Chapter Text
The car was way too hot for April. Peter could feel a bead of sweat work it’s way down the back of his neck, catching on the collar of his shirt and leaving a damp patch in his place. Sweat slipped through his fingers, down his back, the side of his head, under his arms, smearing in a slippery wake over the faux leather of the steering wheel. He cursed once his hand finally dropped from the wheel, digging his fingernails into the wet material and jamming his thumb against the window switch.
Cool air flowed in, the car filled with the whir of tires against asphalt and the hum that came from moving against the wind’s current. Why was the radio still off? Whatever, he probably wouldn’t be able to hear much over the noise. Peter reached up to wipe his forehead. Why was it so loud? It was like he couldn’t focus, no, it was too loud for him to make out the end of the road. How was he supposed to be able to drive through this heat, the sound of the wind, the road, his breathing, Charlie’s gurgling?
Wait, Charlie?
Peter twisted around in his seat, the road a distant memory as he met eyes with Charlie, purple in the face as she thrashed around the backseat. Sweat and tears shone over blotchy skin, little lips parted as spit dripped over her chin. A little hand was slapping. No it was gripping. No it was somewhere and she was screaming and he was screaming and someone was crying and they were going so fast and the wind was so loud and a pole was coming and it was coming and it was there and metal was crunching and Peter couldn't breathe and Charlie was gone and
And Peter was opening his eyes, sucking in a breath as his body relaxed against the too warm blankets that made up his bedspread.
He sat up slowly and grabbed for his phone. Six AM, five minutes before his alarm was set to go off. The morning light had yet to cut through the window in Peter's bedroom, still hazy and muddled as he rolled out of bed to start his day.
Getting ready was a quick affair, quietly shuffling around his room to sniff tee shirts living on the carpet and eventually settle on the same blue jeans and hoodie combo as the week before. Gargle some mouthwash, run fingers through his hair, grab his backpack, and shuffle down the stairs to drink some water before his throat crumbled into dust. He kept his footing light as he moved through the house. It was still dark all throughout, Peter being the only high school student in the household. Not that he really minded, breakfast to himself seemed better than not these days.
His hand felt along the kitchen wall, fingers brushing at the paint until they found purchase on the plastic light switch, snapping the lights on.
“Charlie, Jesus Christ!”
Charlie jolted in her seat, eyes squinting at the new light as she turned to look at her older brother.
“You scared the shit out of me, God,” Peter let out a short breath, making his way towards the fridge. He got out a cup and shoved it under the faucet of the sink until it spilled out the sides. The temperature didn’t really matter at this point in the day. Wiping under his chin, Peter looked behind his shoulder to get a glimpse of his sister. “Why are you up this early? I thought you had another hour.”
Charlie wasn’t exactly the biggest kid her age. She was, well, kid shaped and kid shaped usually entailed someone fairly small in the grand scheme of the world. But she still managed to look far too small at the kitchen table, tugging at the sleeves of her night shirt. “I wanted to say good morning.”
“Oh.”
“Good morning.”
“Good morning.”
“Do you uh, do you want some toast?” Peter offered, checking his phone. He had time.
Charlie nodded, blinking a few times before reaching up to rub at her eyes. Peter just nodded back, busying himself with pulling out some bread and butter, popping the slice in the toaster before risking another look at his sister. Not that much had changed, her stare redirected towards the wood grain of the table. Little hands pulled a thread from her shirt, blue fabric pulled down to let a shiny sliver of scarred skin crawl up her neck. Peter looked away.
He was quick to butter the toast and, after a few seconds of conflict, cut the crust away. Peter popped it into his mouth, setting the toast down in front of her. It wasn’t really a healthy breakfast, but their mom would probably force her to eat an orange or something before it was time for her to get to school.
“I’m heading out, don’t pass out in class.”
“Bye.”
Peter’s hand tightened around the strap of his backpack. “Bye, Charlie.”
He sprinted past his mom’s car and hoped that he wouldn’t get too sweaty biking to school.
