The sun rose above Forest Hills, Queens, New York. In a house on Ingram Street, a brown-haired, brown-eyed boy wearing prescribed glasses was eating breakfast with his aunt and uncle, the people who'd raised him for most of his life. The boy was awake earlier than usual as it was summer break and that meant sleeping in during the mornings. The vacation was almost over, he'd just recently turned fifteen on the fifteenth of August. It was late August now. His name was Peter Benjamin Parker.

Today he was due to attend a special field-trip to a renowned corporation for scientifically-inclined high school students from across Manhattan, which was why he wasn't in bed like any other sane teenager in the summertime. His uncle Ben would be off to work soon; his aunt would be driving him to his school, Midtown High, to catch the bus which would bring him to the OsCorp skyscraper. He was wide awake and alert, eager to learn about the place he might just end up working at when he was an adult.

He didn't quite have the self-esteem to call himself a genius, but he was a favored student in all his classes, earning straight one hundreds in them all. In spite of this he didn't have much notoriety among his peers. Aside from other brainy acquaintances and his only friends Harry and Gwen, few really gave him the time of day. In elementary school he was labeled as a teacher's pet and a know-it-all. Middle school was hell and he didn't like dwelling on memories of it.

High school was considerably easier to deal with, he needed to keep his head down and get his classwork done, even though some people like Eugene 'Flash' Thompson went out of their way to heckle him. He wasn't a notable case, Flash bullied a handful of other kids as well. Pete was merely an easy target, a face in the crowd. Someday, however, Peter would be a successful scientist, the kind of person who were the bosses of individuals like Flash. He looked forward to that future. All in good time…

Conversation was normal and considerably bland in Peter's opinion. Ben and aunt May were going gray at the temples, they talked like old people. He didn't mean that in a bad way, that was just how they were. He himself got along better with adults than people his age, sometimes even feeling out of the loop with his two friends. Now and then it was amusing to hear the married couple bicker. Ben was significantly witty when he wanted to be and every once in a while would say something that left both May and Peter blinking, before busting out into laughter.

None of that this morning. Ben's mind was visibly somewhere else, as the designated breadwinner of the family, he was prone to distraction at times. Peter learned better over the years than to interrupt those kinds of moments. Ben was by no means the type of guy to snap at a kid unless said kid was being disrespectful, but there'd been incidents where he'd shooed Peter away so he could focus on things like providing for his loved ones. Peter understood, even if he hadn't when he was younger. With age came wisdom, he guessed.

It wasn't as if Ben didn't make sure to let his nephew know he was loved. Ben wasn't much for video games but a week ago he'd tried—keyword being 'tried'—to play some Playstation 2 in the living room with his adopted son. The machine was somewhat beaten up, but it ran games just fine (of which Peter only had one small stack of, which he'd played through dozens of times each). They were not a wealthy family, more like lower-middle class. Peter, ever busy earning more-than-decent grades to smother the lack of his true mother and father's presence in his life, hadn't required as many childish things growing up.

His bedroom was rather bare as a result. A shelf adorned with science-y knickknacks, a desktop computer and a camera—photography was a hobby of his—were the most decorative things he possessed. That didn't bother him. At least he wouldn't have a hard time moving out when he turned eighteen. He wasn't sure exactly when he'd strike out on his own, but he was sure he had the ability to take care of himself pretty well. One thing he needed to learn, though, was how to cook. He didn't like the idea of surviving on ramen noodles and whatnot like a lonely bachelor character in a film.

He made a mental note to ask May to teach him sometime. It couldn't be that hard, he'd helped her make meals before. He finished what was left on his plate and took it to the sink to clean it. Both May and Ben drilled it into his head all his life to take care of his own messes. He liked to think he managed to do that, maybe not where his social life was concerned but with practical things. He placed the plate to dry and made his way back to the dining table. May was talking about how excited she was for Peter, how promising his prospects were. She liked to brag about him. So did Ben, but to a lesser degree. Peter wondered if any of May's friends ever grew tired of hearing about her darling nephew.

Ben stood up from his seat to go work as an electrician and May asked Peter if he was ready for his trip. Of course, he said yes.

"I hope you have a good time!" Called May.

