I took as long as possible in getting ready. I brushed my teeth for nearly
eight minutes. I pulled on my socks slowly, then slipped my feet into my
slippers. I sat on my bed. I couldn't think of anything else to do.
Finally, I got up and dragged my feet to the living room. My parents were
in a heated conversation on the couch. I slumped slowly over to them and
plopped down. I tucked my feet up under me and curled into a ball.
"Okay," said my dad. "Now that you've had twenty minutes to think about it, go ahead. Enlighten us." I sighed and sat up, crossing my legs Indian- style.
"Right," I breathed. "Well, me and Nick and Gwen and Jay were walking to the movies. About a half a block away, I got this...thing. I've gotten it before. It's like, like, a premonition or something." I looked at my dad to see if he understood. He nodded, obviously hiding a smile. He was still EXCITED about this, dammit. "Anyway, I got that image thing, in my mind, and it showed some guy stealing Gwen's purse. I knew where it was going to be too. Because of the-"
"Movie poster," said my dad automatically. I looked at him, bewildered. "I saw it. Just tell it for your mom." He looked pleasantly embarrassed. My mom raised an eyebrow.
"Yeah, so, I did get a little paranoid, since I knew where it was, and that we were going to the movies," I resumed. "I tried to get the others to not go to the theater, but then Nick said we were already there. I looked around, and there was the same poster. I was about to start panicking, when Gwen flew backwards into me. This guy was there, in a black trench coat and long greasy hair. He was really tall. Just like the one in my...whatever it was. But he told us to give him all of our money. And from there, it was like someone else took over my BODY," I said, staring at the floor. I looked up at my dad. "D'you know? What that's like? I was in control, yet I wasn't." My dad nodded.
"I'm surprised that's happened so soon," he remarked. "Happened after my second fight." I grit my teeth and looked at the floor again. There was a silence. "This wasn't the first premonition you've had?" I shook my head.
"Third," I muttered under my breath. I glanced apologetically at him. "Only one of the others was a fight though! And it wasn't even a real fight!"
"You can tell me later," he said sternly. I could see the amusement in his eyes though. "Go on."
"Well, yeah," I said. "Um, I sort of, ah, said no to the guy."
"WHAT?" said my mom. I glanced at her. She had been silent throughout the previous revelations. "Jessica Parker, I have TAUGHT you what to do in situations like those! You don't just say NO!" I blinked for a few moments.
"No, that was drugs," I said stupidly. There was a surprised pause. Then everyone burst into laughter.
"My gosh, Jess," said my dad, wiping his eyes.
"Okay, okay," I said, ears burning. "Anyway, yeah. I said no. He had a gun." I put a hand up to stop another outburst from my mother. "He put it up, like he was going to shoot one of us, but I just sort of, kicked it, out of his hand. I think it went into a window on the second floor. In the building across the street." My dad made a sound, and I went on, talking quickly. "He tried to hit me, but I was really fast. I yelled at the others to move away, and they did. It was just me and him. He kept trying to hit me, but I was too fast. But one of my stupid shoelaces came untied, and I tripped and fell against a wall. He shoved me into an alleyway. I was going to turn around again and fight him, but he had pulled a knife." My mom made a noise, and I reached over and squeezed her hand. I went on. "It was kind of like an instinct. I turned and ran, to the end of the alleyway. But it was a damn dead end," I said vehemently. My dad snorted. "But then, it happened again. Just like someone else was controlling my body. I ran faster, to the end, and then I kicked against the wall and like, flipped over the guy." My dad could no longer contain himself. He started to laugh.
"What?" I asked indignantly. "Hey come on! It's not that funny," I said sulkily.
"I'm sorry," he said, still laughing. This went on for almost three minutes. I was feeling angry.
"Jeez, dad," I said, standing up. I crossed into the kitchen. "Get some therapy." I took out a soda and popped it open loudly.
"Aw, Jessi, I'm sorry," he said, appearing at the bar. "It's just...I got a little hysterical. Forgive me." I nodded and walked back into the living room.
"Yeah, well, I ended up slugging him," I said sharply. "Knocked him out. I think that's all, so, if you don't mind, I'm going to finish this soda, and go to bed." Quite honestly, I wasn't tired at all. I felt extremely wired. I put the can up to my lips and drank it in one go. I squeezed the can experimentally and it was crushed in my hand. I grinned widely at my dad. He smiled back.
