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CHAPTER TWO
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THE FIRST
ONE TO STAY

THE SUN HAD BARELY RISEN.

It was still peeking it's bright head behind the horizon, casting a soft hue across the lower half of the towering city which was, surprisingly, not quite awake, save for the birds and unfortunate few.

It was in a deli, low to the ground and partly illuminated by the sun, that some of the unfortunate few were standing in, hauling boxes from a delivery truck and adjusting the items on white racks.

Barbie Delmar, daughter of Mr. Delmar of Delmar's Deli, the best sandwiches in Queens, was the unfortunate soul tasked with getting everything ready. After the last incident, she wasn't allowed to help with the unloading and was exiled to the inside of the store.

"Papa," she called out past her shoulder, "Do I put the sale sign on today?"

"Sorry, Barbie, he is still out back, but, yes," one of his employees, whom Barbie referred to as Uncle Frankie, called back, carrying in a crate of sodas.

"Thanks," she said, picking up the sign written with neon pink marker and hooking it onto the wire bar, trying to make it as straight as possible.

It was a month before school was to start and all she wanted to do was hang out with her friends, the daughter and niece of the owner of Sub Haven, their rival business, but instead she was forced to help her father run the place. She had no problem being useful, but she needed a break.

She especially didn't want to be tutored during her incarceration.

"What time is Patrick getting here?" she grumbled under her breath.

Uncle Frankie chortled under his breath. "You mean Peter? You should be nicer to the person trying to help you pass school."

She huffed. "Any boy who thinks he's smart enough to teach has no idea what he's talking about. I don't need some snobby kid from Midtown High telling me what I know."

"Barbie," a new voice called out, stepping inside, "You be nice to him. He charges well and has been nothing but patient to you."

She turned to glare at her father who was walking into the store as if he owned the place—and he did. He was replenishing the bread and vegetables, shaking his head at his daughter.

She threw up her arms. "He hasn't even started yet, how can you possibly know that?"

He laughed with Uncle Frankie. "Because you have been nothing but cruel to him since the first day he came in here. It's a wonder why he keeps coming back."

"Best sandwiches in Queens," she mocked, raising her voice a few octaves.

"Hey," her father said sharply, "I might not be some fancy doctor, but this is honest work, I'd appreciate your support."

She ducked her head, biting her lip. She knew how hard her father worked to make a living, to support her and her mother, though the latter no longer needed any tangible support. Her father's story was one of hard work, pain, and deserved triumph.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled, turning back to her shelving.

He sighed and leaned against the counter, smiling at her sadly. "You are just like your mother. She could always pick a fight in an empty room."

She frowned, making a face. "Why'd you marry her, then?"

He laughed and looked at Uncle Frankie who smiled sadly. "Because she was a wonderful woman and I loved her."

Barbie smirked. "Even though she criticized your sandwiches."

He laughed a deep belly laugh. "She is the reason they are so good! If she didn't hate them, I wouldn't have perfected them. Barbie, one day you will find a man who will lasso the sun to please you."

"Or woman," she mumbled under her breath. Raising her voice, she said, "I don't need a man to do anything for me, I'll lasso it myself."

He laughed. "I know you can. But you should just take a step back and see what he will do. If he doesn't even bother, then don't bother with him."

Uncle Frankie spoke up, "Listen to your father. Believe me, you shouldn't waste your time with teenage boys. Wait until you're older."

She decided not to comment on his advice and instead grabbed a soda from the crate and moved towards another section and began shelving, opening it and reveling in the cold sting as it travelled down her throat.

"You gotta pay for that," her father called out.

She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "Family discount!"

He waved her away, telling her to continue shelving goods and to hope that Peter isn't as cruel of a tutor as he should be.

She snorted and continued her work, trying to think of anything except the upcoming school year. She just wanted to get away.

º º º

Barbie yawned as she lounged on the chair next to the counter, browsing through her Instagram feed. She sighed as she looked at all of her classmates who were having fun either around the city or somewhere else on vacation.

