I awoke with a sharp jolt, like someone poked my head with a cattle prod. Lifting my head, I slowly looked around the room, taking in the colors and posters lining the walls. My gaze eventually landed on the clock on my nightstand.

8:00! I'm late for school! Plucking up my glasses, I winced at the sudden blurriness when I put them on. I looked into the mirror on my door and studied my face. A bit of stubble, but otherwise intact, but when I put the glasses on, it was like someone put a wall of frosted glass over my face. I removed the glasses, and everything was clear. Back on, blurry. Back off, clear.

"Weird..." I set the eyewear on the shelf and nodded at my muscles before walking off... and then I immediately turned back. Muscles? I recognized my face, but the body attached to it looked like something out of a comic book. Full pectorals, broad shoulders, even a six-pack! And how did I get a tan? I flexed, barely hiding a grin as my biceps bulged. Well, look at you, Mister Fantastic!

There was a knock at the door and Aunt May called, "Peter?"

"Yeah?" I asked casually.

"Are you alright?"

"Uh..." I moved a bit, watching the muscles ripple under my skin. "I'm fine."

"Any better this morning?" Aunt May asked. "Any change?"

"Change?" I looked down. "Yyyyep!" I smirked up at the mirror. "Big change!"

Aunt May sounded exasperated as she ordered, "Well, hurry up! You'll be late!"

"Right." I turned around and plucked up a random shirt from the drawer, then looked out the window just as Mary Jane strolled past. I smiled slightly as the girl of my dreams quickly fluffed her hair and walked out of view. Taking a deep breath, I moved away from the window and back to the mirror. "O-Kay."

As I headed down the stairs, something inspired me to do a bit of acrobatics, despite my previous history of poor coordination and balance. I clung to the stair rail and leapt up, running my feet along the opposite wall. I bounced off and landed perfectly on my feet next to Uncle Ben as he sipped some coffee.

The thud surprised him as he tried to save face. "Jeez, I thought you were sick!" he teased.

Grinning, I said, "I got better," and reached for my jacket and backpack.

Aunt May smiled and patted Uncle Ben's shoulder. "See?" she asked, a knowing smile on her face.

"Bye guys!" I called as I crossed the living room.

"You haven't eaten anything," Aunt May protested. "Have you got your lunch money?"

I scooped up the dollars I needed from the bowl we specifically set for Lunch Money. "I got it!"

"Hey, Michelangelo!" Uncle Ben called. "Don't forget: We're painting the kitchen right after school, got it?"

Nodding, I said, "Sure thing, Uncle Ben." I pointed at him. "Don't start without me!"

He gave me a thumbs up. "And don't start up with me." Just as I opened the door, I heard him chuckle and say, "Teenagers. Raging hormones, they never change."

I hurried down the steps and settled my backpack properly just as I heard someone shout, "You're trash!" I looked over and saw MJ storming from her house, her father following after her. "You're always gonna be trash," he pointed his thumb towards the house, "just like her!"

"I have to go to school!" MJ said, trying to hide tears.

"Eh, who's stoppin' ya..." Mr. Watson turned around and slammed the door behind him.

I quickly followed after MJ, already preparing a speech for something to say. "Hey MJ?" Nah, more assertive. "Hey, MJ." Much better. "Listen, I heard what happened." Good, good so far. "He's an idiot, don't listen to him." Mhmm, mhmm. In real life, she stopped by the cross walk and I stood a few feet behind her, facing towards the street. "You're not trash at all. In fact, how about we get together sometime and do something fun?" A car pulled up and two girls shouted at MJ, something about getting a car. MJ put on a grin and hopped into the backseat."We could get to know each other better..." The car drove away. "Or not."

I sighed and watched the school bus pass me as well. School bus? Aw, come on! I chased after it, again, and pounded on the side, again, as the kids on board laughed at me, again. "Sorry, Parker!" the driver yelled. "The bus is full!" Baloney, I can see empty seats in there!

"Hey!" I punctuated it with a hard knock. "Stop the bus!"

"Catch a cab!"

