CHAPTER FIFTEEN.
HOMECOMING HERO

THE dance was in full swing even before they arrived. The booming music ricocheted off the gym walls as Gemma pulled both Monika and Amelia by their arms to the center of the floor. Just as the chorus hit, everyone threw their arms up, screaming to the lyrics. "Tonight! I want all of you tonight!" Amelia put her arms around both her girls. "Give me everything tonight!" The three of them leaned closer, shouting the lyrics with their full chest in each other's face. "For all we know, we might not get tomorrow! Let's do it tonight!"

Dancing and singing was cathartic and for a few moments, Amelia almost forgot about the nightmare. All she could think about was Peter that night by the Willow Lake, drenched in moonlight. Of a time where she wasn't afraid of what would happen but was just a teenage girl realizing her crush on a boy. A shy smile eclipsed her face and she glanced at the floor. She looked at her dancing classmates again when she raised her camera and brought it closer to her eyes. They seemed so joyful, not a care in the world. God, they looked so happy.

Amelia sighed as the camera clicked a picture of pure happiness. Bubbling joy. It terrified her. She had never known what to make of Peter. Not since the day they met. This fear of losing people, she knew in her head, originated on the road beside the car crash that had killed Constance. Peter terrified her in ways only Constance had. Every smile she received came with a written warning: REMEMBER THIS, it said. Because the idea of him walking away, vanishing from her life, that terrified her most of all.

But then she blinked and saw this party. Gosh, this party. And her heart filled until it was overflowing. That's when she heard Constance's voice. Remember this feeling, it said. Live your life, not being afraid of the end but enjoying the journey. She looked at her friends again, all her friends, slow dancing to the sweetest song with their arms around each other. If you had no one to wrap their arms around you when you were sad, were you really happy?

Gemma, escaping out of Monika's hold, shuffled closer to Amelia when she saw her face. After a moment, she said, "Are you crying?"

Amelia wiped under her eyes with the pad of her fingers and chuckled in absurdity. She sniffled, "Only a little."

"Why?" Gemma pouted.

Amelia looked at her. She really looked at her. Her pale blonde hair hung straight down to her shoulders and she was wearing a wrap dress in a subtle silver. Monika, who joined her in feeling sad for Amelia, albeit in a more mocking way, was dressed in a suit and tie, making the both of them look beautiful. And as the strobing lights shone upon them, Amelia said, "I'm just . . . happy."

Gemma returned a smile, filled with so much raw happiness that Amelia felt her heart contract. "Those are opposites," Gemma said.

Amelia sniffled again. "Not really."

How terrible it would be, Amelia thought, to not have friends who loved you?

Monika, on the other hand, wasn't very known to keep things pure, as always. She bumped her shoulder against Amelia's and wiggled her eyebrows suggestively. "Thinking about Parker?" she teased.

Amelia scoffed. But she played along. "No." She lied. She was.

"You're searching for him in the crowd," Monika retorted monotonously.

"I am not," Amelia pressed and raised her camera when she saw Gemma reach for her glass to take the first sip of the punch. As soon as her face twisted from the sharp taste, Amelia clicked a picture.

"I think somebody spiked the punch," Gemma muttered, scrunching her nose and holding the glass a distance away from her as if it was radioactive.

"Really?" Amelia said, faking her shock.

"Vodka," Monika grinned mischievously. "I know it when I taste it."

"Gimme," Amelia said, making with her hand the universal gesture for come here.

Gemma shook her head and handed the glass to Jason Ionello who was just passing by them. "Don't you have to take pictures for the yearbook?" she said in response to Amelia's pout.

"I am taking pictures for the yearbook," Amelia said, waving her camera in Gemma's face. "Look, see, here is you trying vodka for the very first time."

Eye twitching, Gemma replied unamused, "Flattering."

Amelia shrugged good-naturedly. "It's got its charm."

"But, seriously," Gemma put her hand on Amelia's bare arm, "you seem distracted." 

Amelia knew what she was doing. Now Gemma knew everything. It was on rare occasions that Amelia shied away from Gemma's powers. She shook her head, "I'm not distracted," she lied.

Gemma knew she lied. Still, she asked, out of polite courtesy, as she saw every one of Amelia's secrets pass behind her eyes, "You're not distracted?"

"I'm not."

"Then what are you?"

"I'm taking pictures for the yearbook."

"I'm not kidding," Gemma said very seriously.

"Neither am I," Amelia made a face. "Okay, here," she stepped back, pushing her friends together, "stand closer you two. Pretend you're dancing." Monika grabbed Gemma's waist, twirling her around to the beat of the song as Amelia raised her camera, muttering to herself, "Or you could actually dance, sure. Okay, one more. I ─ " Amelia faltered.

Just behind the girls, the gym door had opened and Peter walked through looking conflicted.  And sorry. He passed through the dancing crowd effortlessly and paused in front of Liz.

"Amy?" Gemma called, noticing the girl's unresponsive state, and turned to follow her gaze.

"It's Parker," Monika said, a little surprise coloring her voice as Peter walked past Liz. "And he's standing Liz up. That boy has game."

