Chapter 7

Birds chirping. Trains rumbling. People laughing. They're sounds of just another morning in the life of a New Yorker.

And for me, that's no exception. But today, I can't stick around to enjoy the tranquility of those very sounds. Cause it's 8:20 AM and I'm already five minutes late to class and I'm just getting close to the school now.

I've never really been extremely punctual, I'll admit. But I usually get to school on time. But I've just been sleeping so much lately; it's hard to wake up from just my alarm, which is a remix of the theme of Megaman. Maybe I should get a Metal remix on Megaman's theme. That sounds like it'd work.

It's weird. I don't ever sleep. And even if I do sleep, I never sleep well. So it's been pretty good the last few days to just fall on the bed, fall asleep within seconds, and wake up feeling better than ever.

However, today is a different story. Cause with the ol' Parker luck, you can't just have something good happen to you. No, no. Now I can sleep well, but I don't ever get up. I'll sleep in so much that I miss my damn train when I'm trying to get to Midtown high. But, in contrast to that, now because of weird spider crap, I'm much faster than I was before.

And there I was, running down the sidewalk, weaving my way through oncoming pedestrians who were all periodically giving me dirty looks. In the city that never stops going, everyone who occupied it really seemed like they didn't want people to go.

Pushing on through the dirty looks, I turned a sharp corner into an alleyway. I knew my school was about a couple blocks down and just running wasn't doing me any favors. Time was ticking away and a detention slip was just waiting to have my name written down on it.

It was time to kick it up a notch.

Turning back to make sure no one was watching, I hopped up onto the dumpster and leapt to the right grabbing onto the bottom rung of the fire escape, swinging forward so far that I was flying over the alleyway, where I jumped off of the wall and landed on the fire escape on the alleyway on the other side of the street, where I swung back to the ground.

Upon landing, I burst forward, using my newfound strength to propel me to newfound speeds, shooting over the dumpster and to the end of yet another alley, where I jumped up and over the smaller street to land on the adjacent sidewalk. Right to my left was Midtown High. Instead of taking me possibly ten minutes to get here, this took about a minute.

Note to self. Powers are fucking cool.

Still, my new speed didn't seem like much help when I opened my locker, threw my stuff inside, grabbed my books, and shut it again. And then proceeded to run in into my Chem class, quickly walking to my seat at the back of the room.

"Mr. Parker, as punctual as ever," I heard the voice of my Chem teacher ring out behind me as I walked up the isle.

I shuffled to my seat, my head down, refusing to meet eyes with him, "I'm sorry, Mr. Michaels. I missed my train this morning and I was complexly being stupid and I-"

"It's fine just this once, Peter," Mr. Michaels interrupted and continued to write on the board.

"Oh, and happy birthday."

…

Huh?

I stopped in the middle of class, realizing something. It was my birthday today. I'm turning seventeen.

"Oh. Right. Thanks," I said back to Mr. Michaels before taking my seat beside Gwen, who was raising her eyebrow at me.

"Hi," I greeted her, placing my stuff in the compartment just under the desk, taking out my notepad and pencil.

"Hey birthday boy," Gwen smiled that brilliant smile that is just hard not to stare at.

I chuckled a little bit, "Yeah. I forgot about that."

"You forgot your birthday?" Gwen giggled under her breath as to not draw attention from Mr. Michaels, "Sounds like you. How old are you now?"

"Hm? Oh uh… seventeen," I whispered, furiously scribbling down the notes on the board, biting my tongue to focus.

"Well, you're legal now," Gwen murmured, jabbing me in the side for not paying attention to her while we talk. She was right, the age of consent in New York was seventeen, but it's not like it keeps many people on the 'righteous path'.

"Oh goodie," I laughed, "Now I have one less excuse for not having a girlfriend."

The two of us joked around with each other a little while longer while Chemistry dragged on. I finally caught up with the notes with help from her and I was trying to pay attention when I felt my head buzz just like it did at the train station. And on pure instinct, I moved my head to the left and held my hand up, catching a pen being thrown at me.