"Are you really that tired?" he asked, probing the floor with his toe. "Because, I mean, I could teach you how to, you know..." He trailed off. I blinked at him for a few moments, slipped back into my room, and returned within thirty seconds, fully dressed.
"Let's go," I said. I remembered someone. "Mom? It's okay, right?" She rubbed a hand over her face.
"Yeah, I suppose I can't stop you from getting into these fights," she said tiredly. "You might as well have some idea of what you're doing." She waved us on. I realized that my dad wasn't in the room, and turned toward the hall. He appeared wearing jeans, a sweat jacket over a t-shirt, and sneakers. We exchanged grins.
"You two!" my mom said tearfully. We hugged her tightly, then let go.
"We better be off," said my dad excitedly. I turned toward the door and heard snickering. I turned back.
"What?" I said, confused.
"Ah, Jess?" said my dad fondly. "You have the ability to jump out the window right now and swing through New York City on a web, and you want to walk out the door?" I glanced at my wrist. The hole was still there.
"So, THAT'S how you did it!" I exclaimed. My parents chuckled. I smacked my forehead. "Well, duh," I said, grinning. I swept past him and opened the window. I looked around the balcony. I remembered my hand sticking to the wall while fighting that guy, and being able to climb up the rope in gym class. I turned around and looked at my parents, who had identical amused expressions on their faces. I gave them a little wave, then grasped the wall. I climbed out and started creeping up the side of my apartment building. It was just like the rope. For some reason, my hands were sticking to the wall so strongly that I could climb up without falling. And my muscles were strong enough to pull my body weight. I reached the roof and jumped onto it. Feeling extremely pleased with myself, I turned around and looked down over the side. My dad popped up and flipped over the edge to stand next to me. I grinned at him.
"Woo!" he said exuberantly. "Haven't done that in years!" I racked my brain for the memory of the last newspaper article with Spiderman in it. I squinted.
"Seven?" I thought out loud. My dad nodded.
"Seven years," he said thoughtfully. I sat down.
"Why did you stop?" I asked. "You didn't like it?" He shook his head.
"Well, I did and I didn't," he said philosophically. "I loved helping people of course, but I was living a double life. I didn't get to see you or your mother that often. So, I resigned, to put it simply. You know," he said to me. "You're going to have to take up where I left off." Something about this, this hard evidence of what had been at the back of my mind for three days, scared me.
"Why do I HAVE to?" I asked. "It's required? The city seems to be doing fine without a hero, if you ask me."
"No one's asking you, Jessi," he said sharply. "No one asked me either. It IS a requirement. However nice the city seems, it's bad. You have the power to fight criminals, the 'bad guys'. And you have an obligation to use this power." I was liking this less by the minute. I didn't want to sound corny, but I thought of this situation more and more as being caught in a spider web. And whatever new powers I had, I was helpless to escape. My dad resumed his lecture. "Now, I'm going to teach you how to fight," he paused. I got the feeling something was going to hurt my head, so I ducked mechanically. I glanced up, and knew that my dad had let fly a punch, and if I hadn't gone down, it probably would've knocked me out.
"Good," he said pleasantly, helping me up. "You've got the reflexes, and you trust them. Always trust your reflexes." I pushed him away and made to climb back over the wall.
"Stop. I don't want this," I said. "I don't want to do this." I put a foot over, but strong hands wouldn't let me climb down. My dad turned me around to make me face him.
"It doesn't matter what you want anymore, Jess," he said, a bit sadly. "You've got to put your time in." I glared at him, and yanked myself out of his grip. He seemed surprised that I was just as strong or even stronger than he was. I took a few quick steps back.
"No," I hissed, shaking my head. "No." My dad approached me carefully.
"Jess, why are you so set on NOT doing this?" he asked logically. "It's not that bad. And you don't have to do it for the rest of your life. Just, do whatever you can," he ended lamely. He seemed at a loss for words, but I was feeling very selfish. I didn't care.
"I do not want to be obligated to clean up everyone else's mess in this damn city," I said quietly. "I read the papers. I saw the things you had to do. I want no part of this." I turned away from him and started to hop over the wall.
