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"I don't get it," says Peter, folding his arms. He glances over at his friends, who are sitting around a very nice, clean, and stylish living room. He leans back into the brown leather arm chair, where he and Torin are squished together comfortably.
"What do you mean, you don't get it!" gasps Torin, making a face at him. "This is one of the best shows of all time."
"Sure, but there's no way the two of them wouldn't have been caught by the police by now," Peter points out. He fixes the glasses resting on his nose.
"It's a TV show, Petey," she moans, rolling her eyes at his objectiveness. She elbows him gently in the side, and he squirms.
"I like it," says Ned Leeds, propping himself up on his elbows from his spot on the plush white carpet. He smiles at everyone. His brown hair is brushed away from his dark eyes, and his long-sleeve orange camp shirt is rolled up at his elbows. He has Dorito dust on his shirt. "I mean, it's different from all those other shows, you know? Supernatural—it has everything you'd expect and more."
Ned Leeds is one of Peter's friends in their eighth grade class. They met when their teacher paired them together during science. They almost made two batteries explode, and Torin never had the nerve to ask them how on Earth they managed to do something like that. Ned is a charming kid with a sweet little smile. He's always polite, and usually grounds Peter when he has a crazy idea that involves someone pushing a button and waiting for Peter's finished product.
Torin has always appreciated Ned. He's always there for Peter when he needs him to be, and the three of them get along pretty well; Ned enjoys spending time with Torin just as much as he does Peter.
"I like it too," a young girl agrees. The girl is sitting on the matching brown leather sofa. She has her arms wrapped around her legs. Her sandy blonde hair is tucked behind a blue headband, matching her blue sweater.
The boy next to Mary-Jane scoffs, a charming smirk on his face. His eyes shine as he looks at the girl. "Of course you do, Mary-Jane, because the main characters are guys."
Mary-Jane blushes, quickly shaking her head. She puts her face to her knees, mumbling out, "That's not true, Harry."
Mary-Jane Watson peeks over her knees, glancing between everyone. Even at the age of thirteen Mary-Jane is the type of girl that everyone envies. She's gorgeous, wholehearted, smart, and hard-working. Her pale eyes always lock with someone when they talk, making them feel important. Her smooth skin is soft to touch—she gives everyone the best hugs. Mary-Jane lives in the same apartment complex as Peter and Torin, and the Parkers are friends with the Watsons, so it isn't hard to become fast friends with a girl like Mary-Jane. Only natural that someone like Harry is glued to Mary-Jane's side all the time.
Harry Osborn is the owner of the fancy media room that the four young teens lounge in on the cloudy Sunday afternoon. Posh and tidy is the way the Osborns live. Harry is always dressed smartly in nice sweaters, button-down shirts, blazers, and corduroy pants, pressed slacks, nice blue jeans—even for movie days. Everyone at school knows that Harry has money; his family name is plastered on billboards all around New York City, but Harry doesn't say much about it. He happily spends money on his friends, but hardly ever buys anything for just himself. Torin's pretty sure that Harry wishes his life were a little less money-based like Mary-Jane, Peter, and Torin, but he'd never say so out loud.
"Doesn't matter, still a great show," says Torin, her elbow bumping into Peter's side again.
"W-well," Peter starts up again, eyes on his friend. "D-do...do you have a crush on them?"
Torin looks at Peter, surprised, then glances at everyone else. "They are cute," she admits. She quickly adds, "But I just like the show! I like the characters." Torin hasn't ever really been the type to fan over boys. She has always held back on secret crushes because she knows they won't come true. Besides, Torin is nothing compared to Mary-Jane.
Harry snorts out a laugh. "Torin kisses the poster on her wall at night."
Torin rolls her eyes, digging out the throw pillow from her back. She throws it at Harry, who jumps aside easily. "I don't have a Supernatural poster on my wall."
Ned stretches on the white rug, turning off the TV as commercials roll across the large, silver flat screen. He pushes his watch up his tan skin. "We gotta go. It's almost four-fifteen."
Mary-Jane stands, fixing her skirt and tights. She smiles sweetly at Harry. "Thanks for having us over, Harry. See you tomorrow!"
Harry grins at Mary-Jane, nodding slowly. "Somebody else's house next time? I'm tired of staying here all the time."
"Sure," says Torin, sending a look to Peter to get off the armchair. He rises from his seat and Torin hops up. "We can have it at my house, but Joey might want to join," she says sheepishly.
"Mom's here!" calls Ned from the foyer. "C'mon guys!"
"Bye, Harry. Thanks again!" the three of them call, hurrying to grab their coats and shoes. Harry waves to them from the front door and watches them leave. Torin settles into the car, securing her seatbelt across her lap. She looks at her friends, making sure they all have their seatbelts on. She shudders a little as Mrs. Leeds pulls away from the driveway.
Peter looks at Torin, sensing her unease. He squeezes her hand for a moment, then as if something made him have other thoughts, he lets go, turning to face the road ahead.
Torin hates car rides.
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For months now, all Peter has been wanting to do is be out of the apartment building. He likes walking the streets, looking for something to do. He'll usually drag Torin along. She's another set of eyes that can help him find things to build from. Torin and Peter don't have the luxury of new things like Harry does, or even Ned. Torin saves almost every dollar she has for college, and Peter thrifts everything he can.
Today, in late October, Peter is ready to escape the apartment again. He and Torin have just finished their English assignment. He's already dragging her toward the front door before his uncle, Ben, stops him. The man is sitting at the kitchen table, reading the newspaper and sipping on tea. May is out, working. Today is her day to work late.
