//------------------------------// // Where the fun all began! // Story: Shimmering Spider // by Sense of Humor //------------------------------// Now finished with his 349th message, Peter hit the send button lazily. Then, he scrolled upwards to view the 348 other messages that he'd taken great time and effort to create for Happy,letting him know about quitting band practice or getting school holidays that gave him off time for more super hero work.Happy must be in some pretty deep consideration about all the information Peter gave him, because he hadn't heard from the particularly unhappy butler-dude since the ride home from Germany. Patience wasn't Peter's strong suit, but he knew he couldn't do much about the lack of development over the phone. He couldnt just call up Happy and be like 'yo man, wheres my next mission at?' or do something stupid like that. Peter even tried false alarming Happy once by texting about Ultron's return or aliens in disguise. Nothing--not a single blasted emoji was seen that day. But, Peter digressed in time to dodge the Principal and his starbucks mocha. "Let's keep our heads up, Mr. Parker." The middle aged man advised as he began to disappear into the sea of bodies. "You know, so we can see what's in front of us?" Peter half smiled and nodded, even though the Principal was very unlikely to turn around and see that to begin with. "Yeah. Good idea, sir." The sophomore shuffled down the hallway with enough agility to skirt past a portion of his innumerable peers. The journey to his locker was often traveling like this, so it wasn't that difficult to steer around those that barely noticed him to begin with. It was all a matter of chance, if one looked at it close enough; it was a gamble to guess where Sarah or Bill would be chatting when you're looking at the ground, or where Jim and Andrea would sucking each other's lips off for that matter. Today was a show and tell day for most of them too, so ducking was something he had to get used to until he finally reached his locker. It was only a matter of time before his subconscious wandered through his itinerary for the day, the list somewhere in between long and short in his mind. First there was Chemistry, then a few insignificant classes, lunch, two more periods that lived only to waste his time and then he had a half hour's worth of "Spidering" to do. But that last part could be cut short due to homework over the first part. And then there was the constant threat of Flash actually being at school today to call him "Penis Parker" for the 9,000th time and give everyone something to laugh about for a few seconds. Oh and the Web fluid--he almost forgot that! He was running low on the stuff and needed a new batch. Peter noted to himself mentally that he needed to mix up at least a pound of it to last him a whole month and not a whole week. He fished around at the bottom of his locker for the the right notebook that contained his web fluid formula and cautiously glanced over his shoulders to make sure no one was causally glancing at it. No one ever was, or had noticed any proof of his other life for 8 months now...but one couldn't be too prideful in their sneakiness. Pride goeth before a fall, as his Aunt usually said. Or...was it, cometh? Yeah. That was it. Cometh. Probably. When Peter shut his locker door, a certain...weird acquaintance of his was there to give him his daily heart attack. Michelle raised her eyebrow at him as he visibly flinched and then offered her a sneering look of disbelief. "You're in front of my locker, Peter." "Would it kill you to just..." Peter stared dumbly at the tan-skinned girl lightly pushing him back and stooping down to the locker beneath his own. His arms sarcastically flopped in the air for a moment. "Yeah. Okay. No need to ask me to move. Just...constantly be weird. And rude. " Her messy brown bub bobbed slightly when she stood up after closing the locker again. "So, you're neither of those things?" She made some kind of indescribable face at him that seemed insulting all its own. "You were staring off into space after you pulled out that notebook. Just thought I'd wait a for a second to see if you'd drool or do something else mildly stupid." "...I think you'd make a great stalker, Michelle." Peter patted her shoulder with the most reassuring smile he could muster at the moment. "I can see you having a great future in it. Maybe you can make your own industry off of it. Creeps Inc., they'll call it." Michelle finally rolled her eyes--why didn't she do that earlier? "Please don't try your new comedy act on the new kid when he or she shows up. " "Uh...what?" "Oh, right. Mr.Conners never told rest of the class. " She shrugged as she went into detail about her statement, body in preparation to leave. "We're supposed to be getting a 'new student' in the school. Only way he knows this is because their mom is the owner of a pretty decent phone business. Crystal Empire, I think." Peter scrunched his nose. "Crystal Empire? I thought that was just a toothpaste company!" Michelle shrugged and began to walk off into the crowded areas of the hallways, finally shrinking away from his sight as the bell rang and the movement of students became became even more frequent--er, frantic. Peter hummed in thought over having some really rich classmate; he certainly wasn't opposed to that. Most people didn't differ to him whether they were rich or not, and he wasn't the kind of guy who tried being friends with someone just for money. Still...it wasn't his fault if he got money in the end. After all, ingredients for Web fluid didn't grow on trees. So long as they weren't the cliche, bossy, high-and-mighty type of people--he could like them.Or Stark-centric. ________________________~________________________ ONE HOUR EARLIER: ________________________~________________________ Samantha raised her finger boredly, orchaestrating the cacophony of car horns since she couldn't hear her own music over the sound of them. Without much interest, she directed the timing of the truck's tenor blasts and then mixed mini-cooper's high pitched blaring with the sound of a few angry drivers they were close enough to hear. Narrating the whole scene of Symphony was a particularly close voice in the background, talking to