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"You tied me down... Now break me open.. with your love and mercy..."
The tinny blare from the past-their-best speakers resounded through the high school gym. Peter stood at the entrance, and nervously adjusted the bow tie he had dug up, just for the occasion- though these days he wore it with an old, but clean and tailored grey suit, instead of his short sleeved shirt and suspenders. He had even put in some contact lenses for the occasion. Finally, tie neat, he finished preening by running his hand through his shaggy hair and stepped forward, underneath the big navy blue banner reading:
Welcome Class of 2021
Ten year reunion
The large white analogue clock kept time, ticking on the wall above the stage erected at the back of the huge room. A big crowd gathered on the dance floor in the centre of the gymnasium, with other clusters of alumni around the refreshment tables and next to the stage. A lot of the people there Peter had never spoken to when he was at school, though he recognised a lot of them. Mr Houston, their old shop teacher, was greeting his former students. Kyle, the football team member, was looking sharp in a suit and tie and was deep in conversation, reminiscing no doubt, with an equally dapper Jason and Sarah. Trevor and Caitlyn, who Peter remembered from the school play, were reconnecting over glasses of luminous pink punch. The sight of everyone getting along made him smile to himself.
He made his way through the throng to the refreshments, poured himself a glass of punch, and looked around while he slipped. The punch wasn't sweet enough for his taste, but he hadn't been expecting much.
Suddenly, he noticed the crisp, loud sound of high heels approaching the entrance, and through stepped Grace Chasity. She wore her own tailored suit, though hers had a knee-length skirt, powder blue with a pink high-collared blouse. Her hair was longer than she had worn it in high school, shoulder length, and straightened perfectly. He watched her survey the room, before spotting him, and he didn't even have time to turn around and shield his eyes before she waved excitedly and called over to him.
"Peter! It's me, Grace!"
Game time, Spankoffski! He put up his hand in a small wave.
"Hello, Grace," he called back as she clipped over to him. "You look well."
"I am well! Very well. How are you? I can't believe it, it's been forever! How've you been keeping, what have you been doing with yourself?" Grace thrust a ladleful of punch into a glass, keeping her gaze on him.
"I'm doing great, Grace." Peter replied. "If you want to know what I've been up to, well, I've mainly been in school for the last ten years. I got a.." he sipped, not wanting to appear to brag, "my, uh, PhD in physics from MIT, if you wanna know."
"Peter!" Grace squealed. "That's amazing! Congratulations!" She gesticulated in delight, almost spilling her drink.
"Thanks, Grace." He tried not to blush. Even though he knew it was a hell of an achievement, he was always embarrassed whenever anyone made a big deal about it. His mom and brother had already freaked out enough at his graduation, after all.
"Should I call you 'Doctor Spankoffski', now?" Grace asked, almost teasing- something she never used to do, he thought. But if the new, older Grace was less uptight than her teen self, so much the better.
"No, no, not at all. I'm not a medical doctor. Anyway, what, uh, have you been doing with yourself?"
"Oh, nothing much, Peter. I did get maaarried...!" She sing-songed, wiggling a pea-sized rock on her ring finger. "Apart from that, a lot of community work, volunteering, you know."
Of course... She knows that if no one wants you to do it, it doesn't count as volunteering, right?
"Well, congratulations," Peter offered.
"I'm mostly just excited to see everyone," she continued. "It's been such a long time. Ten years doesn't sound like long, but heck, there you are!"
"Yep, there you are..." Like you didn't hate all those people.
The music switched, from a sappy ballad, to an upbeat number.
"Ah," Grace exclaimed, "'Best of you'! I used to love this one! C'mon, Pete!"
"What, like, to dance?" Before he knew it, Grace had grabbed his hand and was dragging him towards the dance floor, grinning. Arriving at the edge of the crowd of cheering, singing, dancing alumni, the two stepped from side to side, hand in hand, in a two-person approximation of how Peter spent many a school dance- well, before her.
"I'm the best of you, and you're the best of me!"
"Hey, Grace!" Peter yelled over the volume.
"And together we are free to run around!"
Peter could barely hear himself think over the din. "Do you know, um, if-"
"Peter!" A greeting, from behind him, he spun around to be met with a widely smiling face- ever so familiar and yet, at the same time...
"-Richie?"
Richard Lipschitz spread his arms. "In the flesh, Pete! C'mere!" He wrapped Peter in a hug before he even knew what was going on. "It's been fucking forever!"
"Forever, man? How the hell-? I thought-?" You were...?
"I know, the planes from LA are crazy unreliable, I wasn't sure I was going to make it either." He let Peter out, but kept his hands on his shoulders. "You look great!"
