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Before fall term started, Ned and MJ had agreed that they'd try to find at least one club they both wanted to join. MJ jumped in and joined a bunch right away— the LGBTQ+ Alliance, MIT Free Culture, the Black Students' Union, Blip Returnees Support, MIT Divest, the Climate Action Team— and only quit about half. Ned had a lot on his plate, so the only student group he joined right away was the Assassin's Guild, which didn't interest MJ at all.
"I don't get it, I guess," she said. "You just run around and shoot each other with Nerf guns?"
"It's tactical!" Ned protested. "It requires strategy. Dodging ambushes, thinking on your feet— it tests a lot of different skill sets, okay?"
"Okay!" MJ said, holding up her hands. "Have fun, John Wick."
"I will!" Ned said, and he did. Then he had to quit after two and a half weeks— not because he wasn't good at it, but because his powers made it too easy to unintentionally cheat. Like, if he was running late to Calculus and opened up a portal so he could get there on time, it kind of ruined the game for whatever Guild member had been lying in wait for him along the way.
Yes. Ned was a sorcerer now. Sort of.
It happened like this: Ned had been walking through Greenwich Village on his way to a Kickstarter launch party at a board game shop. A strange feeling had swept over him, and he'd found himself in front of a set of blue doors, ringing the doorbell without knowing why. A white man in expensive deep blue jeans and a gray hoodie answered the door. Other people, if asked to point out a notable feature, might have mentioned the extremely specific facial hair, the high cheekbones, the defined gray at his temples. Ned, however, immediately stared straight into the third eye in the middle of his forehead.
"Salamangkero!" he said under his breath.
The man squinted with all three eyes, then made the third eye vanish with a blink. "You're not DoorDash."
"What's this place? Are you a wizard?" Ned tried to peek past his shoulder.
"Sorcerer, not wizard. Are you lost, or did you get a cryptic message directly from the universe that brought you here, now, at this exact moment in time?" It seemed like a serious question. Ned considered his answer thoughtfully.
"I guess it was sort of a Zen Buddhist what-was-your-face-before-you-were-born vibe but actually like, really sad? What's that word for when everything is awful and you're homesick for a place you've never been?"
"The kids these days have Weltschmerz...?" the guy said, raising an eyebrow.
That question didn't seem serious. Ned answered it anyway. "Me and my best friend and half of everyone we know got Blipped. We're dealing with a lot of stuff, you know? Existential metaphysics got real big on Tumblr while we were away."
The guy turned out to be the head of the New York Sanctum, and he wanted Ned to go to a compound in Tibet to study for a couple of years. Apparently learning sorcery required complete focus, free from the distractions of everyday life. When Ned told MJ this she looked at him and said, "That's exactly what a cult would say, by the way."
His parents weren't crazy about the idea either. They weren't anti-sorcery, exactly— they just wanted him to finish college first. "You can do sorcery as a post-grad, can't you?" his dad suggested. "Please, Ned, try to keep one foot in the real world," his mom pleaded, which was pretty much the same thing she'd been saying his whole life, even before he had magic powers.
So Ned went to MIT. Dr. Strange assigned him a sorcery tutor and gave him a lightly lojacked sling ring with a two hundred and fifty mile radius, and he basically did sorcerer prep school at the New York Sanctum on weekends and any block of time during the week that he didn't have classes or labs or homework. The whole experience was surreal, but MIT was also surreal; life in general was surreal. What had the Blip been if not proof that there was more to the universe than science could explain?
Of course Ned's first impulse, knowing that he had powers, was to go full superhero. His tutor shot down that idea. "Sorcery is a tool to protect reality," she said. "We must not intervene in the natural process of cause and effect."
Two days later, though, he'd overheard Strange archly teasing her about using an Amulet of Finding to track a stolen Amazon package. There were also rumors that the Sorcerer Supreme used his powers to compete in a high-end international fight club. The Sorcerer Supreme before that had apparently been slightly shady in a way that no one really wanted to get into, but one thing Ned knew was that she'd taken out a bunch of Chitauri during the invasion of New York. That meant there was a loophole, right? All Ned had to do was figure it out. Was it fine for the Ancient One to fight the Chitauri because she'd been protecting the Sanctum, or because the Chitauri portal had been mildly sorcerous and it was okay to use sorcery to fight sorcery, or—
"Ned," MJ finally broke in, interrupting one of his rants. "If you could actually use magic to change the status quo, they wouldn't let you have it."
