Chapter Eight

I was laying on my bed, facing the wall and counting the cracks when I heard the door creak open behind me. The light was dim.

"Mayday?"

I grunted. Mom stepped quietly over the clutter and sat on the edge of the bed.

"Mayday, I want to apologize."

I turned. "For what?"

"I'm sorry that I yelled at you like that."

"It's not your fault," I muttered.

"I knew you were keeping something from me when I first told you about your father. I let it go because I didn't want to upset you more."

"I didn't want you to start worrying about me, too."

Mom sighed, and there was a silence for a moment. "There's something else I need to tell you."

Instantly I was alert again. What other secrets could there be?

"Even though I'm upset that you never told me...when I was watching Spider-Girl save those people on the news, I knew it was you. And I was so proud of you."

I sat up and stared at my mother. "You're not mad?"

"Mayday, look at me. Do I look like I'm mad?" Mom reached over and wrapped me in a tight hug. I hugged her back, feeling a prickling at the corners of my eyes.

"Mom, you know how Dad went around saving people and stopping robberies and stuff like that," I said, very carefully. Mom didn't say anything, so I continued.

"Mom, I can, well, I can do what Dad could do. I've got these, um, abilities. And I know if I see something bad happening, I know that I can't just stand there and let people get hurt. I can help people, Mom. So, I was thinking...about joining the family business."

Another silence. Then Mom said, "I can see the sign: The Parker Family, Public Service since 1983. Catchy."

I looked at Mom. She looked at me. Immediately, we both burst out laughing, not of sheer relief, but at a joke. Like old times.

September 24, 2002: Disaster Averted! New York Cheers Costumed Heroine! Rita Merlo, The New York Times

October 1, 2002: Crime Spree at an End! Don Selheimer, The Herald

October 8, 2002: Bank Robbers Suffering From Spider Bite! Emma Slack, Associated Press

October 16, 2002: Spider-Girl: Who IS She? Martin Weiss, Chronicle

October 27, 2002: The Menace Behind the Mask Jerry Mason, Daily Bugle

"Yeah, so, the Daily Bugle says that Spider-Girl is 'just as dangerous as Spider-Man', quote unquote, 'just another bug freak', quote unquote, and 'a shameless hussy', quote unquote. On the other hand, every single other paper in New York seems to think she rocks. You just gotta make up your own mind, I guess. Yeah. Um, thank you." Eric Mashyr, an amazingly tall sophomore, slouched back to his desk with the shreds of last Sunday's paper.

"Thank you for that highly opinionated 'formal' report, Mr. Mashyr," Mrs. Berril remarked icily. "I assume you are familiar with the word 'formal'?"

Eric shrugged. "Yeah."

"Then I'm sure you are aware that a Grateful Dead t-shirt and jeans falling around your knees does not constitute 'formal'?"

"Uh, doesn't it?"

I was busy doodling little jack o' lanterns between the blue lines of my margins when Mrs. Berrill barked, "Any comments on this current event?"

Actually, I had been planning on finishing the Halloween scene bordering my history notes, but I couldn't pass up a chance like that. I raised my hand.

"Yes, miss?"

"How does the Daily Bugle get away with libel?"

Mrs. Berrill blinked at me curiously. "Libel?"

"Yes."

"Well, in most cases, the person being insulted is the one to file suit against the libeler. I don't see how that would, er, work out in this instance. It...Mr. Osborn!"

All hints of sarcasm in Mrs. Berrill's voice vanished as most of the class turned around. I swiveled around in my desk, expecting to see Harry reading or messing with a cell phone. Instead, he was sprawled across his desk, arms dangling, apparently fast asleep.

"Mr. Osborn, are you all right?"

Harry didn't respond. I heard people start to giggle, and I poked him slightly. "Harry!"

Harry jerked upwards so quickly that people around him jumped. "Huh? I'm awake. I'm fine."

Harry didn't look fine at all. He was paler than I'd ever seen him before, and dark circles shadowed his eyes. His hair was tousled, as if he hadn't bothered combing it this morning. He squinted blearily at the teacher.

Mrs. Berrill frowned. "Did you sleep at all last night, Mr. Osborn?"

"Er, I...uh...I think so," Harry said. People chuckled as Mrs. Berrill scowled. With a disgusted shake of her head, she returned to badgering the next unfortunate student presenting.

I leaned over and whispered. "Are you okay?"

Harry stared at me for a moment as if he didn't quite understand the question, then said, "Oh, yeah. I'm okay. I just had a late night. Algebra test. Yeah." He started paging halfheartedly through his notes, not meeting my eyes.

