"I'm sorry Mister Parker, but there's nothing more we can do."
"The hell there isn't!"
Peter Parker squirmed in the principal's office, as his head teacher and uncle fought over his future. The school day had drawn to a close, and there was little light making its way through the windows. Shadows fell across the principal's wooden desk and cheap lamp stand.
"Mister Parker, I appreciate you feel strongly –"
"This isn't about my feelings. Peter's above the average ability of your students – I get that you've got limited budgets. But the least I'd expect – the absolute least – is that his teachers aren't working to actively discourage his development!"
Uncle Ben was furious – his face seemed to glow red. There was an intensity to his face and he seemed to be breathing faster than normal. His eyes were locked on Mr McCarthy with that familiar look that told Peter – beyond a shadow of a doubt – that his great-uncle must have been a bold soldier back at his peak.
Mr McCarthy gathered himself – though he was only a few years younger than Uncle Ben, and scolded his students on a daily basis, he now had the bearing of a teenager who'd forgotten his homework.
"Mister Parker, no-one's trying to undermine Peter's education. We all want what's best –"
"Don't give me that crap. You think I was born yesterday?"
Mr McCarthy stopped in his tracks, taken aback by the interruption. There was fear in his eyes as he licked his lips nervously.
"I don't think there's a conspiracy against Peter." Ben spat the words out contemptuously, enraged by the straw-man argument McCarthy was trying to put forward. "But if Edwards can't tell the difference between a disruptive student and one who gets what they're being taught before it's spelled out for them, maybe he's not fit to teach in a public school!"
Mr McCarthy was firmly on the defensive now. He looked around the room, as if somewhere the perfect response had been written down, waiting for his eyes to lock onto it.
"Surely, it's a teacher's job to challenge all their students, and to encourage them to love their subject, right?"
Mr McCarthy seemed nervous about accepting this apparent offer of truce.
"I'd… I'd agree with that."
He seemed to feel this may be a trap.
"I understand it's going to be difficult to challenge a student of Peter's capabilities. But you know what teenagers are like – knocking anyone with a bit of intellectual ability. We don't want teachers to do the same, do we?"
From that point, the discussion became much more co-operative. At times, Peter even felt relaxed and comfortable.
"I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable in there."
Uncle Ben spoke without taking his eyes off the road.
"No, it's fine," Peter mumbled, his body hunched over, his hands fumbling nervously with each other.
"Don't do that," Uncle Ben instructed.
Peter jerked upward.
"Do what?"
"Pretend you're fine when you're not. It's not healthy to keep secrets bottled up."
Peter nodded, and mumbled an apology, looking down into his lap.
"There's something I've been thinking about for a while," said Ben, breaking the silence. "You're ahead of all your science class at school, and god knows you're beyond anything I can teach you."
With the car going nowhere in New York traffic, Uncle Ben turned to look Peter in the eye, his warm smile making his eyes twinkle.
"Now's as good a time as any to tell you. I've been in touch with New York University for a while, trying to arrange something with them. How would you be interested in doing some work in their genetics lab after school?"
Peter felt himself light up at the suggestion. Spending time getting practical experience at NYU? He'd been reading scientific journals for years, including a few very interesting ones written by Professor Octavius, a guest lecturer at NYU. He was without doubt the greatest robotics mind this side of Stark Industries' confidentiality clauses.
"I've passed on your grades, and some of our private work. There's a doctor in the genetics lab, does studies mutating animals into new and stronger forms. He seemed sceptical that you're as smart as I claimed, but he wants to meet you just in case. You interested?"
There was only one possible response to that.
"Of course!"
"Good."
Uncle Ben returned his focus to the road, smiling broadly as the car began to move once more.
"His name's Curt Connors, he wants to meet you on Wednesday."