"Sorcery, not magic. And I don't think that's true," Ned said. He looked down at his Biology study notes and sighed. "I just have to find the right way. How'd you like to be my woman in the chair?"
"Woman in the chair?"
"Yeah! Lois Lane to my Superman, Oracle to my Batman, M to my James Bond—"
"Damsel in distress," MJ said flatly. "Sidelined. Fridged." That was a lot of BS. Nobody thought Lois Lane was a damsel in distress. Ned set that aside for now.
"Okay, don't help me. You don't have to. It's no big deal. Who cares about suffering and injustice? That's all someone else's problem, right?"
MJ pulled out her phone. "I'm sending you a link to a Rebecca Solnit essay about how lone hero narratives are toxic."
"You sent it to me last week, remember? It's really good, but I think she's wrong about the ending of the Hunger Games. I think it's supposed to be, like, subversively dark and sad. Anyway, I'm not trying to be a lone hero. I know I'm not gonna defeat racism or world hunger by blasting them with an energy beam. But there's got to be something I can do."
"I'm telling you, they'll shut you down," MJ said. But Ned could tell from the way that she was tapping her pen against her notes that she was starting to consider it. "Well... let's start with this. You study your magic, and I'll do some research and try to figure out how to use it."
"Deal," Ned said.
MJ put it off for a while, focusing on her classes, but fall term ended in early December and spring term didn't start till February. MJ had thought maybe they'd take Ned's sling ring away while he was back in NYC with his family, but no one mentioned it, so now she really had no excuse.
Ned and MJ already used a open-source encrypted messaging app to text each other. MJ couldn't quite remember why she'd insisted on it— she remembered helping Ned download it, and showing him how to set it up on his phone, sometime around their trip to Europe. She remembered lecturing him about government surveillance and advising him to get a VPN on his phone "just in case," though she couldn't remember exactly what had prompted her sudden concern. Something she'd read, maybe?
They talked about setting up some kind of tip line, an anonymous email they could check, but how could they sort through a thousand emails a day and turn down nine-hundred and ninety-five of them? MJ figured that was a recipe for burnout right from the start. Everything seemed too big to get a grasp on. She didn't know what to do.
A lot of the ideas she'd brainstormed would need more infrastructure than she and Ned could really build on their own. Disaster relief. Getting protesters or environmental activists past police roadblocks. Sneaking cameras and recording devices into secret meetings, things like that. But no one would take two kids seriously if they just showed up and said "We can do portals!" —and even if they did, it wouldn't be great to make a lot of big promises and then let everybody down— what if they got halfway through some huge project where everyone was depending on them, and then the magic cops showed up and threw Ned in magic jail? No. They were going to have to keep things very small, very local.
"Friendly neighborhood sorcerer, perfect!" Ned said when MJ explained it, and MJ didn't know why, but the sound of it made her heart hurt. As much as she wanted to make big moves, something in her froze in fear, thinking about it— how Ned's life could be ruined if he became a public figure, how his family could be harassed or targeted. Sometimes she felt like a coward, holding Ned back, but you had to put your own oxygen mask on first, didn't you? Everybody said that. And when MJ thought about her best friend being plastered on the front page of some tabloid, targeted by talking heads who would call him dangerous, some kind of Satanist or occult terrorist, just to drive clicks to their websites— sometimes it almost felt like she couldn't breathe.
One day in early January she was on the A train, heading up to Central Park, thinking hard, when someone said "Michelle!"
MJ almost didn't respond, and then she recognized Sasha, her former co-worker from the donut shop. Without a word, she scooted her bag aside, making room for Sasha to set down two heavy bags of groceries and then plop onto the seat beside her.