"Jessi, please," he pleaded behind me. There was enough emotion in his voice to make me stop and turn around. He looked sincerely pained.
"Dad, I-" I stopped. I, I thought. Me. It was as though someone had punched me in the stomach. It wasn't about me anymore. My dad was right. I had to do what I could. You know you want to Jessi. The voice was back. You know you want to make even a tiny difference. To be known. To be recognized. But wait, it said pleasantly. Maybe your gut feeling is right. Maybe you AREN'T up for the job. Maybe, like you said. You can't. In fact, I bet you couldn't do it if you wanted to, it ended tauntingly. What would you know, I answered, falling into the trap; the trap that only the stubborn and contrary can fall for. And the proud.
"Okay," I said. I was suddenly energized. My eyes felt like there were fire behind them. "I'll do it. I'll do it...if you can catch me," I said suddenly. On impulse, I leapt over the side of the building. Remembering what my dad had said about the web and getting around the city, I shot one out of my right hand and held on tightly with both. Instead of, like I expected, hitting the ground and going splat, I swung down, and then up. I felt positively free. My stomach dropped. I was about to hit the wall. Still holding on with my right hand hand, and feeling extremely clumsy, I used my left hand to shoot a web onto the wall across the street. I let go of the old one and continued the process. I saw a flagpole and perched myself on it. I glanced back and, with all the thrill of a five-year-old playing hide-and-seek, shot up the side of the wall, fueled by the pursuit of my dad. I ran full speed across the roof. On reaching the end, I propelled myself into the air. It was only an alleyway below, so the space between buildings wasn't so big. I landed on the roof and kept running, repeating the process whenever necessary. I glanced back again. My dad was only a building behind. I halted my running and jumped feet first into an alleyway. I latched onto the wall and climbed down, staying in the shadows. I let myself fall the last few feet. I turned around to keep going, and bumped into my dad's chest.
"Oof," I said surprisedly. He grinned widely.
"I win," he said simply. I smiled, resigned.
"Yeah, yeah," I said, pushing past him. "Let's call it a night, though, eh? I can't fight crime tonight, anyway."
"Oh?" he said inquiringly, coming up next to me. "And why is that?" We emerged from the dark alleyway into an empty street. I launched a web onto the side of the building across the street.
"I haven't got a spandex costume yet!"
"Okay," said my dad. "Now that you've had twenty minutes to think about it, go ahead. Enlighten us." I sighed and sat up, crossing my legs Indian- style.
"Right," I breathed. "Well, me and Nick and Gwen and Jay were walking to the movies. About a half a block away, I got this...thing. I've gotten it before. It's like, like, a premonition or something." I looked at my dad to see if he understood. He nodded, obviously hiding a smile. He was still EXCITED about this, dammit. "Anyway, I got that image thing, in my mind, and it showed some guy stealing Gwen's purse. I knew where it was going to be too. Because of the-"
"Movie poster," said my dad automatically. I looked at him, bewildered. "I saw it. Just tell it for your mom." He looked pleasantly embarrassed. My mom raised an eyebrow.
"Yeah, so, I did get a little paranoid, since I knew where it was, and that we were going to the movies," I resumed. "I tried to get the others to not go to the theater, but then Nick said we were already there. I looked around, and there was the same poster. I was about to start panicking, when Gwen flew backwards into me. This guy was there, in a black trench coat and long greasy hair. He was really tall. Just like the one in my...whatever it was. But he told us to give him all of our money. And from there, it was like someone else took over my BODY," I said, staring at the floor. I looked up at my dad. "D'you know? What that's like? I was in control, yet I wasn't." My dad nodded.
"I'm surprised that's happened so soon," he remarked. "Happened after my second fight." I grit my teeth and looked at the floor again. There was a silence. "This wasn't the first premonition you've had?" I shook my head.
"Third," I muttered under my breath. I glanced apologetically at him. "Only one of the others was a fight though! And it wasn't even a real fight!"
"You can tell me later," he said sternly. I could see the amusement in his eyes though. "Go on."
"Well, yeah," I said. "Um, I sort of, ah, said no to the guy."
"WHAT?" said my mom. I glanced at her. She had been silent throughout the previous revelations. "Jessica Parker, I have TAUGHT you what to do in situations like those! You don't just say NO!" I blinked for a few moments.
