"The Wisdom to Know the Difference," Chapter 11/11
"The Wisdom to Know the Difference," a Spider-Man/X-Men/Daredevil crossover novella, concluded.
[ Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 || Chapter 3 || Chapter 4 || Chapter 5 || Chapter 6 || Chapter 7 || Chapter 8 || Chapter 9 || Chapter 10 || Chapter 11 || Notes ]
"The Wisdom to Know the Difference"
Chapter 11: Not With a Bang, but a Beginning
Seven-fifteen on a Monday morning was way the hell too early to be awake, let alone out of bed, dressed, and on campus. It didn't help that Peter was severely under-caffeinated and in a crappy mood, which the weather matched perfectly. Cold and wet again, as if the sunshine over the weekend needn't have bothered.
Peter's shoes were all squelchy, his glasses were fogged up, his cheap coffee was weak, and by the time he arrived at Hank's office door, he wasn't sure he could have felt worse if he wanted to. That is, until he caught sight of the comic strips Hank had cut out and taped all over the door, and his heart climbed a notch higher in his throat. He bowed his head, unlocked the door, and went in.
He didn't know whether to feel grateful or not that Jean and Scott had come yesterday to clean up and get some of Hank's stuff. It was good that he didn't have to see the broken coffee pot again, or Hank's blood, or anything. Bad, though, because each empty spot on the wall where one of Hank's diplomas or awards or pictures had hung made it that much more real.
The computer was (souped up) university property, so it had stayed. So had Hank's Star Wars saga desktop wallpaper, Peter saw when he turned it on. Seeing that made it a little easier to pull up Hank's chair and sit down at Hank's desk to check his email.
He had a bunch of new messages. Of course, there was the usual spam, spam, spammity-spam, penis-enlarging spam, get-a-Playstation spam. But, to Peter's surprise, there was one from Hank, which he opened right away.
From: h.mccoy@xaviers.edu
To: pbp497@columbia.edu
Subject: use the force, luke
you left your socks here
twinkies in bottom left drawer
call me after class
- h
Peter read the note twice, trying not to think about how long it must have taken Hank to type it. But Hank had anyway, for no reason except to cheer him up. And it worked. Peter smiled and fished a package of Twinkies out of the box in the drawer, then saluted the screen and took a big bite. Maybe it was the sugar, or something, but he would have sworn his coffee tasted better now, too.
By eight o'clock, though, his newfound cheerfulness had vanished, replaced by plain old gut-wrenching stage fright. Peter stood at the front of Hamilton 112 and tried to look smart, look older, and smile confidently, all at the same time, as students trickled in. He had a feeling he just ended up looking strained and like he was grimacing, but there wasn't much he could do about that.
8:03, and the room looked pretty full, so Peter went over and shut the door, then took a deep breath and turned to face the class. "Um. Hi. You're all here for Dr. McCoy's Intro to Molecular and Cellular Biology class?"
A few kids nodded, but most of them looked either bored, half-asleep, or like they were eyeing the door because Hank wasn't there. Great.
"Okay. Good. I'm Peter Parker." Peter pointed to where he'd written his name in big green letters on the whiteboard. "You can call me Peter. I'm a junior biochem major, and I'm--"
He swallowed, steeling himself to say these words out loud. "I'm going to be covering a few of Dr. McCoy's classes until they hire someone to replace him."
"You mean he's not coming back?" called someone from the middle of the room.
Peter groaned inwardly. He thought the mass email Hank's students had gotten--the one saying that classes would resume Monday--had explained. "Uh, no, he isn't," he replied. "Now, you guys were supposed to have a review session Wednesday and a test Friday, right? I was thinking we could review tod--"
"What happened?" interrupted a girl with curly red hair. "Do you know?"
"Did he get fired?" a guy with a fauxhawk and leather jacket asked. "I mean, dude, that's--"
"Is he sick?"
"He didn't die, did he?"
It took every bit of self-control Peter had to keep his poker face on. "I--um."
