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𝙉𝙊𝙏 𝘼𝙉𝙊𝙏𝙃𝙀𝙍 𝙏𝙀𝙀𝙉 𝙈𝙊𝙑𝙄𝙀.
───○☆ ✸ ☆○───
𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐘: DJ Flash
𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐀𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 ─ 𝐍𝐄𝐖 𝐘𝐎𝐑𝐊 𝐂𝐈𝐓𝐘, 𝐍𝐘
𝟗 𝐒𝐄𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝟐𝟎𝟏𝟔
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☆
When Lizzie was born, her parents were confident that they could raise another girl. They'd gone through the motions already with Sharon: have more band-aids than you think, prepare yourself for the attitude, sign her up for everything because she owned the world, and most importantly, quite possibly for any parent, was to let them be who they want to be. But where Sharon had enjoyed the quiet, Lizzie was desperate to fill the silence. Screaming in the middle of the night, making teenager Sharon groan until her pillows suffocated her ears. Where Sharon could control her emotions, Lizzie could always get her way in theatrics...or anger, sometimes. Lizzie was her mother's daughter, and Sharon was her father's.
Except, now, Lizzie couldn't recognize herself. She ran her hands underneath the sink in her bathroom, elbows rested against the porcelain countertop. After a few seconds, she hunched down further to splash the cold water against her face in hopes that it would give her some energy (it didn't). Pushing off her arms, she made the mistake of looking ahead and had to reintroduce herself to her reflection. The water rolled down her cheeks, catching just below her collarbone where her silver chain hit. The longer she watched herself, the less she knew the person staring back.
Lizzie had never been a vain person, and she never cared much for appearances, but even she could not deny that there was something wrong. Something that she could not figure out as she watched herself, taking in every detail. Naturally-brunette hair had been dyed a startling dark, still wet and sticking to her face from the shower she'd taken, with brown eyes glaring back at their enemy. There was no warmth. No recognition. Eyes of a legacy, ones she loved—ones that were her aunt's. Her grandfather's. Her father's. Her sister's.
"MJ? You okay?" came from outside the bathroom door, followed by a soft tapping from her girlfriend's knuckles. She exhaled deeply and shook her head, trying to rid herself of the bad thoughts.
"Yeah," she said, wincing when her voice croaked. "I'm coming. Just fixing my hair."
Fixing her hair consisted of brushing it and allowing it to naturally straighten as it dried. She stepped out of the bathroom to find C.T. gone, so she returned back to her bedroom. The formerly-blue walls had been painted gray, thanks to her parents and her spending an entire night rearranging and repainting. Although they didn't get much sleep, Lizzie laughed the whole night with her parents. She pushed down those thoughts as well, eyes meeting with C.T. near her bed, who was staring down at two different tops with pursed lips.
"I like the green one," Lizzie suggested, giving her a smile as she walked over to her desk to check her cell phone.
Then she froze. Every time she thought things could never get worse, somehow another problem happened. That Friday afternoon, she thought her biggest problem was Peter Parker inviting Spider-Man to the party (which was still very much a problem for her) and that he had told his best friend about her (which she was trying to remain calm about). Turns out, it was her past coming back to bite her in the ass. Shocker! Lizzie stared down at her phone with a direct message from Instagram. Specifically from a username that she hadn't heard from in a while, and she read over the message quickly.
Then, she looked over her shoulder at C.T. with a question forming. "Hey, do you—oh."
C.T. had chosen that moment to change from her Nike sports bra to a black bralette, her toned back fully exposed with her hair pulled into a messy bun. God, she was so lucky. Lizzie's hands faltered on her phone as a flush appeared on her cheeks, the DM forgotten for a moment, and stared at her girlfriend unabashed. C.T. felt the heat on her back and turned, raising her eyebrows at Lizzie with a smirk.
"Enjoying the show?"
"Very much so," she confirmed quickly, nodding a few times as she put her phone down behind her without looking.
