Chapter Text
September 27th, 2020. The Spankoffski House.
Saturdays for most people Peter’s age were supposed to be fun. Parties, movies, smoking behind the old theatre, a day free of homework and nagging parents. Even nerds liked weekends! What better time to spend ten hours on an Attack On Titan roleplay server, or determine what phone number would receive the highest number of telemarketers?
Pete was the exception to the rule. Saturdays were for locking himself in his room and studying while his 38 year old brother argued with his parents. Headphones half on, both trying to distract himself from the shouting and maintain some sense of control over the situation by listening in, mindlessly doing out equations as he zoned out to the sweet sounds of The Beatles and his family falling apart.
It was on one of these mind-numbing Saturdays that his father called him down to the kitchen.
“Peter! Get down here, young man! Now!”
Pete scrambled to haul off his headphones, anxiously smoothing out the old band tee he’d thrown on that morning as he rushed out of his room and down the stairs. One of Ted’s old shirts. Maybe not the best choice of clothing to wear around his parents, but the idea of wearing a bow tie on a weekend made him shiver.
Making his way down the stairs, he found his father holding up the house phone. Somebody on the other line sounded frustrated, the unintelligible sounds of a one-sided argument barely audible through the phone’s old speaker.
“Have you been talking to any girls recently?”
Peter went to speak, then paused. He’d said no to the question about a million times before, except that was before what had happened at the library the week before. But what difference did that make? Besides, how would Steph have his number? That didn’t make any sense. Unless she’d gotten it off one of the tutoring posters, but nobody looked at those. Especially not the kind of people who had social lives.
“…No. I mean, Ruth doesn’t count. …I-I may have spoken— briefly— to the mayor’s daughter at the library, but I don’t believe she’d be calling?”
“Hm. Well, there’s a girl asking for you. Don’t scare her off, son.”
His father handed him the phone and walked away, offering Pete a halfhearted pat on the back as he tensed up. A girl? Who wasn’t Ruth? What was it, Christmas? Who could it be? He held the phone to his ear, catching the tail end of what seemed to be a long winded rant.
“—so just pass over the phone, Mr. Spankoffski, because I’ll talk to your nerdy little son by carrier pigeon before I fail this test!”
“…Who is this?”
“Oh, shit, hey Pete! Listen, uh, thanks for the help the other day. Just wanted to ask a few follow up questions. That cool?”
“Yeah! Yeah, o-of course, Stephani— I mean, Steph.”
“Sick. First, you got any plans for… I don’t know, the next two hours or so?”
“…I don’t think so?”
“Great! Great, great, great. One more question. Can you do me a favour, Pete?”
“It depends?”
“Pretty please?”
“Fine. Sure. Just never say that again. What is it?”
“…I don’t understand, like, any of what you wrote on this test. No offense, dude, but it’s total nerd gibberish. And I’d ask one of my friends about it, but I’m actually the smart one in the group, if you can believe that…”
From what little Peter knew about acting cool in front of girls, melting into a nervous puddle on his kitchen floor wasn’t high up on the list of things to do to impress them. Still, being on the phone with Steph had that effect on him.
“...So, I’m gonna need your help, Spankoffski. Again. My dad took my phone away, and I’m never gonna get it back unless I pick up my grades. You meet me at Pasqualli’s and help me study, I owe you one. I’ll even try to get Jägerman off your back until… January. Deal?”
He was stunned. The call went silent for a moment, and Steph spoke again.
“Peter? You there?”
“Yeah! Y-Yeah, I’m here. I’ll meet you there. Whenever. So, uh, when?”
“…Now? I’m using their payphone.”
“Shit. I mean, sure! Yeah! That’s the place on First, right?”
“I think? Whatever. It’s the only Italian place in town, you can’t miss it. Don’t keep me waiting, Pete.”
Steph hung up.
Peter put down the phone, stunned for a moment. Pasqualli’s? Fucking Pasqualli’s? For a study session? Jesus Christ, they may as well have gone to a strip club. If anybody saw them, the rumours would go wild. The mayor’s daughter, and Micro-Peter. He was screwed.
Well, maybe he wasn’t. He looked down at his outfit. Nobody would recognize him if he wore something different. Sure, there was no way in hell he was wearing his brother’s shirt and sweatpants to study with Stephanie Lauter, but it wasn’t like he had to wear the bowtie and suspenders by law. It was a weekend, after all.
He ran upstairs, wracking his brain for outfit ideas. 20 different colours of bowtie didn’t exactly breed creativity, but he had other clothes, didn’t he? Hoodies, t-shirts, sweaters… Sweaters! Yes! Sweaters were cool, weren’t they! Well, nerd cool. But he was a nerd. So just cool. Or would that make them uncool?
He rifled through his closet, disrupting the careful order of the rack as he struggled to choose. Jeans? Khakis? Maybe khakis. Wait, no, too formal. God damn it, Pete, you wear suspenders to school! Just wear the stupid pants! Hold on, that’s a nice sweater. No, shit, that’s a vest. Who the hell wears vests? Steph is gonna hate you. Ooh, green!
Finally, he found his outfit. An argyle sweater, a pair of ill-fitting khakis, and his ratty Converse. Trying it all on, he looked… Normal. He wasn’t Bow-Tie, or Micro-Peter, he was just Peter. Peter Spankoffski. Not a loser, not a geek, not a nerdy prude. Just a senior at Hatchetfield High, with a shitty family and a 4.0 GPA. It was a look he could get used to.
Checking his phone, that sense of calm disappeared. It had been fifteen minutes. Not a long time objectively, but about a million years in Study-With-Stephanie-Lauter time, Peter’s latest invention to stress himself out. He grabbed his bag and rushed downstairs, nearly bowling past Ted as he made a beeline for the door.
“Pete! Where the hell are you going! It’s Saturday, little bro. You’re not late for school.”
“Shut it, Ted! Just shut it! I’m about to be late for a study session with Stephanie goddamn Lauter!”
Ted narrowed his eyes.
“…Did you forget to take your meds? You know what the doctor guy said to Dad about your whole mental thing. I mean, I don’t, but I’m pretty sure you do.”
“Give me the damn keys, Theodore. Or I’m telling Charlotte’s husband that she hides you in the closet.”
“How do you know that!?”
“You take all your phone calls in the living room. Now! Keys!”
Ted handed over the keys without a word. His brother’s car was a bit of a tin can, but it’d work. Peter bolted out the door, Ted flipping him off.
It was like an alternate reality. Starting up the car, he could feel it. Something was changing. His life was going to change forever, all because of one Stephanie Lauter.
Well, maybe not forever. Maybe just until January.