Then a familiar-looking girl in the front row raised her hand, but she might as well have been throwing him a life preserver. Peter pointed to her a little more enthusiastically than was probably necessary. "Yes! Do you have something you'd like to review, Miss…?"
"Rao. Kavita Rao." She pushed her glasses up and seemed to hesitate for a second before she continued. "And sorry, this isn't a review question. I heard over the weekend that Dr. McCoy left because he--because he's a mutant," she said, almost whispering. Her dark eyes were huge as she studied Peters face. "Do you know if it's true?"
Poker face. Poker face, poker face, poker face. Poker. Face.
It was almost funny. In all the time he'd been Spider-Man, Peter had never once had to flat-out lie about it. He had never said, 'No. I'm not Spider-Man.' And it was funny that lying about this stuff--outright lying, not just lying by omission, or lying to make excuses--was turning out to be just as hard as telling the truth.
The whole room seemed to be on pause, waiting for Peter's response. He exhaled, then slowly shook his head and tried to look surprised and skeptical. "Well, I haven't heard that rumor," he said, "but I bet that's all it is--a rumor. I'm pretty sure Dr. McCoy is not a mutant." He forced a smile. "I mean, come on. Dr. McCoy probably gave somebody a bad grade, and the next thing you know, ooh, he's a mutant!"
Somebody laughed, and a bunch of the students were nodding, giving him relieved smiles. And that should have made Peter feel great. They'd bought it, right? Hank's secret was safe, and Peter Parker could lie convincingly when he had to. For some reason, though, he felt worse than before. Maybe it was the way that girl, Kavita, had looked when she asked--like she'd heard a rumor Hank had AIDS, or terminal cancer.
Maybe it was because so many of them looked relieved. Peter couldn't tell if they were happy for Hank because he wasn't a mutant, or if they were glad that they hadn't been in the same room with a mutant, or what. Come to think of it, he wasn't sure which of those would be worse.
The 'why' didn't matter, though. Peter knew what he had to do. Very deliberately, he set the review sheet Hank had given him on the podium. Then he got the stool some of the professors kept in the corner in case they wanted to sit and put it right in front of the students. Perched on it and looked around the room.
The closet was Hank's, but this, right now, this very great responsibility, was Peter's alone.
"Close your books, guys," he announced. "We'll review on Wednesday. This morning, I think there's something else we should discuss. Let's talk about mutations."
A couple of people looked like he'd just suggested colonizing Mars, or something, so Peter hurried to explain. "Dr. McCoy may not be a mutant, but what about people who are?" he asked. "I mean, for all you know, I could be. Maybe some of you are."
"Dude, I saw a mutant, once. You can tell," said Fauxhawk.
"Can you?" Peter asked. "Are you sure? And even if you could tell--like, if we had somebody with a tail here at school--does that give us the right to treat them differently? To discriminate?"
"Of course not!" Kavita exclaimed, sounding shocked. She didn't bother to raise her hand, this time. "They can't help it."
"Actually," said a blond guy slouched in the back row, "I wouldn't care if mutants went here. It's a free country, right?"
"Yeah, but would you want to room with one?" somebody else asked.
"Not if they were dangerous," said the red-haired girl. "But--"
Peter tried not to smile as the room became more alive than he'd ever seen an eight o'clock class be, before. Even if he didn't agree with all--or even most--of their views, at least the kids were talking about this stuff, and thinking about it. And if they felt comfortable talking about mutants with Peter Parker, regular guy, just one of them…well, maybe that was okay.
At ten 'til nine, everyone was still so into it that he actually had to clap his hands and yell to tell them class was over. That was pretty cool.
Peter gathered his stuff in a hurry after the students had all filed out, getting ready to make a run for his anatomy and physiology class. He paused, though, when he saw that a folded scrap of notebook paper had been slipped under the review sheet on the podium. He opened it.
'ONE OF US IS,' was written on it in tiny, precise capital letters. 'THANK YOU.'
And that? That was awesome.