I pounded on the paper sign. "Tell him to stop!" I immediately slowed down when I saw the paper stuck to my hand and promptly ripped right off the bus. I stopped and flung my arm around, trying to get the paper off, but it was stuck like glue. Grabbing at it, I yanked hard and finally freed my hand. What was that about? Looking down, I didn't see any glue or adhesive on my hand or the paper, but I had to think about it later, as a car was honking behind me.

In the Osborn penthouse, Harry was on his way to school when he passed by an open doorway. Glancing inside, he saw his father laying face down on the floor. Harry quickly ran inside and dropped his backpack. "Dad?" He shook Norman a bit, eliciting a groan. The man's shirt was wrinkled and had pit stains, but he looked relatively fine. Still, for good measure, Harry asked, "Are you alright?"

Norman looked up at him and sighed. "Harry." He tried to sit up but his muscles were aching and he had a tremendous headache.

Harry helped him crawl up into the nearby chair. "What are you doing on the floor?"

"I dunno," Norman slurred. He pressed a hand against his temple to ease the throbbing.

"Have you been there all night?" Harry asked carefully, noticing the unopened bottle of whiskey on the desk.

"Uh..." Norman looked away, not out of shame or fear of discovery, but out of a genuine attempt to remember what happened. "Last night... I was-" A picture flashed across his eyes, one of Dr. Stromm flying into electronic equipment. Shaken, Norman stared at his son.

Furrowing his brow in worry, Harry grasped his shoulder. "What?"

"...I don't remember."

"Mister Osborn!" someone called from outside the room. A woman in a black pantsuit stormed in, but she looked more worried and concerned than angry.

"Sir," Bernard, Norman's butler, followed the woman. "I asked her to wait in the foyer."

Standing up, Harry addressed the businesswoman. "I'm sorry, my father's not feeling well."

"This takes precedence," she said, again sounding more worried than angered. "Mister Osborn, Doctor Stromm is dead."

Norman paled. "What?"

"They found his body this morning in the lab. He's been murdered, sir."

Norman twitched. "What are you talking about?"

As though she did not hear, the woman continued, "And the flight suit and the glider..."

"What about it?" Norman seethed.

"They've been stolen, sir."

Since I had to walk to school (apparently there are no other buses except the one that passed me), I missed my first class and half of the second. I sat down at my desk and pulled out the required notes and textbook for the third class. I felt a surge of sharp heat at the base of my neck and, on a random impulse, said, "Hey Gwen."

I turned around to find Gwen standing right above me, hands ready to cover my eyes. "How'd you know it was me?" she asked. Is it me or does she look nervous?

"Uh..." How did I know it was her? "I could... smell your perfume?"

Gwen stared at me for what felt like forever, then shrugged and sat beside me. "How are you feeling, Pete?" She reached up and felt my forehead. For a heartbeat, I was terrified that whatever happened with my hand would happen to hers, but she calmly pulled away. "You seem fine..." She trailed off and stared at my arms. "Peter... why do you have muscles?" I frowned in confusion and looked down. Sure enough, my arm muscles were a bit snug in a shirt that was made for a lanky kid. "That came out wrong," Gwen said. "I mean, of course you have muscles, but..." She gestured and poked my shoulder. "How did you get so buff?"

Before I could say anything, the teacher stood up front and began the class. It was fairly boring, until a small slip of paper touched my hand. Without skipping a beat, I opened the note on top of my actual notes and read Gwen's neat handwriting: You're hiding something.

I gulped, answered a question put forth by the teacher, and scribbled: I'm fine. Really.

When she read it, I heard her growl in irritation. She handed the note back: Lousy Liar, Peter Parker.

I couldn't help but chuckle at the painful rhyme. "Parker?" the teacher asked. "Something tickle your funny bone?"

"Uh... No, sir."

"Good. I'd hate to think this was all a joke to you."

I nodded and he turned away, then I wrote down: I'm not lying, I'm perfectly fine.

Gwen clenched her jaw so hard I thought she'd break it. She handed the note back: Something happened to you, but if you want to keep it to yourself, fine.

Oh boy, I can hear her anger. When the bell rang, I turned to talk to Gwen, but she put up a hand to silence me and stormed off. I sighed and knew that lunch was going to be lonely if Harry didn't show up.