72 Friends

The Perfect Example of Despair

"You look..."

"Different?" Peter cocked an eyebrow, locking eyes with his friend over the rim of his water cup. He took a long sip before setting it down on the diner table. "I know."

"Your hair—"

"Yeah." Peter ran his hand through it. "I went to a real barber. A good one. He hooked me up with something new. Looks nice, right?"

MJ and Ned sat across from Peter in the booth of their favorite breakfast spot on August 3rd. Ned had been so ecstatic the day before to hear from his best friend that he could hardly talk and Peter's chest surged with love for Ned. They had agreed to meet for breakfast, the three of them, and MJ and Ned had texted him all day that they were so happy to hear from him and couldn't wait to see him.

They had expected Peter to be in a fragile state. Leaving his house for the first time since school ended, especially after what happened, was bound to wreck his sense of security and spike his anxiety. They figured he might need to avoid certain topics, maybe he didn't want to talk about it, even might need to leave early.

They hadn't expected to see Peter with his curls cut short, styled like someone who cared. They certainly hadn't expected Peter to be...well, ripped. His arms were clearly defined under his shirt sleeves, and his jaw looked sharp and strong with the low fade the barber had given him.

"Dude, you look so cool," Ned gushed. It made Peter laugh—a real laugh, warm and from his chest. At least that wasn't different.

Nobody would really use the word "cool" to talk about Peter except for Ned and MJ. Sitting there, scanning Peter over with her robotic gaze, MJ admitted to herself that Peter didn't look cool like Peter's normally cool. Peter looked socially cool.

Of course he did. Dorky, nerdy Peter Parker, who couldn't dress himself to save his life, had become cool overnight. MJ was morally opposed to being cool, refusing to feed into societal standards about appearances, but Peter had always been a cute guy. He wasn't a cute guy anymore.

MJ was afraid that Peter was hot.

Peter shrugged his shoulders. "Figured it was time for something new."

"Everyone at school is going to lose it when they see you got muscular, dude!" Ned exclaimed.

"Or think you're on steroids. But I look forward to sketching Flash's face when he sees you. I imagine it'll be a perfect example of despair," MJ comments, wrapping her hands around her cup of (black, obviously, no cream or sugar) coffee and taking a sip.

Peter's face tightened just a little. "About that."

"May told us you might go online for the last year," Ned said apologetically, "and dude, if that's what you want, we support you."

"Don't feel like you have to come back to Midtown if it's not right for you," MJ added. Peter drummed his fingers against the side of his water glass.

"Yeah. Well. I'm not coming back to Midtown," he admitted, glancing between the two. "But I'm not going online, either. I asked May to enroll me in a new school. Public school."

Ned nearly chokes on his hot chocolate and he sputters. "Peter, public school? Are you sure?"

Peter shrugged again. "It's only one year."

"You're way too smart for public school, seriously, Peter," MJ argues. Her elbows land on the table as she leans across the surface. "Is this some kind of social experiment? Is Ashton Kutcher here somewhere?"

Peter gives her a soft grin. "Yeah, we'll, that's kind of the point. It'll be easy for me, and...I just need an easy year. I'm done being the laughing stock, guys. I can't do it anymore. I mean, I'll still see you all the time and stuff, but I just need a break, and I can't go back there." Peter swallows thickly, and MJ can see the flash of panic in his eyes before he reigns it under control in record time. "I know people are going to say stuff, you know, Flash and them, but I don't really care. You don't even need to defend me. In one year, it won't matter again anyways, and Flash will still be a loser sucking on his dad's credit card while we're all at MIT."