"No, that was drugs," I said stupidly. There was a surprised pause. Then everyone burst into laughter.
"My gosh, Jess," said my dad, wiping his eyes.
"Okay, okay," I said, ears burning. "Anyway, yeah. I said no. He had a gun." I put a hand up to stop another outburst from my mother. "He put it up, like he was going to shoot one of us, but I just sort of, kicked it, out of his hand. I think it went into a window on the second floor. In the building across the street." My dad made a sound, and I went on, talking quickly. "He tried to hit me, but I was really fast. I yelled at the others to move away, and they did. It was just me and him. He kept trying to hit me, but I was too fast. But one of my stupid shoelaces came untied, and I tripped and fell against a wall. He shoved me into an alleyway. I was going to turn around again and fight him, but he had pulled a knife." My mom made a noise, and I reached over and squeezed her hand. I went on. "It was kind of like an instinct. I turned and ran, to the end of the alleyway. But it was a damn dead end," I said vehemently. My dad snorted. "But then, it happened again. Just like someone else was controlling my body. I ran faster, to the end, and then I kicked against the wall and like, flipped over the guy." My dad could no longer contain himself. He started to laugh.
"What?" I asked indignantly. "Hey come on! It's not that funny," I said sulkily.
"I'm sorry," he said, still laughing. This went on for almost three minutes. I was feeling angry.
"Jeez, dad," I said, standing up. I crossed into the kitchen. "Get some therapy." I took out a soda and popped it open loudly.
"Aw, Jessi, I'm sorry," he said, appearing at the bar. "It's just...I got a little hysterical. Forgive me." I nodded and walked back into the living room.
"Yeah, well, I ended up slugging him," I said sharply. "Knocked him out. I think that's all, so, if you don't mind, I'm going to finish this soda, and go to bed." Quite honestly, I wasn't tired at all. I felt extremely wired. I put the can up to my lips and drank it in one go. I squeezed the can experimentally and it was crushed in my hand. I grinned widely at my dad. He smiled back.
"Are you really that tired?" he asked, probing the floor with his toe. "Because, I mean, I could teach you how to, you know..." He trailed off. I blinked at him for a few moments, slipped back into my room, and returned within thirty seconds, fully dressed.
"Let's go," I said. I remembered someone. "Mom? It's okay, right?" She rubbed a hand over her face.
"Yeah, I suppose I can't stop you from getting into these fights," she said tiredly. "You might as well have some idea of what you're doing." She waved us on. I realized that my dad wasn't in the room, and turned toward the hall. He appeared wearing jeans, a sweat jacket over a t-shirt, and sneakers. We exchanged grins.
"You two!" my mom said tearfully. We hugged her tightly, then let go.
"We better be off," said my dad excitedly. I turned toward the door and heard snickering. I turned back.
"What?" I said, confused.
"Ah, Jess?" said my dad fondly. "You have the ability to jump out the window right now and swing through New York City on a web, and you want to walk out the door?" I glanced at my wrist. The hole was still there.
"So, THAT'S how you did it!" I exclaimed. My parents chuckled. I smacked my forehead. "Well, duh," I said, grinning. I swept past him and opened the window. I looked around the balcony. I remembered my hand sticking to the wall while fighting that guy, and being able to climb up the rope in gym class. I turned around and looked at my parents, who had identical amused expressions on their faces. I gave them a little wave, then grasped the wall. I climbed out and started creeping up the side of my apartment building. It was just like the rope. For some reason, my hands were sticking to the wall so strongly that I could climb up without falling. And my muscles were strong enough to pull my body weight. I reached the roof and jumped onto it. Feeling extremely pleased with myself, I turned around and looked down over the side. My dad popped up and flipped over the edge to stand next to me. I grinned at him.
"Woo!" he said exuberantly. "Haven't done that in years!" I racked my brain for the memory of the last newspaper article with Spiderman in it. I squinted.
"Seven?" I thought out loud. My dad nodded.
"Seven years," he said thoughtfully. I sat down.
"Why did you stop?" I asked. "You didn't like it?" He shook his head.
