I am just about asleep when I hear Mr. Harris call my name.

"Lydia?" he shouts, clearly aware that I wasn't awake. "What do you think? How would you solve the problem?"

I look up. The whiteboard is covered with red marker, and through my blurry eyes, it looks like someone has written all over it in Egyptian, which is odd, since I know I'm in Algebra class.

"Uh," I reply, squinting, still in a daze. Eventually, I wake up, and the hieroglyphics turn into numbers and letters, but I still have no idea what it means.

Suddenly, the walls shake, and I feel the floor tremble under my feet. Then, there's a tremendous BOOM!, and the walls tremble even more. The noise is so loud my ears ring, even though I can tell it was somewhere out in the hallway. It's one of those noises that's so loud and abrupt it sucks all the sound out of the air. When I look around the class, I see every student is sitting up straight, and gripping the sides of their desks. Almost all of them have their eyes wide with fear.

"Okay, students," Mr. Harris says, looking around at the walls that had just shook like weak cardboard. "Everyone just sit tight, let's see what—"

Another explosion, this one followed by the sounds of breaking glass and people screaming.

"What the hell is going on?" a loud football player named Evan shouts. "What the hell was that?"

Now the fire alarm goes off. It sounds exactly like the one that is used during fire drills. Except we all know this isn't a drill.

Just when we all get up to exit, an announcement comes over the speakers.

"Everyone please stay in place," the vice principal says over the loud speaker. "Stay in your classrooms and close the door. Await further instruction."

"No way, I'm not staying in here!" Evan yells, standing up. For the first time in my life, I agree with him.

The lights flicker on and off, there's another sound of shattering glass, and also some kind of loud WHOOSHING noise. It sounds like it's coming from the school lobby, which isn't far at all from my classroom on the first floor.

I look to Mr. Harris. Most of the kids are standing up and ready to leave the class, but as much as we like to act like grown-ups, we're still just sixteen-year-old kids, and we're waiting for the adult in the room to take charge.

"I don't know," Mr. Harris stammers. He's just as nervous and scared as us, but he's trying to hide it. I can see the tears in his eyes. "I think we should—we should stay in here because that's what—"

Another BOOM! from the lobby. Just as everyone in the room turns in that direction, we hear more screaming, and through the window on the door, we see dozens of students and teachers running down the hall—sprinting for their lives—in the opposite direction of the lobby.

"I'm outta here!" Evan yells, and he heads for the door. We all follow him, even Mr. Harris, who is now officially crying.

Still stunned by the sudden chaos—almost too stunned to be afraid—I head out into the hallway. I'm surrounded by all the other members of my class, and also a steady stream of teachers, students, janitors, and office workers, all of whom are dashing down the hall and away from the lobby. There's another explosion—only a few dozen feet away from me—and in the lobby I can see several fires burning. The smell of smoke fills my nose.

Just when I'm about to turn and join everyone else in escape, the smoke in the lobby clears for a moment, and I get a glimpse of something. A person, dressed in blue and red, lying on the ground. They are on their side and barely moving. A thought crosses my mind, but it's too insane to be true.

Then there's another WHOOSING sound in the lobby, the black smoke completely clears, and I see him. It's a man in a green mask and tattered purple clothing, standing on some kind of black flying machine that looks like a bat. The man's mask gives him the appearance of a grinning, green-skinned demon.

I know exactly who he is. Looking down, I turn back to the person lying on the floor. With the smoke now clear, I see Spider-Man, crumpled in a heap, his costume torn and ripped, and his arm draped across his ribs.

All of this is happening only about forty feet away from me. Spider-Man and the Green Goblin are in my high school lobby, surrounded by smoke and fire, with one of them hovering in the air, and the other one barely able to move, struggling to drag himself to safety.

Then, somebody grabs my arm. It's my friend Chloe. She's one of the few people left in the hallway. Her face and clothes are streaked with soot. I can only assume she was close to one of the explosions.

"Lydia, we gotta get out of here!" she shouts, pulling me. "What are you doing? Come on!"

