Author's Note: Thanks for the reviews! Please read and review and no flames! Also, I make some references to some of my other Spiderman fics in this story. This takes place before the first Spiderman movie, just like all of my other Spidey fics. Once again, a big thanks to my reviewers especially Valdemar!
Disclaimer: Don't own a thing…I looked up a list of New York private schools and I found New York High School Prepatory. Not sure if it's the kind that Harry would atten though…
Harry woke up to the sound of his father talking on the phone with someone from Oscorp. He was thankful that his father wasn't yelling at the top of his lungs, which meant that his father was probably in a good mood. Harry hated it whenever he would wake up to find his father angry because something wasn't working out at his job, or if he was angry at Harry for whatever reason. Harry tried to go back to sleep, but the sound of his father's voice, wouldn't let him.
Harry got out of bed and he noticed that the sun was out on this Saturday morning. The sky was beautiful, and there was no sight of rain. It looked like a perfect day for lovers to walk in the park, sightsee, go for a run, or something of that sort. Yet, Harry felt that something wasn't right. To him, he didn't think on this particular Saturday, that the sun should be out. Instead of it being sunny, he wanted the clouds to turn all gray and for it to rain for hours and hours. He still couldn't understand why he felt like this, so to clear his head, he decided to take a shower.
After he got out, he got dressed. When he finished getting ready for the day, he glanced at his calendar and gasped. He suddenly realized why he woke up feeling so awkward. He quickly combed his hair, and raced downstairs.
Norman Osborn was still on the phone when Harry came downstairs. Harry didn't expect his father to notice him, and he was right. I might as well be invisible. Harry got the phonebook, sat down at the breakfast table, and began looking through the yellow pages, while Norman sat on the couch, still talking away.
Harry flipped through the book, trying to find the nearest flower shop. He scanned through the pages, until finally he found one that wasn't too far. He wrote down the address and the name of the place on a post-it note and put in his pocket. He looked outside and the sun was still out. Oh well. He got up and grabbed his coat from the closet. By this time, his father was already off the phone and began reading the paper.
Harry headed towards the door. "Dad, I'm going out."
"Okay." Norman replied, not turning around to look at his son.
Annoyed, Harry tried again. "Hey, dad do you know what today is?"
"Of course. It's the first day of October why?"
Harry tightened his grip on the doorknob. What's wrong with him? Doesn't he know what today really is?
Exasperated, Harry opened the door. "Nothing." He slammed the door, and headed out.
Finally Norman turned around, but of course his son was already gone.
What was that all about? Norman wondered. He shrugged his shoulders and went back to reading the paper.
Harry stepped outside, the autumn breeze blowing in his face. He took out the post-it note and re-read the address to the flower shop. Typically, he would've had the Rolls drive him to his destination, but Harry decided to walk instead. As he walked past people talking, mothers with their children, lovers holding hands, he almost felt like a prince among commoners. Since he was so use to being chauffeured around town, he never got to experience walking around the Big Apple.
At a stop light, he and a crowd of people waited to cross. Harry could smell hot dogs being made on a street corner and he could hear the sounds of tourists asking for directions on the best places to go sight seeing. For once, Harry felt like a normal kid among the pedestrians. No one even noticed that he was Norman Osborn's son or that he was heir to an empire. He felt like a prince among peasants.
He and the rest of the crowd were then allowed to walk across the street. He spotted some kids that he knew from the private that he attended. He heard the four boys talking and laughing as they sat down at an expensive outdoor café, talking about where they were going to go on vacation and talking about the latest merchandise that they were going to buy. He did his best to quickly turn to the left which would lead him to the flower shop.
That was close, he thought.
He didn't want to be seen because he knew that they would ask what he was up to and why he wasn't riding in the Rolls. He passed by some other stores until he made it inside the flower shop. It felt nice and warm inside the shop. . He spotted a woman at the counter on the phone and another doing an arrangement. He looked around and saw roses of all different colors: red, white, pink, yellow. He didn't have to think hard on what color because he knew exactly what to get.
He purchased a bouquet of pink roses. He thanked the girl at the counter and stepped outside with the flowers in his hand. The sky had gotten darker and there was no more sunlight. All Harry could see were dark clouds that looked threatening. He waved for a Taxi and stepped inside. He told the driver were to take him, and the Taxi speeded away.
Harry looked out the window. There was no rain yet and he thankful because that way he would get to his destination a lot faster. He had never been in a Taxi before so this was a totally new experience.
"Hey, did anyone ever tell you that you look like that Osborn kid?" the driver asked.
Harry's eyes widened with shock. Here he was just wanting to be anonymous, and now his cover was blown over.
He swallowed hard. "Uh…no. No one's ever told me that."
"Really?" the driver continued. "Cause you look exactly like him."
The driver then turned left at the light. "You know, if I were to meet the kid, I would tell him it must be nice being the richest kid in New York."
Harry rolled his eyes. If only he knew…
The driver then stopped in front of the cemetery and Harry got out. He paid the driver and then Harry walked away and entered the cemetery with the pink roses in hand.