“I’m just saying, if you’re going to puke in my shoes, I’d really appreciate it if you at least paid for me to get them cleaned.”
“Your shoes were pretty ugly anyways,” Peter hummed, setting up some paper on his desk. “Are you sure the puke wasn’t an upgrade?”
“Fuck off!” Brendan launched a pen at Peter’s shoulder, ultimately failing to hide the laugh bubbling past his lips. It dinked against him with a harmless tap, rolling back over to Brendan’s desk as he bent down to pick it up.
Someone had propped open the classroom windows, letting the cool October air and sun make its way into the room, students filing in to take their seats. The first two periods of the day had given everyone some time to really wake up and get their heads a little out of that early morning funk. Not that creative writing was a particularly rough class, there was a reason as to why it was mostly seniors, but it still helped make the whole experience of basic education a little more tolerable. You know, to do important things like writing five minute minimalist poems and vampire erotica disguised as studies of social power structures.
“It’s not my fault that Fila makes ugly ass space shoes. Which, by the way, I’m so sure that Disruptors are made for women I swear that’s true-”
“Oh my God can you two shut up?” Bridget twisted around in her seat, sending a half hearted glare towards the two boys. Peter could feel himself shrink back a bit, muttering an apology as she turned to face the front again. Brendan flipped off the back of her head with a snort. Great. Wow. Good one, Graham.
Everyone calmed down within a minute of class, the loud rambling quieting to a few low frenzied whispers as they started on the daily writing prompt scribbled atop the white board.
‘If you could visit wherever you wanted, where would you go and why?’
Anywhere Peter wanted, huh. He let his gaze sweep across the classroom, taking in what was around him. Aaron was already fiddling with his phone, dirty blonde hair a wavering gold under the slice of sunlight hitting the room. Bridget was tugging at a frayed belt loop as her pencil scratched across the surface of her notebook. That goth girl, Sarah or Samantha or Sophia, had already fallen asleep at her desk with a streak of white foundation streaking the wood along with a thin string of drool. And Mrs.Mendez was standing in the classroom doorway, talking in a low voice to someone standing just out of eye shot. His eyes moved back to the open window. A bluebird landed on a tree, hopping over the branches.
He’d rather be anywhere but here.
Peter scribbled down some nonsense about wanting to go to Los Angeles and let his chin fall into his hand, eyes flitting back to the whiteboard and the dark haired guy standing in front of it.
Oh.
That was new.
“Everyone, time’s up, eyes up here,” Mrs.Mendez called, wiping down the daily prompt with a few broad strokes of her eraser. She took a second to dust off her hands before facing the class. “I know we’re a little bit into the start of this school year but we have the pleasure of welcoming a new student all the way from Virginia. Why don’t you introduce yourself to the class?”
The guy lifted his head a tad, eyes moving across the width of the classroom in a few quick streaks. He had a set of watery blue eyes under thick brows and what one would probably call a handsome, if not clearly unimpressed, face.
“Hi, my name’s Donnie. I’m a senior,” His lips pressed together, weight shifting back to his heels. “Thanks for having me.”
Mrs.Mendez paused as if she was expecting him to say something else. When it became clear that Donnie wasn’t going to let up on any more information, she gave him a pat on the shoulder, seeming not to notice when his arm jerked forwards. “You can take the free desk by the window, let me know if you need anything.”
Donnie just nodded, hands shoved into the pockets of his blue jeans as he made his way to the side of the class, dropping his bag and taking a seat in the corner of Peter’s eye. Peter wasn’t the peppiest guy around but Jesus Christ this guy seemed like something else.
“Alright everyone, pull out your drafts from last week’s sonnet project. Today’s a free editing period-”
And that was Peter’s cue to zone out, noting the unread texts on his phone from Brendan, the menace still tapping at his screen with worrying speed. Whatever. He’d let himself space away for this period, not like there was any reason for him not to.
And if he found himself glancing towards this new guy a few times? Well, you can’t blame a guy for being curious.