A/N: Here it is! Final instalment of School Daze. Thanks all for the reviews, and I hope you like this chapter just as much!

Oh, and I realised I hadn't posted a disclaimer with this story, so here it is:

DISCLAIMER: This piece of writing uses characters copyrighted by Marvel, without permission. This material is used for the purposes of non-profit entertainment, and is not intended to interfere with Marvel's right to use said characters for their own commercial goals.

Cheers,

Apteryx

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Chapter 5: Five Gallons of Carrot Juice.

It was amazing how much more positive he felt about the whole situation now that he was taking action to remedy it. As he climbed out of the side window and leapt for the roof, he hoped Marc wasn't far away - he didn't know how long the make-up job would stay intact under his mask… But sure enough, as he had surmised last night, Marc was around the corner, hanging about, and obviously waiting for Peter Parker to make an appearance. Spider-Man crouched on the ledge of a building, watching. He had to get Marc somewhere where he could reveal his 'identity' without a crowd of curious bystanders looking on.

'Aaaaand… Action!"

Spidey swept down on a long strand of webbing, gathered a very surprised Marc up from the sidewalk, and swooped back up on another webline before any commuters had a chance to even think about becoming a crowd of bystanders.

"Spider-Man!" exclaimed Marc happily, as they shortly after came to a halt atop a building – it was one of the taller blocks in the neighbourhood, and one of the few without extra modifications such as rooftop gardens or 'rooms'.

"That's my name – don't wear it out." Spider-Man remarked as he placed Marc on his feet. He didn't seem at all frightened – his eyes shone with adulation at seeing his hero at such close quarters.

"Mr Parker!"

"Who?" Spidey pretended to be puzzled for a tad. "Oh, Pete! No, he's the one who contacted me, asked me a favour. He wants you to stop following him…"

"But Spider-Man… You are Mr Parker. You talk as if you're two different people." Marc was genuinely confused – Spidey was certain he could see the cogs turning as he tried to figure it out.

"We are two different people."

"You're the same," he said with slightly more conviction, "Mr Parker is Spider-Man."

"Sheesh, no wonder Pete was going spare. Look, kid, I am not Peter Parker. Pete is this skinny, weak, clumsy type, and I'm this skinny, strong, heroic type with the proportionate strength of a spider. Any resemblance is purely coincidental."

"But you are!"

Spidey sighed. This was still going to be tougher than he had anticipated. Well, time for the piece de la resistance…

"What do I have to do to prove it – get Parker up here too? He's busy playing at school teaching. Speaking of which, shouldn't you be in school?"

"No. Yes, uh, not yet, I mean. I wanted to see Mr Parker, because he's Spider-Man."

"Hmm, One track mind. Not related to the Rhino, by any chance?"

"Huh?"

"Never mind. OK, how 'bout we do a deal. To help my buddy Pete, I'll show you my face, and in return, you'll leave him alone. Deal?"

"Deal," replied Marc, confident still that he was right.

Very carefully, so as not to disturb his make-up, Spider-Man slowly pulled his mask off his head, and stood there almost holding his breath as he waited to observe the teenager's reaction.

He looked comically astonished; his mouth dropped open, and his eyes bulged out. Peter noticed his large hands patting the air in front of him, as if independently trying to take in the information.

"Y- you're not Mr Parker!"

"That's what I've been trying to tell you, you big lunkhead!"

Marc screwed up his face in thought. "If you're not Mr Parker, who are you?"

"Sorry, I can't tell you my name – secret identity and all that, you know. Now you've seen my real face, you'll lay off Peter Parker?"

"Oh yes!" exclaimed Marc, his face clearing now that he'd accepted what he'd seen. "You aren't Mr Parker, you're someone else," he said happily.

"Yep, that's me – Mr Someone-Else." Peter pulled his mask back on, happy himself now that he knew that the big lumbering steamroller that was Marc's mind had been nudged on to a different road.

"What school do you go to kid?"

