Luck Isn't Always Bad

One

I have the worst luck. At this point, Parker Luck™ is just an accepted fact to the people that know me. Like really, how bad did a person's luck have to be? My parents died in a plane crash when I was six, leaving me to live with my aunt and uncle.

I got bit by a spider on a field trip, and was enhanced with some of the spider's DNA, when I was twelve. Then it was my fault Uncle Ben got shot by a robber I just let go.

After that I decided I would be the best person I could be, my uncle's words of "with great power comes great responsibility" ringing in my ears.

I fought back against the criminals in New York City, but I couldn't do a thing to save Aunt May when our house caught fire and we were trapped inside when I was thirteen. I ran out of the house, assuming May would have too, but she hadn't. She'd been trapped by the fire and I hadn't done anything to help.

At thirteen, I was thrown from home to home, but when I was continually caught sneaking out after dark, I was constantly relocated. It was a sacrifice I was willing to make in order to help the people of New York.

By the time I was fourteen, no home would take in a kid who had been rejected from so many homes, and I was thrown into a group home, where I would wait until the day I turned eighteen, considering nobody wanted to adopt a kid older than ten.

That leads me to now, at fifteen, being shoved against the lockers on my cracked ribs by Eugene "Flash" Thompson, resident bully of Midtown School of Science and Technology.

Also resident gets-away-with-everything rich kid.

"Oh no, sorry Parker! I tripped!" Flash's "creative" insult got his group of friends laughing uproariously, so I just slipped away.

I walked towards the exit to meet up with Michelle Jones, better known as MJ, and Ned Leeds, my Guy In The Chair™. My two best friends, and the only two people that know my secret.

I'm Spider-man, New York City's most beloved (and occasionally most hated) vigilante. The one who sticks up for the little guy when the avengers are too busy saving the world.

We walk down the stairs in front of the school, MJ not even looking up from her book as Ned rambled on about the new Star Wars lego set he got.

"Dude, you have to come over and help me out with building this when you're done with," he lowered his voice "you know, The Thing." I laughed.

"Um duh, it sounds awesome! I can't today though, it's Henry's birthday, and Mr. Delmar gave me a bunch of sandwiches, so we're going to have a sandwich cake once I get back."

Henry was a seven-year-old boy at Sunny Days Orphanage, and it was his first birthday away from his parents, who were drug addicts recovering in prison due to their child neglect.

I worked weekends at Delmar's Deli and Grill, and Mr. Delmar, the nice, cat-loving old man who ran the shop gave me any extra sandwiches that weren't sold that day, since they didn't store well and he knew my kids needed them.

Today he said he'd spare a couple extra after hearing me ramble about Henry's birthday, knowing we couldn't afford a cake (and Mr. Johnson, the cranky guy who ran the orphanage, sure wasn't going to give us one).

"That's too bad man, but have fun with Henry and the others!" MJ hummed her agreement, still not looking up from her newest addiction of Percy Jackson.

"See you losers," she said, before splitting off at the three-way intersection to head to her house. Ned and I did our Super Epic Awesome Handshake™ before saying our goodbyes and promising to meet up at school tomorrow.

I stopped at Delmar's, picking up the extra sandwiches as well as some candles and cookies Mr. Delmar added into the bag, before being practically shoved toward the orphanage after my endless heartfelt thank-yous.

I was nearly back to where I lived when I heard a gun go off, and I was instantly on high alert.

I ducked into an alley and, after checking that nobody was around, quickly changed into my spiderman suit, which I had upgraded over the years to spandex after the original prototype of basically pajamas, though I would never admit that to anyone.

In minutes I had webbed my backpack to a nearby roof that had no ground access, and was swinging toward where I'd heard the gunshot. I hadn't alerted Ned that I was, in his words, doing The Thing, so my earpiece was dead silent as I swung closer to the origin of the sound.

"Help! Help, please someone help!" I quickly made the slight adjustment toward the sound, and saw where the gunshot had come from, though the criminal was long gone. A school bus was careening toward the edge of Manhattan Bridge, the driver slumped over in her seat covered in blood.

One brave kid was up in the front doing her best to figure out the controls of the bus while also keeping pressure on the shoulder of the driver, who I could now see was not in fact dead.

Without hesitation I jumped in front of the bus, and threw all my wait into stopping it. We were getting closer and closer to the edge, but the bus was slowing, slowing, slowing, and finally, just before I would have been pushed off the bridge, it stopped.

I sighed in relief and stepped back from the bus, wincing when I saw the massive prints my hands and shoulder left in front of the bus.

Oops.

Before I had the chance to check on the driver and the kids, I heard police sirens and knew it was time for me to go.

I glanced at the pale girl in the front, hands still braced on the driver's steadily bleeding shoulder, and saluted her. She gave a shaky smile back, but stood taller as she finally noticed the sirens as well.

I grinned once as the police cars came into view, before I launched into the air and swung myself back towards the buildings of my city just as my earpiece crackled to life.

"Alright spider boy, time to kick some criminal butt!"