her phone without much notice of her child. "No, it's not my fault that this traffic just appeared...Yes, I'm almost out of it. For the twelfth time, no! I can't just immediately drive over!" Celest Summers continued to argue with whoever was on the other end of the phone, her tone as frustrated as usual. Though with the traffic and the individual on the other end of the phone, it was hard to tell what was annoying her more. "Because I have to drop my daughter off at school. You're sure he can't just bump up the meeting to nine?...well, make up something. Just say I'm in traffic--I am, technically." Sam shifted her attention away from that and focused it on the strange vibrations that ran through the ground beneath the car tires. Oh right; the subway trains in New York ran endlessly, something she'd have to get used to as a method of getting to school. After she got used to her new school...and after she got used to the apartment she was supposed to call home for now. It's living space was three times as cramped as the comfortable home she had in Oregon--the walls were thin enough to hear someone three blocks away and the living room was merged with the kitchen. Ironically, her mom being a CEO should have gotten them something better to live in, but it was exactly her fault that they had to move all the way out to New York in the first place. Sal could only pick out snippets of detail from the reason she was punished, and it had something to do with acquiring an important building somewhere near Queens. "No. You're going to stick with that and that's final. I'll talk with you later." With the phone no longer distracting her, the car soon filled with the tension of a conversation on the horizon. They hadn't talked since last night, excluding the unnoticeable 'good morning' or two. Maybe if she kept staring out the window, Sam might be able to completely avoid any-- "Sorry i couldn't get any breakfast made before we left. I know how bad it is to go to school on an empty stomach..." Sam kept up her silence with fading hope, and Celest briefly glanced at her. "This is the part where you say something like...'It'll be bad if I go to school altogether.' Or just the usual sigh of exasperation." "Is this the part where I'm supposed to laugh and be happy all of a sudden?" The teen sighed into the window, still not turning to face her mother. Celest's small smile fell dramatically after that remark. "...Well, I see that you're still a little peeved about all this. Still, I'm not sure what pouting about it is going to do. Didn't you always complain that you hated the school back there? No one you could really talk to?" "I got used to hating it, and then it wasn't that bad anymore. And so what?" She responded incredulously and frowned when they reached the end of traffic, finally turning onto the street that would lead them to Midtown High. "Not gonna make friends here and no one's gonna do the same with me." "Well, I don't expect you to make friends for once, as much as I want you to. If you could, that'd be great...and surprising. But I'm not giving you the 'make new friends speech.' I've been given it more than once. " Celest sighed down at her phone,still thinking about her phone call prior to the end of traffic. The car pulled into the carpool, where a few other cars were sitting patiently in front of the school's main doors. " I know I definitely lack in friends...especially now that I'm the one who's everyone's boss. " Sam squinted at her. "But you haven't had this position for a full week." "Yep. Enemies can appear anywhere. Especially when you start doing some amazing things." Celest remarked with a tired shrug and leaned forward to peck her daughter's forehead. Said daughter sighed and gathered the backpack from between her calves, placing it's massive weight on her lap. " Now go and make some amazing grades in...It's barely the end of September." Samantha was almost out of the car when she said that, and the abrupt statement made her turn around sharply. "...yeah. So?" "What's with the gloves?" Samantha casually tucked a few strands of her red hair behind an ear. "Uh, just wanted to. It looks cool. See you later.' With an official goodbye from her mom, the girl's smile dropped slowly as her ride disappeared from view. She looked down at her glove and peeled away the wrist opening to see that the skin of her palm was still glowing--brighter than yesterday. She swallowed anxiously and readjusted the glove; it'd go away soon enough. She didn't need to think about it now, of all times. ________________________~________________________ Chemistry at last. It literally felt like he'd never get to this class and, more importantly, get the instruments he usually used to brew up some more web fluid. To make matters better, Mr. Conners was missing and some really unobservant substitute teacher was bringing everyone through a simple expirement with fire. Peter adjusted his seat to make leaning down to his secret lab (which was just a drawer embedded in the side of the lab station) easy for him, grinning like a mad scientist already. Maybe this time I'll make it last longer. Or delay the hardening process when it shoots out... "Use the bunsen burner in your expirement, and make sure the nozzle is secured. " The substitute read word for word what instructions were left for him. It was basically a distant hum in the back of Peter's mind as he snuck out two pitchers of corn syrup from the lower cupboard at the back of the room. It was going to be part of an expirement to make some kind of food, but surely Mr.Conners wouldn't care about a pitcher of his being a little...empty--at least not for a few days. "Then, align the washer above..." "Sir? We have the instruction packet already." Peter recognized the voice of Betty Brant interrupting him."We can probably read it from here." Aside from a grumbling sound, the substitute shut up and resigned himself to the teacher's desk where he sat there and read an incredibly thick book. Peter finished pouring the last pound of corn syrup and went on to adding in the armful of liquid ingredients to the mix, causing the clear substance in the giant beaker to fizz but otherwise remain still. Just the addition of two eggs remained, and then a constant stir to keep