"What time did he say he was gonna show up?" Barbie asked, not looking up from her phone.

"Ten minutes ago," her father replied, his tone much less impatient that her own.

She groaned loudly, catching the attention of some of the customers to whom she gave an apologetic smile. The minute they looked away, her smile turned into a scowl and she turned to look at the door, waiting for the boy to show up.

He didn't show up for another ten minutes and by then Barbie had fully prepared a list of scathing comments she could use when he finally showed up.

"I'm sorry I'm late, Mr. Delmar," a voice called out, breathless and nearing the door.

"It's no problem, Mr. Parker," her father said, "Stuff happens, I get it. How're you doing?"

"Good, how are you?" the boy asked, looking around the store, eyes falling on Barbie who was glaring daggers from her seat. "H-hi, Barbie."

"You're late, Parker," she replied, tone flat. Her father cleared his throat loudly and she sighed. "Hello, Parker, how are you today?"

"G-good," he stuttered, "Um, d-do you wanna get started? With the studying, I mean." He adjusted the straps of his backpack which no doubt held his books.

She sighed. "I don't have a choice, so yeah. Come on, let's go to the back."

She stood up and stalked towards the back room, sharing a look with Uncle Frankie. He gave her a thumbs up and she made a face, wanting to let him know that she was not happy with any aspect of the situation.

"You want a sandwich, boss?" Uncle Frankie asked as he passed Peter.

"Oh, uh, yeah! Um, number five with pickles and can you smoosh it down real flat?"

"Sure, boss, I'll bring it around," the man replied, getting to work making the boy's order.

"Thank you!" Peter called out, running after Barbie who had already disappeared into the room.

"Listen, Parker," she said, leaning against the card table her father had set up for them, "I don't wanna be here and I know you probably have some nerdy science exhibit you need to get to, so why don't we just pretend to study and you can sneak out the back in ten minutes. You'll still get your money."

Peter shook his head, something that surprised her greatly; he was normally so afraid of her he barely said a word, let alone disagree.

"No," he breathed, "I promised your dad I would help you get a head start and pass Algebra I Part II, so you can do Algebra II in the Fall, and that's what I'm gonna do."

She frowned. "Or you could just leave and do whatever it is you do in your free time."

He worried on his bottom lip, sighing. "I would love to. But I made a promise and I wanna help you."

She blinked. This kid was so weird. Ever since she met him, he's been that weird kid who wore sweaters even when it was hot out and liked watching documentaries. At least, she assumed he liked documentaries.

"You're a killjoy, Parker," she grumbled, sitting down. After a moment of letting him fidget under her gaze, she sighed. "But thank you. Now, are you gonna sit or are you just gonna stand there?"

He scrambled into his seat wordlessly, taking off his backpack and pulling out his Algebra textbook and a notebook. She was surprised to find that, although he must have already used it, it wasn't brand new, but used and worn-out.

"You're doing an online course?" he asked to which she nodded and pulled out the hand-me-down laptop she received from her cousin on her mother's side.

"Nice," he commented, tapping the familiar Apple logo.

She pursed her lips. "My cousin had this for a year before he got a better one. He was ready to just throw this in the trash."

Peter's eyes widened. "Wow. That is...really gross."

Barbie smiled as she turned it on. So she and Peter could agree on that.

The two sat in silence as the laptop turned on and Barbie logged onto the online course, grumbling to herself at times whenever it took too long or told her she had put the login wrong.

Peter snickered at one point and she snapped her head to glare at him, so fierce that he immediately looked down at his hands, mumbling apologies.

"Listen, Parker," she sighed, pushing the laptop towards him, "I did good on Part I, but I got a D in Part II, I'm not stupid."

"I didn't say you were," he replied evenly, lowering his voice as he added, "'And it's, um, well."

She frowned. "What?"

He shrugged. "You said you did good, it's actually 'you did well'...proper grammar."

She frowned. "Are all you Midtown kids this snobby?"

