Chapter Two

"Mayday! Mayday!"

"Huh? Whazzat? Whozere?" I grunted.

"Mayday! Wake up! You're late!"

My last dream dissolved into a blurry pink face and a mop of red hair. "Benny?"

Benny grinned and flashed the lights on and off.

"Stop it," I groaned, and pulled the covers over my head. Wait a minute. Wasn't I supposed to be sick?

My eight-year-old brother flashed the lights again for good measure and said, "You talk in your sleep, you know."

"I do not."

"Yes, you do. And you were talking with an Australian accent. What are you dreaming?"

"Just that I'm the amazing Stephanie Irwin, the one and only female crocodile hunter," I mumbled. "Why'd you wake me up?"

"Because you're twenty minutes late, Crocodile Woman. Get up." Benny bounced out the door and clattered down the hall, leaving the lights on.

Twenty minutes late?

I flung off my covers and gracefully tumbled head over heels out of bed. I scrambled to my feet, tripped on the leg of my desk and got a face full of carpet. From my new position on the floor, I saw the clock: 6:45.

Benny backpedaled to peek back into the room. "It's like a circus act or something," he remarked.

"Oh, let me suffer in peace!" I wailed, and stretched out my arm to push the door closed. Benny bounced back down the stairs.

"Mayday. How are you feeling?" There was Mom, leaning into the doorway.

"I'm...I'm fine!" Somehow I got my feet organized beneath me and I clambered up, rubbing my head.

Mom felt my forehead. "Oh, good, your fever's gone. Are you sure you're all right? I'll take the day off so you can stay home."

"No, Mom, really, I feel fine. I feel great!" I grinned. I really did feel fine. Great. Wonderful! I felt like I could sprint a mile!

Mom gaped at me in mock astonishment. "You're feeling great at six in the morning? Who are you and what have you done with my daughter?"

"Aw, Mom..."

"Okay, okay. I'm going to go fix breakfast."

I made my way towards the bedside table for my glasses, then froze. I could see my glasses lying on the table from the middle of the room. Why hadn't I realized that I wasn't wearing them before?

I hurried over to the table and slid my glasses onto my face. The world dissolved into a fragmented blur, and I snatched them off.

I pinched myself. Was I still dreaming?

I shook my head soundly. Nope. I was awake. I turned and headed for the bathroom.

"Oh, no!"

Freezing rain battered against the window panes sounding like gunshots. I glowered as I shut the bathroom door. Coach would probably expect us to run sprints in it, too.

I splashed water on my face and pulled off my track shirt, which I had fallen asleep in.

"Aaaaaah! Wha...what the..."

I stumbled back against the seat. Now I knew I was dreaming.

"Mayday? Are you okay?" I heard Mom call.

"I'm okay!" I called back, all the while shaking my head no.

I waved at the mirror. The reflection waved back. It was sinewy and muscular, with distinct shoulder muscles and biceps. I glanced down at my legs and nearly fainted again. My arms and legs had been fine before, but they had never looked like this! I looked like a swimmer!

I brushed my teeth and showered in a daze. As I was in front of the mirror, trying to do something with my hair, I froze. Mom was on the phone. I could hear her talking. Grandma Watson was on the other end.

Mom was downstairs!

"She's not a bit like the women in our family," Grandma Watson commented to Mom, "Look at her, Mary Jane. She's as small as a minute and all of those dark curls...where did they come from? Now, Benjamin, he looks like a Watson..."

"Mother," Mom had said irritably. She only called Grandma Watson 'Mother' instead of 'Mom' or even 'Ma' when she was starting to get on her nerves. "Mother," she said, "You know perfectly well that she looks more like Peter. Not everyone can be a redhead."

Grandma snorted when she heard 'Mayday'. Another touchy point with her was my nickname. "Mayday isn't a proper name for a young woman," she had sniffed once, "Your name is May Eleanor Parker, and you should be happy to have such a pretty name like that. Why on earth do you want to be called 'Mayday'?"

I snapped out of my memories. There was something wrong with me!

I ran down into the kitchen, wearing a long-sleeved blouse and the loosest pair of jeans I could find. My feet made no noise on the stairs.

Move!