"The hell…?" I grumbled and turned back to see Flash and his friend trying to act inconspicuous, but they still had grins plastered on their stupid faces.

On my birthday. On my fucking birthday.

So, as a receipt, when Mr. Michaels turned his back, I quickly spun around on my stool, chucked the pen at him, and spun right back around to face the board. Expecting to get it thrown back to me, I hunched down a little to get ready to catch it once again, but all I heard was a thumping sound, a grunt, and the sound of something scraping the ground.

"What in the world…?" Mr. Michaels and the rest of the class turned around to see Flash Thompson about three feet away from his table at the very back of the room, grabbing his head and searching around for a pen that was on his lap.

…Did I do that?

Heheh.

At about then, the bell rang, and just as I grabbed my stuff, Gwen took ahold of my arm and dragged me out of the room. I noticed that Flash had just gotten himself together and couldn't help but flip him off on my way out the door.

The two of us avoided Flash the entire day. It was afternoon break this hour and we could hang out a little bit in the field, where Flash was nowhere to be found. I had a free period after this so I could honestly go home, but it's a better excuse to say I have something to… just, talk with Gwen a little. It was much better that way. If I just avoided him all of today, he'd forget about the pen thing, and he'd find something much less serious to pick on me about. We were walking under a canopy next to a sidewalk at the bottom end of the field. It was quiet, it didn't have a lot of people in it, and most importantly, jocks were nowhere to be seen. That way I can avoid a beating… or… well…

Could he even hurt me at this point? I mean, I don't think so. I've got the buzzing thing, strength, speed… I hope he doesn't do anything stupid. Cause I could seriously hurt him.

"I don't think he'll show up," Gwen piped up, as if she had been reading my thoughts. Well, not exactly, we did just book it away from him and I had been quiet, so it wasn't exactly telepathy but eh.

"Yeah," I put my hands on the back of my head as we walked through the pathways, "I'm not worried. He's just a jerk, y'know?"

Gwen nodded, "But enough about him. What are you doing for your birthday?"

In response, I shrugged, "Not anything, I don't think. Just relax with my family."

"Well that's boring," Gwen frowned.

"Boring? That's fun. I like relaxing. I like calm. Frantic and panicked is my default state, it's nice to get a change of pace."

Gwen waved her hand through the air dismissively, "Boooorring."

"Ugh," I shook my head.

"I'm just teasing," Gwen pat me on the shoulder, "Don't get all mopey on me. Even though mopey is sort of part of your charm."

"I have charm?"

Gwen rolled her eyes, "You're a bit-"

Ffffwwwew…

"Aw, damn it!"

"Come on, bro, this is the third time. The janitor's gonna kill us!"

The sound of a frisbee flying overhead and the yells of frustrated teenagers come into play as Peter watches the white disk fly overhead and onto the roof of the gymnasium. He'd seen this in previous years so many times over. Kids in the Ultimate Frisbee club get out of hand and everyone has to pay for their shit. Damn kids and their frisbees.

But, looking at their dejected faces as they realized that they've screwed the pooch kind of hurt me inside. I was always too sympathetic for my own good.

"Wait here," I said to Gwen and rushed off to the back of the gymnasium.

"Whuh-hey! Where are you going?" Gwen yelled after me, but I couldn't turn around. Turning around means giving an explanation and I'm not comfortable having to tell Gwen that I, in fact, do not have webs coming out of my butt yet.

When I made it out of the line of sight of pretty much everyone and made sure there was no one around to watch me, I stood in front of the back of the gymnasium, just staring straight at the wall. I didn't really understand why I was doing this, and it could be a problem if someone were to catch me, but those kids just looked so sad. And hey, it's just like the other day right?

So I lifted one hand slowly and pressed it against the wall. Then the other. Then I placed a foot against the wall. Then the other. Just like my ceiling. Just like that telephone pole. And before I knew it, I was about a couple feet off the ground, clinging to the wall just like the other day, crouching down on it as if I were on the ground. And it didn't feel weird. Just like before, it felt natural.

