[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/oQJAsoY.png?1[/img][/center]

I definitely don't have the passion for the show tonight. My drumming is fine, I'm too good at it for it to be otherwise. Sorry, I know that comes off as conceited, but I'm a damn good drummer. Before the whole superpower thing came along, this is what I was best at. This is what defined me. Sure I'm smart. Sure I'm probably better-than average in the looks department. But here behind a snare I am truly at home.

Not so much at home when I'm wearing this damn Elf costume though. I look like Buddy the Elf's emo younger sister. I can't take it, even if MJ swears this is the last time she'll make us wear costumes.

It probably says something about me that I willingly dress up as a spider and jump around the city, but when my friend asks me to do it for our band I rebel against it. Maybe Dad is right. Maybe I really do have too much of an issue with authority.

Playing at a consistent venue has been nice, though. The place pays us decently enough, and the acoustics aren't terrible for an old Queens bar. A soft yellow light illuminates the inside, creating a homey feel when mixed with the Christmas sweaters that adorn the patrons.

So far no one's cat-called me here, which is a plus, especially considering the costumes. I feel like if we had gone with some of the
other places we were looking at, I would have broken a few hands by now. Bars willing to throw some cash at a girl, punk-slanted band
normally aren't going to be the most reputable places, so we really lucked out.

The set ends, we get a healthy amount of applause, MJ grabs the tips out of our bowl, and we head to the back to change.

"Good set, everyone," Glory smiles as she rips the elf hat off her head. She waves it at MJ, "Can I burn mine. Please let me burn mine."

Mary Jane merely crosses her arms and glares at her bandmate.

"Jeez," she puts her hands up, "it's just a joke. Relax, girl."

"Yea, MJ," Betty adds in. "Let's all remember the Christmas spirit."

"She's a mean one, Mrs. Grinch," I mumble under my breath and the other two laugh in a squeal.

"Do you have something to say?" our lead vocalist and my best friend shoots my way. "Because now would be the time to say it."

I look into her eyes, and realize she's felt as much tension the last few weeks that I have. Wearing my heart on my sleeve is a habitual problem. Maybe karate guy from tonight is right, I do need to do a better job of controlling my emotions. Or maybe I've just waited way too long to tell MJ how much of a witch she's been since Harry's Dad became the de facto mayor. Either way, this is coming to a head now, and I'm not going to be the one to back down.

"Maybe I do, yea," I rub my right arm with my left hand, showing how uncomfortable this is making me already. I don't want to like...friend breakup with Mary Jane. But I do need to tell her how shes making me feel like shit. "For the past few weeks you've been acting like this is your band. Like we're all here for you, and not to have fun and play our music. And outside of the band, ever since Harry's Dad got the big-"

She throws her hands up in the air, "I knew it! I knew you were jealous of how much Harry's been spoiling me since the Goblin line came out. Well I'm sorry, Gwen, but my boyfriend is rich and that's how he likes to treat me."

I recoil like I've been slapped, and Glory and Betty merely cover their mouths in shock.

"You think I'm jealous? Of money? Do you even know me?" I ask with my eyes narrowing at her. "I don't give two shits about how much money Harry spends on you. The MJ I know wouldn't either. That's why I'm pissed. Because my best friend is turning into a shallow trophy wife. You expect me to be okay with that? Well, newsflash, I'm not. So either cut this Kardashian bullshit or find another drummer."

She looks down at her feet and up to the ceiling, never making contact with my eyes. I don't know if she's pissed or embarrassed, but either way it's probably not good for me. I can feel the tension radiating off the other two girls standing next to me. There is no way this is going to end well.

"Well maybe we should find another drummer then," she says after an interminable pause.

I turn and leave, "Good."

[center]**********[/center]

[b]The Next Day[/b]

I flip the card the man gave me around in my hand, watching as it changes from the dragon emblem to the address and back again. I haven't decided if I'm going to track him down or not. Sure, he's offering to train me to fight better, something so many people have told me I definitely need. But he's also a rando guy who showed up on a rooftop and challenged me to a fight after mocking my inability to take down the Cat the other night. 

So let's just say I'm conflicted. Having the night I did last night with Mary Jane doesn't help things either.

"You say he offered you training?" Dad asks, the trepidation showing in his voice. He's been the one pushing me to get some training. He said it right after our run in with the Black Tarantula, and he's been on my case about it ever since. But even he probably can't see this as a good idea. Stranger danger and all that. "What was your read on him?"

All I can do is shrug, "Hard to get a read on him. He was calm. Didn't seem like he meant me any harm. And what he showed on that roof, he could have taken me down, more likely than not. But I'm not discounting that this could be a trap."