"Midtown High. Why? Are you going to visit me there?"

"No. I'm going to make sure you get there. No using me as an excuse for slacking. C'mon, you can hitch a ride with me."

Spider-Man thoughtfully deposited the boy a block away from the school building, with an admonishment: Don't tell anyone, hoping that by the time he appeared on the scene again as Peter Parker, Marc would have spread the tale of his adventure far and wide.

Stripped to his waist in a small staff bathroom, his wet hair dripping down his neck and back, Peter stood in front of the mirror scrubbing at his face. The dye had come out of his hair easily enough, but what ever the stuff was that MJ used to colour his face was leaving a stain; he looked as if he was suffering from a mild case of jaundice. He had to hope that no one noticed, especially not Marc.

"Carrot juice," he mumbled under his breath, "I drank five gallons of carrot juice last night…"

A few minutes later, Peter emerged from the bathroom, a respectable, if slightly yellow, high school teacher on his way to class. He got one or two sidelong glances from students as they busied themselves at their lockers getting ready for class, but no comments. Not even one of the Spider-Man comments he'd been fielding constantly the day before.

He paused outside the door of the room, his hand on the doorknob, took a deep breath and entered.

The classroom was not yet even half full; the final bell hadn't rung, and most students waited until the last possible moment before taking their seats and being present in body at least. Peter unobtrusively and carefully inspected his desk before turning his back to it and starting to write up some notes on the blackboard. He checked the clock – still a few minutes before class started.

"Yo."

Peter put the piece of chalk down and absently wiped the chalk dust off his fingers on the side of his trousers. The voice was K'so's. He shoved some papers into Peter's hand, pretending he wasn't standing up at the front of the classroom voluntarily and actually speaking with the teacher.

"What can I do you for, K'so?"

"I got the 411 on de spiders fer ya," he said quietly. He indicated the papers with a small movement of his head. "I went to de libr'y an' all," he continued, a bit louder and more confidently, "found dis bruisin' book wit da worst pictures."

Scanning the papers, Peter found that K'so had carefully written out the details he'd asked, and had even drawn some of the spiders in a stylised graphic manner.

Surprised, he said, "Good work K'so, well done. And ahead of time too."

K'so gave another of his rare smiles.

"I'm gonna… you right, spiders are massive. I'm gonna be a et-y-mologist when I leave dis place."

Peter smiled back.

"You have the makings of an entomologist in you – I'm afraid an etymologist is far beyond your ken. You're serious about this?"

Taking off his shades, K'so met Peter's eyes and nodded.

"Serious, man."

Taken suddenly by the different sort of responsibility he faced here, that of being a mentor and helping a young person follow his ideals, Peter almost felt weighed down with it; but he'd done this before with other kids – Hobie Brown came to mind - more misguided than K'so had ever been, and seen them make something of their lives too. Surely this particular responsibility was part and parcel of being a teacher.

"That's great – go for it. If you want any help, or to talk or anything, well, you know where I am."

K'so slipped his shades over his eyes again, and shrugged. "Yeah…" he mumbled.

"Try to contain your excitement – someone might see."

Snorting in amused derision, K'so made his way back to his seat at the back of the room, as a sudden influx of students burst in just ahead of the bell.

Classes that morning were the standard mix of imparting knowledge to the few, and trying to keep the attention of the many. There were the same whispered conversations and giggles, but none of it directed towards him, Peter knew. At the back of his mind while teaching, he wondered what effect this morning's meeting with Spider-Man was having on Marc; perhaps he should have a word with Paul and find out.

In the end, he didn't have to do that.

Marc sought him out at lunch break, waiting outside the science lab's door while he finished cleaning up after an experiment with one of the students who was actually interested in chemistry.

When Peter saw who it was, he sighed, and braced himself for the worst; he didn't have to go through all that rigmarole again, did he?