"Heheh," I let out something that was a cross between a heavy breath and a laugh. My heart was racing. My blood was pumping. I felt good. No, not just good, I felt great!

So I started moving slowly upwards, using my hands as sort of anchor marks to pull me higher. I remember when I couldn't even do one pull up back in elementary school and still couldn't quite get up right for years. Now I'm climbing up the side of a wall and it's a breeze. It's easy!

It's fun!

I moved a little faster than either time I wallcrawled before, making my way steadily up the wall until I came to an air conditioner unit, in which I took a short hop up onto the side and used my newfound flexibility to have my hands never leave a solid surface while I got back down onto the wall. Up and up I went, eventually getting up to the edge, where I pulled myself up into the air and landed gracefully, making sure to hunch down so no one can see me from the ground.

"Hoo hoo!" several excited sounds came from my throat, "Hot damn."

I saw the frisbee, which was right next to two other much dirtier ones of the same brand, which I can assume were the other two times the frisbee club guy was talking about. I smiled as I picked up the frisbee and crouch-walked my way back to the edge of the rooftop, in which I went down even lower than I was and dropped down to the air conditioning unit-

Krreeeench!

Oh shit.

The air conditioning unit's supports began to whine under my weight and I could feel it pulling away from the wall quicker than I would like. The buzzing in my head, whatever I called it before, spidery sense I think, was going off like crazy. It was like someone grabbing your head, shaking it, and yelling Danger! Danger! over and over again.

My instincts kicked in and I took a short hop onto the wall and bounced off of it, back flipping off and kicking the air conditioner unit back into its slot, before flipping through the air again until I landed on the ground with a soft thump, keeping the frisbee close to my chest as to not accidentally snap it in half or anything like that.

And before I could even appreciate what I had just done, I made sure to check the conditioner, which… unfortunately, had caved in because of my little kick off of it.

Well. That's a shame.

Before anyone could come and find out what that noise was, I made a quick getaway to the other side of the building, where the frisbee geeks were moping about. I hope I don't look like that when I mope. Cause that's just pathetic. I probably do. Damn it.

"Hey guys?" a few of them turned their heads, "Is this your fris-thing? I found it out back."

"Dude!" they rushed me and took their throwing disk. They said some typical broham things, like 'Broooo…' and 'Mah man'. It was a little awkward, but it was nice regardless.

"No problem, guys. I just-"

But before I knew it, they had gone off to play, and I was forgotten about.

"Right."

Tch. I don't know what I was expecting, but a thank you would have been nice.

I guess being a retriever is a thankless job.

Feeling a little bit disappointed, I made my way back to Gwen, who was standing with her hand on her hip. If I didn't know better, I would have felt like I was about to get chewed the hell out.

"Don't just run off on me again," she said, jabbing me in the arm.

Oh right, I don't know better.

"But that was nice of you. I thought for sure it landed on the roof," Gwen said to me as we walked back under the canopy.

"Sure looked like it."

"Hey Parker!"

Oh no.

I slowly turned around and there was Flash with a group of people walking towards me. Their little confident shake and swagger made me nervous. I don't think I've ever seen Flash like that and that makes it all the more nerve-wracking.

"Look at 'im! He's a fucking little cunt! Heh! Get 'im!" One of his friends rang out.

"Nice little trick today, Puny Parker," he walked straight into me, nearly knocking me off my feet from sheer surprise, "You're a big man, huh? Throwing pens around? Big man. Biiiig man."

A few teens began to poke their heads out to take a look at the scene, to see if there was anything wrong. Eventually, several filed in to form a circle along with the group Flash brought to watch the pre-emptive slaughter about to take place.

"What? You're just gonna take that, you piss-soaked faggot? Huh, you fucking homo?" Flash spat down every word at me, his hand pressed against my shoulder, pushing me around as if I were his toy to play with.

