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“OK, but if I got thirty-six right, that would be like a ninety. A-. I pass. I'm happy. My mom is happy. Mr. Dell can't complain. And I know I got at least thirty-six questions right,” Ned rambled as they walked into the lunch.
“I failed. I just know I failed,” Peter moaned. He'd studied. He really had, but the second his history teacher placed the test in front of him, every ounce of knowledge in his brain vaporized like mist in the morning.
“Pssh,” Ned scoffed, “You didn't fail. Your GPA is better than mine.”
“I did. I know I did,” Peter flopped into his seat, slumping over the table, head on his arms.
“Dramatic much?” MJ questioned, sliding into the chair next to him. Peter refused to even look at his girlfriend.
“Would he be the Peter we know and love were he not dramatic?” Ned, ever the supportive best friend, queried as he sat down and pulled out his lunch.
That had Peter glancing up at his friends, frowning at their lack of care towards his anguish, and whining “I hope you two feel bad when I have to resort to living in a cardboard box in an alley.”
MJ raised a brow, “Your aunt is going to make you live in an alley if you fail your history test?”
“Nah,” Ned shook his head, “May's too cool to do that. Besides, even if she did, Mr. Stark would totally let Peter live at Stark Tower.”
“Or kick me out of my internship,” the other boy muttered, “Ban me from the tower so I get tackled by security if I even bothered to try to enter.”
“I'm pretty sure that Happy would frown on his staff tackling students,” Ned ventured.
“But please let me know if that happens,” MJ added, “I haven't had a good protest lately.”
Peter opened his mouth to respond, but was interrupted by Betty abruptly yanking out the chair next to Ned and sitting with a huff.
“Ninety-nine! I got a ninety-nine on that stupid test,” she griped.
Ned blinked, processing the information, “But a ninety-nine is really, really good.”
Betty gaped at him, “A ninety-nine? That's like one point short of a hundred. It's like you're almost perfect, but not quite. You almost got it but missed by a hair. A ninety-five would be fine. Like, ok, I didn't know everything. But ninety-nine? That's cruel and unusual punishment!”
“Wait, how do you know what you got?” Peter demanded, sitting straighter.
“Mr. Dell just posted the grades,” the blonde explained. Peter was already digging through his bag to grab his laptop.
“Checking to see if your future lies in cardboard boxes?” MJ teased as he frantically opened the school information system to navigate to his grade report
“Aren't you going to check yours?” Betty questioned her boyfriend.
“Nah,” Ned shook his head, “I know I got at least a ninety. I'm good. I'll check later.”
She shook her head in disbelief, “I do not understand you at all.”
Ned grinned and then turned to his best friend, “How did you do? Do we need to scout out alleyways for your cardboard box?”
“Ninety-eight,” Peter said as he slumped back into his chair with relief.
Ned and MJ exchanged looks of exasperation. Meanwhile, Betty winced in sympathy, saying, “Oh, I'm so sorry. Not as bad as a ninety-nine, but still missing a hundred by two points.”