"Aaaah!" I leaped backwards as a red-caped Superman action figure swooped into my face like a rabid bat. "What the...Benny!"

My fiendish little brother, clad in a Batman T-shirt and matching sneakers, was hugging himself and cackling with glee in his best Joker impersonation. The Superman model dangled harmlessly from a string taped to the top of the threshold.

"Benjamin Parker, it's too early for your booby traps!" Mom called from the middle of the den, stuffing her briefcase with a cell phone clamped between her shoulder and her ear. She was already in her work clothes at six-thirty in the morning. She had started working as the morning technician at the store, and she always needed to be up extra early these days.

"What did you do that for?" I grumbled, pulling out a kitchen chair and halfheartedly dumping cereal into a bowl.

Benny grinned toothily. "Admit it. Didn't that wake you up?"

"What is it with you today?"

"What is it with you?" Benny countered, retrieving his Lucky Charms from the shelf. "Why're you in such a lousy mood?"

"I am not in a bad mood!" I poured the dry cereal back into the box. No, I wasn't in a bad mood. I was shaken, jumpy, and utterly creeped out, but not in a bad mood.

Benny leaned over the table and peered owlishly at me. "Are you okay?"

"Huh?"

"You look kind of different."

I fidgeted with my sleeves, trying to adjust them to hide my arms and shoulders. Mom rushed into the kitchen towards her purse, stopped, and looked at me. "You do look better. Still, are you sure you're all right? I can skip today..."

"No!" I protested. Mom and Benny both blinked. "No, it's okay. Really." There was no way Mom was going to miss work because of me. She worked hard enough already, and I couldn't let her skip the morning shift just because I felt a little strange.

The morning rushed by in a blur. I hid behind my backpack and buried myself in a copy of The Fellowship of the Ring, hoping that no one would notice me. The bus chugged to a stop in front of Harry's house.

I glanced out the window. No Harry. The car wasn't in the driveway, either. Where was he? Where could he and his aunt have gone so early in the morning? Mrs. McKay was a short, bubbly woman with a gray ponytail and dedicated to perfect attendance.

Thirty minutes later, the bus trundled to a stop in front of Midtown High School. I dashed off the bus and headed for first period, still wondering what on earth was going on, and where Harry could be.

First period. Pre-Cal. I ducked my head as I sidled into the room. You probably could have seen me shrinking as I made my way towards my desk through the throng of juniors.

"Hey, hey, hey, it's Mayday Parker, the genius sophomore, come to regale us with her wisdom!" Jennifer Banda cracked, and the rest of the class giggled like a pack of hyenas. I slid into my desk, silently.

"Whassa matter, Parker? You too good to talk with the rest of us?"

Keep quiet, don't answer, just ignore her. I repeated the thought like a mantra as I pulled out my textbook and binder.

"Hey, why do you act so smart, Parker? Big words and all. Why can't you be like the rest of us?"

Don't answer...

Wait a minute.

Why not? Why shouldn't I stand up for myself? Why should I have to take this silently? I twisted around in my seat. "How can I ever be like you? I walk upright."

"Oooooh," the class said.

"Excuse me? Are you insulting me, Parker? You better not be a smart mouth, or I might have to slap it for you."

"What is your problem, Banda? What did I ever do to you?"

Banda stood up. She was a junior, at least a foot taller than me and about three times as wide. "What did you ever do to me? How about being the only sophomore in this class and making everyone else look stupid?"

I stood up, furious. "You don't need help to look stupid!"

Move!

I jerked to the side as Banda swung. I felt the breeze as her fist blew past an inch from my face. I gasped as the class cheered. How had that happened?

Move! Right! Left! Back! Look out!

I dodged again and again as Banda punched at me again and again, my mouth open. What was going on? It was as if my brain was just sitting there in shock as my body twisted and jerked out of the way on its own.

I stood up straight again as Banda paused. Her eyes were wider than mine. "What the..."

The class was utterly silent, staring at me as if I were from another planet. I didn't blame them. Small, timid Mayday Parker had just insulted the notorious Jennifer Banda to her face and dodged every single one of her punches!

I felt my face getting hot. Wordlessly, I stepped over my backpack and hurried down the aisle between the desks. No one tried to trip me. No one said a word. I pushed the door open and stepped out into the hall.

