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MJ couldn’t do this.
“Sorry about… today,” Ned said, awkwardly shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “I know it didn’t go how you planned.”
Oh, now there was the understatement of the century. MJ had crumbled beneath the pressure, shattering the way a glass goblet met a brick floor. She should have known better.
MJ couldn’t do this.
“You don’t need to apologize,” she muttered, not meeting Ned’s eyes. Her hair hung loose today, the wavy locks a shield from all that had fallen apart before her. A destruction she herself had facilitated. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”
In fact, Ned might have been the only part of Decathlon practice, nay, of MJ’s entire day, that had gone right. But that was Ned, wasn’t it? Steady as a rock amidst stormy seas.
MJ had overslept. She’d forgotten her physics journal on the table in her rush to catch the bus, and of course that meant today was the day it was due—15% of her entire grade! Thankfully, Ms. Warren had agreed to accept it late, but MJ would still have an entire letter grade knocked off for the delay. She’d also forgotten about her Latin quiz in third hour, which had only served to further sour her mood.
And then Decathlon practice.
It was the first time MJ had been expected to manage the team without Mr. Harrington’s presence. But she could handle it, and she reassured him of such.
Apparently MJ had been lying through her fucking teeth.
To begin, Peter-flakey-Parker hadn’t shown up. Whether or not he was Spider-Man—and she was 57% sure he was—a text even after practice would have been appreciated. Worse, Flash had been unusually irate that day, sniping at Abe with every other breath. And Abe, knowing precisely how to press Flash’s buttons, was not about to take such taunts lying down. Cindy and Sally had fallen asleep, somehow, amidst this uncontrolled chaos, and it was at that point MJ decided to end practice early, if only so she could go home and bury herself beneath a dozen fuzzy blankets.
MJ couldn’t do this.
Why had Liz believed she could do this?
“Even if today wasn’t great, I’m sure our next practice will be,” Ned promised. He smiled at her, the hopeful expression so warm it soothed some of the tension that riddled MJ’s shoulders. “You’re a great captain, MJ.”
MJ pressed her lips together with such force she feared they’d bruise. “Thanks, Ned,” she whispered, and she didn’t believe him.
Though Ned hesitated, reluctant to depart, MJ continued adamantly avoiding his eyes. Finally, he gave her a gentle wave before walking away, leaving MJ the only person in the library.
She sighed, resigning herself to sorting and sorting and restacking her super quiz flash cards, of which so few had been used at their revelatory-yet-disillusioning practice today. The only silver lining of MJ ending practice early was it meant she had almost 20 minutes before her dad arrived to pick her up—20 minutes to collect herself and cling to whatever remained of her sanity.
“He’s right, you know.”
MJ blinked as a pair of perfectly manicured hands reached across the wooden table and aided her in the sorting and stacking process. Such pastel pink nails, MJ noted, with their glittery silver tips, could belong to none other than— “Betty?”
Betty smiled. The headband that held back her long blonde hair was the same shade of pink as her perfect nails. “The one and only.”
MJ knew Elizabeth ‘Betty’ Brant from a distance, as was how she knew most people at Midtown. Betty Brant was the flat-spoken announcer on Midtown’s morning news, the ever-eager student who sat at the front of their shared homeroom, and the overachieving journalist who’d successfully become managing editor of their school newspaper as only a sophomore.
Beyond all that, of course, MJ knew Betty Brant as Liz Allan’s closest friend.
Most times MJ had hung out with Liz, it had been just the two of them. On rare occasions, however, Betty had joined them, and together they’d formed the world’s most unusual trio. The last time was about a month ago, only two weeks before Liz’s sudden move to Oregon. MJ had been invited to join them for ice cream, and that day she had learned just how passionate Betty Brant was about embroidery.
So MJ knew that about Betty, too.
“I’m serious, Michelle.” Betty continued pulling the various super quiz review cards into a stack, tucking wooden chairs beneath the table as she circled around. “Ned’s right. You’re a great Decathlon captain.”
MJ cracked a weak smile, standing from her own chair to push it under. She grimaced as one of the feet snagged on the library’s navy blue carpet. “You don’t need to say that.”
It wasn’t as if Betty had ever attended a Decathlon practice beneath her instruction. In fact, MJ couldn’t remember Betty feigning interest about participating in Decathlon even for Liz’s sake.