Gwen piped up from the crowd, "Flash, go away, all right? You threw the pen first an-"

"Look at that, Parker! Your little bitch has to stand up for you," Gwen's eyes popped at the word and she took a few steps forward, but one of her friends in the crowd stopped her, "Are you just gonna whine and cry under Gwen's nutsack? Huh? Ohhhh waaaaah. Waaaah."

"Flash, lay off," I stated, stopping and pushing a little bit back against his hand. I didn't want to go too far, I could… "It's my birthday, come on, man."

"Birthday? Jesus, look at you. Look at you! Look at you, trying to stand up for yourself. You think you're hot shit cause you're smart, huh? You wish so hard you were special. You're not special. You mean nothing to nobody."

A couple of Flash's friends began to look uncomfortable in the crowd, but nobody speaks out as Flash continued to push me around. Everyone's a bystander. Everyone.

"You're king of the wannabe somebodies, Parker. You're failing at being worth anything. You must be so validated with your life cause of your little pen trick, huh? You're nothing. You're living bacteria. You are a piece of absolute trash. And you're not just trash, you're the worst kind of trash, the kind who thinks it's not trash."

My fists clenched with every word he threw down at me. When was it going to be enough? When could he realize I just want to be left alone? I want things to be calm. I want to be happy.

"No one wants you around, Peter. No one," Flash smirked, "Not your parents, not your uncle and aunt, not Gwen-"

Suddenly I grabbed his shirt and lifted him into the air with relative ease. A sudden gasp emanated from out of the crowd.

"What did you say about my parents?" I growled at him.

Flash was a bit startled, but he didn't show it very much, he just tried to push off of me, but I would not let go. I had a death grip on his jacket.

So, he tried to punch, but the buzzing in my head went off way before he even clenched his fist, so I dodged it and backstepped to get away from his fists. He began to swing wildly, like any one person would who doesn't know how to fight. So, I dodged several of his punches that came close, but he was able to grab my shirt and kind of pull it over my face. But still, my spider sense alerted me to every incoming strike, and I weaved my way through them, pulling my shirt down.

And finally, when he left himself open, I reared my own hand back and swung my fist like a hammer into his head, and even though I barely glanced him, it knocked him completely limp. The crowd went insane at that, some people were panicking, some people were yelling, and one guy roared 'WORLD STAR' at the top of his lungs. People were filming, but I didn't care.

Flash hit the ground, but bounced right back up to his feet as if it were a trampoline and clumsily rushed me again, only for me to duck down low and launch myself forward, tackling him into a nearby column holding the canopy up, and nearly cracking it from the sheer strength of my tackle.

I rolled away, a little dazed from the fight and I got to my senses. The crowd was going insane, there was whistling in the distance, probably from some coach that didn't want to get directly involved, and there was Flash, barely conscious with his hands over his head to shield from any blows. Anger pumped through my veins as I scrambled over to him.

"Ungh…" He grunted, trying to say something.

"I asked you a question!" I growled, standing over his body.

"P-Parker, I-" Flash was visibly shaken from the punch, his eyes were glazed over.

SLAP!

My hand came down across his face, hitting him against the floor and a resounding 'OOOO' rose up from the people there. I grabbed his jacket, pulled him up easily with my new strength, and I pressed him against the column.

I began to growl my words into Flash's ear, seeing his face already start to swell, "You talk to me when I talk to you. Never mention my parents again. Never talk about my family. Never talk about my friends. You will never talk to me, you understand that? I will hurt you."

This wasn't me. I wasn't normally like this. But I had never been more angry in my life. I couldn't keep letting this happen. I had to make it clear even if I was… I was toying with him. I have all this power. And I'm just toying with him cause I can.

I remembered something my Uncle said to me once. It was

I let him go. It took me a moment, but when I met eyes with Gwen, she just looked horrified. Not impressed. Not happy. Just scared.

I can't take this anymore.

I grabbed my bag I had left with Gwen and then stormed off through the crowd and down the field. And while going down there, I stomped on and broke the frisbee that the club left there to watch and do nothing.