Peter had been heading for the door. He was always running away from things he wanted. Always running towards things that life threw at him. But his mind was raging now, not with the why but the how. How the hell was he going to stop the Vulture now? He didn't even have his suit. And then he remembered Amelia's words as he traversed the basketball court that had been turned into a dance floor for the night. You're still you. Sometimes, that's all that matters. You've still got your heart. It's not about what you're wearing, it's about what you carry.

He strode by her, past her, but before he could fully walk away she reached out and wrapped her fingers around his wrist. Peter halted; turned and looked over his shoulder. At her face, then down at their hands. Up, down. Up, down.

"Amy," he said with a surprised start as if he hadn't expected to see her here. No, he had expected to see her here. Braced himself for it. But he hadn't expected her to stop him in the middle of the dance floor, her hand gripping his, the worry line between her eyebrows. It was such an odd feeling, her touch. The first time it had happened, when she had held his hand, Peter had thought it was static electricity. The second time he had chalked it up to coincidence. The third time, even after she had gone away, pulled her hand back ─ he could still feel it on his skin, the touch lingering. Holding Amelia's hand was like holding a butterfly. Or a heartbeat. Like holding something completely and undeniably alive. Now that he held her hand ─ an intimate gesture of locked fingers filling empty spaces and lonely lines on calloused palms finding solace in their mirror image ─ the fire on his skin was something undeniable. A sweet pain that could hardly be forgiven or forgotten for its presence. An ache that stoked larger pains ─ sorrow, despair, happiness, peace ─ as it consumed one whole and became a throbbing reminder of someone who had touched and changed one forever.

Amelia stared at him, her big black eyes sparkling under the various lights. Peter sounded different ─ haunted. He looked different, too. She stared at him for a moment, noticing how his nose dipped just right and how his not so perfectly quiffed hair just made it more perfect; his perpetually crooked tie and his abundantly rumpled shirt collar. She sighed through her nose but didn't look away. As always, his features intrigued Amelia. They were not quite conventionally handsome, but they were interesting. He had prominent cheekbones and deep-set eyes, but his version of them was more delicate. It made him seem a little alien. A little impenetrable.

"What's going on?" she asked.

He was still looking at her, and it was the oddest sort of look ─ the sort of look you might give someone you loved but could never, ever have. "There's danger outside the door," he said, not looking away. "And I'm still me." He shrugged here, as if helpless. Everything in him was screaming for him to go, every instinct pushing him to run out ─ only his heart remained rooted where he was. Amelia looked breathtaking. It was as if light was dancing around her. Peter Parker wanted to stay here forever, but Spider-Man needed to go.

Amelia managed a smile. She never wanted Peter Parker to change. Ever. They both tried to hold on a little longer, but Amelia felt Peter's fingers slipping. He had to go. He always had to go. But he didn't want to let go. He held on. Just a little longer, his heart said, just a bit more. Amelia saw it in his face, the struggle and she let go instead, saving him from that choice. She tilted her head to the side and said, "Go get 'em, Tiger," and her eyes were shining with adoration. Peter smiled. I'll be your personal cheerleader. He tried to think of ways to express his gratitude for her, but he was running out of the gym leaving Amelia behind. He could never thank her enough, though, not really. But maybe he could stop The Vulture, at least deserve all the praise that Amelia had in her eyes for him.

Amy turned. A new sense of purpose to her steps as she joined Monika and Gemma. She shoved her camera in Gemma's hands and said, "I gotta go."

"What? Where?" Gemma's pupils blew up in size from surprise as she stumbled to catch Amelia by her bicep. "Amy, what about the party?" she said. "What about the pictures for the yearbook?"

But Amelia was on another high. She felt closer than ever to finding the reason as to why she had been spared. The reason why she had been given a second life. This is what it must feel like to find purpose, she thought. She felt euphoric. Some of it was because of the vodka that had been snuck into the punch, some because of Constance's voice she had just heard. But for the first time in her second life, things seemed black and white for once. For the first time, her head and her heart wanted the same thing and it would be invariably cruel for her to not give them what they wanted. "Gem, I don't care about the pictures for the yearbook!" she said because it was true. She didn't. She used to take pictures because they made her happy, now she took them to fill the blank pages of a yearbook. "I need to find Ned."

She craned her neck and looked around, scanning the gym for Ned. Gemma knew that any of her further protests would fall on deaf ears. Once Amelia had decided upon something, it took Herculean effort to shake her from it. But Gemma also knew what she had felt. When her hand had intentionally brushed against Amelia's she had seen what Amelia had seen, felt what Amelia had felt.

Fear was what had been stopping her. A genuine and rational fear of losing someone. She knew Amelia enough by now to know the conflicting impulses that warred in her. She was conscientious, the kind of person who believed that the others around her were so much more important than she was, who already believed she was letting everybody down. And she was honest, the kind of person that was naturally open about all she felt and wanted. Amelia's virtues had made a trap for her; these two good qualities had collided painfully. She felt she could not be honest without disappointing everyone she loved. It was a hideous conundrum for her. It was as if the world had been designed to make her unhappy. "Well, aren't you scared anymore?"

