Alex Carter wiped the sweat from his brow; the grime of a long shift caked under his fingernails. The construction site was quiet except for the distant hum of machinery and the occasional barked joke from his coworkers. Alex fired back with his own—quick, biting, sometimes a little too dark for the foreman's taste. It was his way of keeping the night moving, of hiding how tired he really was.
He glanced at the clock. Midnight. The project was due tomorrow, and he was determined to finish, even if it meant missing another family dinner. He thought of his wife and daughter, asleep at home, and guilt gnawed at him. "One more hour," he muttered, "then I'll be home. Maybe I'll even get to see them before sunrise."
A coworker tossed him a wrench. "Hey, Carter, you ever take a break?"
Alex grinned, catching the wrench. "Breaks are for people who don't have bills, Tony. Or a boss who thinks he's Nick Fury."
Tony snorted. "Yeah, well, if you start wearing an eyepatch, I'm outta here."
Alex laughed, shaking his head. "If I start wearing an eyepatch, it's because I finally fell asleep standing up and walked into a beam."
The guys laughed, but Alex's smile faded as he turned back to his work. He wished he could do more for his family, be more than just a tired man in a hard hat. He wished he could be someone they could be proud of.
As he worked, his mind wandered to his daughter's last school play, the one he missed because of overtime. He remembered his wife's gentle smile, the way she always tried to hide her disappointment when he came home late. He promised himself, not for the first time, that he'd make it up to them.
Tony sidled up beside him, voice low. "You alright, man? You look beat."
Alex forced a smile. "Yeah, just thinking about home. My little girl's probably dreaming about unicorns and my wife's probably dreaming about a husband who's actually home for dinner."
Tony clapped him on the back. "You're a good man, Carter. Don't let this place chew you up."
Alex nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat. "Thanks, Tony. Means a lot."
Then, in a flash—a scream, a crash, the world spinning—Alex's life ended. Metal groaned, lights flickered, and pain shot through his body. As darkness closed in, regret and longing filled his mind. He thought of his wife and daughter, their faces swimming before his eyes.
"I wish I could be something more… someone more," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "And please… let them be okay. Let them be healthy, happy, and well taken care of. Even if I'm not there."
Wish Granted
There was no pain, no cold. Just a strange sensation, like falling and floating at the same time. Alex tried to reach for something—anything—but there was only darkness.
Then, a voice, deep and echoing, filled the void: "You've been given a second chance. Make it count."
Alex's voice trembled in the darkness. "Who are you? What's happening?"
The voice was gentle, almost kind. "You asked for more. Now, you have the chance to become it."
For a moment, Alex felt a warmth, as if someone had heard his plea for his family. He clung to that hope as the world shifted around him.
Awakening: A New Life
Alex jolted awake, heart pounding. He was lying in a small, unfamiliar bedroom. Sunlight streamed through the window, illuminating science posters, a camera on the desk, and family photos of an older couple he didn't recognize.
He sat up, feeling… different. Lighter. Younger. He stumbled to the mirror and stared in shock. Staring back was a teenage boy with messy brown hair and wide, confused eyes.
"What the hell…?" Alex muttered, touching his face. He looked down—his hands were smaller, his body leaner. He was a kid again.
A knock at the door startled him. "Peter, breakfast!" called a warm, gentle voice.
Alex blinked, trying to process. "Uh… coming!"
He opened the door and shuffled out, still dazed. In the kitchen, a kind woman—Aunt May, he realized—fussed over pancakes, while a man with a gentle smile—Uncle Ben—read the paper.
Aunt May looked up, beaming. "There you are, Peter! I was about to send Ben up to drag you out of bed."
Uncle Ben grinned over his coffee. "And risk getting tangled in those sheets? No thanks. I barely survived last time."
Alex—Peter—forced a laugh, his mind spinning with sarcastic remarks and dark humor. "Just had a weird dream, I guess. Or maybe I'm still dreaming."
Aunt May ruffled his hair. "Eat up, Peter. You'll need your energy for school."
He sat down, grabbing a plate and trying to act normal, even as his thoughts raced. He had no idea what Spider-Man's story was, but he knew enough about the Marvel universe to realize he was in for something wild.
Uncle Ben folded his paper and leaned in. "You alright, son? You look like you've seen a ghost."
Peter shrugged, trying to sound casual. "Just… weird dreams. And maybe a little nervous about school."