I turned around, perplexed. Harry hadn't been acting right at all for a few days. Just staring blankly into space or making snide remarks when other people asked what was wrong. What was going on? Maybe he was still stressed out about the move and discovering that he was a billionaire. That would probably be enough to unnerve anyone.

I winced as my shoulder twisted. It had been aching for a while, ever since I had tossed a bank robber's getaway van across a street and pulled a muscle. The pain reminded me again of the Daily Bugle article. 'Menace'? 'Dangerous'? I could live with that, but 'shameless hussy'? What was the matter with Jameson? Not to mention that that was the eleventh time I had been referred to as 'bug'.

When the bell finally rang ten minutes later, I opened my mouth to ask him something when Harry stood up and shouldered past me without a word, leaving me annoyed and frankly, a little hurt. Sighing, I stuffed my books into my backpack and trudged out of the class, heading for the nearest pay phone.

"Hi, Mom?"

"Mayday? How was your...Benny! Don't throw those in the house!"

Benny's voice came in over the line. "Aw, Mom, I've got to practice with my grappling hooks if I want to be a good Batman!"

"Uh, Mom? Everything okay? You sound stressed out."

"Between my boss's nagging and Benny's Batman act? Most definetly. Are you..." Mom lowered her voice. "Did you plan on going patrolling tonight?"

"Nope. I promised I'd take Benny trick-or-treating, remember?"

"Actually, I didn't. I need to take a nap. Are you coming home now?"

"Uh-huh."

"Okay, I love you. Bye."

"Love you too, Mom. Bye."

"Na na na na na na na na Batmaaaaan!" A small figure clad in a black cape and costume bounded down the stairs and nearly crashed into me as I shut the front door.

"Waah! Save it for the Riddler!" I yelped as Benny threw punches left and right going "Hyah! Hah! Hoh!

"It's getting dark! It's getting dark! Why the heck aren't you going to wear a costume? It's Halloween!"

"Uh, what if I comb my hair over my face and go as Samara?"

"Who?"

"Benny, every day of my life is Halloween." I dropped my backpack in a kitchen chair. "Where's Mom?"

"Taking a nap. Let's go! Let's go!" Benny bounced around the kitchen island like a hyperactive rabbit.

"Okay! Just give me a minute, Batman!" I took a quick peek into Mom's room and saw her sound asleep, still in her work clothes. I sadly closed the door and went to look for some paper. Scribbling a quick note, I left it on the kitchen counter and followed Benny to the door.

It was already an hour after dark when the night started to get strange.

We were heading back towards home, chewing on Tootsie Rolls and dodging around other trick-or-treaters when—

Danger.

"Ow! Mayday, let go!"

"Sorry!" I loosened my grip on Benny's hand. What was going on? There were dozens of people around, kids, parents. What could be happening?

Danger!

I glanced around quickly over Benny's head. Little kids, parents, and a man leaning against the corner. He was tall, thin, in filthy jeans and a torn jacket. Your average street-corner thug. My spider sense wouldn't be going off that strongly for some tough guy on the sidewalk.

We crossed the street, Benny happily chattering while I kept looking over my shoulder. No, I wasn't imagining it. The man was following us.

Feeling adrenaline trickling through my veins, I steered us into a crowd of trick-or-treaters, but the man veered after us, stepping more quickly that he had before.

What was going on? There were plenty of people around, why would some mugger target us? The thug I could handle, but what about Benny? I couldn't fight if things got worse. I had to get Benny home, and fast.

"Mayday, where are we going?" Benny panted as I pulled him along at a jog. "Home's that way."

"Don't worry. It's a shortcut. Don't worry." We cut behind Santorini's Bakery and past a watch shop to the next row of houses. The man shouldered through the crowd behind us, closing the distance with every step.

"Okay, what's going on?" Benny demanded, tugging at my grip on his hand.

"Shhh! It's okay! Nothing!" Relief washed over me as I saw the twinkling streetlamps in front of our house appear as we turned a corner, just a block and a half away. All we had to do was walk in front of the alley and cross the street.

DANGER! DANGER! DANGER!

It was just then that another man stepped out of the alley, large, heavyset, with his hands in his pockets, smiling. The same type of smile that had been on the face of the man six weeks ago at Midtown.

I heard footsteps scrape to a stop behind us. Thug number one. In a split second, I let go of Benny's hand and shoved.

"Run, Benny! Run! Run!"

"What? Mayday?" Benny gasped, eyes widening behind his mask. Maybe he saw the expression on my face, or heard the tone of my voice.

