Marina “Dad!” I yelled from my room in the facility, but he didn’t answer. “Dad!”
“What?” he yelled back, his voice muffled.
I ducked my head, peering into the cluttered space of my closet. “Come here! Please!”
“What’s up, kiddo?” Dad leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. He looked exasperated, but not angry.
“Where’s my suit?”
“Getting a new one. It’ll be waiting for you in Berlin.”
“Okay.” I said, grabbing the clothes I was taking and shoving them into my suitcase. “When are we going to see this kid?”
“Now, actually. We’re late. I’ll have Happy grab your bag. But right now, we need to go.” He clapped a hand on my shoulder, a little too enthusiastically.
We rushed out the front doors and into the car, beginning the drive to Queens. When we finally arrived in front of a worn brick apartment building, we sat for a moment.
“Okay. We go in there, put it on, convince the kid, and then you guys are off to Berlin with Happy.” Dad said, turning to me with a determined glint in his eye.
I nodded. “Let’s do it.”
After stepping inside, we waited for the elevator. It dinged, signaling its arrival on the ground floor. Dad pressed the button for the seventh floor. As the doors slid open, I scanned for the right door.
“Found it,” I said, pointing to a faded number.
“Perfect. Now, remember, smile.” Dad said, knocking on the door. I stretched my lips into a wide, artificial grin, showing off every tooth. He rolled his eyes. The fake smile faded into a genuine one as a middle-aged woman opened the door.
“Oh, hello,” she said, her expression cautious.
“Hello.” Dad took off his sunglasses. “I’m Tony Stark, and this is my daughter, Marina. Do you mind if we come in? I need to talk to you about Peter.”
“Of course. Peter should be home soon.” May replied, stepping back to allow us inside.
-x-
After we had been sitting and talking with May for about fifteen minutes, the door opened, and a boy walked in. That had to be Peter.
“Hey, May.” the boy said, looking slightly harried.
“Hey, how was school today?” May asked, turning away from us.
“It was okay. There’s this crazy car parked outside,” he said, glancing at us.
I tilted my head and smiled. “Hey.”
“Oh, Mr. Parker,” Dad said, his tone assessing.
Peter stammered, “What are you… I’m… I’m Peter.” A range of emotions crossed his face – confusion, anxiety, a flicker of hope. So this was the famous Peter Parker Dad had been talking about. He was… kind of cute.
“Tony. This is my daughter, Marina.” Dad pointed at me and I waved.
“What are… What are you doing here?” Peter asked, his eyes darting between us.
“It’s about time we met,” Dad said, his voice softening.
May mouthed an ‘I don’t believe this’ to Peter.
“You’ve been getting my emails, right?” Dad winked at Peter.
Peter nodded, but his voice was hesitant. “Yeah. Yeah.” He lied. “Regarding the…”
“You didn’t even tell me about the grant,” May said, her voice laced with suspicion.
“The September Foundation,” I said, trying to cut through the tension.
“Right,” Peter said, his voice rising in pitch.
“Yeah. Remember when you applied?” Dad asked.
“Yeah.” Peter lied again, his fingers fidgeting with the hem of his shirt.
I nodded. “We approved, so now we’re in business.”
“But you didn’t tell me anything. What’s up with that? You keeping secrets from me now?” May asked, her tone serious.
“I just know how much you love surprises so I thought I would let you know…” Peter paused, his eyes darting around the room.
“Anyway, what did I apply for exactly?”
“That’s what we’re here to hash out,” I said, trying to keep the conversation moving.
“Okay. Hash it out, okay.” Peter’s eyes bounced between Dad, May, and me.
“You’re a liar,” I told Dad telepathically, my frustration bubbling up.
“Shut up,” Dad thought back, his expression unreadable.
“Let me just stop you there,” Peter said, his voice cracking. “Does this grant have money involved or whatever? No?”
“Yeah, it’s pretty well funded,” I said, watching Dad’s head whip around to look at me.
“Yeah?” Peter said, his voice laced with suspicion.
“Look who you’re talking to.” I smiled, trying to disarm him.
Dad cut us off before the conversation could go any further. “Can we have five minutes with him?”
“Sure,” May said, her expression wary.
Peter, Dad, and I walked down the hall to what was Peter’s bedroom. Dad locked the door behind us and walked over to a trash can, spitting something out.
“As walnut date loaves go, that wasn’t bad,” Dad said, his tone sardonic.
“Whoa. Retro tech. Where’d you get it? Thrift store? Salvation Army?” I asked, examining a worn piece of equipment.
“Uh, the garbage, actually,” Peter said, his cheeks flushing pink.