C.T. grinned and walked over to her, hands reaching out to wrap around Lizzie's abdomen. Only in a sports bra as well, which seemed considerably less-attractive to Lizzie (on herself, at least), she didn't feel nearly as exposed. One thing about their relationship was that they had been comfortable from softball, and so the little things that Lizzie hated about herself were already seen by C.T. and loved all the same. Still, something pulled the older girl's eyes to the long scar along Lizzie's right arm. It stood out more now in the summer, a shade lighter than her current tan.
"Does it ever hurt?" C.T. asked quietly, her lips pulling down the longer she inspected it.
There was a crease appearing between her brows, contempt over everything that happened surrounding her shoulder injury and their break-up. A painted green finger traced the lines where they'd cut her open. Scars collected on her from that day, head to toe, and while she tried her hardest not to be ashamed of them, they were still there. Forever a reminder. Lizzie considered lying and maintaining that she was fine, but too much was already hidden from C.T. and the longer things rumbled in her chest, the harder it was becoming to stay quiet.
"Sometimes," she muttered, frowning as she glanced over at her shoulder as well. "Sometimes it's because I did something stupid. Pushed myself too hard...but other times, it's just the mental. You know? Like a phantom pain. It's not constant and aching, but it's like a shock of electricity down my right arm. It happens enough to remind me of that day."
The story that everyone knew was a car accident. One that would explain the series of injuries on both Sharon and Lizzie to their family members and friends (you know, the ones that weren't involved). Sometimes, she could tell the narrative to a person so well that she nearly believed it herself. Down to the scars on her body, she had to convince the world of a false narrative and pretend to be a different person. The only difference was that S.H.I.E.L.D. gave her a different name, and D.C. was not her home. Now, with C.T. glancing down at the next set of scars on her knuckles, she wondered if she would ever be able to escape like she had before.
"Do you remember any of it?"
Lizzie didn't have the energy to hide her misery, so she pursed her lips to keep the emotions away. "Yeah. I do."
"You're going back there this weekend," C.T. stated, a proven fact that she had already decided was important to Lizzie. Lizzie didn't think she would make that connection, but the way her girlfriend's brown eyes watched for any sign said differently. "Are you ready for that?"
No, she could have said, but the word didn't want to come out of her mouth.
"I actually have to tell you something," Lizzie changed the subject, her tongue pressed into the back of her teeth as she avoided answering. "Do you remember the girl I talked to when I was in D.C.?"
C.T.'s brows furrowed. "The first girl you kissed, right? Casey?"
Lizzie wished that wasn't what she remembered of Casey. "Mm-hm."
"What about her?"
"She sent me a message on Instagram, you know since I got a new phone number—not that I was texting her before then, but she just asked what time our games were on Tuesday..." Lizzie paused, fighting the urge to keep talking when C.T. stood expressionless. "You know, 'cause she still lives in D.C...she has a brother, you know? That's actually how I met her. His name is Shawn, but with a W, not an E. There was this diner that their grandma worked at, Martha, just a few minutes away from the apartment we were staying at and they were there with a few of these assholes—and...yeah."
There was a brief pause after Lizzie decided to shut up, mainly because talking about a former relationship (albeit, she was thirteen) to her current girlfriend seemed like something she shouldn't do. Operating how to be in a serious relationship was new to her, and even if she wasn't starting from the beginning with C.T., a puddle of nerves filled her gut at the possibility of saying the wrong thing and ruining everything. She made sure not to mention that she did miss Casey, and if she had to go back to that wretched place again, seeing Casey would be the best part of the entire trip—yeah, Lizzie thought to herself, that will never be spoken aloud.
When her silence became too much to bear, C.T. tilted her head to the side. "Sounds like they're big baseball fans. Sean Casey?"
Lizzie swooned, all anxieties exhaling from her chest, and her eyes lightened. "That's what I said! Yes, they are."
"That's cool," she nodded with an encouraging smile. "I'm excited to meet her."
Oh. Oh.
Lizzie thought of Natasha as she gave her girlfriend the most convincing smile, trying her best to exude false excitement at the suggestion. In reality, the idea only made her reconsider the flu her mother suggested when the trip to Washington, D.C. first appeared in her schedule.
