The Spider's Daughter

The Spider's Daughter chapter 1

'Kay, so I accidentally deleted this^~^ luckily, I had it saved on my iPod! *phew!* Marvel already has a Spidergirl comic, but I thought I'd write a story of my own! I've kept some things the same, and changed a few others. Well, I hope you like it!

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Chapter 1

When I was six years old, I found out my dad was Spiderman. I was psyched. My two favorite superheros were my dad and Spiderman, so when I found out they were one and the same, well, that's not something that's easy to forget...

I walked down the stairs. I was supposed to be in bed, but i wanted a drink. I stopped on the bottom step when I heard my mother's voice:

"Love you." Kissing sounds.

"I'll be back in a bit."

"Be safe."

That's when I walked in to see my mom and dad standing by the sink, with the window open. My dad was wearing a red and blue leotard.

"Daddy, why are you dressed like Spiderman?" I asked with all my six-year-old innocence.

"Uh, MJ, would you handle this?" I understand now that he had no idea how to explain to his six year old daughter that he was Spiderman.

"Sure, Pete." she leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. He pulled his mask on and jumped out the window. My mom didn't tell me much that night, only the bare necessities, what I needed to know. I figured the rest of it out as I grew up. I loved to make my dad climb on the walls for me. I loved that my dad really was a superhero. Mom did convince me to keep quiet at school, and thankfully, I listened.

I was psyched about having a superhero father, but my parents were worried that I'd inherit the powers of my father. So far, I hadn't. And I was pissed. My parents were happy, but I wanted to SWING! I wanted my own costume, I wanted powers. We had a lot of arguments about it. Not that arguing would change anything. I would get the powers or not. But we argued anyways. Dad pulled out the 'with great power comes great responsibility' thing a lot.

I had inherited my dad's sass. Or sarcasm. Whatever you'd like to call it. It got me into a lot of trouble, both with parents and teachers. I usually just couldn't keep my mouth shut when someone said something to me. I had been called cruel many times, but I didn't care. I couldn't help it, and I didn't say things to be mean. I just said them.

Now I'm in high school. I was shaken out of my reverie when the bell rang, and I slammed my locker shut. Shoot! that wasn't the warning bell! I was late! I ran down the hall, sliding around corners in a reckless attempt to reverse time and get to class before the bell.

I slid on the polished floor, and grabbed onto a the doorframe. Some students giggled. My teacher, Mr. Chase, looked at me.

"So nice of you to join us, Miss Parker."

"Sorry," I muttered as I made my way to my seat. I slumped down in my chair, my books and papers scattered haphzardously across the table. Mr. Chase continued his discussion on triangles, or something like that, but I was worlds away. I was flying, like my father. The lucky dog. He got off work at two. While I still had an hour of school to sit through, he was out of his suit, into his, uh, other suit, flying around on he's webs!

"Miss Parker!"

"Yes, Mr. Chase?"

"Where are you? I've called you three times already!"

"Uh, sorry, Mr. Chase." I thought fast. "I'm not feeling so good today..."

He sighed. "Fine. Go to the nurse. See if you can't go home and let the rest of us gain a proper education."