“Oh, come on,” Betty teased. She handed MJ the stack of super quiz cards, and MJ was surprised to find they were already sorted into their appropriate categories.
Or maybe she shouldn’t have been surprised.
She used Liz’s system, after all.
“If I had a nickel for every time Liz raved about your Decathlon prowess, Michelle, I’d be a millionaire.” Betty snorted, rolling her eyes and dropping a hand to her hip. “And if I had a nickel for every time she complained about Peter Parker’s mysterious absences, I’d be richer than Tony Stark.”
MJ covered her mouth to smother a laugh. Sure, the librarian had stepped out, but Betty’s unexpected entrance had proven to MJ she wasn’t in the library alone as she’d first thought, and she didn’t want to risk disturbing anyone else. Her powers of observation were evidently falling short today. “I’m starting to understand Liz’s pain on that front.”
Betty grinned. “See? Handling Peter means you’ve already got the mark of a true Decathlon captain.” She offered MJ the color- and prompt-coordinated boxes for the super quiz cards from the end of the table. This equipment itself was yet another hand-me-down from Liz.
“Thanks,” MJ murmured, giving Betty a small—awkward—smile. “Um, I guess I should probably get—”
MJ cut herself off as Betty took a step toward her, a thoughtful expression narrowing her green-blue eyes. Though Betty was at least half a head shorter than MJ, she walked with the confidence of someone over six feet, and it took what little remained of MJ’s strength of will after her hellish day to not take a corresponding step back.
“Did Liz ever tell you about her first day as Decathlon captain?” Betty asked, startling MJ out of her thoughts.
“I—” MJ’s mouth opened and closed like a goldfish. Christ, this was not the calm, collected persona she tried so very hard to maintain. “No?”
A grin tugged at the corners of Betty’s lips, and she leaned back against the small library table. “It was her junior year. We were just freshmen. I imagine it was about a month or so before you joined the team, actually.”
Betty adjusted the slender white purse strap on her left shoulder, a crossbody clutch MJ hadn’t noticed she’d been wearing. “Anyways, I was on the receiving end of about a thousand texts from Liz that day. Mr. Harrington left early for some kind of doctor’s appointment, and since he had to head out, half the team thought that meant they could leave early, too. Of those who stuck around, two were more interested in playing footsie than actually participating”—MJ grimaced, relieved she at least hadn’t dealt with that today—“while the rest were spacing out so hard they might as well have been on the moon.”
A smile twitched at the corners of MJ’s lips as Betty continued recounting Liz’s experience, highlighting her personal favorite string of utterly incomprehensible messages that Liz had sent to her precisely 43 minutes into the meeting. One text had contained every vowel thrice, while another apparently had a disconcerting lack of vowels. Of course, MJ was perfectly aware Betty was just trying to make her feel better. And yet…
It was working.
At least a little.
“And remember, Liz was a junior when she became captain. The fact that she had faith in you to take over as a sophomore, even if that wasn’t how she originally planned it, is proof of just how capable she knew you were.”
MJ chuckled as Betty nonchalantly threaded her anecdote back to the present. “Seeing as her best friend was one of the most hard-working students in the school and a sophomore herself, Liz may have had more trust in our class than the average senior.”
A blush the same brilliant pink as her nails dusted Betty’s cheeks. “Oh no, Miss Michelle, we are not making this about me.” She cleared her throat, dropping her eyes from MJ’s as she adjusted her headband. “But thank you.”
MJ bit her lip to withhold a grin at Betty’s reaction. Endearing, really. “So, is the moral of your story that since Liz wasn’t perfect, I don’t need to put so much pressure on myself?”
“Guess I’m transparent as glass, huh?” Betty winked at her. “Yes, that would be half of it.”
She pushed herself off the edge of the library’s wooden table, shoving it a few inches back in the process—a move that would have gotten her sternly fussed at had the librarian returned in time to see it. “Look. I meant it when I said Liz thought you were the most capable person on the team.”
It was MJ’s turn to flush, blood rushing to her cheeks. “You don’t need to—”
“No, no, let me set the scene!” Betty all but darted to the end of the table, placing her hands on the back of the chair that MJ had been sitting in minutes prior. “The captain’s seat. Liz, patient as ever, watches the new recruits file in.” Betty pointed toward the library’s double doors in an exaggerated fashion, earning a snort from MJ.