"Ow!"

The class burst out laughing again. What could possibly happen now?

I turned and stared at my right hand, still flat where I had pushed the door open. I pulled. My hand didn't move.

Was this a joke? Did someone put glue on the door, or...

I braced my left hand against the door and shoved.

Rrrip!

My hand wrenched off the door, along with several chips of paint and splinters of wood. Burning with embarrassment, I tried to walk out of the room again.

The class started laughing again.

Now my left hand was stuck! I grabbed my wrist, braced my foot against the door, and shoved as hard as i could.

Rrrip! "Aaaaah!" Crash! Rattle, rattle...

I went flying five feet down the hall as the door slammed shut, and crashed against the wall of lockers.

"May! What…what are you doing?" Mrs. Schwartz, the Pre-Cal teacher, gasped in astonishment, her mug of coffee splattering in every direction.

"Ah, ah, nothing. I...um, may I be excused? From class? Right now?" I stammered.

"Yes, go ahead..."

I scrambled to my feet and ran. I dashed through the crowd, shouldered through a mob of freshmen, and kept running out the side doors, across the field, and to the sidewalk next to the street.

Distantly, I heard the late bell ring. I didn't care. I collapsed onto a bench, my head in my hands. Oh, no, oh, no. This couldn't be happening. This had to be some kind of dream, some kind of nightmare. Maybe I was still sick, and I was hallucinating. That had to be it.

"Hey!"

Danger.

I flinched. What was that? It was like a little warning bell going off inside my head.

Danger! I straightened up and looked around.

"Hey, sweetie!" It was a man, leaning against a car at the corner. He didn't look older than nineteen or twenty, but he had a funny smile on his face.

DANGER! DANGER! DANGER!

I stood up. I was in trouble. A lot of trouble. The sidewalk was busy, but no one glanced my way twice.

The man sauntered closer, reaching into his jacket. "Hey, little lady, you want to go for a ride?"

"Not particularly," I said.

The man flipped his jacket open. The grip of a handgun glinted in his pocket. "That's too bad," he said.

I stiffened. Did I have a chance to run? Could I yell for help? Or could I try to grab the gun?

With a start, it hit me. Even while wondering how I could escape, I wasn't afraid!

The man stepped closer.

"Stay away from me. You'll get hurt."

The man chuckled unplesantly. "I seem to be the one holding the gun, sweetie." He lunged.

I whipped my arm up to block him, planning to dodge away and make a run for it, when-

Thwip!

"Aaaaargh!" The man reeled back, clawing at his face. Now people noticed. I gasped. The man was screaming, scrabbling at his eyes, which was covered by what looked like a spider web the size of his face. The gun clattered to the sidewalk.

I turned, ran, and kept running. South, through midtown, into lower Manhattan. I dodged and weaved through people and traffic, sprinting past ground zero and towards the Queensboro Bridge.

I ran and ran, over the sidewalks, into Queens. Trying to run away from this whole, awful morning.

I blitzed past Harry's house, still empty. I turned the corner and saw Mom just stepping outside, sorting through her keys.

"Mayday!" Mom's jaw dropped in shock as I blew past her, inside, and up the stairs. Past my room, past Mom's, past Benny's. I leapt up the attic stairs, bursting through the door.

"Mayday! Mayday!" I heard Mom running up the stairs to the second floor.

I stumbled on, tripping over an old chest of drawers from Great-Aunt May, and fell. I wasn't even out of breath. I had just run a thirty-minute bus drive in fifteen minutes and I wasn't tired.

I tried to organize my feet beneath me and stand up. The chest of drawers toppled over, narrowly missing my head. A drawer emptied onto my lap.

For the millionth time that day, I gasped.

In the drawer was a folded stack of clothes. Red and blue, with thin, black designs running in spider web patterns all over. Clinging to the palm of my left hand was a mask. It was red, and stretchy, meant to cover the person's entire head. On the front were two huge, swept back, opaque white eyepatches.

The chest of drawers had belonged to my dad.

This mask had belonged to Spider-Man.

"Mayday? What happened? How did you get here? What..." Mom appeared in the attic doorway. She stared at me, then stared at the mask.

"May," she said, closing her eyes, "put that mask back and come downstairs.

"We need to talk."