Cold air that smells of sunflowers.

It was late by the time I decided to head home. It had just turned dark, so the night was still illuminated. Street lights flickered occasionally as I walked by them and dogs barked in the distance. A typical night in Queens, New York.

I hadn't done much when I left school. I let Aunt May know I was going to be back a little later as I wanted to go somewhere after school and then I decided to head by the junkyard, but found I didn't have the motivation to do acrobatics or lift heavy objects. I wanted to forget about my powers for a little while. They're not going to use anyway.

So I headed downtown and headed to some of the places that I frequented often. I went to the video game store, comic book shop, coffee place, and so on and so forth. It was nice, but I couldn't get my mind off of what happened earlier.

Things were changing a little too fast. A week ago I was floundering about my life. The last friend I had went off to some foreign exchange school. I'd never talked to a girl longer than a minute or two. I sure as hell didn't have any super powers. But one spider bite later and here I am, beating the hell out of bullies, hanging out with a nerdy hot chick, and spidered out.

I shouldn't be thinking about this stuff on my birthday. While birthdays had never been particularly special for me in the past, they'd never been this shitty.

Before I knew it, I was heading up the two wooden stairs leading to my front porch. Each step I took creaked, but I decided to take a second to look inside through the small window next to the door. It was dark.

Oh great. They had an early night. On my birthday. Awesome. Just plain awesome.

I groaned, rubbed my eyes, and opened the door to get it over with. I wasn't going to be quiet. If they wake up, that'll be a good way to say 'Fuck you' for going to bed on-

"SURPRISE!"

Whuh-!

The lights suddenly turned on and I yelped as a whole crowd of different people stood up and yelled at me. A few streamers went off and someone uncorked a bottle on some sparkling cider.

I flinched and held my hands up in the air to defend myself from… uh… I guess the oncoming onslaught of laughter and cake. Everyone in the room immediately began pissing themselves laughing. I had to crack a nervous smile myself, even with my heart going approximately 50,000 beats per millisecond.

"Wh-what's going on?" I already knew the answer to that question, but I felt I should probably ask it anyway. You know, for dramatic effect and all.

Aunt May walked out and smiled, touching my arm, "A surprise birthday party, silly. What else it would be?"

A cunning assassination plot in most comics I read.

I breathed a sigh of relief, letting the tension in my body loose, and then I leaned down to give her a hug, "Awh. Thanks Aunt May. This is really cool."

Aunt May shook her head, "Not me, Mr. Parker. Ben did all the work. I'm just your host for the evening."

Uncle Ben was standing off to the side, but he decided to come forward, where he was smiling his big satisfied grin he always had when he knew he did something right. I'd seen that grin too many times after losing arguments to him to like it, but after this shitty day, all I could do was smile and hug him.

"Thanks, Uncle Ben," was all I could muster.

With a few pats on my back, he chuckled, "Heh. You're welcome, kiddo."

And then he pulled me away, held my shoulders, and with that big dumb grin on his face, he said, "Now, let's enjoy your party."

Almost as if on cue, some music started playing, a couple more bottles were opened, the TV was turned on, and the party was a go.

A lot of people were here, but I didn't know a whole lot of them as well as I probably should. There were mostly family friends and neighbors that were here. And for the next little while, I mingled with them. I answered pointless little questions like how old I was turning, how the new school year was treating me, what I'm planning to do after highschool, all that good stuff.

Normally I'd hate this kind of thing, but it really wasn't bad. I actually had a lot of fun. I had some cake, some cookies (which were my favorites, oatmeal raisin), some punch, I watched a bit of football even though I don't like football or… sports in general really, and I played a party game or two. It was shaping up to be a good night.

Eventually, I was standing next to Uncle Ben and we were watching The Daily Show. It was pretty funny. Those of us who were watching TV were having a good giggle and everyone else seemed to be smiling or laughing.

"Hey son?" I looked up at Ben, "You mind coming with me a second? We're probably going to do gifts any minute now and I'd like to get mine out of the way first. It's kind of a special thing."

