Outnumbered

Chapter 8

Peter takes the Q uptown toward the cluster of hospitals on the Upper East Side in Lennox Hill. He lets the music in his headphones drown out the reminder that the support group meeting is in a hospital, which is the last place he wants to be. Children's is visible as he climbs the steps to the street level, the yellow and blue of the lettering towering above the nearby buildings, standing out from four blocks away.

He promises himself a churro on his way back to the subway, a reward for getting himself to actually step foot in the meeting.

Churros make everything better.

When he gets there, he enters through the sliding glass doors, cool air hitting his face. It's a welcome reprieve from the June heat.

He checks his phone to confirm which floor the meeting is on and lets out a shaky breath as he presses the up arrow to call the elevator. For a moment, he thinks about taking the stairs, but between walking four blocks from the subway and his nerves, he's panicked about getting an urgent low alarm. It's the only one he can't silence, the one that sounds like it's warning everyone of an impending nuclear meltdown. It doesn't matter that he'll be in a room of diabetics; he doesn't want any attention on him today. Keep your mouth shut and get this over with, he reminds himself as the elevator dings and the doors open.

By the time he gets to the eighth floor, he's lost in his music again, bumps right into someone while exiting the elevator. When he looks up, he finds MJ staring back at him. He pulls his headphones out.

"Hey, loser," she says, surprised, as she steadies herself.

"Hi?" he answers, confusion apparent on his face. "Y-you're..."

"Here. For the meeting," she says, gesturing to the conference room on the left. "I don't like subjecting myself to any more socializing than I have to, so I wait outside until the last possible second." A beat later, when she realizes Peter isn't catching her sarcasm, she adds, "My parents kind of force me to come."

"Yeah, I know the...feeling," he says, biting his lip. "Um," he says, laughing nervously as he points at her. "Just to clarify, you're here for the–"

"Type one group."

"As like, a sister?"

"As myself."

Peter takes a breath to steady himself, because he was not expecting that. "W-why didn't you say anything?" he asks. It comes out as if he's taking her keeping this from him personally, even though he isn't.

He isn't, right?

"Why didn't you?" she throws back.

He shrugs, grips the straps of his backpack. "Come on, MJ. You knew. It's not like it's easy to hide this," he says, pointing to his pump. "And then with everything that happened with Flash? Gluconeogenesis? And States?"

"So, you were listening," she says, lifting an eyebrow.

"I was, but I had to look it up after. I barely know anything about any of this, to be honest," he admits. He takes a breath and exhales heavily. "It's all kind of been..."

"Overwhelming. I know. I've had it since I was eight. I was going to tell you, because of that day in Griggs' class. With the cell phone that was really your pump?"

Peter stares blankly at her.

"When he thought you were smoking weed..."

"I know what day you're talking about."

"And then I kind of panicked," she admits.

He lifts his eyebrows and teases, "Michelle 'MJ' Jones panicked?"