Felicia said, ignoring the tension she'd created. "Basketball tryouts. Are you any good?"
"I can hold my own."
"That's not what I asked. Can you win?"
"Depends on the competition."
"Always so measured in your answers."
Felicia leaned forward slightly. "Do you ever just say what you're actually thinking?"
"Not usually. Thinking before speaking prevents mistakes."
"Also prevents fun," Felicia countered. "But I suppose that's very you. Always in control. Always calculated."
MJ interrupted. "How would you know what's 'very Peter'? You've been here like two weeks."
"I'm observant," Felicia said smoothly. "I pay attention. You'd be surprised what you can learn about someone if you actually watch them."
"That sounds kind of creepy," Gwen said.
"It's called being perceptive," Felicia corrected. She never looked away from Peter. "Some of us have to work harder to understand people. We don't have the luxury of childhood friendships to give us shortcuts."
The barb was aimed at MJ. Everyone at the table caught it.
Peter decided to intervene before this escalated. "The tryouts are open to spectators. You're all welcome to come watch if you're interested."
"I'll be there," MJ said immediately.
"Me too," Gwen added.
"Wouldn't miss it," Felicia agreed.
Flash and Harry exchanged amused glances. Flash leaned over to Harry and whispered something. Harry grinned.
Peter, having known them for years, could guess what they were saying.
Flash: "Dude, three hot girls fighting over Parker. When did he become the main character?"
Harry: "Since he got rich and smart and apparently good at sports now too. Life's not fair, man."
Peter suppressed a smile. His friends had no idea how much harder his life actually was. The responsibilities. The secrets.
The weight of knowledge about future threats.
But he appreciated the normalcy of this moment. Sitting with friends. Dealing with teenage relationship drama. It was almost peaceful.
---
Wednesday afternoon. The gymnasium filled with students. Basketball tryouts were a big deal at Midtown.
The team had a good record and the games drew crowds.
Peter changed into athletic clothes in the locker room. Flash and Harry were already there, going through warm-up stretches.
"Nervous?" Harry asked.
"Should I be?" Peter replied.
"Coach is brutal. He cuts most people who try out. Only takes the best."
"Then I'll have to be the best," Peter said simply.
Flash laughed. "Confidence. I like it. Let's see if you can back it up."
They walked out onto the court. About thirty students had shown up for tryouts. The bleachers were filling with spectators.
Peter spotted MJ, Gwen, and Felicia sitting together. Not exactly together-together.
They'd left strategic spaces between them. But all three were watching the court intently.
Coach Wilson was a stocky man in his fifties. Former college player. He blew his whistle.
"Alright, listen up. We're going to start with basic drills. Dribbling. Passing. Shooting. I want to see your fundamentals. Then we'll do some scrimmages. Anyone who can't keep up gets cut immediately. No second chances. Let's go."
The drills began. Peter moved through them with fluid ease. His physique, which had been honed over years of disciplined training in his temporal dimension, made everything natural.
Dribbling felt like the ball was attached to his hand. His passes were precise. His shots went in with mechanical consistency.
But he held back deliberately.
Missed one out of every five shots. Made his movements look slightly more human. He was good. Very good. But not impossibly good.
Flash was genuinely talented. He'd been playing for years. Harry was decent. A solid player who worked hard. But Peter could see both of them straining to keep up with the drills.
After an hour, Coach Wilson divided them into teams for scrimmage games. Peter ended up guarding a senior named Jake Martinez.
Jake had been on varsity for two years. One of the team's best players.
"Nothing personal, junior," Jake said as they squared up. "But I'm going to make you look silly."
"You can try," Peter said calmly.
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