CHAPTER ONE.
THE NIGHT WE MET

" Because right now, he couldn't stop looking at her. "

THERE was something so disturbing about recalling a warm memory and feeling utterly cold. Amelia sat mounted in the chair beside her friend Monika's bed who was lounging on her back and examining each strand of her hair pensively and with such utter concentration that Amelia was sure that any white hair found would just burst into flames and turn to ash. Though how she would differentiate between white hair and her bleached blonde hair was a question she did not need answered.

Gathering her feet, she sat cross-legged, leaning against the foot and flipping through an old photo album. This was the lamest birthday party ever. Beside her, laying on the floor was Gemma, a birthday hat strapped to her head as she counted the cracks in the ceiling.

As Monika exhaled, the party horn in her mouth tooted sadly ─ Amelia groaned as an answer. "Why didn't the cake arrive, again?"

Gemma said, "Because we forgot."

"And the people?"

"We forgot," Monika concurred.

"What about the gifts?"

"Didn't you hear what I just said?" Monika sat up. "We forgot!"

"This is the worst birthday party ever," Amelia snarked.

"Hey," Gemma protested. "At least you had one ─ you guys didn't even remember mine."

Both girls slid out of their seats to hold Gemma comfortingly. "Oh, we're very sorry."

"Yeah," Monika nodded solemnly, "remember we had that test the next day. We were so busy studying."

"No you weren't," Gemma scoffed. "You were at Jason Ionello's party!"

"Oh, yeah," Monika chuckled, not guilty, "forgot about that. That was a good one."

Amelia nodded in agreement.  "Yeah."

"Ugh." Gemma groaned dramatically and threw the cushions from the floor and each of her friends. One hit Amelia. Monika dodged her bullet.

"Sorry!" Amelia laughed.

Monika smiled and jumped at Gemma, tickling her until Gemma smiled again. She too, said, "Sorry, Gem."

"Yeah, whatever." Gemma straightened and frowned. Monika shoved her shoulder, shaking her then grabbed Amelia by her arm, hauling her up.

"Hey, what if we forgot the cake? Or forgot to invite people? Or ─ or forgot the gifts?"

Amelia looked at Monika with diminished interest as she counted all the ways this birthday party of hers was undeniably lame and the most cosmically boring party ever. "I hope you're going somewhere with this," she said, almost afraid of the answer.

Monika flicked her forehead. "We can still have a good time, you dull idiot."

"Yeah!" Gemma cheered, getting to her feet. 

"Yeah, cheer up! Let's go to a party!"

"Okay," Amelia said, bringing herself to terms with what was happening. Gemma took her by her shoulders and shook her in excitement. Amelia said, "Okay! I'm turning fifteen!"

"Hell yeah!"

So look, crises averted. But they still had to search for a party to go to. Now, if you know a thing or two about high schoolers is that they love a good party. And they usually like to tell the world when they are at a good party. Well, they tell the world if they are at a lame party, too, but you get the point. All they had to do was go online and there was Flash Thompson, live streaming the party at Tony Ramirez's house. Now, probability indicated, Monika had said, that this was going to be a good party because Tony Ramirez was a senior and there were only so many days left for him to throw a good party. Gemma had asked Monika where this probability ratio of hers went during the math class. Monika had shown her a finger, just the one ─ with her black nail polish chipping and weighed heavy by her rings, that finger was answer enough.

Before this finger conversation could move forward, Amelia had said they should probably leave if they wanted to still go to a party for her birthday. So yay, they went to a party. And yes, what if she didn't have gifts or cakes, maybe Amelia's birthday wasn't going to be completely cursed. 

It just so happened that today was Friday. Now by pure algorithm alone, if you looked at Amelia's whole life laid out on a table, you would see that Fridays hated her. She lost her favorite bracelet when she was eight on a Friday. She got into that car crash when she was twelve on a Friday. She started and gave up trying to learn a guitar when she was fourteen on a Friday. All in all, pretty bad day. Every Friday just seemed out to get her.

