But… It’s me! The real Spider-Man!

Leaning toward Mary Jane so that the rest of the class couldn't hear, I whispered:

"MJ," the girl turned to me, "are Flash and Harry kind of together?"

I pointed a glance at the pair of students who were now walking to their seats together.

"Peter, aren't you the one of the two of us who's been at this school all our lives?" Mary Jane smirked. There were cheerful lights running in her eyes.

"Well, I missed a lot of school, and I wasn't really interested in all that drama," I answered evasively.

"Yeah," M.J. didn't argue, "well, I can deduce from the girls' conversations that Flash has been trying to get into Ozbourne's underpants for years," she clarified nonetheless.

"Is that such a difficult task?" I was surprised, really, to have Osborne and refuse to sleep with a girl...

That asshole had even beaten me in the last world, I remembered, looking at Mary Jane, and he wasn't the only one, I looked at Thompson. It's probably a good thing if they keep each other busy.

"Harder than you think," MJ hummed, looking at Flash with both envy and schadenfreude.

"Even so?" I was worried for nothing, wasn't I? It's a world where ladies woo men, but is it that hard to catch Harry Osborne in a woman's net? I took another close look at my former friend and foe. Harry stood out from most of the men I'd met on the street: handsome, well-built, adequately dressed, and generally without any signs of effeminacy or any other inherent masculine traits. I wouldn't be surprised if this guy had already weeded the flower bed of our class.

"From what I've seen, Harry's using Thompson to scare the other girls away from him," the girl explained, and then she looked at Osborne and bit her lip.

Damn, MJ, I know that look. I used to like it, you used to look at me that way. No, MJ, for God's sake, no.

The isolation from male attention may have saved your innocence, but it clearly wasn't good for your character. Harry, from my past, used to say that a girl would jump out of her panties on such occasions, and given his father's financial situation, he had some experience with such maidens. And as much as I don't want to think of MJ that way, the reality is that it only takes Osborne to want to... shit!

"Back to your seats, everyone," Sarasti's cold voice boomed from the doorway. Like a command to a dog. No one disobeyed.

"Wasting your time on nonsense means you're ready for the test," Yucca walked to the pulpit and looked around the classroom, her gaze lingering on MJ for a second.

I felt the girl tense up, but after a moment the teacher had already forgotten about her.

"Thompson, come here," Flash obediently rose from her seat and executed the instruction. - Hand out the questions.

Mary Jane beside me sighed in relief.

"I think it's working," she whispered.

Yeah, all I had to do was write it down so Sarastee wouldn't notice it with her dead, unblinking eyes.

"There are fifty questions on the test," Sarasti said, "You have to answer forty-five of them correctly to get an A. Forty is B. Anything below thirty-five is unsatisfactory.

The test was not difficult for me; I could have solved it in five minutes, but naturally I did not, so instead I filled out one question a minute, carefully pretending to double-check each answer. Meanwhile, I was looking at the questions on Mary Jane's sheet of paper pushed to the edge of the table.

Yucca wasn't sitting at her desk idly, no, she was walking between the rows, catching the desperate, the ones who were trying to cheat. At moments when Sarasti's back was turned to me and MJ, I used my fingers to point first to the question number and then to the correct answer.

Even with my glasses on, I couldn't see most of the questions accurately; most of them the girl had to fill in herself.

At one point Sarasti stopped right between Mary Jane and me and stood like that for several minutes.

"Parker," the teacher's voice made M.J. flinch and sweat.

"Yes," I said in a steady voice.

"What do you think of Miss Thompson's breasts?" Sarastee asked in a cold voice.

"Um," I admittedly froze for a few seconds upon hearing that question, "I think there's nothing wrong with her."

"Yeah?" Sarasti wondered, "but I thought there was something wrong with her. Look closely, Parker, and you'll see it, too."

"No matter how closely I look, I'm afraid I can't see the details through the clothes," I snorted, "if you want details, ask Osborne."

By this point, everyone in the class had turned their attention away from the tests and were staring at us. My last statement caused some surprised whispers, and Sarasti must have decided to end the show:

"I think Ms. Thompson's right breast is a little bigger than usual today. Give it to me," Yucca held out her open palm to Flush.

Under the astonished stares of the entire class, the girl pulled a cheat sheet out of her bra.

"You are dismissed, Miss Thompson," Sarasti cut off.

Angry Flash stood up, grabbed her bag, and flew out into the hallway, but never dared to say anything to the teacher. Yucca, meanwhile, walked to the front of the classroom and, without turning around, spoke again:

"No need to show the neighbors your stockings, Miss Sanders, you can keep Thompson company, just wash the ink off your thigh."

Another unfortunate one walked out of the classroom.

For the rest of the class, Mary Jane didn't even dare look in my direction. I gave her a head start on ten correct answers; if she could manage at least twenty-five on her own, she'd avoid the deuce.

"Time," Yucca announced, "since Miss Thompson has left us, Osborne, collect the forms."

Many finished their last answers at the last second, but no one dared ask for more time under Sarasti's stern gaze.

When she gave Harry her answer sheet, a distraught Mary Jane wanted to leave the classroom, but the teacher put her down.

"It's five minutes to the bell, Watson, aren't you interested in the result?"

"I know I didn't pass," M.J. muttered.

"I said sit down," the teacher ordered without raising her voice, "I wouldn't be so sure if I were you."

Sarasti began to sound out the results with the speed and precision of a computer. A glance was all she needed to check the answers; I couldn't have done that. Out of some whim, Yucca put Mary Jane's form aside and didn't voice her result until there were two sheets left.

