The halls of Midtown School of Science and Technology buzzed with the familiar chaos of a new school day—students rushing to lockers, teachers drinking coffee like their lives depended on it, and announcements echoing faintly through cheap speakers.
Ethan stepped inside quietly, blending into the flow of students.
It was cleaner than he expected.
Bright halls, polished floors, banners about science fairs and robotics competitions hanging everywhere.
The kind of place where smart kids thrived…And where someone like him would stick out if he wasn't careful.
He checked the classroom number printed on the ID card.
Room 2-B.
Not far.
He adjusted the strap on his backpack and started walking—until a voice cut through the noise behind him.
A loud, annoying, self-important voice.
"Well, well, look who we've got here. New guy."
Ethan stopped.He didn't turn immediately.
He didn't have to.
The smug tone already gave away the culprit.
Flash Thompson.
Great.The school's resident loudmouth.
And Peter Parker's favorite headache.
Flash stepped right into Ethan's path with a smirk that probably worked on a mirror, not actual humans.
He looked Ethan up and down—uniform slightly worn, cheap backpack, tired eyes—and immediately assumed he'd found another easy target.
"Man, you look like you crawled out of a thrift store dumpster," Flash laughed. His two friends snickered behind him.
Ethan raised an eyebrow.
Flash continued, clearly enjoying himself,"You a transfer or something? Because I don't remember seeing you around. And trust me—" he tapped his chest, "—I would've noticed."
Ethan finally looked him in the eye.
Calm.
Unbothered.
Expression neutral—almost bored.
Flash blinked, slightly caught off guard.
Ethan spoke, voice steady and flat:
"Are you done?"
Flash froze.
It wasn't the words.
It was the tone.
No fear.
No hesitation.
Just a dismissive chill that said I don't have time for this.
"W–What did you just say?" Flash asked, trying to recover.
Ethan tilted his head slightly.
"I asked if you were done. I figured you'd keep talking until you ran out of breath, but I've got places to be."
One of Flash's friends choked on a laugh.
Ethan continued walking without waiting for a reply.
Flash moved aside instinctively, confused by how quickly the interaction slipped out of his control. Bullies thrived on reactions—fear, anger, frustration.
Ethan gave him nothing.
Not even interest.
As Ethan passed, Flash called out weakly, "Hey—this isn't over!"
Ethan didn't turn around.
"It is for me."
Flash stood there, mouth open, as Ethan disappeared into the crowd.
The hallway quieted slightly as Ethan neared Room 2-B. He stopped outside the door, took a breath, and glanced at his reflection in the small window—uniform straight, backpack in place, expression calm.
This was it.
His first day in a new world.
A world with heroes, villains, and cosmic threats.
A world where a nobody like him needed every advantage he could get.
He pushed the door open.
Dozens of students were already inside—some chatting, some scrolling on their phones, some assembling gadgets at their tables.
Ethan stepped in quietly, scanning the room.
His gaze stopped when he saw a skinny, brown-haired kid toward the back, hunched over a notebook filled with diagrams.
Peter Parker.
Ethan exhaled softly.
"Alright… let's start this day."
He headed toward an empty seat.
And the real story of his new life began.
Ethan sat down quietly beside Peter, placing his bag under the desk. Peter glanced at him, unsure whether to speak, but Ethan kept his eyes lowered, fingers fidgeting with the edge of his notebook. The classroom buzzed with energy—whispers, giggles, chairs scraping—but all of it felt distant to him.
A moment later, the door slid open.
Mr. Hale, their homeroom teacher, walked in holding a folder filled with papers. He was a strict-looking man in his late thirties, but his expression softened when he saw Ethan sitting there.
"Alright, everyone, settle down."His voice cut through the chatter, and the room fell into order.
Mr. Hale placed the folder on the desk, then looked over the students before letting his eyes rest on Ethan.
"I'd like to address something important before we begin today's lesson," he said, folding his arms.
Ethan felt his heart tighten. He already knew what this was about. Peter glanced sideways at him, concerned.
"As many of you are aware," Mr. Hale continued, "Ethan Reyes has returned to school today after a… sudden and tragic change in his personal life."
The room grew even quieter. Some students shifted awkwardly. Others stared, fascinated by the drama of it.
Ethan kept his gaze on his desk, jaw clenched.
Mr. Hale sighed gently. "Ethan lost his parents recently. It has been a difficult time for him. I want everyone in this class to understand that he will need patience, kindness, and support."
Several students lowered their eyes, feeling guilty for the whispers earlier.
"He may need to leave class occasionally," Mr. Hale added. "He may be late on assignments. He may get overwhelmed. If that happens, any of you should let me know, or simply help however you can."
