"Man, the HR department at the Daily Bugle gets to the office early."
The morning sun cut harsh, bright angles across the asphalt as Peter walked through the front gates of Midtown High. He kept his eyes glued to his phone screen, swiping away a painfully polite email notification. "Rejected. Guess they filled the internship position already. Or I applied too late. There goes my plan to use my first paycheck on a decent costume for Spirit Week."
Gwen adjusted her backpack strap, her blonde ponytail swinging as she turned to stare at him. "Let me get this straight. You were going to ask for a salary advance on your very first day as an intern to buy costume?"
"I had a whole pitch prepared."
"It's a good thing they rejected your resume," Gwen said, deadpan. "Otherwise, when the interviewer asked, 'Mr. Parker, how do you plan to demonstrate your passion for journalism?', you would have answered, 'By securing a steep employee discount on Spider-Man merchandise!'"
"Hey, it shows initiative. Everyone knows J. Jonah Jameson loves Spider-Man. He talks about him on TV every single day."
Gwen snorted. Before Peter could defend his flawless logic, a blur of red hair crashed into Gwen's shoulder from behind.
"Hey! Gwen!" Mary Jane wrapped her arms around Gwen in a quick, high-energy hug. She stepped back, blinking in surprise as she noticed who Gwen was walking with. "Oh, hi, Peter. I feel like this is the first time I've ever seen you two arriving at school together."
"I woke up too early," Peter deflected smoothly. "Anyway, how's your job hunt going? Any news from the Bugle?"
"Actually, yes!" MJ let go of Gwen, her eyes lighting up. "They called me in for an interview this afternoon. I might actually get to be an intern reporter!"
"That's awesome. You're going to crush the interview, MJ. Good luck." Peter flashed her a genuine smile, offered a quick wave, and split off toward the main building.
As soon as he was out of earshot, Gwen gently elbowed MJ in the ribs. MJ rubbed her side, looking confused. Gwen leaned in and whispered the context of the rejection email Peter had just received.
MJ winced, her shoulders dropping. "Oh, no. I didn't mean to rub it in. Should I go apologize?"
"Don't worry about it," Gwen said, shaking her head. "He brought it up, not you. I just wanted to give you a heads-up so you don't accidentally ask him for interview tips."
Peter genuinely didn't mind. He navigated the crowded hallway toward his locker, tuning into the morning announcements playing on the wall-mounted monitors. The student broadcast had cut to a global news feed.
"Political turmoil continues to rock the isolated African nation of Wakanda. Following the sudden passing of King T'Chaka, a splinter faction of armed militants known as the White Gorilla Cult has launched multiple strikes across the borders. The newly crowned King, T'Challa, held a press conference early this morning, stating the domestic attacks are being funded by external mercenary forces attempting to orchestrate the large-scale theft of Wakandan vibranium..."
Peter tuned out the geopolitical crisis and popped his locker open. He shoved his backpack inside. He only had two functional Spider-Man suits left to his name. One was currently sitting in a garbage bag under his bed, half-shredded and covered in concrete dust from the fight with the Shocker. The other was currently wadded up at the bottom of his backpack, hidden beneath his AP Physics textbook.
He slammed the locker shut.
"Exterminate!"
Peter jumped. Harry Osborn stood right behind him. Harry was gripping an upside-down metal pepper shaker in one hand, and what looked like a whisk duct-taped to a toilet plunger in the other.
"I'm not the Doctor, Harry."
Harry lowered the whisk. "What do you think? For the first day of Spirit Week, I dress up as a Dalek and just walk down the halls screaming 'exterminate' at the other freshmen?"
"Is Doctor Who a superhero?"
"What could possibly be more heroic?" Harry argued, gesturing wildly with the plunger. "He doesn't even have combat powers! He just uses applied quantum mechanics and a deep love for the universe to save the galaxy. Over and over again!"
Peter leaned against his locker, studying his best friend's bizarre homemade props. "If you're so into it, why don't you just dress up as the Doctor?"
"Because you or Amadeus would pull it off way better. You guys are the geniuses."
"I could go as a wizard or something."
"If you go as a wizard, then we're just two guys in thrift-store suits standing next to each other instead of the Doctor and his greatest enemy," Harry pointed out, pulling a plastic sonic screwdriver out of his pocket. "Besides, cosplaying the Doctor is cheap. We just raid the back of my dad's closet for some vintage tweed jackets he doesn't wear anymore. We can absolutely piece together a full outfit for you for zero dollars. What do you say, Doctor Parker?"
Peter smiled. He saw exactly what Harry was doing. Harry knew Peter couldn't afford a costume, so he was casually engineering a two-person concept that required Peter to spend absolutely nothing, masking the charity behind his own nerdiness.
"Harry," Peter said softly. "Thank you."
"Don't thank me until you see how heavy the Dalek trashcan is going to be," Harry grinned. "Hey, Amadeus! Are you dressing up for Spirit Week? You and Peter can be different regenerations of the Doctor!"