"I'm terrified," Amelia said, a little breathless. "God, I'm terrified."

Gemma inhaled and nodded slowly to herself. She had always been a little disdainful of other people ─ normal people. They had always been less elegant about pain than her. It wasn't often people said what they wanted to say and exactly what others wanted to hear ─ most of the time the two things weren't the same, but now they were.

"You're smiling when you're saying that," Monika pointed to Amelia's face. "It is creeping me out."

"I can't not help," Amelia shrugged helplessly. "I mean ─ " she struggled to find words. This newfound purpose was choking her now. The realization of how important it was tightened her chest. "How do I not? How do I stand by when Peter is jumping in front of bullets and getting blasted back by alien tech? How do I tell him I won't help? I may not be doing a lot but, I could." She flexed her fingers, fisting them. Monika remembered the moment Amelia had decided to stop using her powers as if she had herself lived it. They had become friends months after. But when Amelia had told her, it had felt like losing someone she had known. Someone she had loved. "I could help," Amelia said. "I'm gonna go help."

"Amy ─ " Gemma started but Amelia was already starting to walk out, her heels clicking against the floor. Gemma exhaled through her nose, her tongue poking the inside of her cheek. "I need a drink," she muttered, eyes still stuck on the disappearing figure of Amelia through the crowd.

Monika whistled lowly, "Oh, yeah."

AMELIA didn't remember the last time Amelia had used her powers on a human being. It had been years. Gemma knew she was scared. She was scared what had happened to Constance would happen to anyone she tried to help. Those awful moments when she had crawled out of the toppled-over car, knees and palms bleeding from the cuts inflicted by the shattered glass and had attempted to reach for Constance but fallen short. She saw this moment from outside, looking down at a much younger version of her just crying out for Constance, screaming until she had no voice left. She could never look away. She could never stop watching herself in those moments ─ it was like watchig a ship sink or a body bag close.

When she stepped out the back door, her hand came to cover her mouth. One of their school busses was upside down on the road and stuck to the side, webbed up, was a man Amelia did not know, carrying a weapon that looked like what Peter had been chasing.

There on the side stood Ned, and Amelia was calling his name before she knew. "Ned!" He turned as she ran up to him and caught her arms. Her wide-eyed face was a sight to see. But that was all before she spotted Peter, now in his homemade suit, though calling it a suit was generous, rushing towards them. "Oh, god," she said, hoping he was not hurt. "Peter."

"Amy?" His voice sounded higher, wound up from the fight. "What are you doing here?"

Amelia raised her chin high. "I wanna help." The steadiness and firmness of her voice surprised her, but she didn't show.

"No," Peter said at one. He shook his head excessively. "No. No. No." He gripped her shoulder and shook her a little while he continued his protest as if trying to shake some sense back into her. "This is ─ "

Amelia slapped his hands away. "Aren't you short on time?" she shot back.

He pointed a finger at her face, too close to her nose, and she looked at it cross-eyed. "This conversation isn't over," he said, sounding very authoritative. "But, anyway, guys, the guy with the wings is Liz's dad."

Amelia took a step back at the revelation as if she had been slapped.

"What?" Ned exclaimed.

"Oh, god," Amelia muttered.

"I know. I gotta tell Mr. Stark. Call Happy Hogan. He's Mr. Stark's head of security. Get a computer and track my phone." He told them all of this in one breath before he was turning to take his leave.

"Will you be okay?" Amelia asked just before he swung away but Peter didn't answer.

Instead, he said, "Hurry, we gotta catch him . . . before he leaves town." And disappeared into the night behind skyscrapers and stars.

IT was Ned's idea to set up shop in the computer lab and Amelia wasn't going to be the one to protest, given that she really was not as skilled at this tech stuff as either Ned or Peter. As they sat on opposite sides, Ned went to work, trying to track Peter's phone while also trying to hack Happy Hogan's phone so that they could talk to him and warm him.

Amelia, fussing with her hair, was staring at Ned with an odd sort of look. He tried to ignore it as long as possible until he couldn't anymore. Until he had to stop typing and glance at her and mutter, "Can you stop looking at me like that? It's freaking me out. And I can't work."

"I'm sorry," she mumbled, but she was nowhere near done looking at him. "Why you doing this, Ned?" she asked without preamble.

Ned, with his expectant fingers frozen over a keyboard, looked at her. "What?"

"Why are you doing this?"

"To hack Mr. Happy's phone?" he said, unsure, voice raising higher at the end as it sounded more of a question than an answer

"No, I meant this," she waved her arms towards him and the computer screen as a way of pushing her point forward. "Helping Peter."

Ned shrugged and looked down to keep typing. "I don't know," he said. "Peter is my friend."

They didn't talk about it after that. They never talked about it after that, but what Ned had said settled perfectly under the folds of Amelia's heart. Peter is my friend. So simple. It was nothing if not the epitome of humanity and friendship. There was something so sweet about it that it ingrained itself dutifully in Amelia's mind, never to be forgotten.