"Totally! Same!"
This was totally NOT the "teenage experience" she'd been hoping for.
───○☆ ✸ ☆○───
𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐍 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐃 ─ 𝐍𝐄𝐖 𝐘𝐎𝐑𝐊 𝐂𝐈𝐓𝐘, 𝐍𝐘
"Lizzie! Hey!"
"Yo, Lizzie!"
Lizzie's hand tightened in C.T.'s as they walked up the pathway to the Allen household, doing her best to give a wave and a smile to the people who recognized her along the way and said hello. Already, she could feel her chest tightening, and she impulsively pulled one of her headphone wires from where she'd tucked them into her tank-top strap. Although there was no music playing through them, to have some kind of distraction allowed them to get through the front door without anyone else talking to her. The only people who knew about her secret trick with the headphones were Taylor and C.T., and so the latter squeezed her hand in return.
"Looks like you made a lot of friends last semester," C.T. said, tilting her head so that she could hear her over the loud music coming from the living room.
She sighed, rubbing her neck awkwardly. "I don't know if I would consider them all friends. Most of them are just from class. I talked to a lot of people last year. You know how I am."
"People are naturally attracted to you," C.T. shrugged, leaning into her side. Lizzie had a feeling there was more to her line, and she glanced down to see a grin appearing. "You're very attractive."
"You're boosting my ego."
"Isn't that my job?" C.T. asked innocently, grabbing a hold of Lizzie's belt loops. The taller of the two girls bent down, but C.T. expertly denied the kiss and continued walking, tugging on Lizzie to guide her through. All the while, Lizzie followed and remained close behind so that she could hear her talking over the music. "Have you texted Taylor yet to see if she's here?"
"She's in the kitchen. Eli got out of practice an hour ago, so he's probably eating their food for the month. No clue on Art, though. I haven't seen anyone from the team either."
A confirmation nod came from the brunette in front of her with the kitchen now their destination. Lizzie ended up falling in-step next to C.T., so only one of her fingers loosely held the belt loop now, more as an affection not to lose each other and less of a leash. The kitchen ended up being to the right of the main hallway, so they didn't have too much trouble finding Taylor. Her curly-hair was in a pretty bun, and copying Lizzie, she wore a pair of light-wash jeans and a tank-top. Elijah hovered over one of the pizza boxes set out, shoveling food into his mouth like a human-garbage disposal.
"Called it!" Lizzie said with a smile, proud of herself for knowing her friends well. Eli raised a brow at her, another large bite of the pizza disappearing. "'Said you would be here eating like it was your Last Meal. Did you get to shower?"
Taylor stuffed another chip into her mouth. "Nope. He stripped out of his uniform in the middle of the parking lot."
"For free?"
"Right?" Taylor exclaimed, gesturing her chip-held hand to her best friend. A moment of gratitude passed between them when they caught eyes, Taylor grateful that there was no teasing or questioning of her and Eli's afternoon. She filled the space before it became uncomfortable. "You get packed?"
Lizzie looked pointedly down at C.T., who looked at Taylor. "We're almost there."
"Uh-huh," Taylor said, narrowing her eyes on C.T., and Lizzie had to bite the inside of her cheek. "As in, she's packed nothing. Can't imagine what distracted her."
"Where's Art?" Lizzie asked in a quick change of conversation, glancing around the party to see if she could point out her familiar faces. There were people she recognized, but no one in her small circle of close friends. "Where's literally anyone? Have you seen Liz yet?"
"No clue. We've been in here for, like, ten minutes and the only person I've seen is Flash—by the way, fair warning, he got a new DJ system and our ears might start bleeding soon..." Lizzie pulled her tank-top strap to the side to show her headphone wires. Taylor stared pitifully. "I'm so jealous."
"It can't be that bad—"
"D-D-D-D-J FLASH!"
Taylor raised her eyebrow at Lizzie's horrified expression. "It's that bad."