Dad slides the knot of his tie up to his throat, making sure it looks okay for the dinner we're headed to, "You want me to check the address out first? Do some scouting for you?"

I shake me head as I make sure my dress is laying okay, "No. I don't want someone spotting you and putting two and two together. I don't want anyone else to know who I really am under the mask."

"Good point," he admits. "You ready?"

"Yea, let's go."

[center]**********[/center]

"Hello! Welcome! I'm so glad you could come tonight," Aunt May welcomes us into the house, and Dad hands her a bottle of wine. I give her a big hug.

"We wouldn't miss it for the world, May," I smile and meet her gaze, full of vibrancy even at her age. Even after what happened with Ben, she's still the same, happy, loving woman she's always been. It's a miracle. It keeps me going. It also keeps me terrified of the day she finds out the truth. About how Ben is dead because of me.

"Yea, May, we wouldn't want to be anywhere else," Dad smiles broadly. "Something smells delicious."

"Typical," I roll my eyes.

"Can I take your coats?" Peter asks after he gives me a peck on the cheek. "And we're having turkey, Captain Stacy. Will all the trimmings."

Dad's eyes raise, "Just for the four of us? I can put away the food, May, but that's an awful lot."

"Well, it's not just the four of us," Pete says sheepishly. "MJ and her mom are coming too."

My eyes go wide as I glare at Pete, "Let me help you with the jackets, Peter."

He winces when I use his full name, knowing that it means I am definitely not happy with him right now. I'm sure May invited the Watsons, but I could have at least gotten some warning.

"I know, you think I should have given you some warning," he says as we drop the coats off in his bedroom. "But then you wouldn't have come. You need to be cool with her."

"I'll be cool with her when she stops acting like a-"

"None of that," he stops me. "Not tonight. Now come on. We'll have some cookies before dinner."

"Yea. That'll help me feel better."

[center]**********[/center]

"And I come around the corner, and there Ben is, balancing on the ladder like something out of a Bugs Bunny cartoon," Dad says between a forkfull of mashed potatoes. "And he looks down at me and says 'George...I seem to be in a bit of a pickle'. I swear I've never laughed so hard and was so scared at the same time."

Everyone around the table laughs, but it's the sad kind of laugh that people have when remembering someone who's passed. It's like a spasm of joy tinged with pain at the end, so you don't really know how to feel afterwards. Ben stories are the best. At least they were the best. Before he was taken from us that is. Now I just wish he was here to make more of them. 

MJ and I catch each others' glance fleetingly before looking away. We haven't really said a word to one another outside of our hellos. I don't think Pete's reconciliation is going to happen tonight. But at least we're not screaming at one another.

"Well, Ben always insisted on putting up the Christmas lights himself," May chuckles and takes a sip of wine. "Even Peter couldn't convince him to help."

"Nope, always told me that the lights were for me to enjoy, not to work on," Pete smiles sweetly at his plate. "I always did enjoy them."

"Always the best on the block," MJ adds. "Now if we put them up against Gwen's mom's designs? Then that would be a competition."

I look up and half-smile at Mary Jane, and she returns the gesture. Mom loved Christmas more than most. She always drew up some crazy display for Dad to put on the house every year.

"Yea, the two of them had quite the friendly rivalry," May nods. "Poor George always got the worst of it."

"I had to basically do two houses. One actually putting up the lights, and two making sure Ban didn't fall off a ladder,' Dad looks down and wipes away a tear, I'm not sure from sadness or the laughter. He picks up his glass, "To the people we lost too soon. Hopefully they're somewhere celebrating together."

"Here, here," May raises her glass as well.

[center]**********[/center]

As we get ready to leave after a wonderful Christmas Eve dinner, Mary Jane manages to corner me as I go to get the coats, "So are we going to talk about last night?"

"No," I respond, putting on my coat. "I"m sorry if I came off as harsh, but I mean it, MJ. You've changed."

"And you haven't?" she shoots back. "You've been aloof? You haven't been showing up for practice? Maybe I'm not the only one to be at fault."

"Yea, well, sometimes people have shit to deal with," I hiss. "And at least I haven't become a raging gold digger. Merry Christmas, MJ. I hope Harry got you something shiny. I'm sure that's what you're hoping for."

I regret the words immediately, but don't wait around to see their outcome. It is a low blow. It's something I would never consider saying to her. Not in a million years. But maybe I'm not in control of my emotions. Maybe it is time to talk to rooftop karate guy.

Dad and I say our goodbyes to May, Peter, and Mrs. Watson, and step back into the cold. I can tell Dad wants to ask about what's wrong, but instead he puts his arm around me and we walk home in silence.