Tangled Webs

Gwen stepped off the stage, a shaky breath escaping her lips as the curtain fell. Her legs trembled, more from the fatigue than nerves. She’d pulled it off—somehow. The applause still echoed in her ears, but her vision kept swimming, the theater lights too bright. She blinked hard, swaying slightly as she spotted a familiar figure by the doors.

“Gwen!” Rio waved enthusiastically, beaming as she weaved through the lingering crowd. “You were amazing!”

“Hey, Rio,” Gwen said, managing a tired smile. “Thanks for coming.”

“Are you kidding? I wouldn’t miss it. Your dancing? Ugh! So graceful. You’ve been working your butt off and it shows.” Rio hugged her tight, then pulled back to glance over Gwen’s shoulder. “Speaking of working, where’s my slacker son? I sent him for flowers and he’s still not back. Probably got distracted by a street artist again.”

Gwen laughed lightly, though it faded fast. Her stomach twisted, not with embarrassment but with nausea. Her limbs felt heavy. The floor tilted ever so slightly.

“Hey… you okay?” Rio’s voice shifted immediately, laced with concern.

Gwen hesitated, then gave a tiny nod. “Just… dizzy. I think I’m coming down with something.”

Rio stepped closer, gently placing her hand on Gwen’s back. “That’s it. You’re not walking back to the dorms alone. Come on, sweetheart, I’ve got you.”

“I’m okay—”

“You’re not, and it’s fine.” Rio took her bag from her shoulder and slung it over her own. “I’m a nurse, remember? I’ve got this.”

Gwen didn’t argue. She leaned on Rio as they made their way down the corridor toward the exit. The night air felt good against her burning skin, but it wasn’t enough to stop the pulsing behind her eyes.

“Did you eat today?” Rio asked as they walked slowly.

“Yeah… I think so.” Gwen squinted. “Maybe?”

“Alright. Dorm it is. You need water, food, and sleep. And Miles better show up with those flowers and a heating pad.”

Gwen managed a small laugh again, grateful and a little guilty. Rio was being so kind, and all Gwen could think about was the weird spider bite, the blurry stage lights, and how the nausea had come in waves throughout the performance.

Something was wrong. Something was happening to her.

But for now, she let herself lean on Rio’s steady arm. She’d figure it out tomorrow. Maybe it was just stress. Maybe a flu. Maybe—

“Let’s get you tucked in,” Rio said gently, pushing open the dorm building’s door. “You did incredible tonight, Gwen. I’m proud of you.”

Gwen’s heart warmed at that. “Thanks, Rio,” she mumbled.

As they walked toward her room, her fingers twitched. She didn’t notice the faint stickiness yet, not until later. But the seed of change had already taken root.

Gwen sniffled quietly as she sank deeper into her bed, the headache still pounding behind her eyes. Her skin was clammy, her limbs ached, and the strange, tingling pressure along her fingertips hadn’t let up since she got home.

Amaya was bustling around her dorm room like a nurse on a mission. “Okay, you’ve got crackers, ibuprofen, and water,” she said, placing everything neatly on Gwen’s nightstand. “Also, I made a list of symptoms so we can ask the pharmacist. Unless you spontaneously combust first.”

“Thanks,” Gwen mumbled, trying to muster a smile. “I’ll try not to.”

Amaya gave her a wink and fluffed the pillow behind her head. “I’m gonna run out and grab stronger meds, just in case. You stay put, don’t move, and definitely don’t vomit on my stuffed bear.”

“I’ll aim for the floor,” Gwen said weakly.

With a teasing salute, Amaya slipped out the door.

Gwen sighed and stared up at the ceiling, her fingers twitching under the blanket. Her vision blurred slightly again, just for a moment, like the world was out of focus. She closed her eyes, breathing slowly. Whatever was going on with her body—she’d never felt anything like it. Her skin was buzzing like static. Her hands felt wrong. Like they weren’t hers.

Knock knock.

Her eyes snapped open.

Another knock.

She groaned, shifting upright as much as she could. “Who is it?”

“It’s me,” Miles called gently. “My mom told me you weren’t feeling great. Brought you soup.”

Gwen’s heart sank. She looked down at her hand. Still trembling.

“Miles,” she called out, louder than she intended. “I… I’m really not up for visitors right now.”

There was a pause outside the door. “I just wanted to check in. I won’t stay long, I promise.”

“I mean it,” she said, voice cracking a little. “I’m—this isn’t a normal kind of sick. I feel… weird.”

“Gwen, I—”

“No!” she snapped. “Please. Just go. I don’t want you to see me like this.”

The silence that followed stung worse than her nausea.

Then finally, his voice again, soft and a little hurt. “Okay. I’ll leave the soup by the door.”

Gwen closed her eyes, willing the tears not to come. “Thanks.”

She heard the rustle of a bag being set down, and then his footsteps fading away down the hall.

The quiet that followed felt heavier than before.

She let out a shaky breath and looked down at her trembling hands again.

As she brought her fingers to her temple, something thwipped out—thin, white, sticky—and latched onto the edge of her nightstand lamp. She stared at it in horror.

A web.

Gwen yanked her hand back like it burned her.