"On that note," C.T. winced, craning her neck in her girlfriend's direction. "I'm going to go see if I can find some girls from the team. Coach said no partying this weekend, so I need to see who else is here."
"Party? We'd never do that."
Lizzie grinned at Taylor's comment, nodding down to C.T. and kissing her cheek as they parted ways. Part of her mourned the loss, especially given the questions that were soon to come the moment Lizzie revealed to her best friend that Casey had texted her. Taylor must have known already something was up, sliding across the island until she was further from Eli and closer to Lizzie.
"Everything okay? You look tense."
Lizzie puffed out a breath of air. "Understatement of the century. Casey sent me a DM right before we came here—"
"—aw, hell. Casey-Casey?—"
"—Mhm...and I had to explain to C.T. that Casey was wanting to come to our games, and the only detail that she remembered about Casey was that she was the first girl I kissed...and then I word-vomited for another minute about how I met her, and her brother. I basically set up a family tree—"
Taylor winced. "It could be worse?"
Lizzie sent her a sharp look, and she pursed her lips to shut up. "How much of a let-down for the team do you think it would be if I got the flu tonight?"
"As a desperate teammate, I would be honest and tell you that we're going to get run-ruled and cry our way home on the bus, but as a concerned best friend...doesn't matter what anyone else thinks," Taylor said, standing up to her full height so that she could catch Lizzie's eyes again. "Just say the word, and I will tell a gruesome story to Coach about you projectile-vomiting the whole weekend. I'll make it sound horrible."
A gnawing pain ate away at her heart, and Lizzie could feel her bottom lip start to give away to the burning sensation in her throat. She nodded and leaned forward, the two best friends meeting foreheads in a shared-space that existed only for them, and only for a second. Moments like this reminded her that she had people—ones that could see through her bullshit even when she thought differently. Taylor broke away first, grabbing her hand and squeezing it, before she turned back to see that Elijah had purposefully occupied himself by chatting with a lacrosse player in the hallway. Lizzie watched Taylor, noticing the way her lips turned to a smile at Eli, and another gentle squeeze of their connected hands made Taylor turn back to face Lizzie.
"Go have fun with him tonight, okay?" Lizzie instructed, nodding her head in agreement when she saw Taylor start to protest. "No, hey. I'm serious. Our schedules are all about to get crazy. Don't worry about me—okay, don't worry about me until you need to worry about me. I'm fine."
Taylor frowned, searching her eyes for something. "I don't believe that, but do you promise you'll call me or come find me if you need an escape plan? I brought my car, so we can leave at any time—"
"I promise. Now, go."
Taylor squeezed her hand one last time before they parted ways, and suddenly Lizzie was alone in the kitchen. Even with Flash's overbearing (and honestly disgraceful) choice of music playing, she still appreciated the breather. Her fingers fumbled for her phone in her jeans, pressing play on her music and inhaling the second she heard the sound of Childish Gambino through her headphones. Hopping up on the island, Lizzie watched much of the party without any context. The living room and main entrance were in her direct line of sight, allowing for her to force a smile occasionally at people who noticed her when they came through. No one said anything or bothered her until a familiar face came from the back of the house, pausing for a moment when they saw her.
A genuine grin appeared on Lizzie's face, pulling one of her earbuds out. "Surprised to see you here."
"You know me, I love parties on a Friday night."
Michelle Jones cracked a brief grin when Lizzie snorted at her comment before she began rooting through the cabinets. Lizzie watched her for a few seconds as she pulled an unopened jar of strawberry jam out. Michelle considered something, and she only realized what that was when Michelle stuck out the jar in her direction. Another smile appeared on Lizzie's face as she grabbed it, securing her palms around the sides and twisting with some force until she heard the satisfying pop.
Michelle nodded and put it down on the counter after Lizzie handed it back. "Just going to take a spoonful of it? No judgement."
"Found it."
Michelle held up the loaf of bread she'd just located, and then she continued to move through the kitchen like it was her own home. After finding a knife and the toaster, she looked pleased with herself. Lizzie leaned her head back against the cabinet behind her, amusement sparked in her eyes at her company. "Not in the mood for pizza?"