"Oh, yeah, okay. Sure. Where to, pops?" I asked and Uncle Ben gestured for me to follow him. I did as asked, downing the rest of my punch and throwing it in the garbage bin next to me.

We approached the stairway upstairs when my Aunt stopped me, "Hey Peter, do you have a moment?"

"I'm kind of busy with Uncle Ben at the moment. What's the matter?" I pointed to said uncle, who stopped at the stairway and was waiting for me.

"You know my friend Anna?" I nodded; she was a neighbor, "Good. So, she brought along her nice niece along with her tonight and she wanted you two to meet."

My shoulders sagged, I don't want to meet some trashy niece and pretend to be nice to her on a night like this, "Um… that sounds great and all, but, the whole other thing and… gotta go, gye!"

"Wait, Peter!" Aunt May called after me, but Ben and I were already rushing up the stairs to escape that.

Ben laughed a little bit, "Smooth, kid. Real smooth."

I rolled my eyes, but he led me into my bedroom, in which he told me to sit down, and I obliged. He pulled up my desk chair and sat in front of me.

"So…"

Uncle Ben grew quiet for a few moments and the mood suddenly changed. It went from somewhat frantic, happy, but still relaxed to tense and foreboding. I was a little shell-shocked to be honest. This didn't feel right.

"Do you remember when you first came here? To live with us, I mean?" He asked.

I nodded, "I remember it really well. I think about it a lot."

"Yeah. It was the last time you saw your parents. Then we played Monopoly and had oatmeal raisin cookies and milk," bringing up this topic all of a sudden pained me a bit, "They left you your father's glasses, your mother's necklace, and a few of your toys. They took your blankie with them."

Another silence.

"We've talked about your inheritance before. You get it when you turn eighteen, right?"

Again, I nodded.

"There was… another thing that they told us to do," my stomach began to rumble.

And then he reached into his jacket and slowly pulled out an envelope. It was obviously old, the once-white paper had grown yellowish and the edges were frayed. And there, in the center, was a half-piece of wax, as the rest had obviously been ripped off. They must've read the letter sometime before.

"It's a letter. From your mom."

Time seemed to stop. My ears began grew hot. The air suddenly felt a lot warmer.

"The lawyers said to wait until you're ready and wanted to read it, I guess that means eighteen, but I think you're more than equipped to handle this," and with that, he handed me the letter.

I gently took it from his hand with my own. Holding it up, I stared at it for what seemed like for a while. Even though it was one pull away from being read, my mind still ran through all the possibilities of what this letter could be. A letter detailing my inheritance? A legal letter? Something else?

Shaking, I pulled the paper out of the envelope and placed it next to me on the bed. The paper was dusty and felt like it had begun to degrade. And in beautiful cursive, there was a whole page worth of writing from… from my Mom.

A glimpse of her face ran through my mind. Short hair. Tanned skin. Her name was Mary. She had a brilliant smile. I remember her the least. But I loved her so much.

Richard was my Dad. Greying hair. Fair skin. He worked a lot, I remember that, but he was always a great dad. Aunt May always tells me I look so much like him. I've seen pictures and I see the resemblance. Everyone tells me he was a good man.

Something that sounded like I was stammering out a word came from my throat. I couldn't believe this was real. For years and years I tried to find things of theirs, to grasp onto anything. To remember any part of them. And I couldn't. But now, after I've completely gotten over them… here's this letter. Dropped into my lap.

And I began to read.

Dear Peter,

How are you, sweetie? If you're anything less than amazing, then hopefully, this letter does something to perk you up a little bit.

As you know, I'm no longer here with you. As I've written this long before anything has happened, I don't know why I'm dead. However, I hope its old age and that I died peacefully so that it doesn't hurt you.

Right now, I am waiting for you to fall asleep in your little cradle. You are absolutely adorable. You're holding your little blankie and moving around. You're such a good baby. You never cry.

