mary jane doesn’t understand why mama insists on her having a tutor. it isn’t like they’ll be staying here long, even though mary jane could never say that to mama because mama’s convinced that this time around it’ll turn out good. it’s a good school with a good programme, mama had told her the first day when they moved in, brushing mary jane’s hair back with this wide, beautiful smile. you’re gonna make friends in no time! she has made zero friends so far. well, there’s stiles and alisha, she guesses, who are kind enough to be her lab partners in mrs johnson’s class, but … she still spends lunch time in the bathroom stall. so. does it matter ?
and she has no idea where gayle’s gone to. gayle isn’t supposed to go anywhere, but apparently she has some friends she said she wanted to meet ( what friends ? mj has no idea. they just got here two months ago ) , and now mary jane doesn’t know what time gayle’ll come back. mama’s not gonna be happy for sure. and now mary jane’s even failing this tutoring session. she hates this. she hates not being able to be as quick with all these sentences and exam questions like she should be. and she hates that jason’s obviously not happy with her progress.
are you gonna scream at me? she’d almost wanted to ask, way too old for a mere thirteen year old. are you gonna yell and hit me ? mary jane doesn’t know, but for some reason, all she’d wanted to do was see what he would do rather than placate any annoyance she’s brought forward in him so far. so mary jane pushes at the book, and groans. loud.
❝ no, ❞ she pouts frustratingly, ❝ i still don’t get it. what’s the point ? ❞
jason’s slow march towards insanity was definitely being sped up by the undeniable and fucking horrendous energy of one mary jane watson from school. he had, naively, thought that the whole tutoring thing would be a piece of cake--after all, he was doing great at school, his grades were impressive and despite way too many late nights and poorly concealed vigilante related injuries, his attendance wasn’t terrible either. in theory, he thought he could handle this.
but hell hath no fury or compressed-into-a-single-entity restlessness quite like mj. he likes her more than he does most of his other schoolmates--mostly because they’re all snobby rich kids, and despite technically now also being kinda rich (or at least living in a rich guys house), jason has yet to even want to figure out how to properly get along with any of them--what can he say? he doesn’t think the charming crime alley accent helps his case much.
--but his lack of calm right now probably has more to do with the two hours of sleep he got after riddler made patrol run long, rather than her inability to understand how trigonometry worked. he sighed, ran his hands through his already messy hair, scrubbed them over his face before just, “--the point is passing ms. park’s math class and not having to listen to a we’re very disappointed in you lecture from the dean.” he decides to appeal to his audience--they both know she doesn’t really care about trig, which no one does, but they both know as the only poor kids in a rich school, that failing a class and having the teacher tell the dean, who then tells your parent is not an option.
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