Aunt May set a stack of pancakes in front of him. "You'll do fine, sweetheart. Just be yourself."
Uncle Ben winked. "And if you see anyone being picked on, you stand up for them, you hear? That's what Parkers do."
Peter nodded, the words settling into him like a new rule. "Yeah. I will."
Aunt May smiled, her eyes soft. "That's my boy."
There was a comfortable silence as Peter ate, the clatter of silverware and the gentle hum of the city outside grounding him in this new reality. He glanced at Aunt May and Uncle Ben, feeling a pang of longing for his old family, but also a growing sense of belonging here.
After a few moments, Aunt May broke the silence. "You seem a little off this morning, Peter. Everything okay?"
Peter hesitated, then shrugged. "Just… weird dreams, I guess. And maybe a little nervous about school."
Uncle Ben reached over and squeezed his shoulder. "You'll do fine. Just be yourself. That's more than enough."
Peter smiled, feeling the weight of their kindness. "Thanks, Uncle Ben. I'll try to make you proud."
Uncle Ben winked. "You already do, kiddo."
Aunt May handed him his backpack as he stood to leave. "Have a good day, Peter. And remember—there's always more pancakes when you get home."
Peter slung the backpack over his shoulder, pausing at the door. He looked back at them, gratitude and determination mixing in his chest. "Thanks. I… I really appreciate you guys."
Aunt May and Uncle Ben exchanged a look, a little surprised by his sincerity, but Aunt May just smiled. "We love you, Peter. Now go on, before you're late!"
Peter stepped out into the hallway, the door closing softly behind him. For the first time, he felt a flicker of hope—maybe, just maybe, he could make this new life count.
First Day: Midtown High
The city was alive as Peter walked to school, marveling at the energy in his young legs and the sights of New York. He tried to piece together what he remembered about this world—Avengers, mutants, maybe even a Hulk or two—but Spider-Man was a blank.
As he approached Midtown High, a group of students jostled past him. One of them, a tall kid with a football jacket, bumped his shoulder.
"Watch it, Parker," the kid sneered.
Peter blinked, then shot back, "Sorry, didn't see you over your ego."
A few kids nearby snickered. The bully glared, but Peter just kept walking, heart pounding.
Inside, the halls were chaos: crowded, noisy, and full of cliques. Peter navigated it with a mix of sarcasm and quick wit, deflecting awkward introductions and a run-in with another school bully with a dark joke that made a few kids laugh and the bully back off.
In homeroom, a girl with bright eyes and a confident smile slid into the seat next to him. "You're new, right? Or just really good at hiding?"
Peter grinned. "Maybe both. I'm Peter."
"Liz," she said, offering her hand. "Welcome to Midtown. Survive the first week and you're basically a legend."
Peter shook her hand, feeling a spark of something warm. "I'll try not to get expelled before lunch."
Liz laughed. "Good plan. Stick with me, and I'll show you where the good vending machines are."
Later, in class, Peter cracked a joke that made Liz laugh and the teacher sigh.
"Mr. Parker, if you spent half as much time on your work as you do on your jokes, you'd be top of the class," the teacher said.
Peter shrugged, grinning. "But then who would keep everyone awake?"
Liz leaned over, whispering, "Careful, you'll get detention on your first day."
He whispered back, "Wouldn't be the first time."
After class, Peter helped a classmate pick up dropped books, surprising himself with how natural it felt to be kind.
"Thanks, Peter," the kid said, shyly.
"No problem," Peter replied, smiling. "We nerds have to stick together."
At lunch, Peter sat alone for a moment, reflecting on how strange and wonderful this new life was. He missed his family, but he felt a spark of hope—maybe he could make a difference here, too.
Liz spotted him and waved him over. "Hey, Parker! Don't eat alone. That's how you get a reputation."
Peter joined her and her friends, joining in the laughter and conversation. Liz nudged him. "So, what's your story, Peter? You from around here?"
Peter hesitated, then shrugged. "Sort of. I'm still figuring things out."
Liz smiled. "Aren't we all?"
As the day ended, Peter sat on his bed, staring at a photo of Aunt May and Uncle Ben. He felt a surge of gratitude and responsibility. He'd been given a second chance—a chance to be more, to do more.
He looked out the window at the city skyline, determination settling in his chest. "This time, I'll do it right," he promised himself.