it from hardening too early. The boy reached for his backpack, only to pause and stare as the door opened to the classroom. The girl was so unfamiliar to that he continued to stare, as did others in the classroom when they noticed her. Her hair, a cross between straight and bushy, was bright with thick zig zags of gold slicing through in a coordinated pattern. The long ends cascaded above her long sleeved purple shirt and black jean pants, doing little to hide the large backpack or her hands...covered with fingerless gloves. She was attractive (if Peter wasn't lying to himself, he'd admit that most girls at his school were attractive), but clearly in no condition to even be looked at. She held out a pass to the substitute wordlessly, and that's when it him. This was who Michelle was referring to earlier: Funny, since he wouldn't have expected someone with hair like hers to be the daughter of a CEO...or a high school student. He regarded the girl between efforts to quietly crack his eggs and get his yolk into the beaker without being caught, while the girl only roamed part or the classroom on a mission to find a seat. A good look told Peter that the seat next to him was open, but he knew how girls worked with him and seats. If he pointed out a seat next to him, they'd think he was some desperate idiot or something. He settled for not saying a word and mixing his concoction like he was supposed to do. He swashed the half liquid/solid stuff up in a circular motion and pulled up the mixer to see that it was all still too liquidy. A bit more air exposure and then more mixing oughtta do the trick. "No one's sitting here, right?" He jolted in surprise and whirled around to see the new girl looking equally startled, probably because of his reaction. Had he been too immersed in something again? "Well?" "Oh right. I mean, no. No. No one's sitting there." The girl sat down slowly as if she was regretting to choose to be right next to him, blue eyes warily scanning him up and down. "What's the matter?" Peter became acutely aware of just how long he'd been staring at the girl, and he turned away with a soft cough. "Never seen a girl before?" Like he'd never heard that one before. Secretly mixing up the web fluid just out of her eyesight, Peter shook his head. "Not with that hairstyle, no. How'd you dye it like that?" "This is natural." She said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "That's natural...?! Did you have a ketchup and mustard accident when you were little?" Peter shook his head--bad Spidey, wisecracking tendencies. "No. Wait. Sorry. That's... That was incredibly rude of me. I like it. I really do. It's, uh--whats the word?" "That's not the first time I've heard that joke. Just drop it." She dug around in her backpack for something. "Do new students have to do anything on the first day?" He shrugged, trying to think about the day he moved into this strange school. "Mr.Conners won't make you do anything until at least day three. He wants to meet all students personally, and ironically he's not here today." He paused, regarded the condition of his web fluid and then turned back to the girl. "I'm Peter, by the way. Peter Parker." She didn't respond to that, instead she chose to turn on her phone and move straight to her photos app. She had a picture of her school day schedule saved, it seemed. The boy pointed at her phone with a nod. "Oh yeah, your mom's the owner of that Crystal phone company thing, right?" The girl stared at him after a long moment of tensing up. "How do you know that?" "I know everything about you..." Peter said as ominously as possible, and when she narrowed her eyes, he laughed. "Hey, just kidding! A friend of mine just told me that Mr.Conners knew who you were. How does the phone thing work for you, since she owns everything? Is it free for you, or...?" He left that 'or' at the end to coax her, but she just made a straight line with her lips and tried not to notice him. His continued hand motions telling her answer chipped away at her until her expression softened ever so slightly. "I guess you won't shut up, huh?" "This is my least talkative day." She sighed and said: "Yes, its free. The phone bill, any app related to the brand that I buy is free too." "So does her stuff extend to tablets or laptops too? Making them, I mean." Peter said curiously. "Yes. Yes it does." A pause, then she slightly shifted her body to face him. It was clearly reluctant on her part, but it felt as if there was something she needed to say. "Can I ask you a question?" "Sure." "What are you mixing in that beaker?" His skin was sucked of all color in that instant, and he stopped stirring. When did she notice that? "Uh, what Bea..." He suddenly got an idea, pulling the beaker up on the table to continue stirring it. "Oh! You mean this beaker. This is to help my friend with a science project he's doing over spiders. I'm just making him this cool mixture he can use to weave a web on his poster board. He's got a thing for the way a presentation goes." The girl raised an eyebrow and looked at the beaker. "Well, I hope you want it to be watery and acidic and messy, because you've added too many pints of chlorine enzymes." He shrank back, eyes too wide to even dare blinking at her. He looked from the beaker to her and them back to the beaker with worry. "I did?" He inspected the mixer when he pulled it up from the white mass. He must've messed up somewhere in the process, or he misread the formula again. "Yes. See that lack of grey spots?" She pointed at what he had displayed to their eyes, the comers of her lips lifting into something of a smirk. " That's not a good a sign. Adding in something basic and powdery should cancel enough of the enzymes to work out for you friend." "Um...I..." Peter began. "Oh." She held out a gloved hand to him, the smirk on her face turning up more. She was clearly enjoying this. A lot. " I'm Samantha Summers." He half heartedly grasped her hand and didn't notice the oddly warm feel of her palm. Peter wished he could say that he wasn't a little jealous or surprised about her high level of intelligence, but how could anyone speak after something like that happened? He looked down at his beaker of approaching, acidic doom and sighed at her. "Nice to meet you."