The sun rose as usual.
Peter woke up, but something felt subtly different about the world—
He could pick up on small, scattered noises, his vision had returned to normal, and even his previously skinny, frail body had become lean and strong.
As Peter admired his newly toned muscles in the mirror, Gloria was glued to the screen, drooling over Anson's muscular physique.
Gloria: *I can do it!*
Peter turned around and spotted Mary Jane across the alley, living just a street away. The newfound confidence surged in Peter as he watched Mary Jane walk to the bus stop. He hesitated, wondering if he should introduce himself.
In the end, he couldn't muster the courage and watched as Mary Jane got into her friend's convertible. He chased after the school bus again.
This time, without Mary Jane's help, the bus sped off, leaving him behind while other students laughed and jeered at him from the windows.
Peter had almost caught the bus, but when he slapped its side in frustration, he accidentally tore down the homecoming banner that was hanging on the bus. Shocked, he stared at his hand, baffled by what had just happened. In that brief moment, the bus left him behind.
And this was just the beginning of a series of strange events—
At lunch, in the school cafeteria, Peter noticed Mary Jane slipping on spilled orange juice. With lightning-fast reflexes, he caught her and managed to grab all the flying food with his tray. It happened so fast it seemed unreal.
After helping Mary Jane, he noticed that a fork had mysteriously stuck to his palm. As he tried to remove it, he discovered a sticky substance seeping from his palm. When he tugged at the fork, a web shot from his wrist, attaching itself to a tray across the table. Peter was freaked out.
When he pulled the web back, the tray followed, and in his panic, the tray and food slammed into the back of a large guy: Flash, Mary Jane's date, and a football team giant.
All Peter wanted to do was get out of there and clear his head.
But Flash wasn't about to let it go. He assumed a fighting stance and rushed at Peter.
At that moment, Peter realized that Flash's movements appeared incredibly slow, like they were in slow motion. Dodging was easy.
Not only did Peter dodge, but with his newfound strength, one punch sent Flash flying.
Something was definitely wrong. Peter knew it, and he rushed out of school in a panic, finally finding a moment to be alone and test his abilities.
Jumping, climbing, webs—
Only then did Peter's youthful awkwardness and excitement show through as he lost himself in the joy of testing his powers, completely forgetting about the time.
Peter forgot about his promise to help Uncle Ben paint the kitchen. By the time he got home, both Uncle Ben and Aunt May had gone to bed, leaving only the sounds of an argument from Mary Jane's house next door.
Perhaps the only thing Peter could do was at least take out the trash. As he did, he ran into Mary Jane storming out of her house. Their eyes met, but the argument behind her left Mary Jane feeling embarrassed, her most vulnerable side exposed.
However, Peter didn't laugh or judge her. He simply looked at her kindly and calmly, making her feel safe.
They started talking.
They talked about family, about dreams.
Both of them longed to leave, to go to Manhattan. Peter dreamed of becoming a photographer, and Mary Jane wanted to be an actress.
Mary Jane thought Peter would mock her—she'd never told anyone about her daydream. But Peter offered her nothing but warm encouragement.
For a moment, Mary Jane was stunned, tilting her head as she studied Peter closely. "You're taller than you look."
Because he had a soul that stood tall.
Unexpectedly, Peter smiled seriously and said, "I slouch."
Mary Jane's lips curved slightly, her eyes glistening as if stars were sparkling within them. "Don't slouch anymore."
Oh.
The girls in the theater let out a collective sigh, sweet as cotton candy melting. Who would've thought such a conversation could be so romantic?
Unfortunately, the warm atmosphere didn't last—
Flash arrived, showing off his brand-new convertible, a birthday gift.
Peter watched Mary Jane leave with him and went back to his room, where he found himself browsing through classified ads for used cars. Even the cheapest ones were close to three thousand dollars.
To be exact, $2,598.
Below the car ads was an ad recruiting wrestlers—anyone who could last three minutes would earn three thousand dollars.
Who would've thought the first thing Peter tried to use his superpowers for was to win $3,000 to buy a convertible?
Like any legendary superhero, Peter designed himself a red spider-suit and mask. He locked himself in his room, practicing his skills day and night.
When Peter finally felt ready, he told Uncle Ben he was going to the library, intending to join the wrestling competition. But he didn't realize his strange behavior had already caught Uncle Ben and Aunt May's attention.
Uncle Ben offered to drive Peter to the library, seizing the moment to talk. Peter's mind, however, was on the wrestling match, and his impatience showed. This worried Uncle Ben, who realized Peter was going through a turbulent adolescence.
Uncle Ben had been there himself, worried that Peter might go astray. The fight at school was a warning sign.
"That guy you fought—Flash Thompson—maybe he deserved it. But don't think just because you can beat him means you have the right to hit him."
Peter stubbornly looked away.
Teenagers are always like this—stubborn, rebellious.
Uncle Ben sighed. "Peter, remember, with great power comes great responsibility."
That phrase hit Peter hard. Afraid that Uncle Ben had figured out his plans, he became irritated, anger clouding his mind.
"Things are different now. I'll figure it out myself. Stop lecturing me!"
"I wasn't trying to lecture you, Peter. I know I'm not your father."
"Then stop pretending to be."
With that, the words were out.
The air suddenly went quiet.
Peter realized he had said the wrong thing, but it was too late.
Uncle Ben averted his gaze. "Okay," he said, ending the conversation.
Peter tried to apologize, to explain, but Uncle Ben was done talking. "I'll pick you up at ten tonight."
Peter couldn't believe it. He was both angry and regretful—at Uncle Ben, but more at himself. In a huff, he slammed the car door, hoping Uncle Ben would linger a moment longer, but Uncle Ben drove off. Peter left too, their conversation unresolved.
But there was something more important ahead—
Three thousand dollars.