"Hey, nerd! What's gotten into you today? You actually dared to leave off those stupid black-rimmed glasses?"
In Midtown High School's noisy cafeteria, Flash Thompson slammed his palm down on Peter Parker's tray, splashing half a cup of milk across the table.
The football players hanging around him immediately burst into unrestrained laughter.
Yesterday, Peter would have flushed crimson and ducked his head like a frightened quail, silently wiping the table with napkins, not even daring to breathe too loudly.
But today, Peter didn't move.
He slowly raised his head. Without those thick lenses hiding them, his eyes held none of their old timidity or evasiveness, only an unprecedented chill and defiance. That sense of power, of having everything under his control, made his blood boil with excitement.
"Get your filthy hand off my table." Peter's voice wasn't loud, but it was exceptionally clear, carrying an unmistakable note of command.
The laughter in the cafeteria stopped dead.
Flash froze, as though he'd heard the world's biggest joke. He dug at his ear in disbelief, the flesh on his face twitching. "What did you just say? Parker, did you get your head slammed in a door? You dare talk to me like that?"
Flash thrust out his hand, intending to grab Peter's collar as he always did.
Just then, Gwen Stacy walked past carrying two plates of pasta, and one of Flash's lackeys deliberately stuck out a foot to trip her.
"Ah!" Gwen Stacy cried out as she lost her balance, falling straight backward along with the trays in her hands.
I'm done for! Gwen Stacy closed her eyes, bracing for the agony of the back of her head hitting the tiles.
But the pain never came.
Whoosh-
A faint breeze swept past.
Peter moved. He was so fast that he