"Where are you two off to?"
"Going out," Peter answers. Usually they're never stopped. Their guardians have always been reasonable.
"This late?"
Holding up his watch to check the time, Peter frowns. He adjusts his glasses. "It's only eight."
"It's nearly dark, Pete."
Uncomfortable, Torin shifts on her feet. "It is getting late..." she admits.
"We're not little kids anymore," Peter says defiantly. He throws a look at his uncle. "We have phones. We'll call you if—"
The newspaper that Ben is reading gets discarded. He gives his full attention to the young teens. "Listen, Pete, Torin, this city is a wonderful place, but it's also a dangerous place. Especially at night..."
"We know that, Uncle Ben." Peter rolls his eyes.
Even if Peter's cut him off, Ben is patient with him. He's always been more patient at this kind of thing than May has, or even Lou. His blue eyes are trained on the two of them, unwavering. "I know you know. We've all told you, but as you get older, it's important to be responsible. You are fully capable of knowing right from wrong, and right now, it's not the right time to be going out without a trusted adult."
"Shouldn't you be glad that we're not staying inside playing video games?" Peter groans.
"Peter, I think it's getting late anyway," says Torin, giving him a guilty look. "With Halloween coming up, too, people can be weird."
Making a face of disapproval, Peter turns away from both of them. "Fine. Whatever. I'll see you at school tomorrow." Peter disappears down the hallway, back toward his room.
"Don't worry about him." Ben gives Torin a reassuring look. "You know how boys can be. Sometimes Peter gets frustrated."
"He won't listen to me," she admits, frowning.
Ben raises an eyebrow at her. "Oh, trust me. A smart, pretty girl like you? He'll listen to you eventually. Give it some time. Pete's gonna listen to your every word."
"What do you mean?" she wonders, blushing at Ben's compliment.
"A story for when you're older."
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Halloween is slowly approaching, with the hours ticking by. Peter and Torin are out on the streets of New York not too far from their apartment building. It's almost eight o'clock. The sun has already set and Torin is a bit skittish at the idea of being out so late, but Peter is restless and looking for things to tinker with.
"Petey, are you excited for tomorrow?"
Peter shrugs. He kicks at an empty cardboard box, looking at Torin over his shoulder. His green jacket is faded, and starting to get too small for him. "Aren't we getting too old for Halloween?"
"High school is when you get too old for Halloween," she corrects, trailing after Peter. She peeks inside the cardboard box in curiosity. "This is our last time."
"Remember last year when we dressed as Thor and Lorelei?"
Torin nods, pulling at a strand of her bright red hair. "I didn't even need a wig for that one!" She watches Peter head toward Delmar's Deli-Grocery. "Delmar's isn't open, Peter. It's eight o'clock. Speaking of, don't you think we should head back soon? They might be worried..."
"We'll be okay, Tor. It's safe here."
"We didn't tell anyone where we were going," says Torin. "What if they find out we're gone? I'll get in so much trouble. We both will."
"Tor, it's fine," he assures, turning to face her.
Torin shakes her head. "I'll get grounded. I have to go back. C'mon, Peter." Torin stares at her friend, who frowns deeply. "Please."
"Fine," he repeats, rolling his eyes. He takes the lead again, heading back in the direction of their homes.
As soon as Peter gets home, he knows something is wrong. The window he left open in his room is shut, and the door to his bedroom is wide open. He'd have to walk through the front door. Right past his aunt and uncle. Knocking on the front door of the apartment, Peter hangs his head. Torin is right, they are gonna get in so much trouble.
The front door swings open, and his aunt greets him with a furious look on her face. She hides the worry in her eyes, staring down at her nephew. She ushers him inside, hands on her hips. The door closes softly behind Peter.
"Where did you go, Peter?"
Peter swallows, sitting down at the kitchen table. It smells like brownies. Aunt May always bakes when she's stressed. Peter mumbles out his answer, not loud enough for his aunt to hear.
"Peter," she repeats. She stares at him through her round glasses, long brown hair thrown over one shoulder. "Where did you go? Ben is looking for you right now. Do you understand? We were worried sick about you."
May Parker waits for Peter to answer, her stern expression nothing new for the boy. May is usually the one to do the scolding when Peter gets into something he shouldn't. Ben usually reels her in after Peter's learned his lesson, but Ben isn't here.
"I—I just wanted t-to go for a walk," he mutters.
"You know you're not allowed to do something like that this late at night," she snips, her voice even and careful. "Especially alone with Torin."
Peter's head snaps upward, staring at his aunt with wide eyes. May nods. "Yes, I know Torin went with you. Lou was the one that found out you two were missing." May shakes her head, stepping away from Peter. "You can't do stuff like that again, Peter. It's dangerous at night. You—"
May's phone in the kitchen rings. She sighs, holding up a finger to her nephew. She isn't done with the lecture just yet. May answers the phone, "Hello...yes, this is she..."
Peter watches his aunt's face go pale. She puts a hand to her mouth, then reaches for her glasses, placing them on her head. May sighs heavily. "I...he was...he was out looking for our nephew." Peter swallows at the mention of himself. "No, no. He came back. He's not hurt..." May bows her head, turning away from Peter. She sniffles. "I'll be there shortly. Uh, thank you..."
Ten minutes later, Peter is sitting in the Porters' living room, crying into Torin's shoulder. She holds him tight, shaking from the news.
Uncle Ben died looking for Peter and Torin.