"Well, I did and I didn't," he said philosophically. "I loved helping people of course, but I was living a double life. I didn't get to see you or your mother that often. So, I resigned, to put it simply. You know," he said to me. "You're going to have to take up where I left off." Something about this, this hard evidence of what had been at the back of my mind for three days, scared me.
"Why do I HAVE to?" I asked. "It's required? The city seems to be doing fine without a hero, if you ask me."
"No one's asking you, Jessi," he said sharply. "No one asked me either. It IS a requirement. However nice the city seems, it's bad. You have the power to fight criminals, the 'bad guys'. And you have an obligation to use this power." I was liking this less by the minute. I didn't want to sound corny, but I thought of this situation more and more as being caught in a spider web. And whatever new powers I had, I was helpless to escape. My dad resumed his lecture. "Now, I'm going to teach you how to fight," he paused. I got the feeling something was going to hurt my head, so I ducked mechanically. I glanced up, and knew that my dad had let fly a punch, and if I hadn't gone down, it probably would've knocked me out.
"Good," he said pleasantly, helping me up. "You've got the reflexes, and you trust them. Always trust your reflexes." I pushed him away and made to climb back over the wall.
"Stop. I don't want this," I said. "I don't want to do this." I put a foot over, but strong hands wouldn't let me climb down. My dad turned me around to make me face him.
"It doesn't matter what you want anymore, Jess," he said, a bit sadly. "You've got to put your time in." I glared at him, and yanked myself out of his grip. He seemed surprised that I was just as strong or even stronger than he was. I took a few quick steps back.
"No," I hissed, shaking my head. "No." My dad approached me carefully.
"Jess, why are you so set on NOT doing this?" he asked logically. "It's not that bad. And you don't have to do it for the rest of your life. Just, do whatever you can," he ended lamely. He seemed at a loss for words, but I was feeling very selfish. I didn't care.
"I do not want to be obligated to clean up everyone else's mess in this damn city," I said quietly. "I read the papers. I saw the things you had to do. I want no part of this." I turned away from him and started to hop over the wall.
"Jessi, please," he pleaded behind me. There was enough emotion in his voice to make me stop and turn around. He looked sincerely pained.
"Dad, I-" I stopped. I, I thought. Me. It was as though someone had punched me in the stomach. It wasn't about me anymore. My dad was right. I had to do what I could. You know you want to Jessi. The voice was back. You know you want to make even a tiny difference. To be known. To be recognized. But wait, it said pleasantly. Maybe your gut feeling is right. Maybe you AREN'T up for the job. Maybe, like you said. You can't. In fact, I bet you couldn't do it if you wanted to, it ended tauntingly. What would you know, I answered, falling into the trap; the trap that only the stubborn and contrary can fall for. And the proud.
"Okay," I said. I was suddenly energized. My eyes felt like there were fire behind them. "I'll do it. I'll do it...if you can catch me," I said suddenly. On impulse, I leapt over the side of the building. Remembering what my dad had said about the web and getting around the city, I shot one out of my right hand and held on tightly with both. Instead of, like I expected, hitting the ground and going splat, I swung down, and then up. I felt positively free. My stomach dropped. I was about to hit the wall. Still holding on with my right hand hand, and feeling extremely clumsy, I used my left hand to shoot a web onto the wall across the street. I let go of the old one and continued the process. I saw a flagpole and perched myself on it. I glanced back and, with all the thrill of a five-year-old playing hide-and-seek, shot up the side of the wall, fueled by the pursuit of my dad. I ran full speed across the roof. On reaching the end, I propelled myself into the air. It was only an alleyway below, so the space between buildings wasn't so big. I landed on the roof and kept running, repeating the process whenever necessary. I glanced back again. My dad was only a building behind. I halted my running and jumped feet first into an alleyway. I latched onto the wall and climbed down, staying in the shadows. I let myself fall the last few feet. I turned around to keep going, and bumped into my dad's chest.
"Oof," I said surprisedly. He grinned widely.
"I win," he said simply. I smiled, resigned.
"Yeah, yeah," I said, pushing past him. "Let's call it a night, though, eh? I can't fight crime tonight, anyway."
"Oh?" he said inquiringly, coming up next to me. "And why is that?" We emerged from the dark alleyway into an empty street. I launched a web onto the side of the building across the street.
"I haven't got a spandex costume yet!"