Day one of senior year. A fresh term, a new beginning, yada yada welcome back to prison kids. And the rain is torrential.

MJ dodges through the clumps of drenched, complaining students and makes her way down the hall to her locker. She is late, everybody is late. Roads around the school have flooded, and the truck which came to pump out the stinking water ended up blocking the school entrance, meaning buses could not approach and teachers could not get in. Essentially the entire school is in a foul temper.

MJ saunters past everyone struggling to wring water from wet clothes. "Don't fight it," she says, nodding jovially at freshmen and sophomores. "Embrace the damp."

They leap back in terror.

MJ frowns. Just how much damage to her hair has the downpour done?

"You're a senior now," says Peter, walking up behind her.

"I am." She casts a superior look at the freshman boys ogling her. "And so are you." She links her rain-soaked arm through his. "It is in our power to make their lives a misery."

"Or not." He gives her a sideways grin. "I'm thinking it might be nice to try something new. It's a new concept I call courtesy. You know, break the cycle of pain."

"Interesting, interesting."

He is a little taller, a little paler, than when she last saw him. Of course, over the summer a lot has happened. He fought and lost a war, or maybe won it. It's hard to say now. People have died.

He still wears a dorky checkered shirt and white Nikes, though, and still thinks it is cool to try to slick back his rebellious hair. So no real change.

Not that you care, whispers the Suit. Do you?

"I am a senior girl. The pinnacle of my young life. I'll care about whatever I want."

"Sorry what?"

"Nothing. Let's go."

They forge through the crowd, sneakers squeaking on the linoleum hall floor, more so than usual because of all the rainwater brought in by the students' shoes and clothes.

Peter lets go her arm. "I have to go to the administrator's office. My internship… it's kind of over."

What with the head of that company being dead in the war, and all. "Who's taking over from Iron Man now?" she wonders.

Peter's eyes dart about. "There's Ned." He waves. "We're going to the office!" he yells as if announcing a picnic. Ned swerves from his previous path and joins them.

The administrators' office is fronted by a long counter, as if you were lining up for lunch instead of, usually, a stern talking-to for some paper-based misdemeanour. Behind the counter lies a big beige office fitted with striplights, desks heaving with paper files, and a dozen jaded middle-aged people with short tempers and long nicotine addictions.

As Peter and MJ approach, the crowd of students grows denser and the noise increases. Pretty standard for the start of term - new students, students with medical excuses and lab requisition forms and students who had lost their ID lanyards and needed new ones printing off.

What with this and the slapping of shoes on wet floors, it's pandemonium. Although for once the shrieks seem to be coming from inside the administrators' office.

"Something's going on," Peter says in a different tone, and for some reason starts jogging toward the counter.

MJ follows,not jogging. What, is he going to reveal himself to be Timetabling Man and fix room booking issues with one stamp of his mighty boot? Anyway she is not going to miss it. Ned is beside her, swatting ineffectually as kids get in their way.

They reach the back of the crowd surrounding the counter. It's hard to see what's happening. Kids are shoving and pushing to get to the counter. Mr Julius, the chief administrator, is yelling at them to get back, some are trying, some refusing. Everyone's shoes slip and squeal on the linoleum. The air is full of the smell of damp hair.

But more than that, from inside the office come screams of genuine fear.

MJ recoils, and steps back into a puddle. "Shit." She looks down and sees purplish brown liquid, seeping over her shoe. "Hey -"

Ned squeezes between freshmen to stand beside her. "What is it?"

"This -" She lifts her shoe. Viscous liquid drips back to the floor. "A leak, a flood, I don't know." In this city, anything strange or unexpected was to be treated with the utmost suspicion. "It's not just rainwater, that's for sure."

"That's not good." Ned looks wildly round. "Where's Peter?"

The lights in the administrators' office flicker on and off. There's a crash, then a crack like a power socket shorting out. Everyone shrieks, even MJ. "What the hell-"

She cranes her neck and sees Peter spring onto the counter to stand balanced, glancing over the crowd. Then he turns and leaps into the admin office. The lights are out.

MJ's feet are wet. "I really don't want this stuff on my skin."

"I don't think anybody does." Ned clutches at her. "We should go -"

Nobody can move, the hall is too packed, and now the lights in here are shorting out too.

Peter reappears, or rather, an admin lady does, with Peter in a supporting role as he heaves her up onto the counter. "Stay there," he yells, and darts back into the darkness to fetch another one.

The woman is spattered with the brownish liquid, and clutching a file. Soon she is joined by two colleagues and finally the head of administration, Mr Julius. "I don't need help," he snarls.

"Too bad. I have a natural compulsion to assist people." Peter grips Julius's arm and propels him physically up onto the counter. Julius squats there, bedraggled and undignified beside his staff, glowering.

Peter turns back to the throng in the hall and yells, "There's a flood, everybody, you need to get out of here, there's some kind of liquid welling up from the floor and -"

With the idiocy of mass humanity, everyone surges towards the danger for a better look.

Jeez. Surely, after everything that's happened, New York kids know that a weird phenomenon is rarely a good thing? Are these the same people who would pick up an artefact of unknown power in a tomb and think I know, I'll crack this open.

"Please," yells Peter, waving his arms. "Move back! We don't know what this stuff is, it might be dangerous, it might be alien tech -"

Now everyone wants a closer look even more.

MJ's being elbowed and squashed but she manages to draw a big breath and shout, "Oh my god! It's sewage. Raw sewage!"

"What?" Ned's horrified.

"It's, it's turd water," yells MJ.

The students stop, look at their feet, see the purplish sticky mess - and panic.

"Oh," says MJ. "I may not have fixed this." The crowd sways and surges, and then breaks into pure stampede.

On the counter, a crouching Peter is peering into the eyes of a dazed Mr Julius. "Call them," he yells to Ned.

Now the kids are flailing and fighting away from the threat of poop, and carrying Ned and MJ with them. She shuffles and scrambles and breaks free down a corridor. She makes it into a classroom and climbs on a desk, feeling foolish.

There's no more water, or whatever it is. She watches kids rush past the open classroom door.

Ned bursts in, breathless, his phone in his hand. "You OK?"

"Yeah. Who'd you call?"

"We're being evacuated."

"Where's Peter?"

Ned gains a shifty look. "Helping the, uh, admin people."

"What, with filing?"

"He's good in a crisis," says Ned loyally. "Come on, we've got to go. Peter will find us."

As they make their way to the designated assembly point, the school tannoy system bleats, "Classes will be scheduled later today, please note, all classes will run late today to make up for lost time this morning."

Great, just great.

The students stand in the rain at the front of the school and wait to be allowed back inside, and MJ thinks of Peter Parker, poised on the office counter, and how he and Ned answered not a single one of her questions.

Author's note - please let me know what you think! I live for feedback so please leave a review. -Sef