Annie loved her spider-sense. Not only did it save her ass from serious injury and certain death, it allowed her to rush through the crowded halls of Midtown High, eyes glued to her phone, without bumping into anyone.

Earlier, during her second period, the drama club received an email saying there was a sign up sheet to run the spotlights for the winter showcase. The spots were limited, and she had to get her name on that list before it filled up. Last year, Annie had signed up for a spotlight, but it didn't go so well. She ended up missing the show because the Rhino had bowled through Central Park. And of course, she couldn't just say, "so sorry, I was busy saving the city." Oh no. All she could do was stammer out clumsy apologies and half-assessed excuses. Sure she may have been out saving the city, but to the cast and crew of the show, she just let everyone down.

So she had spent the remainder of the class watching the seconds tick by, hoping that the list wasn't already full. It would be different this time.

Annie made it to the theater, and tried to open the large doors, but they were locked. Which was probably for the best, considering the shenanigans Lacy and Reese had been up to last year. God, that felt like so long ago.

She jostled the doors again, but to no avail. Groaning, she rested her head against the doors, and contemplated breaking the lock herself. Of course she couldn't and wouldn't do such a thing. But it would be so easy.

Then she heard the familiar click clack of heals smacking against the vinyl flooring. Annie turned around, and saw Ms. Reid, the head of the drama department, dressed all in black save for the pop of fusia around her glasses, ambling towards the theater. This was her chance!

"Ms. Reid! Iwannasignupfortheshow!"

"Whoa, Parker slow down."

"Sorry," she took a breath. "I want to sign up for a spotlight."

Ms. Reid's face fell into a somber expression.

So she was too late. "The spots are gone?"

"No."

"Oh, great!" Annie felt her entire being perk up. "I wanna sign up!"

"You are not doing spots for the show."

"But-"

"No. Annie, you are unreliable."

"Look, what happened last year won't happen again, I swear!" She'd talk to her parents. They'd certainly understand if she took a few nights off.

"No."

"It was a crazy emergency, like, really crazy, the odds of it happening again are microscopic,"

"No." Ms. Reid's eyes narrowed. "Why is this so important to you?"

Well, that question cut deep. Last year, she had been getting ready to go to the theater when her father's scanner started to beep, warning of the Rhino rampaging throughout Central Park. She thought it be quick, maybe making her only a little late, but by the time the Rhino was caught and apprehended, the show was almost over. She had dozens of missed calls and texts, ranging in tone from annoyance to full blown panic-level worried.

"There's no excuse for what happened," Annie sighed. "I let everyone down, made everyone worry, and I just want to prove to you, to everyone, that I'm not really like that. I want to be reliable. I want to be someone you can count on."

Ms. Reid rubbed her eyes. "Do you have any idea how important this show is? There will be talent scouts. Kids will get scholarships. Kids will go to competitions. We can get more funding. This is so much bigger than your pride."

Annie slumped forward, as if punched. That was a blow not even her Spider-Sense could have prepared her for. "You're right. I'm so sorry Ms. Reid."

Her teacher sighed, and ran a hand through her thick, curly hair. "What are you now, a junior?" Annie nodded. "Look, if you start helping out now, maybe it'll be different next year. Put some hours in the costume shop. Help us raise money. Volunteer to usher or take tickets."

"Really?"

"Yeah. We're having a bake sale this weekend. Saturday morning, 10:00 AM sharp."

She could do that. And hey, maybe Ryan could help out; that girl was one hell of a baker.

"I promise you, I won't let you down"

"Alrightie then. I'll see you Saturday."

Hey Parker," Jermaine said, dropping his tray onto the table.

"Hey Maine." She picked listlessly at her sandwich, Ms. Reid's words weighing heavily on her.

"What's up?" He took a massive bite out of his overly-charred veggie burger. She shrugged, not really wanting to talk about it. "Fries?" He asked, pushing the box of soggy French fries towards her.

"Thanks," she said as she grabbed a couple. French fries could make almost anything better. Even soggy ones. Jermaine yawned and rubbed his dark eyes. Annie could smell the chlorine on him.

"Did swim practice start?"

"Yeah, how'd you know?"

"You smell like a pool."

He laughed. "Well, get used to it." He yawned again, and plowed through more of his burger.

She knew swim practice started crazy early, like 5:00 or 5:15. In the middle of October no less. "I don't know how you do it," she said, taking another bite of her sandwich.

"You gotta love it," he said through a mouthful of food. She swiped another fry. And Jermaine did love it. He never missed a single practice, he showed up to all of the meets, despite not being a competitor. And between seasons he trained like crazy. Annie couldn't help but notice his shoulders broadening, and the ripple of lean muscles beneath his shirt.

