Midtown High

sunrise over queens

"No, no, no, no, no!"

Peter Parker threw his screwdriver to the floor in frustration, the broken DVD player he found in the alley teetering on the edge of his desk. He sighed and leaned back in his seat running his hands through his messy brown curls. Rolling over to his other desk, Peter threw open his laptop and began typing furiously. 

"Enough of this for tonight. I have an article to work on," Peter muttered to himself while reaching for his camera. He pulled open his desk drawer and fumbled around for the chord that would upload the pictures to his computer. 

"Ah. There you are."

He connected the camera to the computer and waited for the files to transfer. He had spent all day yesterday at football tryouts taking pictures of the one sport he actually enjoyed. If only he could actually play. Midtown High had a very prestigious football team with star athletes such as Flash Thompson and not just anyone was allowed to be on the team. He had tried out last year, and the year before. He wanted to try out again, maybe the third time would be the charm, but Peter knew deep down he'd never really be able to play. 

Not after what happened six months ago. 

Peter shook off the thought and returned his attention back to the blank word document staring it him from his brightly lit laptop screen. He cracked his knuckles and popped his neck, loosening up to write his article as fast as possible. 

"Ohhhkay here we go," he mumbled as he began to type out his newspaper assignment that was due the next day. 

Midtown High football tryout season is upon us once again, Ladies and Gentlemen.

His camera clicked, signaling the photos were successfully transferred to his laptop. Peter reached over to the camera and yanked the chord out. He scanned through the pictures selecting a few that caught his attention and rolled his eyes groaning whenever he saw Flash and his stupid shiny hair. His fingers nimbly typed out the rest of the article and he sat back to read over it one more time, checking for mistakes and seeing where he could make his article more interesting. Fist placed thoughtfully under his chin and arm crossed over his chest, Peter soundlessly mouthed the words he was reading back to himself. Suddenly, his head jerked up when he heard a soft knock at the door of his room. 

"Peter?" His Aunt May said muffled through the door. "Why are you still up? It's 3 in the morning."

"Hey I could ask you the same thing, May," Peter laughed as he opened the door to his room.

"I couldn't sleep so I was watching the Mets game. They had a rain delay but it's finally over. We lost, by the way. I saw your light was still on when I went to the kitchen to get some water."

"Oh yeah. Well I'm working on my newspaper article. It's done, but I need a headline. Its football tryout season again. Any ideas for a catchy headline?"

Peter slid down in his chair and let out a huge sigh as Aunt May leaned in the door way, her pink robe trailing on the ground and favorite mug in hand. Peter noticed that the mug wasn't full of water, but rather a warm liquid that smelled like honey and lemon. 

"Oh you just wanted water, huh? You didn't want to tell me you were making tea. Thanks May," Peter rolled his eyes playfully at his Aunt who swatted his hands away as she took a sip of tea. "You know green is my favorite, how could you?" he questioned with mock hurt playing across his face. 

"Hey, puppy dog eyes aint gonna work, hon. I didn't know you were up! You're a growing boy. You should be sleeping," she looked up thoughtfully, eyebrows pinching together. "Football tryouts, huh. How about The A Team. Like Ed Sheeran, you know? Get it?" May said making a grand headline gesture with each word in the air.

"Nah, that's too cliche. Oh I don't know. What about Game On? It sounds pretty lame, but it gets the job done," Peter sighed. He typed it in and gently closed the laptop. "It'll just have to work right now. I'm tired and I have a physics test tomorrow."

"Oooh physics. I was always so bad at it. But you're going to do fine. You're my little smarty-pants aren't you," Aunt May crooned as she ruffled Peter's hair. 

"Aunt Maaay! Cut it out! I happen to know the force required to push you out of this room from a velocity of 6 meters per second," Peter joked, gently pushing his Aunt out of the room. "Good night."

"Alright, alright, I'm going. See you in the morning Peter, you better not be late for school. It's only the second week. And I will not keep up with all of the detentions you get this year. Because you get soo many," she said sarcastically. 

"I know. I have never, not once, had a detention. Junior year will be no different, I promise," Peter crossed his heart as his aunt winked and turned out of the doorway.  

She closed the door softly behind her. Peter swept all of his dirty clothes off his bed and into the basket by his dresser. He picked up the screwdriver he had tossed frustratedly and returned it to the metal box on his desk. The DVD player was pushed into a much less precarious position and his books returned to his backpack. He plugged in his laptop to the charger and tugged his shirt off wadding it up and tossing it into the hamper, clicking off the overhead light as he curled up in bed. He fluffed his pillow and turned to face the window overlooking the quiet city of Queens. Peter yawned and shifted into a more comfortable position as a police siren faded slowly into the distance. 

Within a few hours, a pink and orange light dawned across the New York City skyline beyond the Queensboro Bridge as the new day began.