Homecoming: The Junior Novel Read online

  I put the bike back where it was, and then swung off, but not before leaving a short note: Is this your bike? If not, DON’T steal it!—Spider-Man. That should do just fine, I told myself, back on the lookout for any other suspicious-looking activity.

  It wasn’t long before I spotted another attempted robbery, this time some punk trying to jimmy open a car a few blocks away. Ready—aim—THWIP! The would-be carjacker was webbed to the car he was trying to steal.

  I landed in front of him. “This stuff is nasty, yo,” he said, trying to peel off the webbing.

  I leaned against the car and gave it a little flick, just enough to set off the car alarm. “Cops’ll be here in a minute,” I said casually. My job here done, I was about to swing away when a particularly angry voice came from a window above me.

  “Shut that thing off! Who set it off? You, in the red and blue?” A woman was leaning out the window of her apartment above. She seemed pretty unimpressed by my crime-fighting skills.

  “This guy was trying to steal—” I started to explain, but she cut me off.

  “You idiot; that’s his car!” she yelled. “He locked his keys inside!” I peeked in. Looked as if she was right.

  I looked at the noncarjacking owner and gave a weak shrug. “Well, it did look suspicious. Sorry,” I said. “That’ll dissolve in a few, um, hours. Did I mention I was sorry?”

  Win some, lose some. No one said this would be easy.

  It was getting late. Time to check in with HQ. Plus, I was starving! Swinging up to a higher perch, I grabbed my sandwich and bit into it as I pulled out my phone and dialed. The phone rang a few times on the other end before someone answered.… sort of.

  Once again, I heard an all-too-familiar voice: “You’ve reached the voice mail of Happy Hogan. You know what to do.” The phone beeped. Time to give a rundown of the day’s events.

  “Hi, Happy! Here’s my report for the night: Stopped two muggings, one grand theft auto, one grand theft… bicycle. Couldn’t find the owner, so I left a note. I hope he or she got it. Oh, and I helped a lost old Dominican lady who was really nice and bought me a churro. But I really think I could be doing a lot more. Just curious when we’re gonna have our next real mission. Call me back,” I finished, about to hang up before remembering one last detail: “It’s Peter. Parker.”

  I hung up. Why did I have to tell him about the churro?

  I was almost out of web fluid, so I had to change cartridges. I popped out one, but I fumbled with it, and it fell down to a fire escape landing. No biggie. I jumped down and tried to use my foot to kick it back up into my hand, but it flew away from me instead. I reached out to grab it, stretching out across the fire escape, catching it just before it was out of reach, my feet stuck to the fire escape, body fully extended.

  “Well, this is awkward,” I said to a pigeon that had watched the whole thing unfold. It just cocked its head to the side, then flew away. I was about to flip back onto the rooftop when I saw… the Hulk?

  Okay, obviously it couldn’t be the real Hulk. I looked again and saw that the guy was only green from the neck up and not nearly as big. And the Hulk wouldn’t need to use an ATM like this guy. Hulk mask. ATM booth. Something was definitely fishy about this. Just then, I saw “Hulk” turn and say something to “Iron Man”—again, a cheap mask. Stowing away my half-eaten sandwich, I stood up and was about to swing over when “Iron Man” pulled out the most intense-looking set of bolt cutters I’d ever seen. They were really high-tech! They cut through the ATM with this creepy purple energy beam. I’d never seen anything like it.

  Another guy, “Captain America,” joined the others and started pulling off the metal casing of the ATM with some sort of antigravity gizmo. It ripped apart the ATM. And finally, “Thor” joined them and started loading cash by the bundle into a large bag.

  It seemed the “Avengers” had assembled. And they forgot to invite me.

  “Is this a bad time to ask for autographs?” I quipped as I landed a few feet away from them.

  My arrival stopped them cold, but that didn’t last long. “Hulk” and “Thor” each pulled their weapons out.

  “Your ‘guns’ are supposed to be your muscles, Jolly Green,” I said, giving a little arm flex. “And, Thor, you use a hammer, remember?” Ducking quickly, I grabbed the shotgun from “Hulk” and swung it at “Thor’s” pistol, disarming them both. “You know, I’m starting to think you guys aren’t the real Avengers.”

