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Walking through the hallways at Midtown successfully relies solely on timing, especially when one has a test like Peter Parker does. It takes a series of overly-quick zigs and zags, eyes darting to and fro to spy an opportunity to slide through, but he does make it to his history classroom on the school's second level — with a few seconds to spare, too ( he'll thank a pinch of his super-speed for that. )!
He enters, taking his usual spot in between Ned Leeds and Michelle Jones, offering a sheepish grin to their eye rolls. "Ya'nno," MJ started, gazes slowly following the boy's graceless movements as he reached into his backpack to retrieve the appropriate equipment required for their exam, "if you weren't up all night, maybe you wouldn't oversleep."
Ned chimed in with a simple, "I second this!"
Peter scoffed, mouth shaping a reply — until their teacher walked it. Mrs Burr was a blessing to Midtown, she was lenient with homework, allowed chatter within the classroom, only gave out detentions for serious offences, yet she couldn't stand phones. She always mumbled something about technology ruining your brains and in the past kids survived by socialising, each word of exaggerated fury highlighted with her southern accent. If your phone was to ring in class, she'd make you answer it on loudspeaker . . . and that's why all phones were always placed on silent during her lessons. No one wanted that embarrassment.
Once the tests were handed out and names were signed on the front cover, their teacher nodded for them to begin. For a while, the only noises in the classroom are pens leaving their ebony or azure trails and pieces of parchment flipping over; perhaps the odd shuffle of a bag here and the squeak of a chair there. Peter had finished by the half an hour mark, having studied relentlessly for the test with the help of a pair of super soldiers ( could it be considered abusing your resources when you live with two people who lived through the time your studying? ), and was content with spending the rest of the one hour and fifteen minutes of the class flicking through gift ideas for Christmas, when a sonance knocks him from his musings.
And, oh god.
Now, Peter Parker is not an idiot. His phone is always placed on silent on the way to his history class every time, including this wintery day, so why is starts to ring is beyond him. Until it clicks that there are only a limited number of people who call that Karen will play a ringtone for, no matter what.
And, oh god.
He can feel his face heating up as he makes a chaotic attempt to reach for the device before — "Mister Parker, up the front. C'mon, you know the rules of my classroom." There's an underlying sense of mirth to her words and his face flushes even deeper and he scrambles to his feet. He can hear the sniggers of Ned and MJ ( traitors. ) and the rest of his class. They'll definitely be thanking him for this distraction later on; he can feel how so many were struggling. Though, in their defence, Peter does have two living relics from the time on speed-dial.
Speaking of speed-dial . . . Peter had finally reached the front of the classroom, his phone refusing to stop its cheery little tunes. He took a glance at the name and picture on the screen and speak of the godamned devil; there's a picture of Steve Rogers stood in front of the compound's kitchen island, a wooden spoon in his hand, a pink and white apron hanging over his front, his arms in the middle of some sort of wild gesture. It was a shaky shot, Peter had been laughing while taking it, yet the visual of an almost scared, mostly laughing, Bucky Barnes completed the picture. The name, UNCLE CAPTAIN, seemed to pop out of the screen.
"I should — I should probably answer this . . ." Mrs Burr nodded. "Karen, answer the call, please."
Then there was a nod and — "Peter!" Ned and MJ were having a hard time containing their laughter, the voice of Captain America all too familiar by now. "How'd your history test go?"
"Actually Uncle Steve, I'm kinda in my history class now . . . but I'm pretty sure I did well on the test anyway! You and Uncle Bucky really helped."
"Shoot, sorry, kid. Tony told me you'd be in lunch by now —."
"— Of course he did."
"— I hope you did do well on the test, considering you had two people who lived during the time period to help you," there was a muffled chuckle from the other end of the phone, "Bucky says that if you pass he'll bake you deserts for a week."
By now, Peter's embarrassment had cleared and he was living for the shocked expressions of his classmates and teacher. "Really?! For Ned and MJ, too?"
"Definitely, Pete. Speaking of MJ and Ned, are they there too?"
"Uh, yeah, just a sec . . ." Peter's waving was wild as he encouraged his two best friends to come up to the front.
"Hey, Steve," the two voices chorused upon their arrival at the front of the classroom.
"Hey, ki— no, Buck! Sorry, Bucky seems to think that Peter prying us for information was cheating."
"That's what I told him," MJ piped up helpfully, earning an eye roll from Peter. There was a series of rough grunts, then, from the other end of the phone and for a moment Peter thought that they were doing something when a classroom of teenagers could hear — until the voice of Bucky Barnes came through the phone.
"We'll pick you guys up, yeah? Assumin' you two are coming to the compound for the weekend?"
"Sounds good, Uncle Bucky," Peter risked a glance to their teacher who was frozen with shock — wow, Peter has to get his weird family to call him more often. "Hey, do you think you and Steve could come and do an assembly for the sophomore classes at school? Midtown is a STEM school, so subjects like history don't get as much attention as it might at other schools." There was a pause and a few shuffles, followed by whispers so quiet not even Peter could pick them up and then — "Sure, Stevie says it sounds good. He'll email your principal or whatever they're called nowadays —"There are a few mumbles. "— yes, okay! I'll give you your phone back now. Bye, Ned and MJ. Be good, Petey Pie!" . . . And now he's groaning, face burning with embarrassment.
Then Steve Rogers' voice came through once more, a chuckle to his voice. "See you after school, kids. Make sure to eat your lunch and focus on your reading." There was a beep, signalling that the call was ended.
An awkward silence enveloped the room as Peter tried to put his phone back into his pocket until one brave student spoke up. "He sounded just like he does in the PSAs."