Your father's just gone to bed. I'll join him after I write this letter to you in the future. We wrote our wills a couple days ago and they encouraged us to write letters to you on the occasion that we die. It apparently would make things easier for you. Your father had none of it. He was always stubborn. I hope you don't get that from him.

They say that we should write this as if we were going to die tomorrow and wanted to leave something for you. I don't know what to tell you.

All I know is that when I heard that I was pregnant, I had never been more scared in my entire life. Your father's a good man, but I wasn't sure if he was ready for a child. But when I told him and he had that smile on his face, I knew I picked the right man. I was still worried; your father's a busy man who has been working on the same project for years and years with Carl and Norman. But he changed all of that.

And when you were born, I realized I have never loved anything more in my entire life. I can't bear the thought of not watching you grow up into the handsome young man I am assured you are. I hope I did. I hope I was a good Mom. I hope Richard was a good Dad. I want you to know that no matter what happens, we tried our best, and we're right there with you.

With all my love,

Mom.

My chest tightened and tears welled up in my eyes as I placed the letter on the envelope beside me. I couldn't process everything at once. After all these years, finally, I have something to remember her by. To remember my mom. But it doesn't matter now.

"Why?" I stammered out.

Uncle Ben's eyebrows rose, "What?"

"Why am I only seeing this now? Huh?" I asked, my voice cracking, "I don't need this now. I don't. Life may be shitty at times, but things are going well for me. I needed it through all the years I cried myself to sleep because all I wanted was my mommy back. All the times I saw other kid's parents and wished that mine would come back. That was when I needed it. Why wait? Why?!"

Uncle Ben was shocked and tried to reply, "Peter, you have to understand, this kind of thing may have broken you. That letter was power. We had power and we couldn't use it just cause we wanted to. With great power, comes great responsibility, I've told you this. We-"

I stood up all of a sudden, "I decide that! I decide it! I decide what happens to that power! That's my letter! This was my mother's last thing to tell me! I needed this when I was a kid! I needed it!"

"Peter, please listen to me, your father didn't want you to read this until-" my Uncle

"Don't talk about my father!" the anger I felt with Flash earlier today flared up, "You don't know what he wanted! You're not my father!"

Uncle Ben's mouth hung open, "Kiddo…"

"Don't kiddo me. Don't say anything," I ran my hands through my hair as tears fell to the ground, "I-I'm leaving."

Uncle Ben reached out to me as I walked past him to my door, "What do you mean you're leaving? Where? Peter, please, calm down and let's talk! Peter!"

Slam.

I wasn't sure exactly how it happened, but I ran downstairs, trying my best to maintain my composure as I pushed through a small crowd of people, opened the door, and walked out into the night to… to get away from it all.

It was a little bit later in the evening when I had finally calmed down a little bit. I had been trying to clear my thoughts, I'd been crying, it hadn't been a lot of fun. It was cold, fall was about to set in, which meant snow was right around the corner. Snow's a bit of a bitch when it comes down to living in New York. It's hard enough getting around in cramped subways and sweaty buses, we didn't need it take twice as long and have twice as many accidents. I wasn't planning on going back for a while. I don't know if I could face my Uncle or my Aunt for a while. I didn't want to entertain anyone. I just wanted to be alone. I wanted things to be calm. I always want things to be calm.

During my time out I'd gotten myself a Snapple and stopped by the junkyard for a little bit to just think about my powers. Why I had them. I really did feel at home here. It was quiet. I had one of my defining moments here. I realized I didn't need the ground anymore. I could be free from all the shitty confines of teenage life.

And yeah, I know, I sound like an angsty little jerk, but I'm having a tough time. Leave me be.

It was times like this I wish Harry was still around. I could always talk to him about stuff like this. Hell, even that weird kid Eddie who used to hang around us back when we were kids would be nice to see. But I don't even know where he is. And my only other friend I still have is horrified because I stood up for myself for once.

I haven't thought about it for a long time, but I miss my parents. I really do. I miss my mom. I just want to tell her thanks for the letter. It was really nice.