So you could imagine her shock and horror as the realization sunk in that nothing bad had happened this Friday. She guessed the not-party birthday party was pretty bad but she had a feeling something more was coming. Justin Slater put a red cup in her hand and the rest was supposed to be history. Supposed to be. She would remember every moment of this night forever.

PETER Parker was going to kill Ned Leeds. It had seemed so easy in the morning. When his mind was preoccupied with all of last night's vigilante stuff and when he was daydreaming what he would do tonight, he had agreed to Ned's babbling to get him to quieten and accidentally agreed to a meet-up at his own house without even realizing it. Now it wouldn't have been a real problem, not until Aunt May came into the mix. He would've gone straight to Spider-Man stuff after school, came home and met with Ned to build the Lego death star, have dinner, then swing out his bedroom window again. This particularly fool-proof, repeatedly tested plan had not failed him since he had got bitten by that radioactive spider, but now it seemed it was time to devise a new plan.

Because Ned had come, dressed not for building the death star but in an absurd straw hat that looked so out of place and so big for his head that he was lucky he wasn't swallowed whole by it. He had talked to May first because she had opened the door. This was the moment it all went downhill. Peter would have been able to avert crises if he had said no almost immediately. But now he had May on his shoulder too, begging him to go out in the world and enjoy his days. Like he didn't enjoy his days kicking asses of bike thieves and rescuing cats from trees.

So there was this party Peter had agreed to go to in school that morning, Tony Ramirez's party. Peter immediately knew this was a bad idea because Tony Ramirez was Flash's friend and whoever was Flash's friend had very strong opinions about Peter. But he didn't say that because he didn't want May to go in a spiral. And besides, Ned seemed to think it wouldn't really be a problem. Reluctantly, and after two outfit changes later (May didn't like the first one, Ned didn't like the second), here he stood in front of Tony's suburb house, ready. Or not. Superhero stuff he could take, and after that fight in Germany, all of this kid stuff seemed pointless to him. Still, he let Ned drag him inside.

Inside, nobody recognized them. And even if they did, they didn't care enough to acknowledge them. This was expected. As the song from the booming speakers pointed out this night was the night and the world might end tomorrow, Peter saw Ned gravitate towards the living room, eyes stuck and unblinking. He followed his line of sight. Of course. Ned was staring unabashedly at Zoha, one of their classmates he very clearly had a crush on. Of course. Now, if Peter looked at this objectively he had forced Ned to go to a party where Liz was going to be so this seemed sufficient payback.

He gave Ned a pat on his shoulder and hustled him towards where Zoha was sitting. Then he made his way to avoid the crowd. By habit alone, most of the people were packed together in the kitchen and the living room, so he made his way to the outside patio. A rush of cold air rustled his hair. September autumn breeze carried a taste of the New York summer, rusty and orange colored. Even though it was cold, Peter remained there. There were only a few people outside, a few couples who had gotten tired of the booming music in their ears and came out to steal a few quiet moments.

And a girl, sitting quietly at the end of the porch. One hand on her stomach and the other on her forehead. Maybe she was sick, Peter guessed. Of course, there would be alcohol here, it was a senior's party, but he always avoided that. This girl didn't seem like a senior and looked way too familiar, even from here with her head turned away.

The name came to Peter when the door sang open urgently and out stepped two silver-haired girls, rushing to the sick girl. Monika and Gemma. The girl on the patio was Amelia.

Amelia Sóng. His ninth-grade crush. She had been the new girl and he had been (and still was) the geeky quiet overachieving boy. It would have worked out in the end in a John Hughes movie, which unfortunately this was not. And girls like her, all old money and privilege, were unattainable anyways. And that was before he became Spider-Man, too. Before he realized that the more people he kept close, the more he was endangering them. But he couldn't tell his fifteen-year-old body that ─ he had liked Amelia last year, a lot. He didn't know where it had gone now. Or if it had even gone away, because right now, he couldn't stop looking at her.