I suddenly realize that while everyone else was running away for their lives, I have been standing and looking towards the danger, watching the chaos. I know I should be running, too, I should be getting as far away as possible, I know that my life depends on it, I know that I'm in more danger than I've ever been, but I can't look away. As insane as it sounds, I know this is a once-in-a-lifetime moment. I will never be this close to anything like this ever again. The mysterious, wanted-by-the-law Spider-Man is only feet away, along with one of his worst enemies, the murderous Green Goblin. Even as I'm standing there, I know how crazy I'm being, and I know I must be in some kind of state of shock. But I can't leave. I am mesmerized by these two people dressed in red, blue, green, and purple, doing battle in my high school lobby. For some reason, I know I have to stay.

"Wait," I say to Chloe. "I just have to…wait. I'll—I'll…I'll follow you." I really mean it. I will follow her and get to safety, I intend to in just a few moments, but I have to see a little bit more.

"You're crazy!" she shouts. "The school is being evacuated! Come on!"

She runs off. I'm now the only person left in the lobby and hallway. Besides Spider-Man and the Green Goblin.

Now that the screaming has stopped and everyone is outside, I can hear the Goblin talking to Spider-Man. I take two steps closer, just as more of the smoke clears. The Goblin is hovering right over Spider-Man, who still appears not able to move. It's like watching two modern day gods facing off against each other.

"I told you, Parker!" the Goblin says from his flying machine, looking down. "This is how it was always going to end—with me, standing above you! Just as I always told you, Parker! There was no other possibility! This would always be your fate!"

Spider-Man doesn't respond. He half-heartedly lifts his arm—I'm assuming to shoot webs at the Goblin—but he can't. He's in too much pain. Instead, he simply rolls over, attempting to crawl away.

With a hideous grin across his masked face, the Goblin raises his arm and throws something down at Spider-Man. I can see that it looks like an orange ball, and when it hits the ground near Spider-Man, it explodes in a bright flash of red fire. But this burst of flame isn't as intense or as loud as the other explosions—this one is surprisingly weak. However, as the orange bomb sits on the ground near Spider-Man, purple smoke begins to rise from it, and soon the smoke covers him. It almost appears like the smoke is alive, swarming around Spider-Man.

"Breathe it in, Parker!" the Goblin screams with joy. "Feel it swimming in your lungs! One more dose of this, and you'll be gone from this world forever! And you will always know it was me who was able to end your silly little charade!"

I still can't believe I'm not running away—or that the Goblin hasn't noticed me yet. From only a few dozen feet away, I watch Spider-Man. He's now almost completely motionless—for a moment, when the purple smoke had first enveloped him, he had shown some fight, a last minute ditch to escape, but now he's just lying there, on his stomach with his head turned to the side. The smoke is swirling all around his face.

None of this looks like anything I've seen on TV or online. For over a year now, there's been footage and photographs of Spider-Man, always swinging through Manhattan or battling a villain or thief in New York. And every time, he was always moving so quickly, like the greatest acrobat in the world. He's known for always cracking terrible jokes, even as he's fighting crime. But now, he's just lying there. I'm not even sure if he's alive.

I dart my eyes to the Goblin. Disgustingly, he's just watching Spider-Man—he has moved closer on his flying machine and is now hovering above him. As the purple smoke continues to strangle the hero on the ground, the Goblin just hunches his back, leaning down lower to get a better view, his mouth wide and smiling. I can hear him breathing heavily behind his mask.

I look down. Only a few feet away from me, I see one of the Green Goblin's orange bombs, sitting on the floor. It looks like a little pumpkin, with a green top. There's also a series of red lights running along its middle, like the equator on a globe. As I watch the pumpkin bomb, I notice the red lights are blinking faster and faster. By the second, the flashes of red are increasing in intensity.

I have no idea what's come over me. I should run away. I should have run away a long time ago, but now, I really should run away—there's a bomb only a few steps away from me, and I'm pretty sure it's about to blow. I need to get out of here.

But I don't. Instead, I reach out with my foot and kick the bomb. It rolls slowly across the hall toward the Green Goblin, but with enough speed that I know it's going to reach him.

It does, and right when it's about a foot away from him, it explodes.

