What Peter couldn't do didn't mean no one else could, even if it was just a woman slightly older than him.
Just as the young Spider-Man lay sprawled over his desk, wallowing in self-pity and preparing to face the inevitable isolation and discrimination, his phone suddenly rang. Someone was initiating an online call.
His phone was ancient. Not only was its flip screen tiny, but its picture and sound quality were nothing to speak of. Still, it was enough for him to recognize the Little Black Girl on the other end.
"Hi, Peter. What are you doing?"
The girl, dripping in gold and silver, was bursting with energy. Her eyes were wide open, as though she wanted to climb through the screen and inspect his side of things.
"Uh, nothing much. Good evening, Shuri. It should be nighttime over there, right?" Peter pushed himself up from the desk and rubbed his face, trying to make his smile look more natural. "I'm not doing anything either. You know, going to school, waiting for classes to end, then going to work. Same as usual."
"What?!" The Little Black Girl was utterly shocked by that answer. She even dramatically pulled her face away from the phone's camera. "You're actually not planning to go into space? My God, I saw you working with Deathstroke the day before yesterday. There's no way you don't know about the spaceships."
Her expression made it seem as though she had spotted some prehistoric creature lagging behind the times.
"Shh! Keep it down—no, don't say any more!" Peter sucked in a sharp breath. Thankfully, he had Spider-Sense and incredibly quick reactions. Before Shuri could say Deathstroke's name, he clapped a hand over the phone's speaker, grabbed his backpack, and headed out of the school. "There are lots of people