"Eh. Not a pepperoni fan."
Lizzie glanced at the only pizza left standing, pepperoni. "Hm. Me either."
"You get packed yet?" she asked as she stuck a slice of bread in the toaster. Then, she paused, and stuck another one in as well. "When do you have to leave?"
"Ma made me a list of everything I need to pack. Apparently, she doesn't trust I wouldn't forget anything...probably smart. I just need to put it all in my bags," she said with a deep sigh, rubbing her eyes and wincing when black mascara stained her fingertips. "We're staying at the same hotel on both teams, so Coach said that she's fine with me traveling in a day earlier with the Decathlon Team. I hope you know we're sitting together."
Michelle watched the toast pop up, grabbing both pieces and putting them on a paper towel. "Cool."
"How's your mom doing?"
Lizzie almost hesitated to ask that question, but she had to try. Of the few things that Michelle Jones said, Lizzie listened to every word. Most notably was a conversation they'd had last year, when a substitute teacher continued to say Michelle's full name, including the surname of her father. After having spent months watching her correct the substitutes, Lizzie was the one to bring up the correction to their asshole of a substitute in English. Michelle and her talked around his absence, with Lizzie occasionally asking how Ms. Jones was doing.
"She's doing really good, actually," Michelle said with a nod, smiling down briefly at the thought of her mother. Then, she handed the first finished piece of toast to Lizzie, who quirked a brow but accepted the piece nonetheless. She hadn't eaten much today. "She got a promotion at work, so she's excited. I'm excited she's excited. How's your mom doing? I read the interview she did on getting Lang and Barton released...she's very smart."
"She's good. She's been super busy at work, but all defense attorneys are." Michelle nodded, finishing up her slice and beginning to clean up. "Honestly, I'd leave it out."
Michelle didn't need to be told twice, and both girls had already had their attention directed away from their slides of toast when they saw who walked in. Peter Parker had actually shown up, and at his side was his best friend, Ned. That part didn't surprise her, but the fact that they were here meant that Ned had convinced Peter to come—and if Peter was here, then that meant the invite to bring Spider-Man along was here too. She continued to eat her toast, trying her hardest to act like she wasn't ready to strangle Peter in Liz Allen's kitchen. Lizzie wondered if it showed on her face.
Michelle raised her eyebrow at them as she bit into her toast. "Can't believe you guys are at this lame party."
"But you're here, too?" Ned asked, confused.
"Am I?"
Michelle did not stick around to see the way their confusion morphed to being properly disturbed by her presence. Lizzie did, however, see it just in time for her to meet eyes with Peter Parker himself. Given his response, he had already known she was sitting there. That made her jaw hitch, and when there was a hushed whisper out of his mouth (which Lizzie assumed was something along the lines of: "Don't look behind you. Lizzie's staring!") Ned whirled around so quickly he nearly propelled his fedora across the room.
Neither of them could do much, and Lizzie sent them a cheshire grin and wave just as Liz Allen walked through the hallway. "Oh, my gosh! Hey, guys! Cool hat, Ned."
"Hi, Liz," Ned greeted kindly, his eyes flickering over every few seconds to see if Lizzie was still watching them. She was. Eating her stupid toast.
Peter had forgotten about Lizzie the moment Liz started talking, nerves rattling through his body like electricity. Dumbly, he repeated his best friend's greeting. "Hi, Liz."
"I'm so happy you guys came. There's pizza and drinks—" Liz, as she was gesturing, noticed Lizzie sitting there in the kitchen. She must have also noticed the headphones because she smiled warmly and waved, to which Lizzie gave the same polite response. She would hug her when she left. "Help yourselves."
"What a great party!"
"Thanks!"
Lizzie's lip twitched, having discovered there was some amusement to watching Peter Parker get flustered. She brushed the crumbs of her hands in the meantime, unaware of how loud the sound was until Peter's neck tilted to the side. Ah, only loud to him. Unfortunately for Peter, his crush was definitely not a secret, and she had no doubts Liz had become aware of it. Even then, the upperclassman didn't bring up Peter's reddening cheeks.
