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Matt Kennon has his Regrets

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When May had found out he was Spider-man she’d been furious, but after “giving it a little thought,” as she put it, she figured she couldn’t stop him if she wanted to. She could, however, make sure he was, “taking care of himself,” also her words. This meant no missing class, finishing his homework, catching at least five hours of sleep, and he’d honestly ate more in the last week than he had in his entire lifetime.


These rules are how he found himself working on his physics homework at midnight.


If he finished right then he could still get a couple hours of Spider-manning in. The problem was he was had been stuck on the same question for the last hour. Okay, that was exaggerating it had probably only been like five minutes and he really isn’t trying, but can you honestly say you could focus on homework when you could be swinging from buildings and fighting crime?


Finally giving up Peter flopped down onto his bed with a groan. He was seriously considering just going out now and finishing up in the morning, but then either Aunt May would find out and he wouldn’t be going anywhere at any time for a week, or he’d lie to her and feel extremely guilty.


With a sigh he rolled onto his stomach and used his webs to pull his binder over to him.


Bad idea. As he jerked it across the room his notes scattered everywhere littering the floor between his desk and bed. Unable to contain the frustrated scream that was bound to follow he buried his head in his pillow and let loose.


About that time May knocked on his door, “Everything okay in there?”


“Yeah, everything’s great.” It was a tad sarcastic and had he not had a crappy day he might have felt bad.


To Aunt May’s credit, she knew it was better to just let him be, “Alright then, If you need anything you know where I’ll be.”


He replied with an earnest, “Thanks,” before groaning and flipping himself up off his bed to gather his notes in what he hoped was the right order.


After he’d gathered all the loose papers and shoved them back into the beat up folder that was labeled with a crappy pun his 8th-grade self found hilarious he hopped back on his bed and reread the question while picking at the webbing that he was unable to pull off the paper.


A particle is moving around in a circle and its position is given in polar coordinates as x = Rcosθ, and y = Rsinθ, where R is the radius of the circle, and θ is in radians. From these equations derive the equation for centripetal acceleration.


Chewing idly on his bottom lip he started writing,


dx/dt = —Rcosθ(dθ/dt)


...or was it, dx/dt = —Rsinθ(dθ/dt)


Another sigh and he was erasing yet again. It was only one problem, surely it could wait. He could ask his teacher for help and say he couldn’t figure it out. It wouldn’t necessarily be lying.


He pushed himself up into a sitting position and pulled his phone out from beneath his pile of blankets. With it buried he must not have felt it vibrate because he had two texts.


He opened the first one,


Don’t know what’s been going on with you lately, but you better be at practice.


After sending her a quick reassurance that he wouldn’t miss it he opened the next one,

Mr. Stark;

Happy will pick you up after school tomorrow. Need to make some adjustments to the suit.


Peter texted back,

Can you tell him to be two hours late??


When an immediate reply didn’t come Peter added,

I have Decathlon practice. : /


Tossing his phone to the end of the bed he went back to staring at the question and tapping his pencil against his thigh.


It didn’t take long before he was no longer thinking about the problem but concentrating on tapping out the rhythm to Back in Black. He’d made it to the guitar solo when his phone buzzed.


Mr. Stark had texted back,

Sure thing kid. You want anything else? Maybe a pizza?


Peter rolled his eyes, but knowing Mr. Stark was being sarcastic didn’t make the offer any less appealing.


Actually… He glanced back down at his homework and an idea had formed. Mr. Stark was a genius, and Peter would only ask him one question.


Knowing if he texted it would be ignored, Peter dialed Stark’s number,


Tony answered with a gruff, “ You know I was joking right kid? I’m not really going to order you a pizza.”


Shaking his head despite Stark not being able to see him he answered, “I know. I was hoping you could help me with something else.” There was a beat of silence and Peter began rambling, “I mean, I know you’re busy and stuff, but I already read through half the textbook and tried Google, then you texted back so I knew you were awake and I just thought you're like the smartest person I know so if anyone could help it’d be you and…”


“Slow down kid. What are you wanting help with? If you screwed up the suit so help me…”


Peter cut him off, “No, no nothing like that I just need some…” He sighed and prepared himself for the inevitable jokes and the very real possibility of being hung up on, “ homeworkhelp.”

The teen had rushed through it in a small voice so of course Tony couldn’t understand,

“What was that?”


Another sigh, “Homework help, I was hoping you could answer a problem for me.”


Tell me you’re kidding.”


“It’s not long I promise. I just need to know what the equation of centripetal acceleration is if the polar coordinates are x = Rcosθ and y = Rsinθ.”


“I’m not here to be your damn tutor Peter. If you need help go to Slader or call one of your friends.”


Peter scrubbed a hand over his face and answered, “Right, sorry Mr. Stark.”


“I’ll see you tomorrow after your whatever practice.”


Sounding defeated even to his own ears Peter replied, “Okay.”


“Oh and kid?”




“d2x/dt2 = —Rw2”


Before Peter could even say thanks Tony had hung up and was shaking his head.


The billionaire took one last look at the Chicago Conference for the Wealthy invitation that he’d used as scrap paper to solve the kid’s problem before balling it up and tossing it towards the nearest trash can.


“F.R.I.D.A.Y. call Sofie Welsh and tell her I misplaced my invitation… and send the kid a pizza.”