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***
-It's my life. It's now or never. I ain't gonna live forever!
Falsely, sometimes off rhythm, and thus attracting even more attention from passersby, I danced my way towards the entrance to the school, the very same school. Midtown High School. A shanty town, but compared to where I'd gone to school before, it was heaven and earth. And that last comparison would be a compliment to my past place of learning.
Around the car park and a small park were already gathered students and rare figures of parents, which with their care instantly brought down the reputation of fragile teenagers, for whom school life is.... Everything!
Lucky for me, my parents kicked my arse and sent me to a school that was within walking distance. It's an hour's walk. I used to get to work like this every day in my previous life. And now I thanked my hard-working father and my principled mother, who had a house full of their own worries, and a couple of part-time jobs as well.
My eyes skipped back and forth between stereotypical social groups, noting the similarities between the characters in youth serials and the teenagers who carefully copied the images.
Clothing styles, hairstyles, even some mannerisms. It was like I was in another pop crap that didn't fit with the Marvel universe.
-Maybe it's for the best.
I looked up at the sky as the police helicopter sped off into another neighbourhood. The Bronx is probably in turmoil again, which isn't surprising, because immigrants and the mafia have been running the place for almost fifty years, so only a real hero, not the American bobbies, can weed out all this crap.
A couple of high school girls walked past me, chuckling into their hands, looking down on me. Well, I couldn't blame them for the latter. For all my positive qualities, my height in my new life was a big drag, especially compared to my previous one. Being short had brought a whole new wave of new sensations, helping me to look at many things in a new way. For instance, any bully wanted to fight me, and bullies generally considered it their sacred duty to humiliate dwarf Paddy.
-Yankee," I spit on the ground and continued on my way until it became too crowded with the rush of kids rushing to class. There were so many of them that I felt uncomfortable in such a crowd. At my former school, it's good if half the class will just hang around the school, let alone go to class, - phew, hopefully it'll be better than I imagine.
A guy passing by turned around at my words. He was wearing a simple sweatshirt that hid most of his body. A true oversize, most likely received from his father or uncle. Hemmed in many places, with remnants of writing on the chest that appeared to have been carefully attempted to be peeled off.
The hood over his head hid a child's haggard face, much younger than the minimum threshold for students. The kid looked more like the younger brother of someone entering than a student.
-Sorry...
Muttering to himself, the kid quickly disappeared into the crowd, hiding from my gaze.
-Hey, wait," I yanked the guy's sleeve and almost knocked him to the ground, as he was so frail and scared, "Whoa, sorry, old chap. Cheers, I'm Sean. Sean Sullivan.
-Um. Yeah, hi. I'm Peter.
Holding out a thin palm to me, Parker almost grimaced in pain when I shook it. His eyes kept avoiding a direct gaze, and his body gave off every sign of uncertainty about what was happening. He was clearly expecting some kind of trick from me, and judging by the smile spreading across my face, there was bound to be a trick.
But I couldn't contain my own emotions. It was fucking Spider-Man himself. Yeah, he was small, he was weak, he was cowardly, but it was him!
-Super, nice to meet you, mate. -Good to meet you, mate.
I clapped him on the shoulder and stood close to Parker, putting my arm around his shoulder and leading him towards the school entrance.
-"Look, Peter," I said, slurring my words. I wanted to ask a lot of bullshit, but the remnants of reason helped keep the excitement in check, -You've been a student here a long time, haven't you?
-Not really, I used to go to Midtown High School, and before that-
-I see, I see, that's understandable," I asked the most pressing question of all, "so you know a lot of the students? Do you?
-Yes, most likely...
Still not understanding what I mean, Parker also began to notice the laughing looks in our direction and only a couple of passers-by had disgust for the new bully, bullying poor Peter, but soon I was going to change it radically.
-Then tell me, who's the biggest, meanest, bullying bastard around here?
My anticipatory smile scared Parker into a shudder, but his eyes betrayed the guy and he stared at a big, beefy guy with a short hedgehog on his head, surrounded by his mates.
-Great," I clapped Peter on the back, trying to make his smile as friendly and kind as possible, "I'll see you at recess, mate.
-Em, okay...
Perplexed, Parker just shrugged, pleased at the very fact that I was leaving. Maybe our acquaintance hadn't gone quite as I'd hoped, but I couldn't help it. Fucking teenage surges of emotion, hormones, and other bullshit had knocked the whole plan out of my head, forcing me to improvise on the fly.
By the way, the first bell had already rung over his head, so he had to hurry up.
