It was an average day in our senior year. Flash Thompson—my boyfriend—and I were on the bus, arm in arm; his friends chatting with him, and me sitting there and looking pretty; goofballs throwing balls of crumpled paper around; that overweight kid eating another donut; Flash torturing innocent geeks; and Peter Parker, having missed the bus, running as fast as his poor scrawny legs can carry him, trying to get the bus driver to stop for him.

Here we go again.

"Stop the bus!" Seems like it's up to me to rescue Pete—again. "He's been chasing us since Woodhaven Boulevard!"

The bus driver sighed at the conclusion of his daily amusement, but complied. Peter climbed on, made his regular excuses, but the driver just waved him away, and he proceeded to try to find a seat on the bus amidst flying paper balls, mostly aimed at him.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Flash nod at one of his buddies, who winked back with a smirk.

Uh-oh. What have they got planned this time?

Peter slowly made his way through the bus, being rejected as a seatmate by even the dorkiest losers. I don't even get it—he's not that bad-looking, and he's really nice, if a bit shy. You'd think he'd have at least a few friends.

He turned to look at me, like he usually does, with that puppy-dog look: lost and confused. I felt so sorry for him, and gave him an encouraging smile.

THUD!

It always amazes me how many truly cruel people there are in this world…and how many of them ride that bus.

Flash's friend just tripped poor Peter Parker.

I turned to glare at him, then turned to Flash. "Don't you have anything better to do than pick on people? Honestly, you are so immature." I shrugged his arm off my shoulder.

"Hey, baby, you know you like it. It comes with being popular—you get to be king."

I just rolled my eyes and faced rigidly forwards for the rest of the bus ride.

xxxxx

That day was the day we had a field trip to the Columbia University Science Department. They had this fantastic spider experiment, involving genetic enhancement and recombination. Spiders are really remarkable creatures, you know? Some can jump enormous distances (for their size), and some can weave webs and lines of amazing strength and elasticity. Another species has what the tour guide called a 'spider sense,' which I laughed at. Supposedly it could sense things almost before they happened. Precognition of danger? It was a ridiculous idea. At least, I thought so at the time.

The cool part of the experiment was that they combined these spiders genetically, to incorporate all of these abilities. They had created fifteen of what they called 'super-spiders.' Fascinating.

Sorry, I tend to lose track of my train of thought when I start thinking about that again. I was really taken by the whole idea; funny, since I had never really liked science before. I always was more into literature and the arts.

As we entered the room, Flash again tried to put his arm around me, but I shrugged it off, seeing Peter's eyes on me. Funny how he always seemed to instill a sense of self-respect into me, and made me want to act like who I really was, not who popularity demanded I be. I edged further away from Flash, and slowly approached the glass-enclosed super-spiders, enthralled.

Harry joined me. I always did like him; he wasn't one of the popular crowd, but he got by. Certainly stuck up for himself more than Peter ever did. And he wasn't bad-looking, either.

"Disgusting!" I said in fascination. Those spiders were such a contradiction to my mind—creepy crawlies that had such remarkable abilities.

"Yeah, hateful little things," came Harry's voice beside me.

I wrinkled my nose. "I love 'em." I'm never going to step on a spider again.

"Yeah, me too," Harry replied quickly. Too quickly. I looked over at him, eyebrow raised. Right. Even the biggest idiot could see he was just saying it to agree with me. I'm not stupid, Harry.

"You know," he said, "spiders can change their colour, to blend in with their environment."

"Really," I replied, surprised at his unexpected knowledge.

"Yeah, it's a defense mechanism," he continued.

"Cool." I'm pretty sure I've never heard Harry use the word 'mechanism' in a sentence. I'll bet he got that from Peter.

It was this point at which the tour guide introduced the fifteen genetically designed 'super-spiders' I had been so entranced by.

Wait a second. "There's fourteen."

The guide looked at me in concern. "I beg your pardon?"

"One's missing," I told her, worried.

She looked only mildly concerned. "I guess the researchers are working on that one."

I shrugged off my worry and returned my attention to the spiders.

Harry spoke again. "Do you know this is the largest electron microscope on the eastern seaboard?"

Now I knew Harry wouldn't know a thing like that. On top of it, I had heard Peter telling him that on our way in. Although Harry got it wrong: Pete hadn't said it was the largest, only the most advanced. Size is not the most important thing. Even so, I was flattered by Harry's attempts to impress me.