"Go! Run home! Get help! Run!" I screamed.

Benny dropped his bag and sprinted at the mockingly distant lights of our house. The second thug turned and started after him. Furiously, I whipped my hands up and fired two lines of web after him, hitting him square in the back. I pulled.

"What th-aaaaaaahhh!" The man screamed as he went flying backwards. I caught the edge of his jacket, whirled, and flung him at the thug behind me, sending them both tumbling to the pavement. I turned and dashed into the alley, wrenching my sweatshirt over my head and kicking off my shoes, furious that these lowlife cowards had gone after a little boy, my little brother.

"Hey, get off me!"

"Where'd that kid get to?"

"Forget him! Where's the girl?" I heard low voices and a scuffling at the end of the alley.

"Hey, pal, didn't anyone ever teach you to play nice with the other kids?"

Thwipp! Thwipp! Thwipp!

The thug didn't have a chance to yell before I had a fistful of his collar. With one arm I was lifting him over my head, and with the other I was busy webbing his compatriot's arms against his sides.

"So. What are you supposed to be? Kidnapper? Child molester? Or just your everyday drop-out punk?" I asked conversationally, voice trembling with the effort of hiding my anger.

"Uh...uh...uh..." the aloft thug gibbered senselessly, eyes riveted on my mask.

"Hmm. Never heard that one before." The distant wail of a police siren echoed in the distance. "Hey, I've got an idea. How about if you and your little friend over there just sit tight and play the quiet game until the friendly cops arrive? I'm sure they'll be impressed with your behavior." I punctuated my last word with a blast of webbing that pinned thug number two against the greasy brick wall.

"No, no, it w-was just a j-joke!"

"Tsk tsk. Telling lies. Ten minutes in the corner. March!" I dropped the man, shot a webline at the back of his jacket and swung him into the web entangling his companion, who was quivering in terror.

"You...you're really a...a bug!"

Twelve times! Twelve! I sighed dramatically. "For the last time, the classification is arachnid!"

I bounded over a dumpster to cling to the corner of the building. I gestured to the patrol car speeding down the street, then sprang up to crouch on the roof, watching two police officers jump out and charge into the alley, guns drawn.

Those two weren't going to be following anyone but a prison guard for a long time. Benny must have called the police. I had to get home fast, before anyone started asking what had happened to the sister he had left behind.

As the thugs were pushed handcuffed and sullen into the patrol car, I waved cheekily and called, "Happy Halloween!"

As the car pulled away, I dropped back down into the alley to get my outer clothes.

Clap. Clap. Clap.

What was that? Clapping? I spun. Behind me there was nothing but deep, black shadows. One shadow was leaning against the wall, slapping its palms together lazily. A tingle shivered down my spine.

"Well...done." The voice was low, harsh, grating, with just the barest hint of a sneer.

What was this? Who was that? Had he seen the whole thing? Did he know who I was? A thousand questions flickered through my mind in an instant.

The shadow shifted, and I saw the outline of a person, a man. But the outline seemed too smooth, metallic almost. And the head was all wrong, much too pointed and elongated.

"Who are you?"

"Who am I? Or who is he?" The figure chuckled harshly, almost a cackle. "It's complicated."

I felt myself getting angry again. What kind of game was this idiot playing?

"Aren't you a little old to be dressing up for Halloween? Or is this your usual attire for stalking down dark alleys?"

"I could ask you the same thing, Spider-Girl." The figure spat the last two words venemously. "I've wanted to meet you for such a long time. I could go on and on. But instead, I've got a little question for you. It's hypothetical. Rhetorical."

"Either say what you want or stop wasting my time," I snapped, feeling my spider sense rise along with the irritation of the figure. It began to toss something up and down in its hand like a baseball.

"You call yourself a hero, eh? Then here's the question, Spider-Girl. What will you do when you fail? You know it'll happen eventually. You'll get there too late, miss your leap, not reach far enough to grab their hand. You'll never forget it. You'll see it again and again, over and over, those despairing faces, wondering what you could have done, and how you failed those who trusted you. Those you tried to protect."

The figure stepped backwards, vanishing eerily into the shadows. "You'll suffer. And be prepared, Spider-Girl. What you dread may happen sooner than you think. I swear on everything I am worth, on the grave of the person that was stolen from me, I will make you suffer."

A persistant humming began in the darkness, and I leaped backwards as an indistinct figure shot straight upwards into the air, black against the sky, and out of sight with a roar. The sound faded, and I was alone, stunned, in the silence and darkness.