KA-BOOM! The explosion of fire sends the Goblin flying forward and off his gliding machine. In a purple and green flash, his body careens through the air, and smashes into a glass trophy case. His glider goes spinning down the hallway out of control, and I have to duck as it whizzes over my head. I realize I now can't hear a thing. I was too close to the explosion. The only thing in my head is an incredibly intense and painful ringing. It's like a high-pitch whistle, barreling into my brain.

As I cough and wave my hand in front of my face, there's now even more smoke in the lobby, and though I can feel the heat of a nearby fire burning against my skin, I take a few steps forward. Almost instantly, I see the Goblin, trying to crawl out of the broken glass and twisted metal of the trophy case. I can see that his arms and legs are exposed and covered in blood from the blast. Against the wall, Spider-Man is lying on the floor, but all I can see of him are his legs and one of his hands—the rest of his body is still covered by the purple smoke.

Suddenly, the Goblin snaps his head up. He looks right at me.

"You!" he growls, blood dripping from his mouth. He steps out of the rubble, hunched over and clutching his stomach. "You did this? Who are you? Where did you come from? Are you a friend of Parker's?"

His yellow eyes pin on me, full of fury. I have no idea what to say. Even if I did, I'm not sure I remember how to speak.

The Goblin takes two steps closer to me. His teeth are clenched and he's breathing like a mad man. His hands are coiled into fists.

Police sirens erupt. They are right outside the school. More sirens are heard, pulling up on the sidewalk. There must be a hundred police cars that just arrived on the scene.

The Goblin looks around, hearing the sirens. He pushes a button on his belt, and suddenly his glider comes careening back down from the hallway. He jumps on the glider, spins around, hovers in my direction, and then looks down directly at me. When he speaks, he surprisingly no longer sounds like a demon—he just sounds like a man.

"You," he says calmly, "have just made a decision you will regret for the rest of your life."

With that, he flies off into the dark hallway, disappearing into a roaring fire.

I look down to Spider-Man. The purple smoke around his body has finally begun to dissipate. But he's still not moving.

The police sirens blare outside. I can hear voices now—policeman, coming down the hallway, shouting orders to each other.

"We have reports of Spider-Man and another super in the building!" one of them says. "We have orders to use lethal force at the first sight of any super! I repeat, lethal force is authorized!"

I only have a few seconds. I dash to Spider-Man's motionless body and drop to my knees.

"Get up!" I shout, shaking him, my hands grabbing his costume. "Get up! You need to get out of here!"

But there's no response. His arm moves, barely, so I know that he's alive. But still, it's clear he's not going anywhere anytime soon.

I look down the hall. I can hear the police getting closer. My uncle's a cop—I've heard the way he talks about Spider-Man and other supers. I know what will happen to Spider-Man if they find him here.

But I've read about Spider-Man. I know all the things he's done. All the people he's saved, all the good he has done for others.

Still in disbelief of what I'm doing, I reach underneath his arms and lift him up. Using all my strength, I drag him in the opposite way, away from the approaching cops. He's heavy, but not as heavy as I thought he'd be, so in only a few seconds we've exited the lobby and are now in the cafeteria. The auditorium is nearby, and I know from my drama class that there's a utility closet in there that no one uses—it's in the very rear of the auditorium, near the stage and behind a door. Because it's filled with old lighting equipment and props from plays that no one has used in 20 years, it's where kids go to smoke, hook up, or just skip class. It's so far out of the way, even teachers don't seem to bother going down there.

With the sirens blaring outside, the fire alarm still ringing, and my arms burning from dragging Spider-Man all the way from the lobby, I push open the door to the auditorium and pull him down the aisle. To the side of the stage, I open the door, and then drag Spider-Man into the utility closet filled with props and dusty lights.

Here, we should be safe. I doubt the cops will come searching here.

I hope, anyway.

I look down at Spider-Man. He's not moving, but he's breathing. I think about trying to talk to him, trying to ask him what I should do, but I know I just have to wait. If I talk, someone might hear me and find us.

I press my ear to the door and listen, praying I won't hear any footsteps or voices of cops.

I also pray that I didn't just make the biggest mistake of my life.