  I spotted a desk behind “Hulk” and fired my web. “Hulk” laughed, thinking I’d missed him. Not so fast, buddy. I pulled the web back with the desk still attached. It smacked him in the back of the head, knocking him down.

  “Oh sorry. I didn’t mean to do that so hard,” I called.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw “Cap” start to move his antigravity machine. The chunk of metal he’d ripped open was floating with it.

  “What is that? And where can I get one?” I asked, webbing the device away from him before he could do something cool like flip a switch and reverse the energy, sending the metal flying my way. “How did you guys end up with tech like this? I mean, no offense, you seem great, but—” The alarm on my watch started to beep. “Curfew time. We should wrap this up.”

  I flipped over “Thor” and kicked “Cap” hard in the chest, sending him smashing into the ATM. Money started flying everywhere. Whoops—didn’t know it was going to do that. I turned my attention back to “Hulk,” who was getting back up, wobbling as he tried to stand.

  “Stay. Down,” I said, jumping off his back and twisting to avoid “Thor,” who was taking a swing at me. “So did you guys draw straws for who got which mask? Did everyone fight over Iron Man?”

  “Iron Man.” I realized I’d almost forgotten about him as I swung “Thor” into the wall.

  “Iron Man” was still near the ATM with his crazy bolt cutters. I saw him adjust the settings on the side of the device. Purple energy shot out, slicing the top off the car I had just been perched on. I dodged and darted as the energy beams continued shooting all over. He didn’t seem to be able to control it very well. Suddenly, the beam shot across the street right at…

  “Mr. Dalmar!” I yelled. The purple energy ripped apart Mr. Dalmar’s bodega. The noise was making my ears ring as I ran across the street and into the wreckage.

  It was a smoky mess inside. Please, please, let nobody be hurt, I thought as I entered the rubble. “Mr. Dalmar?” I called out.

  A faint voice whimpered weakly at the far end of the store. I rushed over and saw Mr. Dalmar stooped behind the counter.

  Putting my hands on his shoulders, I helped him up and out of the store. “Are you okay?” I asked, looking at him in concern.

  Mr. Dalmar coughed violently, but he gave me a thumbs-up. Then he turned to look at his now-destroyed bodega and moaned in sorrow. Okay, now this was personal. I turned to finish off the guys who had caused all this and almost killed my friend.… But they were gone. No sign of them anywhere at the ATM. Better let the police handle it from here, I thought as I heard the sirens approach. Besides, my alarm was going off. Again.

  Happy Hogan was working late at Stark Industries when his phone buzzed. He was too focused to pay attention to the caller ID as he answered it.

  “Hello?” He was barely giving the call a second thought until he heard the voice on the other side.

  “Happy? Boy am I glad you picked up! Listen!” Spider-Man’s voice came shouting through the other side. Happy could tell the kid was running and swinging as he talked.

  The phone rang a few times, but this time somebody real answered.

  “Happy? Boy am I glad you picked up! Listen,” I began, trying to contain my excitement as I ran and jumped, but I still ended up shouting. “Something big just happened! These guys were robbing an ATM, and they had these insane weapons and—”

  Happy interrupted with an impatient sigh. “Peter, I don’t have time for an ATM robbery, or thoughtful notes you leave behind,” he said. “I�
��ve got higher-priority things to worry about. We’re talking important, high-level stuff.”

  Happy wasn’t getting how serious this was.

  “But, Happy,” I continued, “they had weapons that—”

  He interrupted me again: “Just stay away from anything too dangerous. I’m responsible for making sure you’re responsible. Got it?”

  “I am responsible! I… Oh!” I trailed off as I turned down the alley where I had webbed my backpack. Except the backpack wasn’t there anymore. The entire dumpster was gone. It must have been collected by a garbage truck. Again.

  “That doesn’t sound responsible,” Happy said, his voice sounding fed up.

  “I’ll call you right back,” I said. Maybe the thief hadn’t gotten far.

  “We’ll call you,” Happy replied, and promptly hung up on me.