“Most are… unremarkable,” Betty continued, dropping her hand as she began walking around the table, pausing behind each chair to assign an individual to them. “Some suggest trouble, like one Eugene ‘Flash’ Thompson. A certain freshman named Peter Parker is a blushing, stuttering mess the second his eyes meet Liz’s, while his best friend Ned Leeds is cheerier than a robin in spring.”
Ha. Yeah, that sounded about right. MJ had kept mostly to herself during that first practice, as it was more a freshman orientation than anything else, but some introductions were hard to forget.
Peter tripping over his own feet while staring at Liz was one of them.
“And you, Michelle…” Betty shifted to the final seat, left on the opposite end of the table, and placed her hands atop the wooden back. “Well, you stunned Liz Allan.”
MJ raised an eyebrow. Right, she’d stunned Liz by reading Body Broker: Inside America’s Underground Trade in Human Remains for the majority of the pseudo-meeting.
“Don’t give me that look!” Betty pulled the chair out from under the table, gracefully dropping into it. “You sit here. You’re quiet, but diligent. You’re reading, sure, but you’re also taking notes every time Liz speaks. And at the next meeting, you are the only freshman who remembered to prep a list of subjects you’d be interested in shadowing until some of the seniors graduated.”
MJ gave her a wry smile, fiddling with the silver bracelet around her left wrist. “I did the bare minimum, you mean.”
Betty laughed. “Look, it wasn’t so much that you actually listened to Liz, although she did appreciate that.” A soft smile tugged at her lips. “I think you reminded her of herself.”
Unable to continue eye contact with Betty and risk speaking without words, MJ turned her attention to tucking her boxes of super quiz cards into her open backpack. Afterwards, she lifted the bag onto the table and zipped it up the middle. “Because I took some notes?”
“Because you cared.”
MJ froze with her hand on the right strap of her backpack.
“Ooh, that got to you,” Betty teased, the lighthearted comment breaking some of the ice in MJ’s body.
MJ rolled her eyes, forcing herself to further loosen up as she pulled her bag onto her shoulders. “None of us would be in Decathlon if we didn’t care.”
“Maybe. Maybe not.” Betty stood up from the chair, tucking it beneath the table before walking around toward MJ. “Listen. Peter—bless his heart—is inconsistent on uncountable levels. Flash was kind of forced into Decathlon by his parents, although I think he likes it more now. So he says, at least.”
MJ made a mental note of this potential connection between Flash and Betty.
“Ned enjoys Decathlon, it’s true, but he’s not driven by it. Neither is anyone else on the team. But then there’s you.”
MJ’s grip on her backpack straps tightened, and she continued to avoid eye contact with Betty. “Look, I don’t—”
“Observant. Kind of shy, kind of awkward, but what freshman isn’t? And taking notes not just on the very first day, but every meeting after?” Betty shook her head, eyes glittering with amusement. “Liz was practically training you to be her successor after your first week at practice.”
MJ pressed her lips together. No words would leave her tongue. She wasn’t sure any could.
Perhaps sensing her uncertainty, Betty grinned at her. “Trust me on this. I distinctly remember feeling concerned that my status as best friend was being threatened because Liz would not stop raving about your passion and dedication to Decathlon no matter how much you, quote, ‘tried to hide it.’”
MJ’s grip on her backpack slackened at Betty’s words, though her mouth remained dry and her fingers were still shaking. Calling it ‘strange’ to hear about herself from the eyes of one and the tongue of another was an… indescribable understatement.
“Liz didn’t want to leave in the middle of her senior year.” Betty’s voice dropped, her right hand rising to hold the upper part of her left arm. “She didn’t want to leave us at all.”
MJ remembered that day. Yes, MJ remembered holding back tears as Liz pulled her into a tight embrace, remembered how Liz had promised through tears of her own that she’d be in touch.
Sometimes MJ wished she could forget.