Suddenly, there was a loud crash from the other room that Lizzie heard through two different sets of music, and her body tensed. Liz had also been startled. "Oh! I...my parents will kill me if anything's broken. I gotta—"
"Yeah—"
"Have fun!"
The awkward goodbyes had been drowned out when Lizzie realized her fingers had been gripping into the sides of the counter, and she quickly released them to see that her fingertips were already turning white. A frown cast on her face. Before she could let her reaction get to her, Lizzie jumped off the counter and walked over to the two boys shaking in their boots. Peter watched as she approached, and what she thought was only nerves from Liz, seemed to carry into his behavior when she stood in front of him and Ned. Only this time, annoyance was at the forefront of his emotions and not adoration. Ouch, there went her ego.
"Hey, guys. Nice to see you outside of school for once," she said casually.
Ned looked confused at the greeting, his eyes turning to Peter then back to her. "But you and Peter see each other outside of school—"
"Right! At, like..." Peter's lie wasn't coming easy. "Decathlon meetings...and stuff."
"Right, and the petunia...what's her name?" Ned asked, trying his hardest to correct his slip-up.
In unison, both Peter and Lizzie answered. "Padme."
"Right!" he snapped his fingers, realizing how dumb it was that he didn't remember the name of his beloved woman. "Padme, duh. Speaking of Star Wars, Peter and I got the new Lego Death Star—"
"I don't think Lizzie wants to hear about that, Ned," Peter hissed out, laughing awkwardly to expel the anxiety growing in his chest. He cleared his throat and looked around the room expectantly. "So, Lizzie, did you—um, did you come with anyone? I mean, just that you're usually with Taylor or C.T., or someone..."
"They're both here somewhere. I haven't heard from Art yet, though," she explained, and she finally looked away from Peter to give Ned a genuine smile. "I like the hat on you, Ned."
Ned's face lit up. "Really? 'Cause I wasn't sure about it at first, but Peter's aunt really gave me the boost of confidence to wear it."
"May is a very smart woman."
May was also attractive but Lizzie pretended she never noticed that when she used to come over last school year. On top of that, the woman also had the kindest heart and welcomed her into her home immediately. The only thing she had not yet managed to get right was her cooking, but Lizzie had learned how to discreetly get rid of the evidence.
"PENIS PARKER! WHAT'S UP!" Flash's voice suddenly rattled the windows, and Lizzie swore the sound could cause brain damage, but her own demise would have to wait. Across from them in the growing path, Flash pointed directly at Peter. "So, where's your pal Spider-Man? Let me guess, in Canada with your imaginary girlfriend?"
If his words weren't enough, the teenage boy had followed up with an even more obnoxious blare horn sound that made those in the living room laugh. When Lizzie noticed the way Peter's face dropped, a hot poker iron burned at her heart and she didn't care too much about her own actions. Sliding past Ned, she ignored his question asking where she was going, and had the satisfaction of seeing Flash's face blanche when she approached. She leaned over his new DJ system and swiped the microphone out of his hand, finger finding its off switch on the side all in the time it took Flash to whimper.
"I've been very nice, Eugene," she started, her voice eerily calm. She glanced down at the DJ system, and then back to him. He swallowed hard. "I don't like bullies, and I'm sure you don't want me to embarrass you in front of everyone at this party when you get taken down a few pegs by a girl—oh, sorry. My bad. I think I broke this."
Lizzie handed the microphone back to him, having unscrewed the top and pulled at one of the red wires until it snapped. Flash gaped down at his broken equipment, then back up at her. "This was thirty dollars."
"Whole lot less expensive than replacing the entire system, though, right?" she asked, staring inquisitively down at the system in front of him. Then she pushed off the table, giving him a once over that made him set the microphone down at his side. "And play some better music, DJ. My headphones can only drown out so much."