  I swung my way home, thinking about my awful day. I had managed to upset Liz, lost my clothes and backpack for the seventh time, let fake Avengers get away with stealing a ton of cash from an ATM, and almost caused Mr. Dalmar to get hurt in the process.

  Can this day get any worse? I thought as I arrived at my apartment and crept down from the roof. I opened my window and climbed in onto the ceiling, trying not to let May hear me. She couldn’t see me like this.

  I quietly flipped down onto the floor and stretched as I removed my mask.

  The sound of a thousand pieces of Saturn hitting the floor almost caused me to jump right back out the window.

  I wasn’t alone.

  I saw the pile of blocks around Ned’s feet, then I looked up to meet his shocked gaze.

  Busted.

  CHAPTER 4

  What was that?!”

  Great. May was home. This night kept getting more fun.

  Ned’s mouth moved for about five seconds until his brain caught up with his vocal cords. “You… you’re the Spider-Man!” he said. “From the Internet!”

  I covered Ned’s mouth before he could blurt out my secret identity any louder.

  “It was nothing, May!” I yelled, turning my attention back to Ned, while trying my best to laugh the whole thing off. “This? This is just a costume. No big deal.”

  “You were on the ceiling!” Ned responded. He wasn’t buying it.

  Sighing, I pressed the button on my chest, and the suit untightened enough for me to change out of it. No use trying to deny it now. “What are you even doing in here, Ned?!” I asked.

  “May let me in,” Ned said. “Remember, we were supposed to finish Saturn?” His eyes were still wide open. I don’t think he’d blinked yet.

  Saturn. Right. Worst timing ever. Just then, the door to my bedroom opened. I shoved the Spidey suit into the closet before May entered.

  She looked over the scene in my room and paused. Ned stood over a pile of blocks, while I stood by the closet in nothing but boxers. Worst. Timing. Ever.

  PleaseDontAskWhyImNotDressed. PleaseDontAskWhyImNotDressed.

  My mantra paid off! May stared in silence for a few moments before turning to Ned. “Who’s up for Thai tonight?” she asked. “Ned? You in?”

  “He can’t,” I answered before he could speak.

  “Another time, then,” May replied. She glanced at me again, eyebrow crooked. “Maybe you want to put some clothes on, Peter?”

  “Yup. Yes. Clothes,” I agreed enthusiastically, pushing her out the door. “Getting dressed is next on the agenda. Then Thai. Thanks for checking in, okay, bye.”

  As soon as the door closed, Ned started with the questions.

  “She doesn’t know?” he asked.

  I pulled on a shirt and said, “No one does. Except Mr. Stark. He made me the suit, so…” I turned to face Ned. “But listen—”

  At the mention of Tony’s name, Ned’s eyes widened even more. “You’re friends with Iron Man?!” he exclaimed, pausing as his brain scrambled to make sense of everything. Then, with a gasp, he asked, “Are you an Avenger?!”

  To anyone else, that question might have sounded as ridiculous as asking someone if he were Santa. For me, it was a tiny dagger reminding me that I was not, in fact, an Avenger. “Not officially,” I said. “Yet. But soon.”

  Ned was rapidly pacing around the room now. This was not good. Time to defuse.

  “Ned,” I started, “you gotta keep this a secret, okay?”

  Ned stopped moving mid-step. “A secret?” he asked. “Why?!”

  “Ned, people try to kill me every night,” I explained. “Trust me, May’s not going to be okay with that.”

  Ned seemed to think this over for a moment. Then he reached over and grabbed my shoulders, speaking so fast I could hardly understand what he was saying. “Peter, I’m gonna level with you,” he said. “There is no way I can keep this a secret. It’s the greatest thing that’s ever happened to me! My face is so warm right now! I keep this bottled up, I might—”

  I twisted and grabbed Ned by his own shoulders, looking him dead in the eye. “Ned. May cannot know,” I repeated. “Swear it!”

  I must have sounded incredibly serious because Ned finally blinked and stepped back a little.

  “Okay, I swear,” he said, and I knew he meant it. He was still super excited, though. “Can I try on the suit?” he asked. “Is it sticky? Or wait, are you sticky?!” The questions would go on all night if I didn’t stop them, and I knew May was waiting for dinner.