Richie wore a blue suit, with a white collarless shirt, that both looked surprisingly expensive. His hair was worn longer, though not as long as Peter's and well styled, same as his groomed beard.
"Eh-LA?" Peter stammered out as a smile crept onto his face, still not believing his eyes.
"Yeah, man!" Richie put his arm over Peter's shoulder, and the other over Grace's, herself grinning uncontrollably- and surprisingly, letting it happen.
"Hiya, Richie!" Cooed Grace.
"Good to see you, Grace." Richie replied with a wink. He steered the group back over to the refreshments and away from the crowd.
"I've been out in LA, Pete, while I've been getting into animation production. I've been getting plenty of critic work too- journals, magazines, blogs." Stage-whispering behind his hand, he added, "Movies suck these days, so it's super easy to write about!"
Peter snorted, and laughed out loud.
"Richie! That's amazing!"
"Have you heard?" Grace interjected, handing Richie a brimming glass of punch. "You're talking to Doctor Spankoffski, PhD of physics!"
"Oh ho ho!" He laughed in a jokingly formal tone. "Well, sir! Doctor!" With a mock bow, "Doctor of physics! Not such a loser now!"
"No, sir!" Peter replied, blushing worse than ever. They all raised their glasses.
"Go Nighthawks!" Cheered Grace, and they all clinked their glasses forcefully, spilling a little. The music blasted, the crowds' voices felt like they were intensifying. A twinge of pain started behind Peter's eyes, the beginning of a headache he feared. Must be my damn contacts, fucking eye strain.
"Richie?"
"Hm?" Richie peered at him over his glass.
"Do you know when we'll see-"
Slam! The door swung open, bashing against the wall.
"Shit!" A familiar voice cried, and all three turned around to see. A figure in a long gold dress was hastily returning the door to its correct position. Richie and Grace exchanged a knowing glance, to Peter's dismay.
"Ru-uth!" They chanted in unison, and the newcomer gasped excitedly.
"Guys!" Ruth Fleming teetered over, her legs elongated in sparkly heels. Her hair, formerly frizzy, was in smooth curls now and her makeup looked precisely perfect- red lipstick framing her straight white teeth. "It's been forever!"
"R-Ruth!" Peter exclaimed.
"Puh-Peter!" She imitated his shocked expression. "How've you been, bad boy?"
"He's a doctor of physics now!" Richie thumped Peter's chest proudly.
"Oh, well, la-dee-dah!" Ruth put her hands on her hips. "Fa-ancy! I wish I had a doctorate- all I have is this lousy Tony..."
"Yeah, what is that now for 'Officer Doctor Cop: the musical'? The fifth year?" Grace prompted.
"Fifth year, second season." Ruth replied. "It's totally no big deal."
"'Cause I believe in you! And you believe in me!"
Another twinge of pain made Peter screw his eyes shut, but he fought through it. "Congratulations, Ruth!" He spat out.
"Thank you, Pete!"
Were the lights getting darker? Peter had to squint to see very far. To his relief, soon the music started to fade out, but it was only to be replaced by the squawk of microphone feedback. The crowds of alumni gathered around to listen to the announcement, and Peter sidled over to Ruth.
"Ruth, have you seen-"
"Sshh!" She hissed. "Pay attention!"
"Hello, Nighthawks!" Miss Mulberry, their old English teacher, projected from the stage. "I hope you're all enjoying your reunion!"
The crowd whooped in response.
"Well, good! It's so good to see how successful you have all become. I just wanted to congratulate you all on what seems like a great ten years and, on behalf of Mr Houston and I, as well as the whole faculty, cheers!"
Applause erupted from the crowd, causing Peter another flair of pain, but he gave a few polite claps himself. He turned around to get back to the group as the music started up again, louder than ever. The others were standing further away, and he stormed up to confront them, interrupting their animated conversation.
"Guys, shut the fuck up. What is going on here?"
"What the fuck are you talking about?" Richie frowned, obviously taken aback.
Peter hated to make his friends uncomfortable, especially ones he hadn't seen in so long, but he needed to get it out after being thwarted this whole time.
"Where is Steph?"
A pregnant pause went between the group. Then, they all furrowed their brows.
"Steph..." Ruth stroked her chin.
"Steph, as in...?" Grace queried.
"Stephanie Lauter? Stephanie Lauter!" Peter tried to control his desperate tone. "Steph, the mayor's daughter? Steph, the most popular girl in school? Steph, my- my, uh-"
The group was casting their gaze up, and shaking their heads.