Amadeus Cho walked up, adjusting his backpack. He looked entirely too energized for a Tuesday morning. "I have my own plan. I'm going to find an oversized white lab coat, mess up my hair, carry a Geiger counter, and call it a day."
Harry stared at him, utterly lost. "Who is that? Doc Brown?"
"Bruce Banner! Man! The Hulk!"
Peter blinked. It was the first time he had ever seen Amadeus actually get excited about something that wasn't a decathlon medal. Given his own meta-knowledge of the universe, Peter knew that in another universe, Amadeus Cho actually became a Hulk. Seeing the kid idolize Bruce Banner this early on was surreal.
"Okay..." Harry said slowly. "But what about Doctor Who?"
"Too niche," Amadeus dismissed with a wave of his hand. "Nobody watches British sci-fi. You're just going to look like a massive nerd."
Amadeus spun on his heel and marched happily down the hall toward his homeroom. Harry watched him go, his jaw hanging slightly open.
"Does he know he is objectively the nerdiest person out of the three of us?" Harry asked the empty air.
"Yeah," Peter chuckled. "He choose to be Banner instead of the Hulk."
The bell rang, and Peter and Harry joined the current of students heading toward first period. They didn't make it far. A sharp, panicked shriek echoed from an adjacent locker bay, followed by a loud, obnoxious bark of laughter.
Peter stopped. He looked through the crowd. A freshman girl was backed up against the lockers, her hands over her face, trembling. Standing over her was Carl King. The massive linebacker was laughing hysterically, casually tossing a small, dark object from hand to hand before shoving it into his letterman jacket pocket.
Carl turned around, still grinning, and locked eyes with Peter. The smile vanished.
"Mind your own business, Parker. Get lost."
Peter didn't move. He let his posture completely relax, dropping his hands to his sides. "Bullying girl in the hallway, Carl? I thought you were saving your energy to get steamrolled by the defensive line at the Homecoming game."
Carl stepped into Peter's personal space, looming over him. "You got a lot of opinions, Skinny Parker. Why don't you suit up for the game? Come out on the field and we'll see how long that mouth lasts."
Carl hadn't forgotten the humiliating beating Peter had given him. But Carl's ego had rationalized it. He had convinced himself he just wasn't a street brawler. On the field, with pads and rules, Carl was utterly convinced he would break Peter in half.
Peter looked up at him, entirely bored. "I can't. I don't know the rules."
Carl sneered. "Coward."
"I really don't," Peter continued, his voice perfectly level. "I don't know the rules to football. Or basketball. Or badminton. Honestly, I don't even know the rules to ping-pong. So I'll pass. Now back up."
Carl glared, trying to find an ounce of intimidation in Peter's eyes. He found absolutely nothing. Snorting in disgust, Carl bumped his shoulder hard against Peter's chest as he pushed past him. "Keep hiding in the bleachers, Puny Parker."
Harry stepped up beside Peter, thoroughly confused. "I thought you were going to agree just to knock him into the turf."
"I wanted to," Peter admitted, watching Carl's retreating back. "But I actually don't know the rules to football. If I tackle him into the bleachers, they'll probably penalize me. I'm gonna go check on that girl."
Peter walked off, leaving Harry stranded in the hallway.
"Wait, why ping-pong?" Harry called after him. "Everyone knows how to play ping-pong!"
Peter knelt down to make sure the girl was okay, keeping an eye on the hallway. He didn't know what Carl had used to scare her, but the guy was a walking liability. He needed to keep a closer eye on him. Just in case.
In case of what? Peter thought to himself. He didn't actually know.
At the far end of the hallway, Carl King pushed through the double doors and out into the courtyard. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the prank prop, rolling it between his thick fingers.
It was a spider.
Specifically, it was a dead spider encased in a block of clear acrylic resin.
Six months ago, at the Oscorp Expo, an irradiated spider had escaped its containment unit. But it hadn't crawled onto Peter Parker on its own. Carl King had seen the glowing bug on the floor, scooped it up with a brochure, and maliciously dropped it down the back of Peter's collar as a prank.
Carl had stood there and watched Peter scream in agony when the fangs sank into his neck. Carl had thought the bug was hilarious. He had planned to catch it, take it home in a jar, and drop it on anyone else who annoyed him. But Peter had slapped his neck, knocking the spider to the floor, where it had been immediately crushed under the heel of a panicked student.
Disappointed, Carl had scooped up the crushed carcass anyway. He took it home and cast it in resin to use as a scare-tactic prop.
If Carl King had any idea what the venom inside that arachnid actually contained, he never would have tossed it around like a toy.
And if Peter Parker past life memories had spent less time memorizing the Sinister Six, and a little more time reading up on Spider-Man's most obscure, terrifying comic-book villains, he would have realized exactly what kind of nightmare Carl King was about to become.