  “I’ll explain everything tomorrow. You’ll get all the answers, promise,” I said, trying to shuttle Ned out as quickly as possible.

  Ned stuck his foot in the door before I could close it and peered in. “Wait, one thing: How do you do all of this and the Stark internship?”

  I pinched the bridge of my nose and sighed. “Ned, there is no internship.”

  I kicked Ned’s foot away and shut the door on his confused look. I counted to three, waiting for him to put the pieces together.

  “Ohhhhhhhh!” Ned’s voice came through the door right on cue.

  I sat on my bed, exhausted both physically from the fight earlier and emotionally from blowing my secret. This must be why the Avengers don’t have secret identities.

  “Peter, you haven’t touched your larb.” May’s voice pierced through my distracted thoughts. Dinner had been a blur so far. I kept praying May wouldn’t ask me about what happened earlier with Ned.

  “Do you want pad see ew, instead?” May continued. “I can order you ew. How many times do I have to ask you about ew before you look up?”

  I laughed at her wordplay. She had always been so great with me. I felt a pang of guilt for being so unfocused on our night out. “Sorry,” I said. “I just have so much work.”

  She put her hand on mine on the table. “You sure this internship isn’t too much?” she asked. “You never have time to relax or hang out with friends, and you’re always so distracted—”

  Right then, a newscaster on the small television in the corner of the restaurant caught my attention. “… a violent confrontation in Queens tonight…” the reporter was saying, standing by Mr. Dalmar’s destroyed bodega.

  “Yoo-hoo,” I heard May’s voice trying to get through to me, but the TV flashed an image from the Battle of New York as the newscaster continued to talk. I saw that same purple energy that came from the weapons those phony Avengers used.

  “… involving illicit, alien technology left behind from the battle five years ago,” the newscaster explained. “According to the director of the Department of Damage Control, Ann-Marie Hoag, this is the first…”

  It all clicked into place. “The battle,” I said. “That’s how they did it!” It didn’t even occur to me that I was speaking out loud.

  “You shouldn’t be worrying about that,” May said reassuringly. “You’re a teenager. Your biggest problems should be zits and raging hormones.”

  “May!” I protested, knowing exactly where she was going.

  “I’m serious,” she said, looking me in the eye. “You shouldn’t have to worry about all this on top of an internship.”


  I met her gaze, trying to be as calm as she was. “I can handle it. Trust me.”

  She gave me a long look. Was she buying any of this? Then she patted my hand a couple of times and said, “Okay. I do.”

  She bought it.

  “One thing, though,” I said, bracing myself for her reaction. “I kinda need another backpack.”

  May threw her hands up. “What?! That’s—”

  “Seven. I know. But, I promise, eighth time’s the charm.”

  “How is this even possible?” May asked, sounding slightly exasperated. “Do geniuses know how normal things like backpacks even work?”

  “Yes, we are familiar,” I replied with a weak smile.

  “Unbelievable,” she muttered before starting to chuckle, shaking her head. I could only laugh along with her. If she only knew how unbelievable it really was…

  On the way to the subway for school the next morning, Ned played his own game of Twenty Questions with Spider-Man.

  “That’s how it happened? You got bit by a spider?!” he finally asked after I gave him the whole backstory.

  I nodded.

  “Makes sense with the name and all, I guess.” Then, after thinking it over for a moment, he blurted out, “Can it bite me? Wait, did it hurt? Oh, whatever, even if it hurt, I’d do it. Probably. How much hurt are we talking?”

  “Sorry, man,” I said, bursting his spider-dream. “That spider’s long dead.”

  We took a quick detour and walked past Mr. Dalmar’s bodega. It looked worse in the daylight. At least Mr. Dalmar was safe. Police tape and what I guessed were Damage Control agents were all around, including one I recognized as Director Hoag from seeing her on TV during dinner.

  Looking around, Ned realized I was surveying the area and noticed the concerned look on my face. “Wait, you were here, weren’t you?” he asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “Oh man,” he said. “You could’ve died.” He patted me on the shoulder for a moment before picking up his interrogation again. “So do you eat flies?”