"That's crazy!" Peter cried. "How can you not-"
"It doesn't ring a bell for me either, Spankoffski."
Freeze.
Every muscle in Peter's body tensed like a taut piano wire. He screwed his eyes shut, almost by instinct.
"M-M-Muh..."
"Muh! Muh! Muh!" Max Jägerman grabbed Peter by the shoulder and forced him to spin around. "Wow, Spankoffski. It's been forever. You look like shit."
"Y- y- y-you're..."
"...Here." Max looked... Wrong. His clothes, a normal-looking sport coat and tie, looked ill-fitting- too big, and creased. Like all of them, his face was visibly older- narrower, a little more lined, though his cheeks were ruddy and his skin tanned, and his hair was sort of skewed. He was noticeably skinnier than Peter remembered him, but his grip was as strong as ever.
"I made it," Max continued. "No thanks to you."
"I- i- i-" Peter couldn't stop stammering. "I th-thought-"
"Hey." Max stared at Peter, hands on his shoulders. They made deep eye contact. His eyes were ever so slightly bloodshot, like he hadn't slept in a while.
"It's so good to see you, man!" All of a sudden, Peter found himself locked in a tight, warm hug. Over Max's shoulder he could see the others looking on fondly.
"Ugh!" Peter pushed Max away, and both stumbled away.
"What the fuck!" He cried. "What's happening? Max, what are you?"
"Peter, what the fuck is your problem?" Ruth snapped. "It's just Max!"
"Yeah, he pushed us around, sure, but that was ten years ago!" Richie folded his arms.
"I can't- I don't-" Peter looked around, snapping his head sharply. The gym was the same, all the former students chatting, cheering, dancing. The music, though, was still overwhelming and it rattled through his skull like a ball around a roulette wheel. "I don't understand!"
"What's to understand, Peter? You're acting like a real jerk!" Grace admonished him. As she spoke Peter was falling to his knees, shaking hands reaching to cover his ears. The music, the voices, even the ticking of the clock. Too much, too much.
"Is this a panic attack? Are you having a fucking panic attack?" Richie rolled his eyes. "I would think you'd have gotten over that by now, Peter."
"Stop!" He screamed with tears starting to stream down his face. His head was pounding in pain by now, almost blinding him, until his friends- his friends? His friend's voices became disembodied attackers. Why did no one notice he was in trouble? Why did no one know Max was supposed to be dead? It's been so long...
Tick.
"I'll help you, Peter." A strong hand gripped under his arm and tried to lift him up. "C'mon, bud, let's get you some fresh air..."
Tock.
"No!" Swinging wildly, he thrust Max away.
Tick.
"Peter, please stop!" Ruth hissed.
Tock.
"Hey, it's okay!" Max put up his hands in a surrender position. "It's okay, you're overwhelmed, buddy! Take your time!"
"Stop..." Peter whined. "Max, you're dead... Richie, you're dead, Ruth, you're supposed to be dead... You have to stop..."
"No one's doing anything, Pe-ter, you useless bastard." Richie snarled with a malice on his face that Peter had never seen before.
Tick.
"You stop, Peter. You sound crazy."
Tock.
"Please just be normal."
Tick.
"Calm down, just calm down."
Tock.
Peter whimpered, like a cornered dog. The group surrounded him.
"It's not your fault, Peter."
Tick.
"Stephanie!" He screamed, "Stephanie!"
Tock.
"Who is Stephanie?"
Tick.
"Who?"
Crack!
A burst of thunder shakes as Peter shoots upwards. He's in his bed. At home. 18 again, rain battering the window and his Luke Skywalker poster staring down benevolently from the opposite wall. His skin is damp with a sheen of icy sweat and his breathing is heavy and laboured.
Steph.
He scrabbles for his glasses, thrusting them onto his face, and wrenches the charger out of his phone. Scrolling down his list of contacts, he reaches it.
Steph <3.
He would have laughed at himself for his foolish fears if he were not still in such a panic. He hits dial. After a few rings, she answers.
"Hmph... Hullo?" He's woken her up- of course.
"Steph..."
"Pete? What's up?"
"...I just wanted to hear your voice."
He hears her give a short laugh on the other end- not mocking, not in humour at all, really, more like, that's my Pete.
"It's good to hear from you too, babe. Did you... Have a bad dream?"
"What? No, no. Well... Actually, yeah... I guess..."
"S'okay." The sound of rustling sheets. She must be settling back down. "Tell me about it."
God... I'm so lucky. Soon the pair slips back into sleep with the line still open, just listening to the sounds of the other's breathing.