--- the end ---
Thank you so much for reading! I hope you've enjoyed it. <3
[ Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 || Chapter 3 || Chapter 4 || Chapter 5 || Chapter 6 || Chapter 7 || Chapter 8 || Chapter 9 || Chapter 10 || Chapter 11 || Notes ]
"The Wisdom to Know the Difference"
Chapter 11: Not With a Bang, but a Beginning
Seven-fifteen on a Monday morning was way the hell too early to be awake, let alone out of bed, dressed, and on campus. It didn't help that Peter was severely under-caffeinated and in a crappy mood, which the weather matched perfectly. Cold and wet again, as if the sunshine over the weekend needn't have bothered.
Peter's shoes were all squelchy, his glasses were fogged up, his cheap coffee was weak, and by the time he arrived at Hank's office door, he wasn't sure he could have felt worse if he wanted to. That is, until he caught sight of the comic strips Hank had cut out and taped all over the door, and his heart climbed a notch higher in his throat. He bowed his head, unlocked the door, and went in.
He didn't know whether to feel grateful or not that Jean and Scott had come yesterday to clean up and get some of Hank's stuff. It was good that he didn't have to see the broken coffee pot again, or Hank's blood, or anything. Bad, though, because each empty spot on the wall where one of Hank's diplomas or awards or pictures had hung made it that much more real.
The computer was (souped up) university property, so it had stayed. So had Hank's Star Wars saga desktop wallpaper, Peter saw when he turned it on. Seeing that made it a little easier to pull up Hank's chair and sit down at Hank's desk to check his email.
He had a bunch of new messages. Of course, there was the usual spam, spam, spammity-spam, penis-enlarging spam, get-a-Playstation spam. But, to Peter's surprise, there was one from Hank, which he opened right away.
From: h.mccoy@xaviers.edu
To: pbp497@columbia.edu
Subject: use the force, luke
you left your socks here
twinkies in bottom left drawer
call me after class
- h
Peter read the note twice, trying not to think about how long it must have taken Hank to type it. But Hank had anyway, for no reason except to cheer him up. And it worked. Peter smiled and fished a package of Twinkies out of the box in the drawer, then saluted the screen and took a big bite. Maybe it was the sugar, or something, but he would have sworn his coffee tasted better now, too.
By eight o'clock, though, his newfound cheerfulness had vanished, replaced by plain old gut-wrenching stage fright. Peter stood at the front of Hamilton 112 and tried to look smart, look older, and smile confidently, all at the same time, as students trickled in. He had a feeling he just ended up looking strained and like he was grimacing, but there wasn't much he could do about that.
8:03, and the room looked pretty full, so Peter went over and shut the door, then took a deep breath and turned to face the class. "Um. Hi. You're all here for Dr. McCoy's Intro to Molecular and Cellular Biology class?"
A few kids nodded, but most of them looked either bored, half-asleep, or like they were eyeing the door because Hank wasn't there. Great.
"Okay. Good. I'm Peter Parker." Peter pointed to where he'd written his name in big green letters on the whiteboard. "You can call me Peter. I'm a junior biochem major, and I'm--"
He swallowed, steeling himself to say these words out loud. "I'm going to be covering a few of Dr. McCoy's classes until they hire someone to replace him."
"You mean he's not coming back?" called someone from the middle of the room.
Peter groaned inwardly. He thought the mass email Hank's students had gotten--the one saying that classes would resume Monday--had explained. "Uh, no, he isn't," he replied. "Now, you guys were supposed to have a review session Wednesday and a test Friday, right? I was thinking we could review tod--"
"What happened?" interrupted a girl with curly red hair. "Do you know?"
"Did he get fired?" a guy with a fauxhawk and leather jacket asked. "I mean, dude, that's--"
"Is he sick?"
"He didn't die, did he?"
It took every bit of self-control Peter had to keep his poker face on. "I--um."
