escape , peter parker

𝟬𝟭 bargaining the rules

chapter 1 !
bargaining the rules ...

𝗬/𝗡

THE WORLD DOESN'T revolve around you. Or me—or anyone in particular. Sure, certain people do get paid more mind than others, but the world wouldn't stop spinning if their parent or dog died. Time wouldn't stop. Everyone keeps moving on while you sit there, knees on hardwood floor, crying into your hands about how much you wish you lived a different life.

But wishing never lead to a different reality. I learned to stop wishing very early in life. I stuffed my mouth with ABC's and as many numbers up to a hundred thousand as I could in order to stop imagining a life I knew I would never have.

Now, I was left exhausted with surging knowledge from my desperate attempts to use it as an escape mechanism.

₊˚ˑ༄ؘ

The teacher's heels clack against the old, dirty tile, piercing the deafening silence, as she passes out the final exam scores to her students. When she approaches me, she gives me a slight smile before dropping the thick pile of paper onto my desk. A flawless score.

My current school is the cheapest school my dad could afford with my mom gone and his near minimum-wage job he never shows up for, meaning the quality of education was . . . not the best. This meant that me and a lot of the students that originally went to other better schools were excelling at every subject possible.

"Psst. . . Y/N, what did you get?" My friend, Ava asked from behind me.

My other friend, Xander, chimed in, "It's Y/N. What do you think she got?"

"Really? On the final exam?" Ava asked.

I nodded in response, staying faced forward. Ava, Xander, and I weren't really that close—they would usually only talk to me or hang out with me if their intentions were school related (as in trying to get an advantage on tests, etc.). We weren't even allowed to hang out outside of school if they wanted to; my dad wouldn't allow it.

The bell rings, and everyone rushes to put away their things and to get out of the classroom to their sixth period. When I begin to walk out the door, I hear my teacher call my name.

"Y/N, could you come here for a moment?" She asked.

I turn and walk to her desk. Her desk is messy, papers everywhere—barely a third of them graded—with her leftover lunch on top of them. At the edge of her desk were some family photos, not facing her, but on display for the class to see.

"Yes, Mrs. Walker?" I ask.

"Y/N, I have to say, I'm very impressed by you. I do have to ask, why here? Have you thought of other schools?"

"Yes, I definitely have thought of other schools." I say, noting the constant bullying in the hallways, the bathrooms that were most likely dirtier than the trash bins outside, and the rotting ceilings and squeaky pipes. "But my dad would never allow it."

"Would you like me to email him?"

My eyes widen at the thought momentarily, "No! No, no, it's fine."

She furrows her eyebrows at me, "Okay... well, if you need help or encouragement—you know where to find me, okay? Try to get out of here over the summer while you still can."

"Thank you, Mrs. Walker." I say, giving a tight smile and then walking out of the classroom to my final period—the last period before summer break.

The whole period, I can't get the thought of going to a different school out of my head. But one thing keeps fighting these hopes down—my dad would never, ever agree to it.