He couldn't remember the last time that he had been to visit his mother's grave so it took him a while to find it. The sky was dark and cloudy and the grass looked like it could use some rain. He then found his mother's grave and placed the flowers on it. He kneeled before the stone. He began to get a bit teary eyed as he stared back at the tombstone.
"H-Happy Birthday, mom." He didn't feel the least bit foolish talking to the tombstone. This was a special time; a time where he could be alone with his mother.
"I uh…heard that pink roses were your favorite. I hope you like them." He developed a lump in his throat and he felt his face turn red. He felt so stupid for not coming to visit his mother's grave as often as he would like. Every time he asked his dad if he was going to go visit, Norman would snap at him. Harry couldn't understand why his father wouldn't want to pay a visit to Emily's grave. She was his wife! What kind of husband wouldn't want to visit his wife's grave?
He couldn't hold it all in anymore. It was bad enough living with an incompetent father, but losing a mother was a whole different story. Harry barely remembered his mother and he had spent his whole life trying to please his father. No matter how hard he tried in school, it just wasn't enough. He wasn't book smart and he was lucky if he got a C in his class. He wondered if his mother would've wanted him to be "the best of the best." Finally, Harry let out all the emotions that was boiling inside of him. He began to cry, which was a weakness in his father's eyes.
"M-mom, I'm sorry that I don't come to visit like I should." He wiped his eyes, which were now puffy from all the crying that he had just done.
"I wish I knew more about you. Dad doesn't speak of you that often. He's to busy running his company, and too busy lecturing me on how bad I do at school. I try mom! I really do! I just can't live up to Dad's expectations." Tears fell from his eyes again as he recalled how his father would get angry every time he got bad grades. No matter how hard he tried, it just wasn't enough.
He wiped his eyes. "I promise, that I'll come back more often. I don't want you to think that you've been forgotten because you haven't. Even though I barely remember you, I have this vague memory of you holding me. You looked so sad. What was wrong mom? Had Dad hurt you? What did he do?" There were no answers except for the sound of the wind howling and the rustling of trees. Harry shivered and wrapped his jacket tighter around him.
He sighed. " I love you, mom. I hope that you are happy wherever you are and that if you were alive today, I hope that you would be proud to call me your son."
He got up and straightened up the roses a bit.
He looked down at Emily's grave one last time.
"Good-bye." he whispered.
He walked out of the cemetery and decided to take the bus home. As soon as he got on, it started to rain. It started off as little droplets and then it was gushing rain. Harry leaned his head against the window trying his best to ignore the crying baby that was right next to him.
He got off the bus, the rain pouring down on him. A taxi drove him the rest of way back to the Osborn mansion.
He entered the house soaking wet. He looked at the clock. It was noon. He went upstairs to change into some dry clothes. Before he reached his room, he was surprise to find his father in his study. The door was wide open and Norman was sitting down looking at a piece of paper.
"Harry, come here." Norman said. Harry froze. The sound of his father's voice sounded threatening. He swallowed hard and entered his father's study.
"Close the door." Norman commanded. Harry did what he was told and approached his father's desk.
"Sit." he said, although to Harry it sounded more like a sneer. Harry sat down, feeling like as if he was waiting to hear his death sentence.
Norman stood up, towering over his son. Harry felt like a tiny ant facing a giant. He knew that this wasn't going to go well at all.
"Where did you go?" Norman asked. Harry's heart began racing. His face fell to the floor; he didn't want to look at his father when he told him that he had gone to go visit Emily's grave.
"Look at me when I'm talking to you!" Norman snapped. Quickly, Harry looked up, his father's eyes blazing.
Hesitantly, Harry tried to form words. "I-I…uh…I…" Harry stammered.
Norman slammed his hand on his desk. "Speak up!"
Harry gulped. "I went to visit my mother's grave."
Norman's anger intensified. "You did what?"
"I went to visit mom's grave."
Norman walked out behind his desk and stood before his son.
"Why?" he asked.
Harry was shocked. How could his father ask such a question? Especially when it concerned someone so precious to Harry!
"Dad, she's my mother, and today's her birthday so I decided to buy flowers and put them on her grave."
Norman shook his head. "You didn't even know her so why should you?"
Harry looked at his father his eyes still filled with shock. "How could you say that? She was your wife!"
"Your mother was weak! If it wasn't one thing, it was another. Her epilepsy, her getting pregnant with you, it was everything! In the end, she gave it all up and just stopped living!"
Harry's blood began to boil. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. He couldn't understand why his father was doing this. Emily couldn't have been weak, she just couldn't have.
As much as Harry tried to hold back the tears, he couldn't. He didn't care that his dad was going to get even more angry. He felt hurt hearing his father say those things about Emily.
Norman growled in frustration. Here come the tears.
"She wasn't weak! She couldn't have been! She was sick, Dad, and she was afraid that I would end up being an epileptic just like her!"