Then a familiar-looking girl in the front row raised her hand, but she might as well have been throwing him a life preserver. Peter pointed to her a little more enthusiastically than was probably necessary. "Yes! Do you have something you'd like to review, Miss…?"
"Rao. Kavita Rao." She pushed her glasses up and seemed to hesitate for a second before she continued. "And sorry, this isn't a review question. I heard over the weekend that Dr. McCoy left because he--because he's a mutant," she said, almost whispering. Her dark eyes were huge as she studied Peters face. "Do you know if it's true?"
Poker face. Poker face, poker face, poker face. Poker. Face.
It was almost funny. In all the time he'd been Spider-Man, Peter had never once had to flat-out lie about it. He had never said, 'No. I'm not Spider-Man.' And it was funny that lying about this stuff--outright lying, not just lying by omission, or lying to make excuses--was turning out to be just as hard as telling the truth.
The whole room seemed to be on pause, waiting for Peter's response. He exhaled, then slowly shook his head and tried to look surprised and skeptical. "Well, I haven't heard that rumor," he said, "but I bet that's all it is--a rumor. I'm pretty sure Dr. McCoy is not a mutant." He forced a smile. "I mean, come on. Dr. McCoy probably gave somebody a bad grade, and the next thing you know, ooh, he's a mutant!"
Somebody laughed, and a bunch of the students were nodding, giving him relieved smiles. And that should have made Peter feel great. They'd bought it, right? Hank's secret was safe, and Peter Parker could lie convincingly when he had to. For some reason, though, he felt worse than before. Maybe it was the way that girl, Kavita, had looked when she asked--like she'd heard a rumor Hank had AIDS, or terminal cancer.
Maybe it was because so many of them looked relieved. Peter couldn't tell if they were happy for Hank because he wasn't a mutant, or if they were glad that they hadn't been in the same room with a mutant, or what. Come to think of it, he wasn't sure which of those would be worse.
The 'why' didn't matter, though. Peter knew what he had to do. Very deliberately, he set the review sheet Hank had given him on the podium. Then he got the stool some of the professors kept in the corner in case they wanted to sit and put it right in front of the students. Perched on it and looked around the room.
The closet was Hank's, but this, right now, this very great responsibility, was Peter's alone.
"Close your books, guys," he announced. "We'll review on Wednesday. This morning, I think there's something else we should discuss. Let's talk about mutations."
A couple of people looked like he'd just suggested colonizing Mars, or something, so Peter hurried to explain. "Dr. McCoy may not be a mutant, but what about people who are?" he asked. "I mean, for all you know, I could be. Maybe some of you are."
"Dude, I saw a mutant, once. You can tell," said Fauxhawk.
"Can you?" Peter asked. "Are you sure? And even if you could tell--like, if we had somebody with a tail here at school--does that give us the right to treat them differently? To discriminate?"
"Of course not!" Kavita exclaimed, sounding shocked. She didn't bother to raise her hand, this time. "They can't help it."
"Actually," said a blond guy slouched in the back row, "I wouldn't care if mutants went here. It's a free country, right?"
"Yeah, but would you want to room with one?" somebody else asked.
"Not if they were dangerous," said the red-haired girl. "But--"
Peter tried not to smile as the room became more alive than he'd ever seen an eight o'clock class be, before. Even if he didn't agree with all--or even most--of their views, at least the kids were talking about this stuff, and thinking about it. And if they felt comfortable talking about mutants with Peter Parker, regular guy, just one of them…well, maybe that was okay.
At ten 'til nine, everyone was still so into it that he actually had to clap his hands and yell to tell them class was over. That was pretty cool.
Peter gathered his stuff in a hurry after the students had all filed out, getting ready to make a run for his anatomy and physiology class. He paused, though, when he saw that a folded scrap of notebook paper had been slipped under the review sheet on the podium. He opened it.
'ONE OF US IS,' was written on it in tiny, precise capital letters. 'THANK YOU.'
And that? That was awesome.
--- the end ---
Thank you so much for reading! I hope you've enjoyed it. <3