Chapter 1
It was break time between classes, and Peter Parker was walking through the bustling hallway, using a textbook to prop up a list in his hand while marking and crossing things off with a pen.
"Liz Allen, normal."
"Daniel Shepherd, normal."
Peter muttered to himself, sidestepping a few students chasing and roughhousing. They didn't get far before Mrs. Winterhalt stopped them and began scolding them sternly.
"Carl King, Susan Bitsy, absent... More and more people aren't showing up to class..."
[Remember this site's domain for the best experience on Taiwan Novel Net, 𝔱𝔴𝔨𝔞𝔫.𝔠𝔬𝔪 – read comfortably]
Peter crossed out the names he'd ruled out as suspects. His next class was history, so he needed to grab his textbook from his locker first—but there was a slight hiccup.
A couple was pressed up against his locker, deeply making out, completely ignoring Peter standing right in front of them.
Peter tried to pull the locker door open anyway. He finally managed to crack it a sliver, but the two twisted and slammed back against it. Luckily, he yanked his hand back just in time, or it would've been crushed.
Glancing at their tightly pressed faces, he noticed the guy was on his list. After a moment's thought, an idea struck him. He leaned in and shouted into the guy's ear, "There's a spider on your back, Kurich!"
"Ah!" Kurich jolted upright like he'd been electrocuted, jumping away and frantically slapping his back. "Where? Where? Help!"
He didn't even spare a thought for his girlfriend he'd been glued to moments ago and bolted down the hall.
His girlfriend stared in shock as he shoved through a group of basketball team members and vanished at the end of the corridor.
The instigator leisurely crossed Kurich's name off the list. Now it was his turn to get his book.
"Parker!"
A deep voice called from behind him. Peter turned to see a burly guy glaring at him—about six-three, cradling a basketball.
"What is it?" Peter replied coolly, opening his locker.
Just as he reached for his history outline, a thick arm shot out and slammed the door shut with a bang.
"Stay the hell away from Liz!" Eugene Thompson growled at him. "Don't think I haven't noticed you creeping around her lately!"
Peter had been wondering why Thompson, who'd been deliberately avoiding him, suddenly confronted him now.
Liz was Thompson's girlfriend—and on the list. Peter had observed her for a while.
"I'm just curious if Liz has mutated," Peter said. "Excuse me, class is starting."
"You think Liz is a mutant?" Thompson got even angrier. "Liz is always with me—how could she be one of those freaks? Next time, don't let me—"
Peter suddenly turned to Thompson. "Do you remember last month's incident?"
"You mean those spiders? Those disgusting bugs?"
"But Liz got bitten by them," Peter smiled. "Maybe she's that 'Spider Freak' everyone's talking about online?"
"Impossible! Absolutely impossible!"
"She hasn't been spending much time with you lately, has she? Maybe she's hiding some secret?"
"I..."
"Go ask her. Class is starting."
"I'll go—but not because you told me to!" Thompson glared viciously, hugged his basketball, and stormed off, knocking a skinny bespectacled guy aside. "Watch where you're going!"
The glasses guy stumbled, stared at Thompson's arrogant back, and moved his lips a few times without saying anything.
"Thompson!" Peter called directly. "Apologize."
Thompson froze mid-stride, turned back. "What did you say?"
"I said apologize, Eugene Thompson," Peter emphasized.
"You looking for a fight?"
"Think about the consequences from last time."
The two stared each other down, Peter refusing to back off.
In the end, Thompson backed down, muttering a half-hearted "sorry" before hurrying away.
"Don't mind him, Weidman," Peter said as he pulled out his American History Outline, greeting the quiet bespectacled guy. They'd partnered once for a science competition and knew each other. "We have next class together, right? How've you been?"
"Same old. Not great, not terrible," Weidman said softly. "Occasionally bullied by assholes."
"Hope he learns his lesson next time," Peter changed the subject. "Do you know Ryan? Ripley Ryan?"
"Purple knit hat, blue trench coat, black jeans?" Weidman said. "Plus a blue crossbody bag and classic intellectual big glasses."
"That specific?" Peter was surprised.
"She's right over there," Weidman nodded toward the direction.
Peter turned and saw Ryan near the stairwell, surrounded by a few heavily made-up girls in leather jackets.
"This plot is way too clichéd," Peter said. "School bullies are the same tired trope in every world, every school, huh?"
The bell rang, urging students to class.
Peter glanced over a few times, then headed to the classroom with Weidman—but he stopped after a few steps.
"Hurry up, we'll be late—" Weidman said, confused, but midway he saw Peter toss his book back in the locker and stride quickly toward the stairwell.
"What are you doing?" Weidman called.
"Hero saving the beauty?" Peter waved without looking back. "Anyway, I don't care about American history."
——————
Ryan kept her head down, clutching her bag as the girls shoved her along, silently counting in her head.
3...2...1... Ring!
Ding-a-ling-ling—
The bell suddenly rang. Ryan lifted her head, about to speak.
A hand suddenly reached from the side, grabbed her arm, and pulled her upstairs—fast enough that the three female bullies didn't even react before they were gone.
Only when they reached the rooftop did Ryan snap out of it. She angrily yanked her arm free and snapped, "Who the hell are you? What are you doing?!"
"Relax," Peter stepped back, hands raised to show no threat. "I just wanted to help—"
"Who asked for your help?" Ryan fumed, nearly poking his nose. "It was almost over, and you had to butt in."
Peter was about to apologize when he caught a glimpse of bruises covering the wrist peeking from her sleeve. His expression turned serious. "Did they do that?"
Ryan let out a startled "Ah!" and backed away like a frightened rabbit. "None of your business!"
"Sorry, I thought you needed help," Peter hadn't expected such a strong reaction and quickly apologized. "I misunderstood. I'm—"
Ryan clutched her wrist, head down, and murmured, "I know who you are, Peter Parker. You're famous—the genius all the teachers love..."
"That's a bit much," Peter said. "I've been in situations like that before. I have experience."
"It wasn't them," Ryan said quietly. "They just wanted me to help them cheat."
"Then can I ask who did the bruises?"
"I'm grateful you'd want to help, but—" Ryan looked up, her light blue eyes behind the lenses pleading, "just leave me alone. I don't want to stand out..."
"How about we be friends?" Peter pulled out his phone and wiggled it. "Just friends. We can chat sometimes."
Ryan stared at him, and he smiled back.
She couldn't resist and reluctantly nodded.
After exchanging contact info, something unexpected happened.
A massive explosion boomed. Both turned toward the sound—an apartment building outside the school erupted in blinding flames.
Thick black smoke rose, distant shouts of panic and car horns carrying over.
In Ryan's bewildered view, Peter actually pulled out a pair of binoculars and looked toward the blast.
Just as he'd expected, a white figure was swinging and leaping between buildings, heading straight to the scene.