Glancing about him almost furtively, Marc sidled up to Peter, and started whispering to him. Well, what was a whisper to him was more like a loud conversation with extra hissing to others. To Peter, it was worse than the Lizard's sibilant speech, and had the opposite effect to that Marc intended. A crowd of students quickly gathered around to listen – pretending to be engaged in their own activities whenever Marc looked in their direction.

"Missster Parker," he hissed, "I have ssssomething to tell you; sssomething ssssecret."

He grabbed at Peter's sleeve.

Peter kept his face neutral as he answered.

"What is it now Marc? More of your nonsense that I'm Spider-Man?"

Opening his eyes wide in mock indignation, Marc exclaimed, "No!" Then in a slightly quieter voice – back to his whispering – he continued. "No. Missster Parker, you're not Ssspider-Man. He told me he'ss not you. You don't look anything like Ssspider-Man. I've ssseen him. Without hisss massk. You're not him. He'sss a whole lot better looking than you are."

"Well thanks a lot. I'll have to tell my wife that; she'll be thrilled."

There was a tittering from the surrounding group.

"It's true! I have seen Spider-Man without his mask. He's shown me…" Marc stopped his whispering in his agitation.

"How'd you know it's not someone pretending to be Spider-Man, huh? Someone's having you on." A popular student spoke up; a girl whose dress style was very influenced by manga.

She's right, thought Peter, someone was having him on. But he wasn't about to tell Marc that.

"I saw him web-swinging. He swung me to school on his webbing." Marc protested. "I kept a bit, but it's gone now…" he added sadly.

In the midst of general derision, Peter touched Marc's shoulder.

"I believe you. But keep it to yourself, eh? Thousands won't. Now, I believe Mr Kinross has been trying to teach you something for the last couple of days. Hadn't you better see him and find out what it was?"

"Yes Mr Parker!" Marc raced off down the hall, leaving the others who started to dissipate as they realised that no more sport was to be had in this spot. Peter gained a couple of strange looks from those slower to move off, including Jen the manga girl, who gave Peter a particularly long and striking look.

Peter shrugged. "What?" he said to her, acting dumbfounded, "If he wants to believe it, let him. No harm in it." Not now, he added to himself.

"That's cruel, Mr P. Marc can't help it."

Damned if I do, damned if I don't, thought Peter.

"Look, nothing I could say would make him believe differently anyway. At least if he keeps quiet about it, he's not going to be as hassled by the rest of you lot."

"Oh. I hadn't thought of that." She lowered her eyes for a second, then looked back up at Peter. "Do you think he's right? Did he really meet Spider-Man?"

There were only a few students in the hall now, passing through on their way to their lockers, or to the cafeteria or outside to eat their lunch. None were paying any attention to the teacher and the lone student.

Peter leaned closer. "Anything's possible," he replied, and walked away whistling, towards the staff lounge.

………………………………

Spider-Man threw himself feet-first to land, crouched, on the edge of a fire escape and peered around as he scanned the area for trouble, and took the chance also to take a breather from his patrolling. He smiled under his mask as he remembered his earlier conversation with MJ.

He had gone home from school that afternoon more cheerful than he'd been for a while. Mary-Jane was back already from one of her assignments.

She looked up as he entered, placing her PDA carefully on the table, and grinned at him.

"I don't need to ask you how it went; I can tell." She wrapped her arms around Peter's waist. "You've never been very good about disguising your feelings."

"Strange, for someone who has to wear a disguise as part of his work…"

"One of the things love about you."

"And who wouldn't?" Peter grinned back, and proceeded to thank MJ for her work that morning.

"I'm glad Spider-Hank worked out for you then," MJ said a couple of minutes later when she had got her breath back.

"Yeah, but I'm retiring him – he's no good for my complexion."

Mary-Jane laughed, the most wonderful sound to Peter.

Spider-Man stood, leapt and shot out a web line in one fluid motion, and chuckled to himself as he swung off, remembering MJ's next utterance.

"How about taking me to a show this weekend, Tiger?"

The End.

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