"I will," Peter closed the passenger side door of the car. He was in the parking lot of Midtown High. He walked up to the front steps, hearing his aunt drive away behind him. He went straight for the bus pickup area. He found his female friend Gwen Stacy waiting there for him. They were the two top students of their school. It only made sense that they would win this trip together. He smiled at her, "Hey." She returned the greeting.

"How have you been?"

"Same old. Studying."

"Cool. Which part are you looking forward to most?"

"Not sure," she replied, "All of it, I suppose." She was glowing.

She was short, teal-eyed and naturally platinum blonde; she wore eye-contacts, something Pete had never been able to do, his eyes were too sensitive and he'd given up on them when he was twelve, opting for glasses instead. They were simpler. She was pretty, he thought honestly, but she wasn't very interested in dating in this point of her life and he was too awkward and fearful for their relationship crumbling if he ever asked her out. In the past the other girls would hassle her mercilessly but since high school began things had become much mellower for her. Peter wished he could say the same. Well, social interaction wasn't as bad as it used to be…

He fought back an unhappy grimace as a memory resurfaced. It was during P.E. and Peter happened to snag a basketball for once that no one was using. He wasn't very talented with sports but oddly was willing to try for some reason, then Flash came out of nowhere, snatched the ball from his hands and sneered at him, going on a surprisingly wordy tirade about how pathetic Peter was and, "The funniest part is, you think anyone actually fucking likes you." Flash and his cronies were foulmouthed jerks, but something about the whole thing seared itself into Peter's brain, hitting a chord which rang painfully true.

For all he knew Gwen, nice person though she was, only paid attention to him because he could keep up with her intellectually. There wasn't really anything wrong with that, but it niggled at him. His other friend Harold 'Harry' Osborn regularly studied with him and basically copied off his work, which Peter allowed passively. He occasionally suspected Harry valued him solely for his smarts. That wouldn't be such a bad thing if Harry took more time to hang out with Peter without mentioning school stuff. Oh well. Couldn't be helped. Best not to look a gift horse in the mouth. If Peter lost him as a friend he'd feel terrible.

Harry was the son of Norman Osborn, the CEO of OsCorp, where Gwen and Peter were heading to now, stepping onto the bus. Harry was a rich kid. You wouldn't think so, with how stressed out he was most of the time. He didn't go to private school—obviously—he didn't flaunt his money, he never outright said it but he just wanted to impress his dad. Since befriending Harry in the sixth grade Peter had known that. It wasn't difficult to see. Apparently it was a hard thing to do, because as go-with-the-flow as Harry was (he'd grown better at hiding his insecurities) he had confessed to Peter once or twice when he felt miserable, though he'd always been vague on the reasons why.

Harry was definitely handsome and had some girlfriends throughout the time Peter had known him. He had other buddies besides Peter. Yet somehow he wasn't higher on the food chain. The student body just accepted his existence, the resident rich boy who didn't act like a stuck-up douchebag. It puzzled Peter and he pondered the strangeness of it as he sat down beside Gwen on the bus, she sat closest to the window. Peter was a people-watcher and believed he was okay at figuring out how people worked, even if he couldn't apply that knowledge himself. Harry's social status just did not compute. When Pete asked a girl for a spare eraser and got a response of, "Ew, don't talk to me," that made perfect—

"You're thinking really hard about something," Gwen observed keenly.

He started. "Oh, yeah," he agreed, "Just wondering how long till everyone gets here already. I mean, seriously." The bus was barely half-full yet. "Or are there not that many people going?"

"I have no idea."

As the bus drove through the streets everyone was respectfully quiet, not rowdy like average adolescents. They were on their way to something important. Peter noticed most of them were his elders, seniors, a couple juniors. He and Gwen must have been the only sophomores on the bus. That filled him with pride. He was going places, as long as he didn't screw up his grades before becoming a legal adult. He could earn a scholarship, an internship, he could be anything he wanted to be. He would get a Ph.D. He'd be so much more than Flash ever was. No more feeling inadequate every time someone glanced in his direction.

He thought about himself. Not too short not too tall, plain, mousy. Wore sweaters and baggy jeans a lot, even in hot weather. He was nondescript. Had a juvenile sort of face, rounded and soft-edged. Small shoulders, noodle physique. He looked like a prime dork. Unimpressive. Whenever he told these things to his uncle the man would laugh and say, "You look exactly like your dad and I did at your age, and now look at what a good-looking devil I am!" Peter would roll his eyes and so would May if she was there. He eventually stopped telling his uncle about his worries. It was no use. The fellow was forever optimistic. Peter was jealous of that trait.

