CHAPTER SEVEN.
THE PARKER-SONG COLD WAR

NED Leeds had been Peter Parker's best friend since middle school and there weren't many things that he didn't know about him. Of course, the first being that he was the freaking Spider-Man! I mean, how cool was that! His best friend was a superhero! He also didn't know, and Peter refused to tell him this, the story behind the signed Empire Strikes Back poster. Ned was pretty sure it had belonged to Uncle Ben. Ned Leeds also didn't know the reason for Peter's moodiness today. Ned hated when Peter got broody and he was very broody today.

In the woodwork shop class, making sure Mr. Hapgood was busy with his crossword puzzles, Ned made his way to the corner table where Peter was working. More like smashing something with his hammer repeatedly. 

"Hey, thanks for bailing on me," Ned sassed, not happy.

"Yeah, well," Peter continued to work on whatever it was he was working on, "something came up." He tried not to think about the hurt. What had he expected? Girls like Amelia Song didn't become friends with boys like him. He tried not to let the feeling cloud his judgment or his vision as he hit the power source on the table with the hammer again.

Ned was now intrigued. So Peter hadn't ditched him, he had just become busy with Spider-Man stuff. That was good to know. But it still didn't explain his sour mood. "What is that?"

"I don't know," Peter said, an edge to his voice. "Some guy tried to vaporize me with it."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah."

"Awesome."

Peter gave Ned a look. "I mean, not awesome. Heh, totally uncool of that guy. So scary."

A smile threatened to spill on Peter's face. Even if the world was ending he could trust in Ned to make him smile again. "Well, look, I think it's . . . a power source."

"Yeah," Ned nodded, then pointed to the wires, "but it's connected to all these microprocessors. That's an inductive charging plate. That's what I use to charge my toothbrush."

"Whoever's making these weapons is combining alien tech with ours."

"That is literally the coolest sentence anyone has ever said. I just want to thank you for letting me be part of your journey . . . into this amazing . . . "

Peter hit the thing again with the hammer, harder this time, rocking the table with the force. The glowing thing popped out and dropped to the floor while both Peter and Ned turned to look at Mr. Hapgood in fear of detention or worse.

But all he said was, "Keep your fingers clear of the blades," then went back to his crossword puzzle.

They turned back and Peter sighed. "I gotta figure out what this is and who makes it."

"We'll go to the lab after class and run tests," Ned suggested. 

Peter nodded. "Let's do it." He held his hand out and Ned caught it and they performed their intricate handshake before Ned asked. He was a little scared, to be honest. But he asked anyway.

"So what's got you in a bad mood today?"

Peter looked offended. "I'm not in a bad mood."

Ned nodded. "Yes, you are. You're even wearing your bad mood sweater."

"I don't have a bad mood sweater."

"Yes, you do. You're wearing it."

"I wear this all the time."

"Peter," Ned pressed.

Peter sighed. "It's ─ it's nothing." He ran his hand through his hair. There was a crinkle between his eyebrows which told Ned that it was not nothing. Peter just didn't want to talk about it. Not yet.

Peter didn't know how to tell Ned. What to tell him? That Amelia knew he was Spider-Man? That maybe so did Gemma. And Monika. And then what? What was he going to do about it? There was a throbbing pain in the back of his skull. The whole night last night he had replayed Amelia's expression over and over in his head. Watched the whole conversation again and again. Had she really tried to be friends with him because she thought he had powers? How sick was that? He tried to think of bad things about her, to try and balm the hurt but he couldn't. He couldn't think anything bad about Amelia and he was sure nobody could. If they did, the earth would rotate in the opposite direction and the sun would rise in the west.

AMELIA was in the library, cooped up in her secret place between the non-fiction section and wall. She was trying not to feel bad but failing. It was as if she had caught a cold. She felt ill to her stomach. Maybe that was the reason for her little efforts in her clothes today ─ grey sweatpants and a grey jumper. Five stars, really. She had come home crying and Monika had seen it and assumed it was Zachary Hart's fault. Amelia had stopped her from committing homicide, told her it wasn't Zach's fault but couldn't bring herself to tell her the real reason. 

She had spent the whole night thinking about her friendships ─ with Gemma, with Monika. With anyone who had ever met her.

Amelia felt as if there were two of her. The more glossy Amelia ─ the one who was in control, able to handle any situation, able to talk to anyone. And the other, more delicate Amelia, who was quiet and unsure, often lonely, and driven by naive longing.

Amelia missed her sister. She threw her head back, feeling a hot tear forming at the corners of her eyes and trying to contain it. Amelia cried very little. She had cried very little since she was a child. But she felt the dam straining to hold steady now. She wanted to ask Monika why she was friends with her. She wanted to ask Gemma why she was friends with her. She wanted to print posters and post them all around the school asking the question.

She wanted to know if she really had been trying to be friends with Peter because she thought he had powers. Love was a privilege. She and Gemma had fought about it often ─ when the silver-haired Burke girl talked about her parents, she always used that phrase. Love was a privilege. Of course, Amelia had disagreed. Quite verbally so. But she had been childish then. She understood now. Love was a privilege. But it was also a choice. And Amelia had made the choice to love Monika and Gemma, not in spite of, but because of.

Now, she was never not gonna love them.

