Narrator's POV

"Oh man. Oh man. Oh man."

Quick footsteps echoed through the empty hallways, quick breaths following every step.

Buzz Buzz Buzz

"Hello?"

"Where are you?"

"I'm almost there Harry."

"You better hurry. Mr. Dent is almost done putting the skeleton back together?"

"Skeleton?"

"I couldn't think of anything else to knock over that would take up at least three minutes. So you better hurry, he's only got a few phalanges left."

"I'm right around the corner."

And with those words, around the corner of red lockers appeared a young, lean, brown haired teenage boy.

The boy who he was talking on the phone with a few seconds ago was holding the door opened for him, gesturing his hands to hurry in.

"Alright class." Came Mr. Dent's voice.

Everything seemed to move in slow motion for the hurrying boy. He saw Mr. Dent through the opened door, getting up, with his back still to the opened door.

He dove in through the door, past his door holding friend, sliding across the room on the floor, past other students; too fast for them to notice anything.

There was a loud thud against the bookshelf across the room.

"Hm?" Mr. Dent turned to the source of the noise, only to find out tired friend (who was acting cool, trying not to blow his cover) sitting down at his desk. "You alright Peter?"

"Oh." Peter gave a small snort. "Of course. I just happened to drop my book." He intertwined his fingers together, and placed them on his desktop; soon hiding them after noticing the blue and red gloves wrapping his hands.

"Alright." He turned to the door. "Osborn, what're you doing at the doorway?"

"I thought I saw someone coming. I guess not." He shrugged and walked away from the door, he took his seat next to Peter. The door pushed itself closed.

"Alright class. Today we will be talking about the Integumentary System. Open your books to page 90."

"Peter that was sickest save yet." Whispered Harry to Peter as he took his book out.

"I know." Peter was already on page 90. "But I don't think aunt May will feel the same with the dust stains from the floor on my sweater." He laughed quietly, Harry did the same.

Peter's POV

I closed the door to my locker, and noticed Mr. Dent standing there.

"Gah!"

"Parker." He said in a sharp tone.

"Hey, Mr. Dent. What's up?"

He removed his glasses and cleaned them with his lab coat.

"This morning..."

Gulp

Did he see? Should I just go ahead and tell him to avoid getting in more trouble. It's my fifth tardy in two weeks, I deserve a detention.

"I'm sorry Mr. Dent. I really didn't want to-"

"Peter." He blew on his glasses and put them back on. "I was looking through your grades and I have noticed a sudden drop in them."

Sigh

So he didn't see. Good.

"Oh yeah, it's just that I've been very busy with work and trying to take care of my aunt May. She's getting a little old." I rubbed the back of my neck.

"I understand, that's why I'm here to offer you a small deal. Just between us."

Less homework? I'm all ears.

"I can give you a shorter version soon of the homework, but it'll be a little more difficult than the regular. It'll be like 2 pages of homework per week. Does that sound fair?" He asked.

"That sounds more than fair. Thank you so much."

"Anytime Peter, I just wouldn't want one of my A students to so suddenly drop to a B or even worse...a C." He whispered the last part.

"Yeah, I don't think Aunt May would like that very much. Thank you."

"Anytime Peter. See you tomorrow morning." He said, walking back to his classroom.

"You too." I walked to opposite direction.

I pulled my phone out and texted Harry.

My phone soon buzzed. The message displayed on my screen is too vulgar to be written here.

I just laughed and walked to my next class.

Narrator's POV

"Hey Peter, you wanna go to the juice bar around the corner now that you don't have homework?" Harry asked his pal, who was next to him playing with a rubik's cube.

"That sounds-" Peter's phone buzzed.

"Like an idea for another day." Harry finished Peter's sentence, knowing the buzzing meant Peter was no longer free this afternoon.

"I'm sorry Harry. I promise I'll make it up." Peter was already around the corner of the block.

"Tell Aunt May hello for me." Harry let his head fall and walked the opposite direction of Peter.

Peter's POV

I really do feel terrible for leaving Harry, but crime never rests. Harry is a good person for not leaving me for leaving him countless times. I really do hope I make it up to him someday.

Suddenly a flying car drew me out of thought.

"Whoa!" I shot some webbing between two buildings, providing a pad for the car to stop. Civilians climbed out of the car. I tuned toward the direction the car had come from. "How many times have I told you that we haven't invented flying cars yet Sandman?"

"Shut up bug!"

"Bug? I am quite offended." I laughed.

Narrator's POV

"Peter is that you?" Came the muffled voice of a woman.

"Yes Aunt May."

"Well alright. Dinner is ready downstairs."

"Thank you. I'll be right down."

"Alright dear." Aunt May's footsteps faded from the doorway.

Peter sighed in relief as he hopped off the windowsill and onto the wooden floor of his room. He held his suit mask in his left hand and ran his hand through his messy caramel colored hair.

He plopped on his bed. "Oof." He let out. His fight had been exhausting and he was ready to eat, take a shower and sleep. He sat up. "Argh!" He yelped and arched his back suddenly. A sharp pain shot through his rib cage. He removed the top part of his suit and walked over to the mirror. "Oh man." He said looking at the large purple bruised that colored his left rib cage. He raised his arm, only to pull it back down with a groan of pain.

He placed an old white shirt over his torso and put in some navy blue pajamas, barefoot he headed down stairs to the small wooden table that stood in the center of a small yellow lit kitchen.

Aqua tiles cover the walls above the counter tops and around the cabinets. The fridge held pictures and notes with magnets. There was a single window above the sink. A small solar powered dancing flower with the words "Best Aunt Ever" (the word mother had been scratched out with a black sharpie and now the word aunt sat above the black marks) sat on the windowsill.

"Ah Peter, there you are. I was starting to get worried that my food might get cold if I waited for you any longer." Aunt May smiled.

"I wouldn't have minded if you would've eaten without me." He took the chair across from her and twirled his fork into the spaghetti that sat in a round white plate with five, no six meatballs. "I thought you always got the last meatball." Peter looked up at Aunt May.

"I'd figure you'd be quite hungry after work today." She smiled at him, her eyes shut with wrinkles at their edges.

"Oh Aunt May." Peter smiled back at her. "Always thinking about others before yourself."

"Just you wait till I pull dessert out of the oven."

"No way." Peter suddenly stood from his seat. "You made your famous triple chocolate brownies?"

Aunt May nodded. Peter walked over to her and embraced her body, placing his head on her shoulder. "You're the best. I couldn't have asked for a better aunt." He kissed her cheek.

"We'll only the best for the best nephew." She answered.

"I love you Aunt May."

"I love you too dear."

Only two brownies were left uneaten that night.