The school bus rumbled through the familiar streets of Queens, the air inside filled with the low hum of teenage conversations and the scent of exhaust fumes. Hawk sat by the window, half-listening as Peter Parker, with an uncharacteristic animation, recounted his long history with Harry Osborn.
It was a story Hawk already knew, pieced together from fragments of overheard conversations and his own past life's knowledge. Richard and Mary Parker, brilliant scientists lost too soon, had worked at Oscorp. During long hours at the lab, a young Peter had often found himself in the company of the boss's son, Harry. An unlikely friendship bloomed between the quiet, nerdy scientist's son and the lonely heir to a corporate empire. Even after the Parkers' tragic plane crash, Harry, already seeing Peter as his truest friend, had made the effort to stay connected, bridging the gap between their vastly different worlds. High school had sent Harry across the ocean to a prestigious boarding school in Britain, but phone calls and emails had kept the bond alive.
Now, Harry was back. Transferred to Midtown High for their senior year, a move orchestrated partly by his desire to reconnect with Peter and partly, Hawk suspected, by Norman Osborn's need to keep his heir closer to home. Harry, sitting beside Peter, radiated a restless energy, clearly thrilled to be reunited with his childhood friend. Peter, too, seemed genuinely happy, a spark of light in his eyes that had been absent since Hawk first encountered his transformed state.
Then, Peter's expression shifted, the joy momentarily clouded by a deeper sorrow. "…It's good to have him back," Peter said quietly, his gaze dropping to his hands. "Especially now. It's been… rough. Since Uncle Ben…"
The name hung in the air. Ben Parker. The moral compass. The catalyst. His death, a senseless street crime just days into the summer vacation, had been the crucible that forged Spider-Man.
Hawk felt a flicker of genuine empathy, a rare breach in his carefully constructed walls. He remembered the weight of loss from his own past, the gaping hole left by a death that changed everything. "Sorry for your loss, Peter," he said, his voice low but sincere.
Peter looked up, offering a small, sad smile. "It's okay." But his eyes held a new, steely resolve. Hawk could almost hear the echo of the words that now defined Peter's life: With great power comes great responsibility. He wasn't just grieving; he was shouldering a burden.
The bus pulled into the sprawling parking lot of Midtown High School. As the doors hissed open, the familiar energy of the first day back washed over them—a chaotic mix of groans, excited greetings, and last-minute cramming.
As Hawk stepped off the bus behind Peter and Harry, his eyes immediately found her. Gwen Stacy stood near the main entrance, a radiant center of gravity in the swirling eddy of students. She was laughing, effortlessly greeting classmates arriving in expensive cars and pouring off the other buses, the natural, undisputed queen of their social ecosystem.
Her eyes lit up the moment she saw him. She took a step forward, ready to intercept him.
But someone else got there first.
A blur of motion, a flash of perfectly tanned skin and dark, cascading hair. A figure emerged from the crowd with the predatory grace of a jungle cat, planting herself directly in Hawk's path.
Jennifer Check. Cheerleading captain. Reigning goddess of Midtown High's social hierarchy. A girl whose captivating, fox-like eyes and impossibly perfect figure (rumored to be enhanced by more than just good genetics) commanded attention wherever she went.
Gwen stopped, her welcoming smile tightening almost imperceptibly, her delicate brows furrowing.
"Hey, Gwen." Mary Jane Watson, vibrant and effortlessly glamorous, appeared at Gwen's side, patting her shoulder. "What are you looking at?" She followed Gwen's gaze and let out a low groan. "Ugh. Jennifer. Seriously? She still hasn't given up?" MJ shook her head, a mix of amusement and exasperation on her face. "Is she actually trying for the four-year sweep? Asking Hawk to be her date every single semester since freshman year?"
Gwen's reply was cool, almost clipped. "Not every semester."
"Hmm?" MJ glanced at her friend, catching the subtle edge in her voice.
"She asked him to the grade dance back in June, too," Gwen stated, her eyes narrowed slightly as she watched the scene unfold. "He said no then, as well."
MJ paused, a look of dawning realization spreading across her face. "…Wait. How do you—?" But Gwen wasn't listening. Her full attention was fixed on the drama playing out a few yards away.
"Hi, Hawk," Jennifer purred, her voice a low, throaty melody. She tilted her head, letting her dark hair fall over one shoulder, her foxy eyes doing a slow, appreciative sweep of his physique. "Happy New Semester."
"Happy New Semester, Jennifer," Hawk replied, his tone polite but guarded. He knew this dance. It was a ritual, played out at the beginning of every school year.
"Ninth grade, you refused," she began, ticking off the years on her perfectly manicured fingers. "Tenth grade, refused. Eleventh grade, refused." She leaned in slightly, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Now it's twelfth grade, Hawk. Our last year. You can't possibly refuse me this time, can you?"
Jennifer Check had never lacked for admirers or dates. But Hawk was the unobtainable prize, the one conquest that had always eluded her. What had started as a simple attraction to his brooding good looks had, over three years of consistent rejection, morphed into a point of pride, an obsession. Landing Hawk would be the ultimate validation of her status.
But she also knew the probable outcome. So, she played her cards carefully.
Hawk just shook his head, a small, apologetic smile on his lips. "Jennifer, you know I don't go to the dances."
"But," she pressed, her eyes locking onto his, "if you did go, you'd ask me, right?"
This was her real goal. The face-saving question. The public affirmation that, even in rejection, she was still his first choice.
He hesitated for only a fraction of a second. "Yes. If I went. But I won't."
"That's all I needed to hear," she declared, her bright, triumphant smile returning instantly. What she couldn't have, no one else could either. That was enough. Before he could react, she leaned in, planted a quick, deliberately possessive kiss on his cheek, leaving a faint imprint of lipstick, and then, with a flirty wave, turned and sashayed away, disappearing back into the crowd as quickly as she had appeared.
Hawk watched her go, shaking his head with a mixture of exasperation and amusement. He wiped the lipstick smudge from his cheek and then looked over, meeting Gwen's gaze across the parking lot. He started walking towards her.
Gwen watched him approach, her expression carefully neutral, though her eyes held a spark of something sharp and questioning. "Invited you to the dance?" she asked as he reached her.
"Mm-hmm."
"You accepted?"
"No."
"Oh."