Which was why it was important for her to make Peter understand. No, she hadn't wanted to be his friend because she thought he had powers. She had wanted to be his friend because she had, too. Because she understood. Because somewhere inside her she had been looking for a place to belong ever since her sister had died.

Before another thought could form, Amelia was pushing herself up and scrambling out of the library. Peter had come to school, she had seen him in the hallway. Having had a free period, she had decided to find solace in the library and continue to study for the Decathalon but her mind had been sadly occupied by last night's fight. If not for nothing, she needed to resolve this fight for the peace of her mind. Or she was never gonna get through the day.

The hallways were quiet, most students in their respective elective classes ─ chess and band practice and robotics lab. Amelia, hood over her head, made her way around the campus trying to find Peter. Violà! It wasn't Peter but it was the only person who would know where Peter would be.

"Ned," she said loudly.

"Shh!" he shushed her.

She knitted her eyebrows together. Standing against the wall at a corner in the hallways, he seemed to be hiding from someone. Quietly, she asked, "Are you hiding? From who?" Ned didn't answer. But she looked ahead to find two men exiting the woodwork shop classroom. She cocked her head to the side, confused. As soon as they exited the building, Peter emerged from the classroom looking determined. But his face drained of all color as soon as he turned and saw her.

She met his eyes. He shook his head and turned to go. "No, wait! Peter!" He stopped. She stalked her way to him and stood in front of him.

"What do you want?" he snarked without looking at her.

Amelia didn't let his words sting. "I'm gonna talk. And you're gonna listen." There was something in her voice that made him look at her now. An edge, it was ragged and serrated like a knife. The buzzer rang but maybe they didn't hear it. The student body swelled out, exiting from all possible doors, but Amelia didn't register.

"I'm sorry," she said. But she was very quiet and Peter couldn't hear anything over the booming electronic music someone had started playing over the Bluetooth speakers they had snuck in. "I said, I'm sorry!" Amelia shouted.

The school stopped. Every head turned to look at her ─ at them. Peter could feel all the curious stares but he wasn't sure if Amelia could. She was still looking at him the way she had looked when she had found out but her cheeks flared red.

The school resumed from its frozen state ─ everyone going back to whatever they had been doing. She took a deep preparatory breath and launched into an apology. "I'm sorry I made you feel bad and hurt and made you think I only wanted to be your friend because. But it isn't true. It's not. I've thought about it a lot and it is my fault. But I would like another chance at the friendship."

Peter was looking at her amicably. There was laughter sitting under his tongue that wanted out. She looked undeniably adorable in a jumper that was a size too big, her cheeks flared red and her nose upturned. He let out a soft chuckle and looked at his shoes. "It's okay," he said. "I might have overreacted a little bit."

Amelia asked, "A little bit?"

Peter gave her an incredibly serious nod. "Mhm, little bit." And he gestured with his fingers ─ thumb and index ─ to show how much. She cracked a smile. It felt exhilarating, making Amelia smile.

She looked around the hallway then put her hand against his chest, pushing him back inside the woodwork classroom. Peter, a little surprised, descended the stairs backwards. When he was at the bottom and she was on the last step up, she stopped. Now they were of the same height. He stared at her, unable to take his eyes off as she looked around for something.

When she did find whatever she had been looking for, a frown nestled on her face. She brought her index finger near the top of an unfinished shelf by the stairs to the left of Peter. She delicately picked up whatever it was and laid it on her palm. A wounded butterfly, wing torn, tried to escape but couldn't. She did a gesture with her other hand for Peter to put his hand forward.

He did so, looking both curious and confused. She closed her eyes but he kept staring at their palms, enclosing a wounded butterfly between them. She opened her eyes, he looked up at her. Nothing had happened. He followed her gaze, fixed at their joined hands. He started to ask her what he was supposed to be looking at, but she held up her other hand to forestall him. Her eyes were shining. "Wait," she said.

The air moved first. Peter felt it against his arms and at the hollow below his neck, behind his ears and at the base of his spine. It shifted and began to quiver and tremble. Something sparked in the center of their palms ─ a soft, nearly invisible golden, like sunshine. Enthralled and captured, Peter watched unmoving as the air in the center of their palms unfurled itself into electric blue wings. It was like watching a speeded-up film of a butterfly blooming: the delicate blue wings opening outward, releasing the clustered petals inside. They were dusted with pale gold pollen as light as talcum.

Peter laughed breathlessly as they both tipped their heads back to watch its ascent. Amelia squinted her eyes to keep sight of the tiny electric blue figure as it circled over Peter's head. It was so small and nimble, it's color extraordinarily stark and unnaturally blue ─ magical.

Peter chuckled and reached his palm out to catch it. The butterfly fluttered its wings before it perched itself on his index finger.

"You incredible creature," he said to Amelia. His delight was infectious and unconditional, broad as his grin. He tipped his head back to watch as the butterfly took flight again, something still and faraway around his eyes and breathed a whoa, his palm still lifted as if waiting for the butterfly to return to it. And Amelia stood there with her hands beneath his, her gaze on the flying creature, not smiling, but not frowning, either. She looked like a dark-haired angel. Her eyes were alive, the curve of her mouth pleased. 

It suddenly didn't seem at all surprising that she should be able to heal the world.