The ancient yellow school bus rattled along the pothole-riddled streets of Queens, New York. Looking as if it had been in service since before its passengers were born, the bus contained thirty high-school students.

Inside, the usual morning pandemonium was well underway. Laughing, yelling, joking, yawning, singing, and a few unidentifiable grunts and groans filled the bus as it rumbled through the streets.

"Mmm," moaned one student as he sank his teeth into a greasy jelly doughnut, a stream of red glop and a cloud of powdered sugar landing on his pants.

Another student drummed on his notebook with two pencils, eyes closed, head bobbing in rhythm to the music pouring from his headphones.

"Hey, spaz, where's my homework?" came a shout from the back.

"I'm doing it now!" came the strained, high-pitched reply.

A handsome, muscular boy sat with his arm around the shoulder of a pretty, red-haired girl. He glanced out the window and spotted someone running alongside the bus, desperately trying to catch up to it.

"Hey, look!" the athletic boy shouted. "Parker missed the bus again! Or maybe he's just trying out for the track team!"

Everyone on the bus exploded into derisive laughter. Everyone except the red-haired girl, who lifted the large, beefy arm from her shoulder and got up from her seat. She looked out the window and sighed deeply.

"Stop the bus!" she shouted, to be heard over the laughter. "He's been chasing us since Woodhaven Boulevard!"

Outside, seventeen-year-old Peter Parker ran as fast as his skinny legs would carry him. He was late for the bus, as usual, and had been running after it for seven blocks. Sweat flew from his forehead as he struggled to keep his legs pumping, his arms around his books, and his glasses on the slippery bridge of his nose.

The bus slowed to a stop and the doors creaked open. Peter eased his run to a trot, then a walk. Breathing heavily, he stumbled up the stairs, limping from the pain in his calf.

"Sorry, I'm sorry," he said, making his way down the aisle, bumping into feet and knocking over backpacks. Peter spied an empty seat next to a girl. Their eyes met for a moment.

"Don't even think about sitting here, geek," the girl muttered, grabbing her books and plopping them down on the vacant seat.

Peter continued, shuffling awkwardly down the aisle, fumbling with his books and shoving his glasses back up his nose with his index finger. Too busy looking for a seat, Peter didn't notice the large foot now sticking out into the aisle.

"Oomph!" Peter groaned, as he tripped and went down hard, slamming into the floor, face first, his books scattering everywhere.

"Flash Thompson!" the red-haired girl shouted at the handsome, muscular boy in the seat beside her. "Why did you do that?'

"Do what?" Flash replied, shrugging innocently.

"Oh, give me a break, Flash," the girl said, getting to her feet. I know you stuck your foot out to trip Peter."

"Come on, Mary Jane," Flash pleaded. "Would I do something like that?"

Mary Jane stepped past Flash into the aisle and started picking up Peter's books. Peter, still stunned, looked up at her with his glasses dangling from one ear, and smiled.