Amelia, the previously mentioned sick girl, was laughing with her head thrown back and a wet towel against her head. Gemma was trying her best and failing in tying the girl's black hair and Monika was crouched in front of her, face painted in amusement. At any other time, Peter would have walked away, or at least looked away, given them some sense of privacy. But he just couldn't. The porch light was weak and her face was lit was and he just couldn't look away.

That was until Monika Godfrey looked up and gave him a withering glare. "What are you looking at?" she shouted.

Amelia, he didn't say it. Instead, he said, "Nothing." He glanced at Amelia again, whose attention was now on him too, looking up at him with wide-open expecting eyes. "Is she alright?"

Monika said, "Yeah," at the same time Gemma said: "No." Peter raised an eyebrow.

Monika screwed her face, like telling the truth was somehow extremely painful for her. Maybe so. It seemed very much like it. She said simply, "She had alcohol." No further explanation. Fine, Peter would take this, thank you very much. He looked at the trio of girls again before turning to walk away.

"You're in my Physics class, right?" 

Peter stopped. He tried to remember the last time Amelia had talked to him, or he had talked to her. A simple conversation, an exchange of words, a transaction of feelings. Last week, when she had politely asked for an eraser in Physics class. Politely. Amelia was always polite, always smiling her 'I respect and appreciate you and put you on a pedestal' smile. No wonder people put her on a pedestal. Karma had a way of coming back. Even teachers weren't immune to the charm of Amelia Sóng. Peter turned. She was sitting there, leaning lazily against Gemma, ends of her mouth slightly upturned. Peter whispered, "Yeah." Surely she remembered him, right? Hell, she was in the Decathalon team, even. His presence, by probable odds, must have made an impact. Even if it was a small, annoying one.

Her reply was drowned by the door swinging open again and the shouting, hooting and whooping from inside filling the air. A boy leaned out, Peter didn't recognize him, which was odd because he knew the faces of almost every person in their school. Maybe he was not from their school. The boy said something. A sentence with the words Monika and bet and money and a few curse words. Monika gave Gemma a look and rushed inside. Gemma stared after her with mild anger and caving disappointment but that didn't last long. Amelia dozed and fell and in catching her with her whole body, Gemma got herself trapped underneath a drunk fifteen-year-old and hardwood patio floors. She grunted.

It was at this moment Peter realized he should either do something or leave. He didn't have a choice. Gemma looked at him, her eyes pleading. Peter sighed. Customary, and even though he was moving to do so, he asked, "Need any help?"

He grabbed Amelia's biceps and hauled her up straight to stand. Sometimes he was still surprised at his strength nowadays. Gemma scooted away then stood. She looked at Peter, then at the party, then back at Peter, like she was thinking something. She said, "Parker, could you take her to the car?" Peter raised his eyebrows. "I need to find Mon," Gemma said. There was something under her voice he couldn't identify. Fear? Worry for her friend? Ned.

Peter said, "Ned's inside. He came with me. I ─ "

"I'll go tell him," Gemma told him readily.

Peter exhaled. He didn't know what to think right now. The night was getting warmer and colder and the same time. His ex-crush was drunk and dozed off on his shoulder and May had given them an eleven o'clock curfew. Peter glanced at his watch which seemed that it should have caused him some inconvenience when another body's full weight was on him, but he wasn't thinking straight. A few minutes until eleven. He looked at Gemma, her face hopeful and pleading, and sighed and nodded, giving in.

She almost smiled. Almost. Maybe this day hadn't exactly gone as she had planned. She dug around in her pocket for the car keys and shoved them in Peter's hands, pointed at the car, and rushed off, shouting, "Thanks, Parker, you're a lifesaver."

Lifesaver. Peter chuckled internally. That's exactly who he was. Peter Parker, lifesaver, at your service. He even tipped his imaginary hat in his mind. Car keys clutched in his fist he secured his hold on Amelia and led her towards the car parked on the curb.