Lizzie turned away from Flash, making eye contact with a group of freshman that she'd noted had been laughing at the gag on Peter. She rolled her eyes their way, and that alone was enough for them to shuffle away, so she didn't feel like exhausting any more energy on them. She caught eyes with Taylor and Eli in the corner of the room, sitting on the couch, neither looking too pleased by Flash's show either. Taylor raised a brow, and Lizzie shrugged. Her actions weren't out of character, and Flash knew how to get under her skin. What did she expect?
Finding her way back to Ned, she noticed immediately that he was standing by himself. He continued to check the front door, then past her shoulder to Flash, and then to her with an awe on his face. "What did you say to him?"
"That I had a migraine, so he politely offered to keep the noise down. Where did Parker go?"
"Oh, he...uh, went to the... bathroom! Yeah, he gets really nervous at parties—" Ned was terrible at lying, and Lizzie was far too good at knowing when it was happening. Ned's face fell, and he sighed in defeat. "He's getting changed."
Her jaw clenched. "Changed for what, Ned?"
"Um..."
"Ned."
"I told him it was a bad idea!"
───○☆ ✸ ☆○───
Lizzie didn't have a plan. Well, she had a plan, but it was to murder Peter and the government already had suspicions she was a juvenile delinquent. Adding murder, specifically the murder of the web-swinging Spider-Thing, may be more difficult for her mother to fight in court. But Peter Parker sucked. Like truly, epically sucked. Rather than having a high school "teenage experience" with her girlfriend and best friends, Lizzie had to find her way to the top floor of Liz Allen's house so that she could scream at Peter Parker across the street. Thankfully, in the Williamsburg neighborhood, they could afford a walk-out balcony. The second the September air hit her face, she could breathe better. If only to prepare for when she made eye contact with Spider-Man (without his mask), on the rooftop of the building a safe distance away.
Lizzie could still throw her shoe and hit him, though. That thought occurred to more than just her as they stared at each other. Peter Parker may as well have signed his death warrant, and he could feel his body freeze at the seething glare of the teenage girl. Because he knew he was truly, epically screwed. He watched as the girl took out her phone, and within seconds, there was a buzzing from an unknown number coming from his own. Peter cringed, wagering his odds if he didn't pick up. Another glance at her across from him, brown eyes basically tempting him to decline and see what happened. He swooped down to answer the call.
"Heeey, Lizzie!" he said, extending his vowels. Already, his brain was working a mile a minute. "Nice weather we're having tonight, isn't it?"
Lizzie clenched her jaw. "Parker. Put your mask on before one of our fifty classmates here looks outside and sees you playing dress-up on a rooftop."
The instruction was followed almost immediately, and she heard the shuffling through the phone while she watched him pull his mask over his messy hair. She had a feeling Peter had the upper-hand in being able to see...well, some may consider it a disadvantage to have to see Lizzie Carter in that very moment, no matter how pretty she looked against the moonlight. Frustration and anger were becoming trademark expressions for anything related to Peter, though. At least it was something, he thought.
"What are you doing?" she asked, her eyebrows shooting up expectantly. "What's the plan here, Parker? Swoop in, do a flip, and make a bunch of stupid teenagers clap for you? How are you going to explain that when Spider-Man shows up, you're nowhere to be found? Is Ned gonna give the same excuse he gave to me? 'He's in the bathroom'?"
Peter's shoulders visibly dropped, even from the distance. "What's the alternative? Flash keeps bullying me because I said I knew Spider-Man?"
"Ned said you knew Spider-Man. You didn't correct him."
Peter knew where the conversation was going. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I know it was stupid, and I shouldn't have told him, but he was in my room the other night because I forgot we were supposed to build the Lego Death Star, and he saw me in my suit—"
"—so you tell him about me, Peter?" she was exasperated by now, her arm raising in a gesture to further convey her disbelief. "You screwed up and he saw you. I'm sorry, and that was out of your control, but you had no right to tell him who I was. You want to take risks? Fine. You can show off at this party, and I won't say a word, but you do not get to tell other people what isn't yours to say. Best friend or not. Family or not."