It was when I had returned to the streets of New York and passed by someone who shared these streets that my little patch of peace this night was taken away by an unwelcome sound.

"Peter?! Peter! Is that you?"

Damn.

I didn't even turn back. I didn't even look at him. I just took off running until I got to an alleyway, in which I jumped onto the wall and leapt off to the other one, where I climbed up to the top and held still, hoping he'd run by and not notice me. Cause if he did notice me… well I'd have a lot more explaining to do than I already have.

I put my back to the wall and let my feet cling there, while I buried my face in my hands, just waiting for this to be over. I just wanted to be left alone. I just wanted Ben to go away. Just please. Go away. Leave me be.

"Peter?"

The voice hadn't gotten closer though. He hadn't moved. I expected steps to follow me. I expected to see him down in the alleyway. Where…?

"Peter? Why are… Oh. Oh my god."

What's going on?

"Sir, I'm sorry, I thought you were someone else. I'm looking for my boy, Peter. Here, just, just take this. Take it. I don't care. Please. I need to find my boy, Peter. I need to bring him back-"

BLAM!

…

Uncle Ben?

I immediately looked out over to see someone down the street standing over someone else. I didn't want to look it was. I… I… oh no.

I didn't even think about it, I jumped down, and took off in a full on sprint. The next thing I knew, I was standing over the person and I looked at the man in the hoodie. I couldn't see who it was… but it flashed into my mind. I knew this hoodie.

That day. Hot dog stand. He had a gun. I turned away.

And in an instant, he had run off down the street and disappeared before I could do anything.

Oh God. I don't want to look down. Please please please let this not be happening…?

"P-Peter…?"

Oh god no.

I dropped to my knees and looked at the man. It wasn't a man. It was Ben. He-he was lying there. And he was breathing hard. An-and he was holding his side. Oh god. Oh no. That's blood on the sidewalk. There's so much of it. No no no.

I gently placed his head and placed him on my knee, acting as a pillow. I was hyperventilating. I couldn't breathe. Oh God. So much blood.

A few people had come out to see what was going on. They just stood there shocked. Pure emotion welled up inside me like searing metal.

"Call an ambulance! Someone call the police! Please! He's hurt! Please!"

I saw a few people take out their phones. I heard them talking. I didn't pay attention.

"Uncle Ben, Uncle Ben…"

He gasped, "Peter…"

"You're gonna be okay. See? Help's coming. Help. Help. Oh god. Uncle Ben."

"Peter…" He breathed out again.

Oh no. His blood began to seep over his own hand covering the wound. I whipped off my jacket in a flash and moved his hands out of the way, bunching the fabric up and using it to keep the blood inside. I could barely see, there were so many tears clouding everything up…

"You're going to be fine. Look, see? The blo-blood… there's so much. Oh no. Uncle Ben…"

"Peter…"

There were sirens in the distance. The ambulance was just about to pull up. Help was coming.

"P-Peter…" He grabbed ahold of my arm, his blood smearing into my skin, "I-I'm sorry… I'm sorry… I'm s-s…"

And then… he went limp.

"Uncle Ben?"

Nothing.

"Uncle Ben… Uncle Ben?"

I felt a hand grab my shoulder, "Kid, you need to move out of the way."

"Uncle Ben…"

"Oh Jesus… I'm so sorry."

"Shut up! He's fine. Uncle Ben? Come on, Uncle Ben. Wake up. Please. Please wake up. Oh god. Please don't take him away. Please don't take him."

"Kid, he's gone. We have to-"

I shook off his hand and held Uncle Ben in my arms.

Happy Birthday to You…

"He's not gone! He's not gone! Uncle Ben! Stay with me, Uncle Ben! Uncle Ben!"

Happy Birthday to You…

I felt myself being pulled away. Even with all my power, all my strength, I couldn't hold onto him forever.

Happy Birthday Dear Peter…

"Get off of me! Get off! No! Uncle Ben!"

Happy Birthday to You…

"UNCLE BEN!"

To Be Continued…