Our science teacher came and pulled Harry off to the side to "talk to" him about not listening to the tour guide. I squirmed in embarrassment; the conversation had not been one-sided. Half of it was my fault.

Once again, I returned my attention to the spiders. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Peter slowly approaching. "Hey," he said.

Hoping Flash was nowhere near, I turned and smiled.

"Can I take your picture?" he asked, hesitantly. "I-I need one with a student in it."

Smiling at him, flattered, I replied, "Sure, yeah. Where do you want me? Over here?"

"Yeah, yeah, that's great."

I stood beside the super-spiders. "Don't make me look ugly," I teased, smoothing my hair.

Peter smiled and shrugged in that boyish, endearing way he has. "That's impossible." Aww…he's so sweet. Too bad more high-school guys haven't developed that. I thought of Flash and his overbearing swagger, rolling my eyes before returning my attention to Peter.

I posed a few times for his pictures, but wasn't really sure what to do in front of the camera. I'm sure I looked ridiculous. (Good thing I'm better with cameras now.) He probably still has those pictures, and is someday going to pull them out and embarrass me. Knowing Pete, though, he thinks they're great.

I heard Ashley's voice from across the room. "MJ! Let's go!" As I left to rejoin my friends, I barely heard Peter's 'Thanks.'

I missed what happened next. All I saw was Peter, ashen, for a moment before we were all called to leave. He was staring at his hand. I later found out he had been bitten by the fifteenth spider. And now it sounds like I'm spoiling the story for you; but it's pretty important. Peter left soon after, looking very pale and shaky. As I passed his house on the way to mine, I overheard them talking.

"Uh, I don't feel well…I'm gonna go to sleep." That was Peter's voice.

"You won't have a bite?" That was his Aunt May, typically thinking of feeding him.

"No thanks. Had a bite." Typical sarcasm from Peter.

"Well…did—did you get some pictures, Peter?" Uncle Ben asked him.

I heard their stairs creak as Peter replied, "I gotta crash…"

How I wished I could have had a family like Peter's. Yeah, poor kid for having lost his parents, but his aunt and uncle were the sweetest people I knew. My family, on the other hand, was a different matter entirely.

"Mary-Jane Watson!" came my drunken father's angry voice.

Oh, no. Here we go again, I thought, with the slightest trace of fear.

xxxxx

"…no matter what your mother says, it's up to me! You're trash! You're always gonna be trash, just like her!"

I fairly ran from my father's attacking voice. "I have to go to school," I choked through my tears. I saw Peter just outside his house, seeing and hearing it all. I wish he didn't have to know, but he does live next door, and we aren't exactly a quiet, peaceful family. I just wish my father wouldn't get drunk all hours of the day…

I hunched in on myself as I walked, crossing my arms in front of me, as if they could protect me. I walked fast enough that Peter wouldn't catch up with me. I knew he'd have something heartbreakingly sweet to say, and I don't think I could have stood it. I probably would have broken out crying right there as it was, were it not for Ashley and Miranda driving up in Miranda's car. It was time to put on my mask.

People sometimes ask me when I started seriously acting. I mean, I've been in all the school plays, but there comes a point when it becomes important, becomes more than just a pastime. I usually say it was right after high school, when I dreamt of taking Broadway by storm. But really, it was way before that. Acting became a lifestyle for me, in my freshman year. I figured if I couldn't be happy at home, at least I could pretend everything was perfect at school. I created a good life for myself in public; I had cool friends, popular boyfriends, and anything a girl could think to want.

I hated it.

People can be cruel, but none more so than people who think they have power over others. The in-crowd is not the place to be if you mind stepping on other people in order to rise to the top. But it kept me safe—safe from further abuse. I had to endure it at home from my father; I don't think I could have stood it if I had to put up with it at school too. Poor Peter, though…he had the worst of it from my crowd. I tried to stop it when I could—goodness knows the kid had enough to worry about without being constantly picked on—but I made sure never to undermine my own popularity by helping him. Call it immaturity, call it self-preservation, or just plain selfishness…but he put me to shame for that later on. Without meaning to, of course—he doesn't have a mean bone in his body. But he helps others, without a thought about the cost to himself. And then there was me—Mary Jane Watson, pretty and popular—who couldn't stick up for some poor kid, for fear of losing her so-called friends.