He looked at her, his jaw set. "I'm on scholarship, so whatever you think I am, I'm not. I got in because I'm smart, I'm not a snob."

Barbie felt a pang of guilt, but immediately tapped it down; she wasn't about to let her guard down and apologize.

"Whatever you say," she said, pointedly not looking at him.

He sighed and scrolled through her course, mumbling to himself. It seemed that he had that habit as well.

"Here," he said, motioning to the lesson, "Do you want me to explain it to you or just help you do the questions?"

"What's it on?" she asked, scanning the lesson though the words instantly blurred together.

"Perpendiculars," he replied, already opening his notebook, "I'll teach the lesson with examples, then you can do the homework and ask me questions then, okay?"

She scowled; it was a good plan. "Fine. Whatever."

Peter nodded and pulled the laptop towards him, going over the lesson, even opening his textbook to verify that he would teach it correctly, his notebook quickly filling with notes and examples.

She leaned back and closed her eyes, feeling herself growing more and more sleepy with every number that didn't make sense to her. This happened more than she would like and the last thing she wanted was to explain her situation to someone who would just assume she was being lazy.

"Hey, boss, forgot you were back here," Uncle Frankie said, handing Peter a plastic bag.

"No worries," Peter replied, taking it from him and pulling the sandwich out from the bag.

Barbie silently tried to plead with the man, begging for him to get her out of the situation. He merely smiled and walked out, not saying a word. She scowled at his back, hoping that he tripped over the soda crate. At the sound of a muffled groan, she smiled; the store was like another mother, it looked out for her.

"So," Peter said around a mouthful of sandwich, "Here, I've set up some example problems for you that are a bit easier than the homework, then we'll work on that?"

"Sure," she grumbled, forcefully pulling the notebook towards her, wincing as the sharp corner hit her chest. She was too short for this table.

"Are you okay?" Peter asked, his hand near her stomach, as if knowing she was going to hit it and wanting to stop her, but wasn't fast enough.

"Yeah," she said, moving his hand away and picking up her pencil, beginning to answer the questions.

As she worked, she was hyper aware of how Peter merely sat there, continuing to eat his sandwich as she worked on the problems. She scowled at his ability to eat slowly, something that she was constantly teased about by some of her friends at school.

The thought made her stop and she merely gripped her pencil and stared at it. She stared at the yellow wood, remembering how some kids at school used to ask why she never used any of the mechanical ones that they all did and how she had to explain that she didn't need to have her dad spend extra for something that dumb, even though she wanted it so badly.

She didn't realize that she had closed her eyes until she felt a light touch on her arm that might as well have been a burning iron.

"What?" she snapped, harsher than she intended.

"Sorry," Peter said, recoiling. After a moment, he quietly asked, "Are you alright?"

She sniffed softly before nodding, brushing back her hair. "Yeah, I'm fine. Whatever."

She continued to work, trying to ignore Peter and focus on the problems, but only succeeding in not being able to focus on anything. After a few more minutes of fruitless trial and error, she threw the notebook across the table, jumping up from her seat and kicking it.

She was so worked up that she failed to notice Peter who had caught both before they hit the floor.

"Hey," he said, standing, "Calm down, it's okay."

She shook her head and glared at him, causing him to take a step back, the fire in her eyes so bright and so deadly that it scared him, yet brought him to his knees in awe. Fire that bright was both mesmerizing and dangerous.

Barbie just glared at him. She wanted nothing more than to rip her gaze away or shout at him that she just couldn't understand but that it didn't make her stupid, but she couldn't. She couldn't because if she did that would mean she'd given up, she was weak.

She had promised her mother, she wouldn't ever let that happened.

So, with a deep breath and a sigh, she sat back down and took the chair and notebook from his hands, sitting down and continuing to labor over the problems. As she did, the teen boy just stood there, hands still up, staring at the spot where she had just been standing.

He sat and stared as she worked, unsure of what to do. Her outburst had been short, but fierce and he couldn't help but wonder if her father was aware of her temper. Maybe it was why they had chosen to hire him as a tutor, everyone else already knew to stay away.