"I'm really sorry."
Lizzie rubbed her face, trying to get a hold of herself before she got too worked up. There was a pause between them, with Peter not knowing what to say and Lizzie unable to say anything that didn't hurt right now. Ned knowing her secret would not have been as devastating had boy been good about keeping secrets in the first place, but Peter was in the position he was in right now after Ned's outburst in gym. She hated that she empathized with him, even when he royally screwed her over. After a minute, Lizzie sighed heavily into the phone and threw her free hand out to show that she was over the silence.
"I'm trying my hardest to keep everyone safe here, Peter. I'm trying to keep you safe. Because there are people out there that will hurt you, and they don't care about your family or your friends," she shook her head, hands finding a tight hold on her dog tags. "There are eyes on me, too, Parker. I can't get involved. Not anymore. I have people I love. Ones that I can't risk."
"What do you mean 'eyes on you'? Is the government still after you?" Peter's thoughts started to spiral. "Oh my god, are you a fugitive?"
Lizzie rolled her eyes. "No, Parker. I'm not a fugitive."
"Then, what?"
"I said I can't give you those answers," she repeated, reminding him of the conversation they'd had after the Decathlon practice. "We're not that close, partner."
The reoccurring line only made him more frustrated. "You know, I'm getting tired of hearing that. Does this have something to do with the weapons those guys had at the bank? Do you know them?"
"Do I know them? Like do I casually hang out and rob banks with them? No, can't say I do. I don't usually befriend criminals."
He stood his ground. "You sure about that?"
"We're not having that conversation again. I don't know the role-playing Avengers from the bank last night, but I do know that the weapons they used are dangerous—which is why you need to stay away from them."
Fate seemed to disagree with Lizzie Carter's advice, but that was to be expected by now. A blue hue cast over their faces like a flash of lightning, making their dim view of each other suddenly clear, and startled them enough that their attention was turned in that direction. Another quick, bright flash appeared in the distance before disappearing behind the lining of trees again. Lizzie spun her head back to Peter, taking a few step forward and shaking her head.
"No. No, no, no, no. No. Parker, no—"
"—I have to get them off the streets, Lizzie."
"Peter, just wait a second!"
The line went dead just as Spider-Man disappeared, swinging off into the direction of the light. That left Lizzie standing there, alone, slowly dropping her phone to her side in disbelief.
"Oh, my God. You've got to be kidding me. There's no way I was this bad," she grumbled under her breath as she stared at where he'd disappeared, trying to figure out what she was going to do next. A small pace had begun, her phone knocking against her thigh and fingernails finding their way into her mouth. "When did I become the babysitter? I just wanted one night! Just one night, right, Lizzie? Oh, it'll be greaaat! I get to be a teenager! God, like I can even have that—"
The sound of something hitting metal, and then a small curse, had Lizzie shutting up instantly. Her blood ran cold, and every muscle in her body braced itself for whoever had been eavesdropping on their conversation. There was a hot-tub off to the side, and behind that the large storage unit, something she was dumb enough not to consider checking before she came out. Suddenly very aware of her surroundings, Lizzie put her phone back in her pocket.
"You can come out now."
But what Mike and Sophia Carter raised her daughters best in: always stand your ground.
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Author's Note:
A cliff-hanger! Who do you think it'll be? So many options.
So excited for Homecoming! Every movie, I feel like we see a new version of Lizzie as she grows up, and this one is definitely one of the harder ones for our Lizzie. She'll be sixteen in a month, can you believe it?
Lots of conversations happened in this chapter! I had a lot of fun writing the dialogue, and we got to see more interaction with her and every character...plus, Casey's coming back. I told you guys she would make a re-appearance! Most everyone from Part One will make a reappearance. Besides, like, Sitwell. Sorry bestie. Rumlow in Lizzie's nightmares.
Let me know what you guys thought about the chapter! I really loved this one, and I enjoyed writing the conversation between Peter and Lizzie at the end so much.