Peter had often been accused of being annoying when he was a little kid. Never quite seemed to stop pointing out details nobody cared about. He was far more silent these days than he'd been before. Didn't stop Flash from telling him to shut his mouth every time he did open it. Even so it wasn't a personal beef the guy had with Pete. There was a handful of other guys like Peter who were hounded relentlessly by the jock, too. Once Peter had tried to make friends with them—he was scorned, to his shock. 'Birds of a feather flock together,' meant nothing evidently.

The bus slowed to a stop in front of the building of OsCorp. Relief flooded him. Something to occupy his mind. OsCorp had a great deal of the leading minds in medical biology. They were working on numerous different projects, all to better the overall health of humanity. Pete couldn't wait to work for them. If not them, then some other big name in the business. He got off the bus before Gwen, who followed him closely. The lobby was sleek.

This was a summer program and probably not the first time it had ever happened. The employees went about their jobs without blinking an eye at the bunch of teenagers in the vicinity. The tour was supposed to be two hours long. Peter and Gwen took in everything with rapt attention. After an hour passed, the guide slowed to a stop.

"If anyone needs to use the restrooms, they're down this hallway," gestured the tour guide.

Several nodded, including Peter, who hadn't used a bathroom all morning since waking up. He was the only male going and when he entered the restroom there was no one else in the stalls. When he was finished he washed his hands and—there was a fierce pinching pain on his hand, he flinched and instinctually moved his other hand to soothe it, immediately feeling something large and unnatural. His eyes locked on a spider.

A huge, black, goddamn spider. On his hand. Biting him. It took all his willpower not to shriek. He shook his arm violently to dislodge it, but its fangs were firmly planted in his skin. In desperation he grabbed it and yanked it, successfully, the sensation of its fangs coming loose hurting.

He tossed it, it smacked audibly against the men's restroom wall, falling to the ground. Peter wasted no time running past it out the door, heart pounding, holding his hand which had angry red spider-bite marks. What should he do? That thing was enormous. What if it was poisonous? Ben and May didn't have the money to pay for those kinds of hospital bills! Of course they wouldn't care, if it meant saving his life, but he cared. What if he died? What if—he inhaled forcefully. No. He wouldn't tell anyone about this, he resolved irrationally. It was a stupid spider. Who would believe him? He didn't want to ruin this trip…!

How he hadn't noticed it crawling up his body he'd never know. In the hallway he was alone. He decided to rejoin the group and act like nothing happened, despite being pale and breathing a little fast. He hung around the back, where he was least likely to be noticed. Gwen was so wrapped up in everything she hardly looked at him. The tour continued on without event. He didn't feel sick. Maybe he wasn't. He was the smart guy. Couldn't he tell if he was ill or not? He pushed the paranoia away. The time came that they had to return to the bus. The tour guide gave a verbose farewell, enunciating the fact that OsCorp may very well define their future careers. Didn't Peter know it.

The ride back to Midtown was…tense.

Gwen eyed him, "Are you okay?"

Pete swallowed a knot in his throat, "I'm fine." No dizziness. No faintness. He was alright.

"How did you like the tour?"

"It was fantastic," Peter grinned, maybe a bit strained. He didn't often grin. He hoped he was selling it.

"I liked it, too," Gwen said, seeming not to catch it.

They reached Midtown High and entered campus.

"Seeya," Gwen waved goodbye as they parted ways in the parking lot, Peter spied his aunt's car. Gwen's father was a police captain, and even from this distance he could see the man's severe countenance as his daughter entered their truck. Peter knew from experience however that no matter how striking Mr. Stacy was, he was actually a pretty nice dude. Peter waited for May to unlock the passenger side door before getting in.

"How did it go?"

"Awesome," Peter tried to put some vigor into the word. He really had been interested, but the spider had kind of dampened the whole thing unpleasantly.

"Good, good," May beamed, "I'm so proud of you, sweetheart."

"Thanks, Aunt May." She never missed a chance…

To his alarm he found his eyelids growing heavier but he said nothing. Before he knew it he'd fallen asleep in the car, forehead resting against the rolled-up window. He dreamt of bright lights and…cobwebs.