MJ hadn't been fond of Sasha as a co-worker. She was overly chatty and prone to over-sharing, and worse, she had a habit of disappearing when asked to do anything annoying. MJ didn't care about efficiency or productivity in the capitalist sense, and she wasn't going to judge anyone for slacking on a minimum wage job, but it was frustrating to always be the one who had to clean up the sticky spills.
That said, Sasha hadn't been all bad. She was genuinely nice to the elderly regulars who came in and spent hours nursing a single cup of coffee. Sasha and MJ's manager had constantly muttered about them "taking up space," but Sasha had always treated them well, even sneaking them refills when no one was looking. "Oh, hey!" MJ said. "What's up!"
"You look good!" Sasha said. "You went off to college, right? Is it winter break? How's that going?"
"Yeah, it's going good," MJ said. "How about you?" she asked automatically, then braced herself.
"Oh," Sasha said, and sighed. "Oh, gosh, it's just really hard... My nana has a rent-controlled apartment and the owner is trying to force her out, it's just awful. She's literally scared to leave. Apparently her neighbors have let in building maintenance and then they wreck the kitchens or the bathrooms so the place is unlivable... plus she's got cats and he keeps telling her to make sure she doesn't 'accidentally' leave a window open, because they might 'escape...' And now she's got this cough and she won't even let me take her to the doctor..."
"Oh my god!" MJ said, her throat tightening. Since the Blip it was harder than ever to find dependable housing, and the thought of an elderly woman being bullied out of her home because the building owner thought he could make more money off her unit— it was horrible. "Are you going there now?" she said, and Sasha nodded. "Do you want— maybe I could help carry a bag?"
On the way, she slipped out her phone. One-handed, she texted Ned.
Ned popped right over with the power of portals and met them a block from Sasha's grandma's apartment. Sasha remembered Ned from the donut shop, but she did seem a little confused about why MJ had texted him. Over a cup of coffee at a local shop, they tried to explain.
"Just— just go online and book any immediate care appointment. Anywhere in the city that has a slot today, I can get her there. And MJ can do some research on tenants' rights organizations and we can maybe make a stop there too, if she's feeling up to it."
"I'm sorry, I don't understand." Sasha said, glancing between Ned and MJ. "She won't leave her apartment."
"That's not going to be a problem," Ned said, leaning across the table. "I have a particular set of skills."
Two hours later, MJ was getting pretty bored. She'd spent some time making noise, opening and shutting cupboards in the kitchen, turning on the water in the sink and turning it off again, and now she was watching infomercials and daytime TV, flipping channels occasionally.
First they'd had to show Sasha how the portals worked, and then Sasha had gone upstairs and texted them when she was ready and they'd portaled directly there. Sasha's grandma Mrs. Kowalczyk had been thrilled at the idea that she could go out without her landlord knowing, but she still didn't want to leave her apartment completely empty. MJ had stayed to look after the cats, who'd both run off to hide under Mrs. Kowalczyk's bed as soon as she'd left. MJ figured the best thing to do was respect their boundaries. She moved to a chair by the window and flopped down into it, the chair legs squeaking against the worn wooden floor. Outside in the hallway, she heard the elevator ding and frowned suspiciously, standing up again. Hadn't Sasha said that there was no one else still living on this floor?
She froze as footsteps approached the door. Somebody knocked. "Mrs. K? Hi, I'm one of your downstairs neighbors?" someone said. "There was a package for you in the lobby. I thought maybe I should bring it up?"
MJ's first instinct was to ignore the voice, but the floorboards creaked suddenly as she shifted her weight.
"Mrs. Kowalczyk?" the guy said, and he knocked again, this time more insistently. "Is everything all right?"
MJ slid her feet across the floor, moving as quietly as possible, and looked through the peephole carefully. There was a young white guy in a blue sweatshirt outside, glancing worriedly down the hallway. He did have a package clutched in his hands. He looked: boyish, clean-cut, nice. Then again, so had Ted Bundy.
"Mrs. K?" He frowned; there were worry lines on his face that made him look sad. "Do you need me to call someone?"