Her phone buzzed on the table. She saw Ryan had texted her a link to her new social media post. She clicked it, and saw pictures of cakes that looked too good to eat. They were decorated with gorgeous frosted flower, frosting swirls, and meticulously placed sprinkles.

"Whoa, fancy," Jermaine said, glancing at the post.

"Yeah, they're amazing." She liked the post, and scrolled through the album again to show Jermaine, then navigated back to her messages, and asked Ryan if she'd like to help out with Saturday's bake sale.

"Does she like, have her own bakery or something?"

"No, she's still in high school."

"She's in high school, and she can do that? Damn! Does she go here?"

"No, she's in a private school. I met her at pump class."

He gave her a look that said what the hell is pump class, and she unclipped the beeper like device and showed him. "The class taught me how to use this." He nodded.

Ryan responded that she'd be happy to help Annie out with the bake sale, and via text they decided to meet at Annie's Friday after school to start baking. She asked Jermaine if he'd like to help, and he agreed.

"I didn't know you were still doing theater."

Annie shrugged. He knew all about the incident last year. Everyone did. "I want to give it another go."

"Cool." His burger long finished, he was now starting on his fruit cocktail cup. School lunches were so basic. The warning bell rang, and she felt a rush through the cafeteria; kids were scarfing down their food and gathering their belongings.

"Hey, what's that?" A girl from the next table asked, pointing at the outline of her sensor. Annie had changed her sensor site, and moved it to her upper arm. The doctors suggested rotating sites to avoid excessive scar tissue. On her arm, it bulged slightly through the fabric of her long-sleeved shirt when she moved her arm in certain positions.

"It's a sensor to monitor my blood sugars."

"Oh, like diabetes?" the girl asked, and Annie nodded. "I think my uncle has that. Did you eat a lot of sugar?" the girl asked with a careless ease.

Normally Annie would respectfully explain that diabetes was a lot more complicated than that, and that no, she did not give herself diabetes by eating too much sugar. She would patiently explain the variety of endocrine and autoimmune factors at play, and then try to ease their bruised ego when they realized they had just implied someone essentially deserved to have a chronic illness due to their sugar intake.

But today, after her discussion with Ms. Reid, Annie just wasn't in the mood. "Yep, I ate so much of it, it came out of my eyes." And then she grabbed her tray and left.

Peter rushed to pack his bag. He threw in his laptop, and the variety of articles covering the dinning room table. He had been up late into the night, cranking out the latest draft of his dissertation. Then he was up early to get Annie ready for school, and then for some solo patrolling while MJ made the big bucks at her store.

Of course, patrol always took longer than expected and now he was running late for a class he was covering. As a TA, Peter was responsible for covering undergraduate classes, proctoring exams, tutoring, and grading a seemingly endless stack of papers and tests. All the while balancing his life as a costumed superhero, family man, and hustler of part time hustles.

In the midst of clearing his table from the explosion of dissertation induced research, Peter uncovered the stack of yesterday's mail. He quickly rifled through it, and saw a thick envelope from their landlord.

Crap. It was that time of year. Their lease would be up in a month, meaning this was the notice that their rent was going up. The notice came every year, he could set his watch to it. And then he and his family would have to crunch numbers and see if was more cost effective to just move, but if they did that, where would they go, and how would the move impact Annie, and MJ's business, and Peter's life as a perpetual student/side-gigging master?

This year though, he and Mary Jane were prepared. MJ was going to teach acting classes on Saturday mornings in the small back room in Wendy's cafe. It had been the perfect deal. MJ would make some extra cash, and Wendy would likely make a killing selling coffees and pastries to hungry young actors. It was a win/win for both.

Peter tore open the envelop, scanned the letter, and nearly fell over. Nine hundred dollars. Their rent was going up $900.00. And he knew the rent for MJ's store was due for another increase too… and then there were his school payments. Peter had gotten scholarship after scholarship, but when you started and stopped as much as he did over the past two decades (was he seriously that old?), the scholarships dried out, no matter how promising you were once deemed.

Maybe he should quit school, for good. Get a full time job. But damn it he was so close. His course work was finished. Now it was just a matter of finishing his dissertation, and graduating would open so many doors for him career wise. But how long should he allow his family to struggle on his account? Would just quitting and getting a more stable job be the responsible thing to do?

A wave of grief washed over him. He missed his aunt and uncle so much. They would know what to do. They always did, but they were gone. Long gone. Peter shook himself out of his funk. He had a class to teach. But a feeling of dread creeped into his mind and settled deep inside. Money was tight and the bills were higher than ever. What were they going to do?