[Peter]
Mr. Davies stopped me in the hallway, just as I was trying to make myself blend seamlessly into the flow of students rushing towards the exit. Tired wasn't even the word. I felt hollowed out. Like a well that had been drained dry. Another night gone without a minute of sleep. It's been a while since I've had one of those.
"Peter," he said, his voice gentle but firm. I stopped, forcing a weak smile that probably looked more like a wince.
"Hey, Mr. Davies." I replied, confused as to why he stopped me.
He looked at me for a moment, his brow furrowed with a concern. "You've been... a little quiet lately, Peter," he said, choosing his words carefully. "More than usual. And you look exhausted."
My stomach tightened. Quiet. Exhausted. Understatements of the century. Every day I was out their fighting crime. Memories of a friend, gone because I wasn't fast enough, strong enough, good enough. Those memories hurt more than any physical blow. And telling my friends? Once I open the gates, how do I keep them safe? I couldn't even protect someone who had superhero.
"Oh, uh, yeah," I mumbled, shrugging. "Just... been busy. Project for chemistry." Technically true. I had a chemistry project. I just hadn't touched it.
Mr. Davies didn't look entirely convinced, but he didn't press. Instead, he switched gears. "Listen, Peter, I know you're good with a camera. Remember those photos you took for the science fair display last year?"
My mind flashed back to simpler times. Times when my biggest worry was missing the bus. "Uh, yeah."
"Good. Well, the drama club is deep in rehearsals for the spring play, 'A Midsummer Night's Dream'. They need some photos. For the program, maybe some promotional stuff for the school bulletin board. Candids, action shots, you know the drill." He smiled slightly. "I figure it might be a good way to... get your mind off things. Stretch your legs a bit. Be around some people, but without the pressure of having to actually be in the play."
Mr. Davies was looking at me expectantly. Refusing felt rude. Who knows, it might help take my mind off things.
"Okay," I said, "Yeah, okay. I can do that."
"Excellent!" His smile. "They're usually in the theatre room after school. Just pop in, whenever you have a free afternoon this week. Ask for Ms. Watson, she's the lead actor."
Watson. The name clicked. Mary Jane Watson. Of course. She was the lead. The one everyone talked about. Charismatic, confident, seemingly effortlessly there. The complete opposite of me right now.
In the end i decided to get out of the way the same day, and so i slowly opened the door to the theatre room.The main lights were dimmed, casting long shadows, but the stage was brightly lit. The air was thick with the scent of old velvet, sweat, and something vaguely like hairspray. Voices echoed, some loud and projected, others hushed whispers. Someone was tentatively playing a few notes on a beat-up upright piano in the corner. There was laughter, shouted stage directions, the rhythmic thud of movement.
I stepped in, camera bag slung over my shoulder, feeling like an alien dropped onto a vibrant, alien planet. The sheer energy of the place hit me.
I found a spot near the back, trying to be as unobtrusive as possible. I pulled out my camera, adjusting the settings, the familiar weight a small comfort. Focusing the lens gave me something concrete to do, something to concentrate on other than being Spider-Man.
I started taking pictures. Wide shots first, capturing the organized chaos of the full cast on stage. Then closer ones – someone meticulously adjusting a prop, two actors running lines together, a group of students practicing a dance step. It felt nice, calming even.
Then I saw her. Mary Jane. She was centre stage, radiating energy, running through a scene with Buck. Her movements were fluid, her voice clear and expressive, filling the space. She wasn't just acting; she was the character, vibrant and mischievous.
I raised my camera, zooming in slightly. Her focus was intense, but there was a playfulness in her eyes, a hint of a smile always ready to break through. She seemed so... unburdened. Not that I actually knew her, not really. But from the outside, she seemed to float through life.
Click. Click. I took a few shots, trying to capture the raw energy she exuded.
As the scene ended, there was a brief pause. She laughed at something the director said, tossing her head back. Then, her eyes scanned the room, probably looking for hydration or a script cue. And they landed on me.
She smiled. Not a big, performative stage smile, but a genuine, relaxed one. Then she started walking towards the edge of the stage, hopping down into the audience section.
"Hey," she said, her voice carrying easily across the few rows separating us. She approached my row and leaned against the back of a seat, looking at me with curiosity.
"Hi, Mary Jane," I replied.
"Peter, it's been a while. Taking photos again I see?" She asked.
"Yeah," I nodded.
"Ms. Watson told me someone was coming to take pictures," she said. "Didn't expect it to be you. Not that... you know." She trailed off, gesturing vaguely.
"Mr. Davies suggested it. Said you needed some shots for the program?"
"We do! At least now I know we're in good hands. I haven't seen you around, you doing ok?" She asked
"Just... busy. Lots of school stuff. And... Elaine. Who know how it is" Other things like preventing buildings from collapsing or stopping supervillains from robbing banks. Yeah, couldn't exactly elaborate on that.
"Yeah," she said, her voice a little softer now. "This year is... a lot. Even without the 'other things'." She paused, then added, "You look pretty wiped, Peter."
"Yeah," I admitted, dropping my gaze to the camera in my hands. "Just... tired. Haven't been sleeping great." Understatement number two. Sleep was a luxury at the moment.
"Tell me about it," she said, a wry smile touching her lips. "Trying to memorize lines, blocking, hitting cues, keeping track of props... sometimes I feel like my brain is just scrambled eggs by the end of rehearsal." She sighed lightly, leaning her head back against the seat. "But... there's something about it, you know? All this energy, everyone working together. Even on the days when you just want to crawl under a rock."
"Yeah," I said quietly. "I get that."
I looked up at her. She was looking at the stage, a thoughtful expression on her face.
"It's a good play," she said, turning her gaze back to me. "A Midsummer Night's Dream. Lots of chaos, mistaken identities, people wandering around lost in the woods..." She paused, a knowing look in her eyes. "Sometimes feels a little too real, doesn't it?"
Lost in the woods. Mistaken identities. That felt like my life. Constantly lost between two worlds, my true identity hidden, navigating chaos. Had she meant it that way? Probably not. It was just a line about the play. But it landed with an unexpected weight.
"Yeah," I said, with a small smile. "Yeah, it kinda does."
She returned the smile.
"Alright," she said, pushing off the seat. "Duty calls. Oberon waits for no one." She grinned. "Thanks for being here, Peter. Taking the photos. Maybe seeing everyone else run around like crazy will be a good distraction."
"Hope so," I said, lifting my camera slightly. "Break a leg, Mary Jane."
"Thanks," she said, and with another wave, she was gone, back towards the bright lights and the controlled chaos of the stage.
I watched her go, then turned back to my camera. I lifted it to my eye again, focusing on the scene. The energy was still there, vibrant and overwhelming. It was just people, dealing with their own kind of busy, their own kind of challenges, pushing through. Just like me.
My back still hurts from yesterday. My eyes still felt tired but I was calm. Relaxed. Maybe coming here wasn't such a bad idea after all.