“There was so much Liz wanted to show you about Decathlon before she graduated. Just because you were capable of becoming captain as a sophomore doesn’t mean she wanted to put that on you.” Betty took a step towards MJ, small but firm. “I know you know this already, but it’s okay to ask her for advice. To let her keep guiding you the way she’d planned. I’m pretty sure Liz would drop everything to FaceTime you about Decathlon if you needed it.”
She would, MJ knew that.
Which was exactly why MJ couldn’t ask her to.
Right?
“And if you don’t want to ask Liz,” Betty added, a cheeky smile pulling at her lips, “you can always ask me. I absorbed at least two-thirds of her strategies through osmosis.”
That earned a snort from MJ despite herself. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“You’d better. I know you’ve got my number from that group chat Liz made with all three of us that has sat untouched since her first two messages.”
MJ laughed, no longer able to withhold her amusement. “What did she even make that for again?”
“A Spider-Man meme. I wish I was kidding.”
MJ shook her head, still laughing. “Priorities.”
“Truly. Liz knows how to pick her favorites.” Betty grabbed her backpack off the floor.
MJ hadn’t noticed she’d dropped it there.
“Not to discourage you from texting me, of course, but…” Betty gave MJ a gentle smile. “I really think Liz would love to hear from you, whether it’s about Decathlon or not.” A heaviness flickered in her eyes. “Oregon hasn’t exactly welcomed her with open arms.”
MJ swallowed hard, her hands falling to her sides. “I miss her.”
MJ missed Liz so much it ached. Liz had understood her in a way very few did—understood her need for solitude, understood her equal parts elation and frustration of being a Black girl in STEM, understood how fucking difficult high school could be when ‘making friends’ had always come less than second nature to her.
“The other day, she asked me how you were doing. I told her I’d find out.” Betty smiled at MJ, raising her right eyebrow. “But I think she’d prefer to hear it from you.”
“I’ll text her,” MJ promised, the words spilling from her tongue before she could second guess the vow. “Tonight. I’ll text her.”
Betty beamed, and MJ suddenly understood Liz’s observation that Betty’s smile was sunshine. “You have no idea how happy that’s going to make her. She might actually cry.”
MJ wanted to respond, wanted to crack a joke about if Betty was willing to bet on that, but she was interrupted by her phone buzzing in her back pocket—her dad, wondering if she was almost done.
“Sorry,” she said, and MJ found she… actually was. She didn’t want their conversation, their not-quite reminiscence over a not-so-distant past to end. But— “I have to go.”
Betty waved her hand dismissively, the glittery silver tips of her nails sparkling even in the library’s dim lighting. “No worries. I’ve already finagled one promise out of you to text Liz, so that’s half my secret mission accomplished.”
MJ chuckled. Some secret, if Betty had just spilled part of it already. “Yeah?” She tucked her phone into her back pocket. Her dad could wait a few minutes longer. “And what was the other half?”
Betty rolled her eyes with such melodrama that MJ had to wonder why this expressive version of her never appeared on Midtown’s morning news. “As the tied-for-greatest Decathlon captain in the history of Midtown, I would really hope you know the definition of ‘secret,’ Miss Jones.”
A grin tugged at MJ’s lips, and she was at ease for the first time that day. “Is that how you’re playing this?”
Betty smirked, mischief glittering in her eyes. “See you tomorrow, Michelle.” She slung her backpack over her shoulders and began heading toward the exit of the library.
“MJ.”
Betty paused, tilting her head. “What?”
MJ’s shoulders sunk into themselves, as if shocked by her own boldness, but she pressed onward. “MJ. Liz called me MJ.”
Betty grinned, giving her a two-finger salute as she started walking backwards out the double glass doors. “See you tomorrow, MJ.”
MJ scrambled to catch up with her. “Betty, wait,” she said, stopping beneath the metal frame of the two doors. “I wanted to—”
Thank you disappeared on her tongue as she met Betty’s eyes, thank you for seeing me was swallowed as Betty gave her a warm smile.
“I wanted to tell you… that I really like your nails,” MJ said instead, fiddling with her backpack’s straps. “Pink is your color.”
“You think so?” Betty said, beaming. “Thanks!” She lightly nudged MJ with her elbow. “I could do yours, if you wanted. This pink would look even better on you.”
Heat rushed to MJ’s cheeks, but she smiled. “I’d like that.” She’d like that a lot.
Maybe… Maybe MJ could do this after all.