Classes in the states were not much different from what they were in Russia. Of course, there might be mixed classes, depending on what subjects you chose, but in general... It's exactly the same, just a different sign. The same assignments, the same tired mentor tone of the poor teacher, already tired of hammering knowledge into stupid heads that dreamed more about beer, opposite field and other joys of life.
Classes were easy and simple, allowing me to mostly spit in the ceiling, looking at my classmates, and there was a lot to look at. A veritable compendium of key characters.
There's Harry Osborne, elegant, rich and arsehole. Despite his good smile and charisma, something cocky and arrogant spills out of him every now and then, as if everyone here were a pile of dung. Osborne studied on the back-burner, paying more attention to his friends and mates, constantly talking to someone, exchanging notes and the like.
Perhaps this is the secret of why the son of such a rich and influential person to study in such a place. Though now Ozborn's mother is still alive and perhaps she insisted that her son should live among ordinary people? I don't know, but I'll find out.
Not far from him sat Mary Jane Watson herself. Well, that's about it. She was undoubtedly a sweet, pretty girl, bright and flashy. A star of the company, a real flame that was bursting to the top, hoping to break up with her present poor and run-down life.
But now she is only fifteen years old and I doubt she has anything in her head but actors, fashion and other trends of the day.
The last notable classmate was Flash Thompson, a big kid who was just starting to grow into his shoulders. He was a long way from the big football player, but it was already becoming clear that in just a couple of years there would be a new king of the school.
At the first break a support group formed around each of the three, trying to grab the attention of the star. Only the occasional loner, nerd, or hobbyist went about their business, casting sad glances at the groups of students.
-Hey, old chap," I caught up with Peter and imposed my society on him, going straight ahead, "can you show me what you've got here and where?
-Ah... Do teachers...
-No, - I waved away the fair question and answered the same thing that the headmaster and the class teacher told me, -I'm already a grown-up forehead, I can find the most important places by smell.
-Huh.
-That's right, come on, show me where the bathroom is, and then we should go get some food.
-L- Okay.
That's how I got to know Spider-Man, or rather-- You know.
For the first few days, I'd been lurking around with Parker, trying to gain his trust, but you know, then I was even excited to go to school, which was a real nonsense for me in my previous life, and in this one, too. I even forgot all my original schemes and plans, just socialising with my new friend.
Peter turned out to be an amazing mind. It was probably the first time since I learnt to speak that I had such an educated and versatile interlocutor.
The future friendly neighbour was very well-read, passionate about many things other than science, and most importantly, when he realised that I wasn't going to laugh at his hobby, he could talk about a thousand and one things, dragging me into conversations about science, board games, fantasy books and the like.
We could spend hours discussing Heinlein, arguing about the space armour of Humans in the future, and then switch to Pratchett, making fun of the students at the University of the Unseen. Discuss Asimov's work, or just warmly share pleasant moments from reading Tolkien.
I'll be honest, Peter turned out to be an extremely interesting person, than aroused in me sincere sympathy, as a person, not as a future superhero. He was becoming a real friend to me, which at first I was even frightened, completely different from what I imagined communication with my favourite super.
He even got me hooked on Firefly, making me watch all the episodes so I'd have something to talk about.
And all would be well, but this is a school of zero and here you can not do without a good school bullying, which, in fact, first brought me to the house of the Parker family.
And it went like this. An ordinary day, Friday, the end of the week and crowds of happy students leaving the walls of our pleasant institution. It was a warm autumn, October had been pleasantly windless, and the last rays of sunshine were still warm enough to allow me to walk in light clothes.
I was late, listening to the next lecture for idleness in lessons. This moment went on steadily once a week, where the teachers expressed their indignation to me, but could do nothing, because I was studying well, even excellently. These people just didn't like my attitude to the subjects, so they vented their negativity before the weekend.
When I was done with the "execution" I ran out into the street just in time to see a couple of big guys taking Peter down the alley, laughing and pushing my friend.
It was like a switch went off in my head. My shoulders slumped and my head tilted forward as my feet were already carrying me to the nearest soda machine.
-This city will never leave me without a job,‖ for a moment it seemed as if the streets were drowned in black and white, favouring shadows and gloom, -how much dirt would I have to clean up before the common people would stop wallowing in it.
Without excitement or worry, I quickly emptied my entire wallet for loose change, stuffing my rucksack full of cans of coke and other muck, cramming my improvised weapon tightly.
Running swiftly towards the alley, I caught that unpleasant moment when Peter was already being worked over. Two cheering football players were holding him under his arms while the current ruler of Midtown High School was punching my friend in the liver, spouting nonsense about tribute, fees, and helping distressed classmates.
