Your mom drove you to school after a stop for donuts. You chewed on yours quietly, a cup of vanilla coffee in your other hand. She kept taking glances at you as she drove. You knew it was just because she was worried about you.

"So what's the theme for the dance?" she asked.

"Eighties," you said, wiping glaze off of your fingers. Your heart was aching again, thinking of Peter and Ned. "But I'm not going, Mom."

"Aw, baby, why?" she asked. "You had a fight with Ned and Peter, didn't you? Oh, what did those boys do? Boys are mean, sometimes, I'm telling you-"

"It was me, Mom. I screwed up. I decided to have a crush on Peter and now he hates me. I made things so weird and there's no fixing them." You sighed. "Honestly, I need to find new friends."

"No friends can replace them," she said matter-of-factly. She shrugged. "And I'm sorry, baby, if that's not what you want to hear, but those boys are rare."

"Mom," you whined.

"They are," she insisted, "and that's why you like Peter so much. I wasn't exaggerating when I talked about how kind he was. In fact, I wholeheartedly believe he'll be running right back to you today. Don't give up on him, sweetheart, and don't give up on yourself, either."

"He doesn't like me back, Mom," you said. You couldn't look at her anymore.

"You know, time has a way of changing things," she said, "and so does circumstance. Don't give up just yet. If you like that boy, you show him."

"I do like him," you said. You smiled for a split second, before dropping it and looking at her. "But-"

"I know," she said. "He let you down. It hurts. I get it, but he'll apologize, I'm telling you."

She pulled up to the school. You unbuckled your seatbelt and grabbed your coffee and backpack. "Thanks, Mom. Love you," you said, opening the door.

"I love you, sweetheart," she said back. "Have a great day!"

You waved and hopped onto the curb. Taking a sip of your coffee, you started towards the entrance, nervousness slowly creeping its way into your gut.

Your first day of school with no friends. Your first day of school with nowhere to sit at lunch and no one to partner up with during lab. It was like your first day of high school all over again, and you hated it.

Ned was at Peter's locker when you walked by. Both boys stopped talking and let their eyes follow you. You kept your eyes down and walked as if nothing could bother you.

But everything was bothering you. So badly. Peter's gaze felt like knives in your back and Ned's silence felt like a punch to the gut.

But you carried on, holding yourself together, refusing to let yourself seem as weak as you felt.

...

Lunch was difficult.

You managed to snag a seat that was a reasonable distance from Ned and Peter. They kept looking at you, but you solely focused on the turkey sandwich in front of you.

The day went on slowly, each class a little more difficult to get through. It hurt especially bad when Peter chose to partner with Flash Thompson instead of you. When he asked Flash if he would work with him, your eyes burned. It was difficult to swallow, especially when Flash replied with-

"What's the matter with your girlfriend, Parker? Did she dump you?"

"She's not my girlfriend," he said, "and I would just rather work with you, so-"

You'd stood up and picked up your stuff at that. You went to the front of the class to the teacher's desk and asked for a pass to the nurse's, claiming that your cramps were bad and you needed to call home.

You were given the hall pass and allowed outside. You took out your phone and called your mom, already on the brink of tears.

"Hello?" she asked.

"Mom," you croaked, "I can't do this."

"Do what?" she asked. "Baby, what's wrong?"

"I tried to pretend I was okay," you said. "I tried to act like it didn't bother me that they were treating me like a hurt puppy that was just too annoying to comfort, but I can't do it anymore. Peter chose to work with Flash over me." Your voice broke. "Flash, Mom-"

"I'm sorry, sweetheart," she whispered. "I'm sorry. I thought he was different."

"Me too," you said.

"I'll come and get you if you need me," she said. "I know how hard it is to deal with your first heartbreak-"

I'm not heartbroken, you wanted to say, but that wasn't true. You were absolutely shattered. You trusted Peter and he let you down. He made your feelings for him seem wrong, like you were a bad person for thinking so highly of him.

"Sweetie," your mother said. "Do you need me to come get you?"

You squeezed your eyes shut, tears slipping out of your closed eyelids. You dabbed at the mascara threatening to run and sniffed.

"No, Mom, I'm fine," you said. "I think I can be okay."

"Okay," she said softly. "I love you, sweetheart. Hang in there."

"Love you too," you whispered. "Bye." Just as you hung up, the classroom door open and Peter came walking out, hallpass in his hands. He stopped when he saw you, sneakers squeaking against the floor.

You stood up straight and lowered your head, fully aware of the redness in your eyes and the dampness on your cheeks. You wiped it away and sniffed, going back to the classroom.

When you tried to pass Peter, he grabbed your arm.

You stopped, alarmed and surprised, as he turned his head towards you, hand gently lifting off of you. He swallowed and searched your eyes as you slowly looked up at him.

And then he wrapped his arms around you and yanked you close, his chest bumping yours, his chin digging into your shoulder. Your arms hung limp at your sides. Although you didn't move, he pulled you even closer, his palms pressing against the small and middle of your back, his body curling even more aeound you.

"I'm sorry," he half whispered. "I'm such a jerk. I knew it was wrong when I said that to Flash and I said it anyway. I'm sorry, ___." He held you tighter, choking quietly on his words. "I made you cry."

You didn't say anything. Your face was red and your spirits were still broken as he pulled back, hands on the sides of your arms, eyes watery.

"You're my best friend, ___," he said. "I'm supposed to never ever hurt you, but I did."

You nodded.

He nodded back and pulled his bottom lip into his mouth. He gnawed at the chapped flesh and dropped his hands, stepping backwards and away from you.

"I'm sorry," he said again. He sounded so broken and hurt, not by you, but by himself.

You started to believe him, the sounds of your mother's words this morning ringing in your ears. I wholeheartedly believe he'll be running right back to you today. Don't give up on him, sweetheart, and don't give up on yourself, either.

You realized that being perfect didn't mean being perfect. Even people like Peter, people who you once believed could do no wrong, could in fact do and be wrong. It in no way lessened the fact that he was a good person, that he cared about you, that he was sorry.

Peter was turning back towards the classroom, his feet trudging, his head down.

You sniffed and clenched your fists at your sides. "I'll forgive you, Peter Parker," you blurted.

He stopped.

"I'll always forgive you," you said.

He turned back to you. "Always?" he asked.

If you like that boy, you show him.

You shrugged, smiling through your tears. "I can't help it," you said. "You're my best friend."

His lips curled upward into a grateful smile. A gasp of disbelief left him as he ran back to you, arms wrapping around your waist. He lifted you in the air briefly, only to set you back down. You stood on his feet, neither of you caring about the marks of dirt you were leaving.

He held you close while you worked to forgive him.