MJ swallowed. With a quick, deliberate motion, she opened the door a few inches, leaving the bolt fastened. The guy looked through the gap and his jaw dropped. MJ grabbed the package out of his hands, and it was easier than she thought it would be. She'd been planning to slam the door again, right away, but the way he looked— "I'm Sasha's friend," she blurted, unconvincing even to her own ears. "Thanks."
"Sasha...?" he said, in a voice that almost wasn't there.
"Yeah. Mrs. K's granddaughter. I'm a friend of hers." Hand on the doorknob, she wavered. "Are you okay?"
"No, yeah, I just, um... I've seen you somewhere before, maybe?"
"I don't think so," MJ said.
"Right..." He stared down at his hands, pressing one thumb into his palm and twisting, then looked up. "Wait, sorry, where's Mrs. Kowalczyk?"
"She's in the bathroom," MJ said, a brilliant lie, then flinched as a spark flew over her shoulder. A crackling ring of energy formed behind her, just in front of the doorway to the kitchen. The swirling orange light grew wider, and Ned stepped through the portal, followed by Sasha and Mrs. Kowalczyk, who was clutching a white prescription bag.
Thankfully Mrs. Kowalczyk didn't notice that MJ had opened the door to a stranger. She went straight into the bedroom, calling in a scratchy voice, "Babies, are you here? I'm home!"
Sasha was beaming. She gave Ned a big hug in front of the still-spinning portal. "Thank you so much!" she said, then turned to MJ. "Michelle, oh my god, I can't thank you enough."
"Uh, who's this?" Ned said, glancing past MJ at the open door.
"He brought this up," MJ said, showing Sasha the package.
"Wait, how..." The hallway guy was staring at the portal, which still led to the sidewalk outside a pharmacy in Brooklyn.
"Hm?" Ned said, sliding his hand behind his back. The portal vanished. "What's that?"
"You know magic?"
"Yeah, I'm kind of a superhero, don't worry about it. Thanks for bringing the mail!" Ned stared pointedly at MJ. She closed the door in the guy's face and leaned back against it. Her chest felt tight and she didn't know why.
"Is that okay?" Sasha lowered her voice, glancing at Ned. "I mean, that he saw you do that?" She made a circling motion in the air.
"I mean, what's he gonna do, tell someone your grandma knows a wizard?" Ned said, brushing it off. "Seriously, don't worry about it. We're headed back to school in a few weeks. He'll never see us again."
"Peter!" MJ whispered, then pressed her hand to the side of her forehead.
"What?" Ned said.
"I do know that guy. He came by the donut shop one time," MJ said, turning to look at the door again. "It just came to me. His name's Peter."
Peter still had Ned and MJ's email addresses in his phone.
I know who you are, he typed in the subject line. I can help you. Let me help. He attached a picture of the old AcaDec team he'd saved from an old school newsletter, from before the Blip. From before he joined, so he wasn't in the picture. Liz had looked really nice in it. Ned was grinning. MJ was slouching, half-hidden, not looking at the camera. Beautiful.
It only took an hour to get a response. Donut shop 8pm
When he showed up, MJ and Ned were waiting. MJ was leaning against the wall in a big puffy coat, her hair in a bun, scowling. Even more beautiful. Ned had his hands hidden in the pockets of his hoodie, eyes narrow and suspicious as a gunslinger.
My name is Peter Parker, and you don't know me— he thought for the ten thousandth time.
"Hey, stalker," MJ called out before Peter could speak. "How'd you find us?"
"I was in AcaDec," Peter said.
"We competed against you?" Ned squinted curiously.
"I was just an alternate, so... you probably don't remember me. I remembered you." If Peter told them the truth right away, they'd think he was insane, or even more of a stalker because of all the things he knew about them. He could at least try to lie as little as possible.
Ned nodded. "I should say now, if you're looking for someone to give you magic powers or bring somebody back from the dead or something, that's not actually how it works. Sorry."
"Yeah, no, um..." He took a breath. "So, I freelance for the Daily Bugle."
"Ew," Ned said.
"We don't want publicity," MJ said, suddenly furious, pushing herself away from the wall. "Is that what this is? You want to do a story on us? No. No way."