“You’re a dumpster diver? That’s kinda cool.” I smirked, trying to put him at ease.
His cheeks turned a light pink. “Yeah, I was.” He cleared his throat. “Anyway, look, um, I definitely did not apply for your grant.”
“Ah-ah! Me first.” Dad said, sharply. “Quick question of the rhetorical variety.” Dad pulled his phone out and projected a video of Peter stopping a carjacker. Peter swung in, shot a web at his foot pulling him back, then swung off. “That’s you, right?”
“What do you mean?” Peter shifted his weight, crossing his arms.
“Yeah. Look at you go.” Dad said, putting his phone flat. In this video, Peter swung in stopping a car from running into a train before swinging off again.
“Woah! Nice catch. 3,000 pounds, probably going 40 miles an hour. That’s not easy.” I tilted my head, studying the footage.
“That’s all on YouTube, though, right? That’s where you found that? Because you know that’s all fake. It’s all done on the computer.” Peter began fidgeting with the video projection. Dad hummed letting him distract himself. I let myself dip into his mind and got what we were looking for.
“It’s like that video. What is it?” Peter rambled, his voice laced with anxiety.
“Yeah. Oh, you mean like those UFOs over Phoenix?” I nodded at the crawl space.
“Exactly,” Peter said, frantically.
“Oh, what have we here?” Dad said, pushing the crawl space open with a baseball bat.
Peter ran to throw his suit in his closet. Peter sighed, leaning on his closet’s door frame as Dad walked up to him.
“You’re the Spider-ling. Crime-fighting spider. You’re Spider-Boy?” Dad asked.
“S-Spider-Man.” Peter stuttered.
“Not in that onesie, you’re not.” I scoffed, sitting on his bed.
“It’s not a onesie.” Peter defended as Dad went to pick up his suit. Peter walked up to his desk and started fidgeting with stuff on the desk. “I was actually having a really good day today, Mr. Stark. Didn’t miss my train, this perfectly good DVD player was just sitting there, and Algebra test. Nailed it.”
“Who else knows? Anybody?” Dad asked.
Peter shook his head. “Nobody.”
“Not even your unusually attractive aunt?” Dad asked.
“Oh, God,” I wrinkled my nose.
“No, no. No! If she knew, she would freak out. And when she freaks out, I freak out.” Peter said.
“He’s telling the truth,” I said, I was still in his mind.
“How did you…?” Peter furrowed his brows. Dad shot me a look. I cleared my throat and looked down.
“You know what I think is really cool? This webbing.” Dad said, tossing it to Peter. He didn't even look up and he caught it in his hand.
“That tensile strength is off the charts. Who manufactured it?” I asked.
Peter threw his webbing into the closet. “I did.”
“Climbing walls, how you doing that? Adhesive gloves?” Dad asked.
“It’s a long story.” Peter started.
“Lordy! Can you even see in these?” Dad asked. “Oooh. I’m blind!”
I smiled and Peter took his suit, stuffing it back in his closet.
“I can see in those. Okay?” Peter defended, “It's just that when whatever happened, happened it’s like my senses have been dialed to 11. There’s way too much input, so they just kinda help me focus.”
“You’re in dire need of an upgrade,” Dad said, grabbing the suit and tossing it to me.
I held it up in front of me. “Woah, yeah you are. Systemic, top to bottom, hundred-point restoration. I can do that.” Peter sat next to me, “That’s why we’re here.”
“Why are you doing this? I gotta know, what’s your M.O.? What gets you outta that twin bed in the morning? Like her,” Dad pointed at me, “She’s my why.”
Peter looked at his hands. “Because… Because I’ve been me my whole life, and I’ve had these powers for six months. I read books, I build computers. And yeah, I would love to play football, but I couldn’t then, so I shouldn’t now.”
“Yeah, because you’re different. Trust me you’re not alone.” I said.
“Exactly. But I can’t tell anybody that, so I’m not…” Peter paused, his voice cracking.
“You’re in dire need of an upgrade,” Dad said, grabbing the suit and tossing it to me.
“You're in dire need of an upgrade," Dad said, grabbing the suit and tossing it to me.
I sighed, "You'll love it."
"I can't go to Germany," Peter said.
"Why?" Dad and I asked in unison.
"I got... homework," Peter said.
I frowned, "Did you really just say that?"
"I'm gonna pretend you didn't say that," Dad said, reaching for the door handle.
Peter stood up and shot a web, sticking Dad's hand to the door, "Don't tell Aunt May."
"All right, Spider-Man." Dad said, "Get me out of this."
"Sorry," Peter said, looking for something to cut the webbing.
"This is gonna be fun." I smiled.