“What the hell is happening to me…”

The next morning, Gwen sat hunched over her laptop in bed, wrapped in a hoodie with the hood pulled far over her head. Her fingers hovered over the keys, still trembling slightly, but not from fever.

She couldn’t stop looking at them.

Th tiny pads of her fingers itched and sparked with static. Sometimes she felt a pulse in them—an almost magnetic pull toward things in the room. Her phone. The metal bedframe. Even the ceiling.

This couldn’t just be a flu.

After what happened last night—after the web—Gwen hadn’t been able to sleep. She kept imagining Miles' face on the other side of the door, how hurt he’d sounded when she turned him away. But she couldn’t let him see her like that. Not until she knew what was happening.

With a deep breath, she typed a short email to Mr. Halpern.

Hi Mr. Halpern,

I wanted to let you know that I won’t be able to make it back to the internship for the time being. I’ve come down with something—possibly contagious—and don’t want to risk anyone else getting sick. Please tell Layla I’m sorry for the short notice. I really hope I can return soon.

Thanks for understanding,

Gwen

She stared at the message for a second, then hit send before she could overthink it.

As she closed her laptop, her eyes drifted to her mirror.

She stood and walked slowly toward it, pulling off her hoodie. Her blonde hair was messy, and dark circles clung under her eyes. She looked exhausted.

But also… sharper?

She leaned closer. Her skin looked clearer, her posture more upright. It was subtle, but she could see it now—her body was changing. Adapting. Evolving?

“I can’t believe this,” she whispered.

She took a step back—and her socked foot stuck to the floor.

“What the—”

She yanked it up, stumbling, but her hand flew out and smacked the wall with a sticky thwip! Her palm was stuck fast to the paint, her body dangling awkwardly.

“Oh no no no—” she tugged, panicked. Her arm stretched, tense, but the wall clung to her like glue.

“Come on—come on—!”

With a sudden jerk, she popped free and fell flat on her back, gasping at the ceiling.

Her chest rose and fell rapidly as the pieces clicked into place in her mind.

The webs. The strength. The sticking to walls.

“…Miles.”

She whispered it like a secret.

She had powers.

The same kind of powers.

Was this how he felt in the beginning? Was this what he went through?

She rubbed her eyes, unsure whether to laugh or cry.

Then she reached for her phone with trembling fingers and texted Amaya:

Need to talk. Now. Like… superhero emergency level talk.

Amaya burst through the door ten minutes later, still in her school uniform and hair windblown from the run. “Okay, what kind of emergency are we talking here? Alien? Zombie? You finally told Miles you’ve been stealing his hoodies?”

Gwen was pacing the room, barefoot and jittery. “No, it’s worse. Or maybe better? I don’t know. Just—close the door.”

Amaya closed it with a soft click and crossed her arms. “Spill.”

Instead of answering, Gwen held out her hand.

“Watch.”

She turned toward the far wall, focused, and gave her wrist a flick.

Thwip!

A string of web shot from her palm and smacked the wall with a perfect little splat.

Amaya’s mouth fell open.

“No way.”

“I told you,” Gwen said, eyes wide. “I can shoot webs. Climb walls. My reflexes are off the charts. I accidentally stuck myself to the ceiling last night. I'm going through… something.”

“You’re turning into Spider-Man.”

“Exactly,” Gwen whispered. “Or… something like him.”

Amaya’s eyes lit up with a mix of wonder and chaos. “That is so insanely cool, are you kidding me? Do you know how many people would kill for superpowers?!”

“Tell that to the bruise on my butt,” Gwen muttered. “I fell off the ceiling. Twice.”

Amaya giggled but quickly turned serious. “Okay. Okay. First things first. You need to test this stuff. See what you’re really capable of.”

Gwen nodded, heart pounding. “I thought the alley behind the campus might work? Late afternoon. It’s quiet.”

“Great. Give me a sec.”

Amaya zipped to the closet and started rifling through clothes. “If we’re doing this, we’re doing this right. What’s a superhero without a makeshift outfit?”

Fifteen minutes later, Gwen stood in front of the mirror wearing black leggings, a long-sleeved black crop top under a white hoodie, and a pink bandana over her lower face. Amaya added fingerless gloves and a pair of white Converse to complete the look.

“Now you look like Spider-Man's cooler cousin,” Amaya said proudly. “Or like you just broke out of a dance battle in Brooklyn.”

Gwen laughed, nerves easing just a bit. “Thanks. For… helping me not lose it.”

“Please. This is awesome. You’re basically living every comic book fan’s dream.”

As they snuck out the back of the dorms and into the alley, Gwen flexed her fingers, heart pounding.

Amaya stepped back. “Alright. Let’s see what you got.”

Gwen faced the brick wall, took a breath, and jumped.

Her hand shot out—thwip!—webbing stuck to the wall. She tugged and pulled herself up halfway before losing grip and dropping, landing clumsily in a crouch.

“Ow.”

“Better than I expected!” Amaya cheered. “You’re totally getting the hang of this.”

As Gwen stood up, her phone buzzed with a text from Miles.

You feeling any better? Been worried about you. Let me know if you need anything, okay?

Gwen stared at it, biting her lip.

She didn’t reply.

Instead, she looked up at the wall again, determination burning in her chest.

It was only the beginning.