"No! No, I would never," Peter said, holding up his hands. "And I know. The Bugle is awful. But I gotta live, you know?"
"Still gross," MJ said. "J. Jonah Jameson is a blight on public discourse."
"Well..." Peter's heart thumped painfully in his chest. "I mostly take pictures of Spider-Man."
"Is that supposed to impress me?" MJ asked, lifting her chin. At the same time, Ned said, "Spider-Man!? Oh my god, that's so cool!"
Peter smiled at MJ. "No, it's not that impressive," he agreed. "Anyone can take a selfie."
"What? No way!" Ned said. "Dude!"
MJ just made a weird face, then a processing face, then cocked her head at him and squinted. "Really?"
Peter crossed his arms and grabbed his sweatshirt by the hem. He raised his hands quickly and showed them the spider-emblem, then pulled his shirt down again.
"A stalker and a flasher," MJ said. But she'd almost smiled. A flash of delight. Peter had seen it in her eyes.
"Dude," Ned repeated, then lowered his voice. "Are you really Spider-Man?"
Peter shrugged. "Want me to do a flip?"
"Nah," Ned said. "Web something?"
Peter looked around. There was some crumpled wax paper from the donut shop on the ground. He shot a thin strand of web at it, yanking it into his hand. He crumpled it up— god, he hoped that was chocolate— and tossed it into the garbage can on the corner, then rubbed his hands together nervously.
"Huh," MJ said. "You know, this is sort of funny because I always thought... I always wondered if maybe Spider-Man went to our high school. Because..." She looked away, frowning. Reality wouldn't let her remember. "I don't know. He was around. You were around. So I guess I was right that you weren't, like, a full grown up Spider-Adult-Man. You were our age."
"I really liked... I liked somebody who went to Midtown," Peter managed to say.
"Ah, that makes sense," Ned said, nodding. "Was she in AcaDec? Or he, I guess?"
"That's not really important," MJ said, shushing him.
"The thing is, you were right. I was just a kid." Peter swallowed hard. "And I wouldn't have gotten through it, I never would have made it, if people didn't help me. So I'd just like to, maybe... pay some of that back. If I can."
He waited. Finally MJ uncrossed her arms, brushing a wisp of hair back off her face. "So listen. We're not the Avengers," she said. "We don't do media tours. There's no merch. There's no secret headquarters. We don't have a cool secret handshake. This was honestly sort of our first, uh... We're new at this."
"You don't have a cool secret handshake?" Peter raised his eyebrows.
"We do have a secret handshake," Ned admitted.
"But it's not that cool."
"And we had it from before."
"I think that's awesome, " Peter said. He couldn't suppress a smile as MJ continued to appraise him. "Listen, I— I just think we could all help each other. If you guys are into that. If that's what you want." He waited.
MJ pulled out her phone. "I'm sending you a link to an essay about how real progress relies on communities and consensus, not big shiny heroes swooping in to save the day."
"I think I read that, actually," Peter said, wide-eyed. "The Great Man theory of history and all?"
"Oh yeah?" MJ raised her eyebrows. "The Rebecca Solnit—"
"Rebecca Solnit, yeah. I mean, one thing is, I think she got Tony Stark all wrong," Peter said, frowning. "He wasn't trying to be a lone hero, he built teams! He tried, anyway. And he really helped me when I needed it. He was one of those people who understood that you couldn't ever do it alone."
"Hm," MJ said finally. She looked at Ned. Ned looked at her. "Okay, Spider-Boy, I guess you're in."
"Yeah?" Peter's heart leaped.
"I mean, don't make a big deal out of it, we're not like an exclusive club. We're just trying to get some collective action going."
“Yeah, I got it," Peter said. "Thanks for— thanks for having me. Thank you."
"Sure," MJ said. She stuck out her hand. Peter shook it solemnly.
"I'm so psyched about this," Ned said. He glanced over his shoulder, into the donut shop. "You want to go in and sit down? I think we have free donuts here for life."
"Yeah," Peter said. "Yeah, that would be— I'd like that. Yeah."
Ned held the door open. The bell jangled as the three of them went into the donut shop together.