Peter straightened, as if silently pledging something.
Mr. Hale offered Ethan a small, reassuring smile. "We're all here for you. And Ethan… take things at your own pace."
Ethan swallowed, nodding once. "Thank you… sir."
Mr. Hale tapped the desk. "Good. Now—let's begin the lesson."
As the teacher turned toward the board and began writing, Peter leaned closer, whispering softly, "If you ever… need anything, you can talk to me, okay?"
Ethan didn't look up, but for the first time that morning, a faint warmth reached his chest.
"…Okay," he murmured.
And for a moment, sitting beside the one person who genuinely seemed to care, the weight he carried felt just a little lighter.
Mr. Hale transitioned smoothly into the chemistry lesson, drawing a large molecule on the board.
"Alright, class," he said, tapping the diagram with the chalk, "let's warm up. Who can tell me what compound this is?"
It was a simple structure—two hydrogen atoms bonded to one oxygen. Most of the class murmured the obvious answer.
"Water!" a student in the back called out.
Mr. Hale gave a patient smile. "Correct—but too easy. Let's go further."
He added more lines, expanding the structure into a more complex organic compound. The room quieted instantly; even the confident students squinted.
Peter leaned slightly toward Ethan, whispering, "Welcome back to the wonderful world of chemistry… where water gets complicated."
Ethan let out a tiny breath of amusement—almost a laugh. "It's ethanol," he whispered back without hesitation.
Peter blinked. "Huh? Already?"
"Carbon chain is too short for anything else," Ethan murmured. "And the hydroxyl group is—"
"—attached to the first carbon." Peter finished, eyes widening. "Damn, you're fast."
Before Ethan could respond, a girl from two desks ahead twisted around, clearly having overheard.
"You already solved it?" she whispered. "I haven't even figured out what half of those lines are…"
Ethan shrank back automatically, not wanting attention. Peter nudged him slightly.
"Tell her," Peter urged quietly. "You're good at this."
Ethan hesitated, then spoke just loud enough for her to hear. "It's ethanol. The OH group is attached here." He pointed subtly at his notebook where he'd sketched the same molecule instantly.
The girl blinked. "Oh. Oh! That makes sense now."
Mr. Hale raised his brows, hearing the whisper."Since it seems some of you are solving ahead of me… Ethan, would you like to explain the structure?"
Half the class turned.
Ethan's breath caught—he wasn't ready for this. He glanced at Peter, panic flickering briefly in his eyes.
Peter gave him a tiny nod. "You've got it," he mouthed.
Taking a slow breath, Ethan stood.
His voice was cautious at first. "Um… this is ethanol. It's a two-carbon alcohol. The oxygen is bonded to the second hydrogen forming the hydroxyl functional group."
The words started flowing more naturally as his mind slid into familiar territory.
"And because the OH group is here," he pointed on the board, "it classifies as a primary alcohol. Its structure makes it polar, so it mixes well with water."
The class stared at him—not mockingly, but impressed.
Mr. Hale smiled. "Very well explained. Thank you, Ethan. Please, sit."
As Ethan lowered himself back into his seat, the girl in front whispered, "You're really smart."
A boy on the left added, "Yeah—wish I understood it that fast."
Ethan flushed slightly, unused to positive attention.He leaned toward Peter, whispering, "I didn't… mess up, right?"
Peter grinned. "Messed up? Dude, that was perfect. If you keep this up, people will line up to copy from your notebook."
Ethan rolled his eyes softly. "That's not helping."
"It is to me," Peter teased. "Now hurry—he's starting the next part."
Mr. Hale drew a reaction on the board.
"Balance this chemical equation," he said.
Numbers began appearing as students scribbled frantically.
Peter whispered, "Okay, so… two carbons… six hydrogens—wait, that can't—"
"It's 2, 6, 2 on the reactants," Ethan said calmly, eyes scanning the board. "Products need 2, 4, 4. Try multiplying the entire product side by—"
"Two," Peter finished as realization hit him. "Right!"
Both of them scribbled down the answer at almost the same time—Peter a half-second behind Ethan.
The same girl from before turned again. "How do you two solve this stuff so fast?"
Peter pointed at Ethan. "Him. I'm just the backup singer."
"I'm not—" Ethan began.
"Yes, you are," Peter cut in with a grin.
Ethan sighed but couldn't stop the faint smile rising at the edge of his lips.
For the first time in a long while…he felt almost normal.
And as the class continued—with whispered exchanges, shared glances at the board, and the quiet rhythm of pencils moving—Ethan found something he thought he'd lost.
A place where his mind didn't hurt.A friend beside him.And maybe… a chance to start again.