After a few agonizing minutes, Barbie shoved the notebook towards Peter who caught it immediately. She crossed her arms and stared him down, her chin raising challengingly.

Peter bent his head and went over the answers, circling ones that she got wrong and giving check marks to ones she answered right. She noticed that there were five circles out of the ten examples and she felt irritation build in her chest.

But she wasn't about to take it out on Peter. It wasn't his fault that she was stupid. That's the thing about math, it was impartial. You were either wrong or right, unless you decided to get deep.

She stared at him as he looked up at her, finished with his grading. He pushed it back, scooting closer to her. She watched him, unsure of what he would do. She didn't know what she was expecting, but it wasn't this.

"So, you went wrong here because you forgot to flip..."

She tuned him out, too shocked to focus. There wasn't any rude comment, any patronizing or fearful undeserved praise too excessive or otherwise, no soothing words. Just a simple return to topic, nothing more, nothing less.

"Barbie," he said, stopping to glance up at her, "You with me?"

"Sorry," she said before she could stop herself. Her eyes widened at the slip and she sighed, feeling a familiar copper taste in her mouth. She was never supposed to apologize.

"Here, let's run through it again, you wanna write it down while I go?" It wasn't so much of a question as a suggestive command, but it didn't make her want to fight back, so she complied, picking up her pencil and writing as he went.

By the time they finished up with the example problems and moved onto the actual work, Barbie had already given up. But every time she zoned out or dropped her head, Peter was there in half a second, nudging her awake and offering to buy her coffee or asking if she wanted to stand up and stretch for a few minutes.

Every time she said no. Barbie Delmar wasn't weak.

When she finally, finally, finished her homework and submitted it, she was ready to cry. She was tired and hadn't understood anything. At first, Peter tried to let her work on her own and ask him questions when she wanted, but he soon caught onto the fact that Barbie would never ask for help. So he worked each problem with her step-by-step, correcting her when she was wrong and giving her light praise when she was right.

What surprised her was that, not once, did he ever talk down or up to her. It was always even, always a simple, "You wanna stand up?" or "That actually goes over there." No questions where there didn't need to be, but no commands either.

She didn't see him out. She sat down on her chair and let him leave himself because, even if he was the best tutor she had, it didn't mean he was the best tutor period. It also didn't mean she had to be nice to him.

"Bye, Barbie," he said, just before the exiting the door to head to the front, "I'll schedule another session with your dad."

Those words shook her to the core. They surprised her so much that the words left before she could stop herself.

"You're gonna come back?"

He looked surprised at her question, his expression softening when he saw her own. It made her sick, but there was no pity behind it so there wasn't enough to irritate her. It was just a soft look.

"I made a promise," he replied easily. This was the most relaxed she had seen him around her. "Besides, this place has the best sandwiches in Queens. Might as well get a discount while I'm at it."

She scoffed, still in shock. "Was-was that a joke?"

He ducked his head. "You terrify me, but I have my moments."

With that, he was gone. He rounded the corner and walked out to the front, thanking Uncle Frankie for the sandwich, insisting that he pay even though Barbie's father said there was no problem, handing him the tutoring money, setting up another time for the kids to meet.

Barbie continued to sit at the table, staring at the cheap black plastic, her mind racing away from thoughts that continued to chase her, shouting for her to pay attention.

No one ever stuck around. No one ever spoke to her like she wasn't an idiot, like she couldn't rip them in half. No one ever stayed.

Peter Parker wasn't the best tutor nor was he the best anything. But he was the first to stick around. She had to give him that.

AUTHOR'S NOTE

Wow, this was a pretty awful chapter, like, I wish it went better, but I feel as though this is a good enough jumping off point, it'll get better, I promise.

Meet Barbie Delmar. She has so many reasons for being so prideful, so angry. This is the first character who was prideful, so unwilling to ask or accept help and I'm very excited to write her. I love her a lot and, yes, she's pretty mean, but she has her reasons. Please do not hate her.

Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed!