on her face was nearly blinding.

"Cecelia! Oh, my God, you look beautiful," Christine said, throwing her arms around her. "That dress really brings out your eyes."

"Thank you," Cecelia said shyly. "You look gorgeous, too."

"And Cindy! Seriously, where did you get that dress? You are stunning, girl."

"I got it at Ellie's," Cindy responded with a grin. "Where'd you get yours? You look like a real-life fairy. You're... you're ethereal!"

Christine beamed. "Madison's."

"You got punch?" Alex asked, pointing to the cup in his sister's hand. "Where's mine?"

"You can walk over to the table and get some yourself, lazy-ass," Cecelia responded. To rub things in, she took a long, slow sip of the beverage. It was a little too sweet, but she made herself finish it anyway.

"Here's Sally's pizza," Cindy said, setting it down on the table. "Charles, don't touch it."

"Fine," Charles said, sticking out his bottom lip. "Jesus."

"Ah, everyone looks so good!" Christine cheered. "I'm so happy we all came."

"Liz and the others did a really good job on the decorations," Alex said, glancing around the area. "I was expecting, like, streamers and maybe flashing lights. But this is actually pretty."

"I have to agree," said Michelle. "It is a lot less lame than I expected."

Cecelia suppressed a snort and sipped at her punch, sharing cheese balls with Cindy. Christine and Ned eventually went to join Sally and Abe on the dance floor, then came back for a quick snack break. Cecelia remained on the sidelines, talking to the members of the AcaDec Team about everything from their favourite teachers to their top-ranked fictional crushes. Even with the bad pop music and the fact that the gymnasium was slowly growing more and more crowded, she was actually having fun. School dances had always been a milestone she'd missed out on, and though they were not as intense as they were portrayed in the movies, there was entertainment that came with just talking to your friends. Even if some of them had dates.

They were just going around the circle and saying their least favourite movies—Cecelia's was probably the horrific Percy Jackson adaptation—when, in her bag, her phone buzzed. Thinking it a text from one of her parents, she pulled it out.

When she saw who'd sent it to her, though, she froze.

MR. TOOMES: How long have you known?

Toomes never texted her. He had her number in his phone, but that was just in case of emergencies. He could trust Uncle to text her for everything else.

Cecelia took in a breath. The world tunnelled around her, blocking everything out until it had narrowed down to the phone in her hand. Her fingers flew over the screen as she composed a response.

ME: what are you talking about?

Toomes replied only a few seconds later.

MR. TOOMES: Don't play dumb with me. How long have you known that Peter Parker is Spider-Man?

Reality itself—which had already been on the fritz since the first text came through Cecelia's phone—stopped completely. Everything froze—Cecelia's friends, the music, even her own breathing. She would have thought some new villain had chosen to attack the school if her heart wasn't clenching in her chest. A panic attack was threatening.

He knew.

It shouldn't have been a big deal. Peter wasn't on her side, and Cecelia really should have told the company his identity as soon as she'd figured it out. But... but she hadn't. Not just because of the deal she'd made with him, but because... because...

In her mind's eye, Brice crumbled to ash again.

"Cecelia?"

It was as if someone had held up a remote and pressed play. The world resumed again, and the abruptness of it attacked Cecelia's senses. She blinked a couple of times, trying to adjust. It was only then that she realized everyone was looking at her.

"Everything okay?" Michelle asked. "You look kind of pale."

"No, no, no, I'm... I'm great." Cecelia stuffed her phone back into her bag. "Everything's great with me."

"...okay?" Skepticism laced Michelle's tone.

"Um, what were we talking about?"

"I was just finishing up my explanation as to why Shark Tale is a cinematic disaster," Alex said. "It's your turn next, Cindy."

"Sure," Cindy said. "You sure you're okay, Cecelia?"

"Yeah, yeah. I'm great. Just... great. You can go ahead."

"Okay?"

"Hey, wait!" Ned gestured across the room. "Look! Peter's here!"

Cecelia snapped her head around to follow his gaze. Sure enough, walking through the gymnasium as if in a trance was Spider-Man himself. There was an almost numb look on his face, as if he was just going through the motions, and his entire body was rigid. When the AcaDec Team waved at him—and Michelle flipped him her middle finger—he didn't react. He just kept walking, stiff as a board.

Something clicked in Cecelia's mind.

Liz was Peter's date. Toomes was Liz's father. Liz had told Cecelia that he would be driving them over to the school. Which meant that he would meet Peter face-to-face for the first time.

Which meant that he could have figured things out.

Had he threatened Peter? Was that why the look in his eyes was so haunted? Was he going to do something to Peter, even after he'd saved Liz's life?

He wouldn't. He's not a bad person, a weak part of Cecelia's mind protested.

Then why didn't you want to tell him the truth?

Cecelia took in fast breaths through her nose. Her fists clenched, then unclenched. Her heart pounded madly in her chest.

Before she realized what she was doing, she was opening her mouth.

"I've got to go to the bathroom," she blurted.

The conversation paused. Christine and Alex exchanged a look.

"Okay," Christine said. "You want anyone to go with you?"

"No, no, no, that's okay." Cecelia waved her off. "I'll be right back. Just, uh, have fun without me."

And with that, she took off, shouldering her way through the crowd.

It didn't take her long to find Liz—she was near the middle of the gymnasium in a pretty hot-pink dress and heels, her hair tumbling down her shoulders. Betty, Jason, and Seymour were all there, too, rubbing her back. Tears had formed in Liz's eyes and were streaming down her cheeks.

There was no Peter.

Cecelia ground to a stop. "Liz," she breathed. "Are you okay?"

Liz's head snapped up. She evidently hadn't been crying for long—her eyes weren't yet red—but her face was still twisted with devastation. "Cecelia," she choked out. "I'm—I'm—"

"Where's Peter?"

Liz's face crumpled further, and she pointed a finger at the back doors. "There. He just... he just left. I don't... I don't know why. I didn't do anything." She broke into a fresh surge of sobs. Betty rubbed her shoulders.

"Hey, hey, it's okay," she soothed. "Peter's a dick, but you still have us. Let's not let him ruin our night, okay?"

Liz wiped her eyes. "I know, I know, it's just... it hurts."

"He's a real dirtbag, if he left you," Cecelia blurted, even though internally, she was thinking Toomes knows, Toomes knows. "I'm going to the bathroom right now, so if I catch him, I'll tell him off for you, okay? You deserve better, Liz."

"Thank you." Liz gathered Cecelia into a hug. "By the way, you look—you look gorgeous tonight."

Cecelia smiled sadly at her. "So do you."

The hug broke off. Cecelia nodded her goodbyes.

Then she stepped out of the gymnasium and into the cold, dark hallway. Everything in her was thrumming with one purpose, a purpose she didn't exactly understand but knew she had to enact, anyway. Because something was going wrong, and she needed to fix it.

She needed to find Peter.

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HAVEN: AHHH IT'S HAPPENING! EVERYONE STAY CALM! STAY FUCKING CALM!!!

thanks for reading >:)))))