"So, Watson: thirty correct answers," Sarasti paused, "C."

There was a murmur in the class, even those who were one point short did not get threes from Sarastee. The girls' indignation exceeded even their fear of the overbearing teacher.

"Parker," the woman continued, ignoring the discontent, "forty-nine correct answers - C."

There was silence in the classroom.

"Heh," I smirked, "fair enough. And where did I go wrong?"

Sarasti arched an eyebrow.

"I mean on the test. I got forty-nine points, which means one answer was wrong."

"You didn't take into account the sign of the electron charge in question thirty-nine."

"Thank you, I have to pay more attention to detail."

"Wait, that's not right," Harry jumped up, "even if Parker is a genius, he's in the same program as us, you can't give him a C for one mistake."

Wow, he stood up for me, and in front of Sarastee, and we're not even friends in this world.

"Why is Watson the only one you cut him some slack?" one of the unservers dared to ask.

"No indulgence and no special treatment," Sarastee objected, "they scored seventy-nine points, that's less than eighty percent, which means a C! It's a lesson, Mr. Parker - if you want to help your friend with the tests, do it beforehand."

"I get it," I replied calmly, and the next second the bell rang.

"Dismissed," Sarasti announced.

As soon as we stepped out of the classroom, the whole class was riveted on me and Mary Jane.

"Peter," Mary Jane began, "I'm sorry, please, this is all my fault."

"Hey, I'm the one who offered to help you," I countered, "Besides, it's only a C in physics, so don't give a shit about it."

To say that everyone was surprised is not to say anything. I had just tanked the reputation Peter had built over the years. First of all, Peter Parker would never ask anyone to write him off. Second, he was always extremely squeamish about his grades. He might not attend class for a week, but if he did, he worked on a perfect score. Third, to hear Parker swear... no one had ever captured that.

"That Sarasti was a bitch," said Osborne, glancing around to see if the teacher was there, "she had no right to lower your grade, you did almost perfectly!"

"Come on, Sarastee didn't do anything wrong. It may not be by the book, but she's right, it was a good lesson."

The rest of the school went without incident. Unless you count the fact that my classmates started talking to me. This morning's incident helped me blend in.

Mary Jane, on the other hand, was clearly not happy about the "C" she had received; she was still feeling guilty. Though I repeatedly said that I didn't care about the test score. Even the classmates who didn't approve of M.J.'s actions at first, under my pressure, admitted that they would have done the same thing in her place.

At lunch, I sat down next to Mary Jane again. The girl looked at me and gave me an apologetic smile.

"Still thinking about that stuff" - I started.

"No, I just... it was awkward, I should have told Sarasti to give me a failing grade," I rolled my eyes. How many times?

"Okay. You want to make it up to me," I highlighted the last word in imaginary quotation marks, "come with me to, say, The Bunker tonight.

"Holy shit!" Thompson exclaimed, "Did I die and go to a parallel world? Peter Parker was about to go to a nightclub with a girl... Holy shit!"

"Who are you and where did Peter Parker go?" Harry exclaimed with an accusatory poke at me with his fork.

Of course, I laughed with everyone else at the joke...it was a joke, right?

"So, MJ, you coming?" I repeated the question.

"I don't know what happened in class, but I'm willing to make it up to Watson if she doesn't want to," Thompson exclaimed.

"No, I mean, yes, of course I shall go," answered the girl hurriedly.

Victory! It was too easy, though - as easy as if Mary Jane herself had suddenly decided to come on to me last. I probably just showed the whole class some deviant behavior-it's not customary here for guys to make the first move on a girl they like. But I don't care, I can only thank fate for such a great chance.

M.J. and I got a ride home with Flash. After we agreed to meet at ten p.m., we parted.

It was so unusual... I pressed the back of my head against the front door, reflecting on the day. I had gone to school, and I loved it there. Who would have thought?

With a goofy smile on my face, I heated up some soup and turned on the TV, whistling "The way you make me feel. I found a channel with some stand-up comedian on, a woman, of course. There were a lot of jokes about men and dicks and sex, funny but making me feel Spanish shame for the former lovers of the woman who had spoken.

During the break I saw a commercial with Spiderwoman. The girl was advertising an insect repellent. Ironic.

She reminded me of something. Personal happiness is definitely a good thing, and I'm not giving up on my plans for tonight, but I should get busy, too.

Back in my room, I jotted down data on Stans' project on a thumb drive and at the same time went to the Empire State University Web site to look up Connors' schedule. Two lectures today, with the last one ending in three hours. It fits. A cab would get me there in ten minutes... what would I do with the rest of the time?

My eyes fell on the web shooter blanks. I started to make them, not really thinking about why, and then I stopped when I realized that I only had enough material on hand to make one from my first exploits. After masterpieces created using Wang Miao's nanomaterial technology and condensing moisture from the air, spending time and effort on something so primitive seemed silly to me... but why not? Web shooters are like a third hand to me-even without spidey sense, reflexes, dexterity, or strength, I can use them in case of emergency. It's better than lugging a gun around.

I have everything I need: the experience, the materials for the mechanism, the ingredients. So why haven't I made them yet?

I also grabbed all my cash when I left the house in two and a half hours-I was going to buy some normal clothes on the way back, because I was going to a party!

The cab driver, not surprisingly, turned out to be a woman. A very talkative woman. So talkative, in fact, that after five minutes of acquaintance I wondered whether a spider web mask would look good on her.

Fortunately, the journey was short, and twenty minutes later I was standing at the door of the auditorium - Connors' lecture was due to end any minute now.