-Hey, lovebirds.
At my shriek, the whole group turned to leave the alley, and that's when I threw my heavy backpack right into the face of the lookout. The jerk just bailed on his duties, laughing along with everyone else at Parker's groans.
-Fuck!
And there was a lot to scream about. The high schooler's face turned into a chop, teeth splintering across the pavement. His nose was skewed in a fracture, and blood gushed from his broken eyebrow while the entire left side of his face turned blue.
-What the fuck are you, you little prick!
-Justice.
I spat in the face of the nearest one, incapacitating him for a moment so I could drop my backpack on his stupid head. With a sickening crunch of aluminium cans, the bully collapsed like a fallen tree, and the first drops of leaking soda began to drip from my weapon.
Note for the future. If you want to get into a fight with a superior opponent, do it quickly, quietly, and extremely violently.
My pathos speeches didn't impress the maddened bogeymen and in the next clash my rucksack was taken away and thrown away, so I had to fight them hand-to-hand.
It was only the skills instilled by my now dad that helped me just survive and get out of that back alley alive.
For as long as I can remember, Simon Sullivan always taught me how to fight. To the last man, fierce and tough, discouraging anyone who would presume on easy prey, believing that since I was small, I would tolerate bullying and beatings.
"If you can't do it with your hands, beat it with your feet, kick it in the balls, in the neck, in the ears. You can't do it with your hands, take a stick! No stick, get a rock! Bite, tear, scratch, do your best, but don't expose your buns to ridicule!".
And that's what I did. It wasn't the native houses of an Irish neighbourhood, where anyone knows me by sight and will help me, or just won't fight a mob on one. It was an alley in the middle of a neighbourhood of Jews, white Yankees and natives. They kicked me, all of them together.
I knocked one of them off his ear. The torn cartilage dangled from side to side to the rhythm of the fat one's howls.The other got off with broken toes, after I had driven a picked-up stone a dozen times into the toe of his trainer.
The last and most important one, local leader, school bully, star of the sports team.... The fucking devil was wearing me down so badly that I could hardly make out where I was, but a picked up shard of glass from the rubbish dump put an end to our fight, as soon as I jammed the shard of "rose" into his shoulder. When he fell on his arse, he was easy prey and I didn't miss a moment.
-King, bitch," spitting viscous bloody saliva on the ground, along with a piece of tooth, I carefully ran my tongue in my mouth, feeling a few irregularities, "squealing like a woman....
Kicking the bully in the balls one last time, I stood up to my full height, or rather as far as my broken ribs and arm allowed. My eyes were blurry, but I felt proud and delighted, just like Peter, who was sitting on the ground.
-Good, good old Parker," I held out my palm to my mate and lifted him off the ground, wincing at the sight of Peter's swollen face. You certainly look it.
-I can feel it.
Gently touching his eye, where a tennis ball of blue had grown in its place, the spider jerked his hand to his side, hissing and cursing painfully.
-Thank you for not throwing-.
-Those are my words," I heard an unpleasant crunch in my leg as I waddled to the exit, which was alarming, "No offence, but I thought you wouldn't get involved.
-You're an idiot, Shawn.
-Yeah, and you can't tell?
I was grateful to Parker. Even though I got into the fight myself, and imposed hard rules, but it was nice that even without superpowers, my friend did not leave me in the lurch. Not that Peter was much use to me now, but he was a great distraction, especially when he started repeating after me and hitting me wherever he could.
-We should go to the hospital. You really should.
-No," I shrugged, imagining what my mother would do to me when she was called to the hospital after a 24-hour shift and given the bill, "I don't care, it'll heal on its own.
-Sean, I know you're Justice, and pain is nothing to you, but you look like you've been hit by a truck.
-I wish I'd been hit in real life, maybe I'd have gone to Middle-earth.
You're a warhammer, you show-off.
Parker was definitely brave after our mess, and in a month of talking to him I'd never heard him sound so cocky and confident. Even in the toughest arguments on his favourite topics, he could give up at the very last moment, and now...
-All right, I was not," he ruffled his hair and touched another bruise on the top of his head, so that the cool speech was lost and now Parker was cradling his head, "uh.... Come to my place, Uncle Ben will help.
-Oh, the famous Uncle Ben," I was melancholy, and even meeting such a colourful man didn't make my head feel anything but dull, "and he won't give us a belt, will he?
-He will. He will, but he will.
-Come on then, he must be a nice bloke.
***
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