Harry sighed before continuing. "She was willing to give me life at the expense of hers! She was brave, Dad I know she was!" Harry chocked on his own sobs before burying his face in his hands. He wept silently, before his father lifted him up, grabbing him buy his wet clothes.
Norman squeezed his son's shoulders. His face was red with anger.
"Believe what you want, Harry! Go ahead and think that your mother was some saint!" Harry flinched as his father yelled and spat in his face. He just wanted to get away as fast as he could, but his father had a tight grip on him.
"Remember these words: your mother was a weak link just like you and nothing but a burden!" Norman shoved Harry back into the chair. So that's what I am to him? A weak link and a…burden? Harry wiped his eyes before getting up and heading towards the door.
"I'm not finished with you Harry! Sit back down!" his father shouted.
Harry did what he was told and sat back down. Norman approached his son and handed a letter. Harry knew all to well what the letter said.
"Read it out loud." Norman said, with an icy tone.
Harry began to read the letter:
"Dear Mr. Osborn we regret to inform you that your son has failed to maintain the academic criteria of this school. Please note that he has been offered tutorial sessions to which he had failed to attend and that he has expressed some misconduct during class time. Because of all this, your son is expected to withdraw from our school as soon as possible."
Sincerely,
Headmaster Victor Cunningham
New York High School Prepatory
There was a short pause after the letter was read. Harry had already flunked out of several private schools and he knew that his father had had it. This was the end of the line for Harry.
"Harry, I can't believe this. I've done everything in my power to get you into the best private school in this city and in return, you slack off in school!"
"Dad, but I-"
"You leave me no choice, son. I never thought that I would have to do this but for now on, you will be attending Midtown High, the local public high school."
Harry's jaw nearly dropped. "Dad, I don't even know anybody there!" It was true. At least at the private schools, he knew the some of the kids because his dad knew their parents. Even though he wasn't friends with any of them, he didn't mind having them around at school. They at least said "hi" to him when they weren't teasing him behind his back.
"Well then you should've thought of that when you were doing poorly at all the private schools that I sent you to. You start next week." Norman took the letter from his son's hands and placed it back on the desk.
His father sat back down. Harry was tempted to walk away, but he didn't want to get his father angrier.
"Harry, you should count your lucky stars because if I wanted to, I would make you finish your first year of high school at New York High School Prep, and watch you flunk so you could see how much of a failure you are. But, because I am so generous, I am willing to give the public school system a chance. Who knows, maybe you'll find someone who is willing to make sure that you don't ruin your high school career."
Norman sneered at his son, just waiting to see how long it would take for him to break again. Harry couldn't look at his father. He wondered what would his mother say if she had lived to see this. Would she had been on her husband's side or Harry's?
"Look Dad I-" Harry stammered.
"Get out. I don't even want to look at you. Just get out."
"But Dad I-"
"I said get out!"
With tears in his eyes, Harry slowly walked out and into his room. He was still wet so he quickly took a hot shower before getting into some dry clothes. Harry sat on his bed. He couldn't believe that his father was moving him to Midtown High. The thought frightened him. He wasn't familiar with the public school system and he didn't known any of the kids. What would they think of him when they found out who his father was? Would they laugh at him, and ask how a rich kid ended up going to school with a bunch of "normal" teenagers? Would they accept him? Would he make a friend at all?
That was what Harry needed a friend. Someone who would show him the ropes and someone who was smart and would help get through high school. Harry laid on his bed and fell asleep as the rain continued pouring down.
A few days later, Harry found himself in a place that was completely foreign to him: Midtown High, his new high school. He had his back pack and everything, but know one seemed to want to help him his first day. As he tried to find where his first class was ,he spotted a kid with brown hair and blue eyes covered by a pair of glasses. The kid sat at a table in the library pretending to read, but he was actually look at some red head girl who was reading a book three tables a way. Harry approached the boy.
He tapped his shoulder. "Hey, can you help me?"
The boy looked at Harry as if he had just woken up from a dream. "Yeah, what is it?"
"I'm new here, and I was wondering if you could help me find room 235?" Harry asked sheepishly.
"Sure! That's where I have my first class. I can take you there right now; the bell's about to ring anyway."
Harry gave out a sigh in relief. "Thanks."
"No problem!" the boy said.
The two teenagers walked out of the library as the bell ranged. A huge crowd of kids scrambled to get to their classes on time. It was like seeing a buffalo stampede! Harry had never seen anything like it before!
"Don't worry. It's always like this," the kid with the glasses commented.
Harry nodded as they continued walking towards their first class.
"What's your name?" the kid asked.
"My name's Harry Osborn."
"Really? You're Norman Osborn's son?"
Harry nodded, a little embarrassed.
" I've read all of his research, he's brilliant!"
Well, at least one of us thinks that way, Harry thought.
"What's your name?" Harry asked, trying to change the subject.
"My name's Peter Parker." He stretched out his hand, and Harry shook it before they entered their classroom.
A/N: Please read and review!