Chapter 1
Brooklyn was humming with life—traffic crawling along, kids shouting over a basketball game, music spilling from open windows.
Up above it all, Spider-Man was moving fast.
Miles swung between buildings, his body tense, one arm still aching from earlier. The robbery at the corner store hadn’t been anything major, but the guy had thrown a can of soup at him. A heavy one.
“Note to self,” Miles muttered, landing lightly on a rooftop ledge. “Duck faster.”
He crouched, checking the street below. The would-be thief was webbed up and complaining loudly, but the cops were already pulling up. No big drama. No applause. Just another day.
He slipped his mask off once he was in the clear, tugging his hoodie over his head as the wind rushed past. His curls stuck to his forehead a little, sweat clinging to his skin.
It wasn’t glamorous. Most days weren’t.
But it was still worth it.
By the time he made it back to his building, the sun was low, casting long shadows across the stoop. He was halfway through a granola bar when his phone buzzed.
New School Update: Transfer Student Joining Visions Academy.
Miles blinked, scrolling past the notification. Just some girl, probably another honors kid from some science magnet school.
He tossed the rest of the bar in his mouth, chewing slowly as he stared out over the neighborhood.
No visions. No warnings. Just a normal day.
He didn’t know it yet, but tomorrow…
Tomorrow was the day he’d meet her.
Gwen adjusted the strap of her backpack, shifting it higher on her shoulder as she stepped off the subway and into Brooklyn morning rush hour. She hated being late. Not that she was late—she’d actually shown up forty minutes early. But being new made everything feel off-balance, like she was walking into a dance number halfway through.
Visions Academy loomed a few blocks ahead, all clean glass and polished brick. She stared at it a beat too long before moving again, drumming her fingers silently against her thigh with each step.
Right foot—tap. Left foot—tap. Right foot—
She stopped herself.
“No nerves,” she muttered. “You’re fine. You transferred, it’s not the moon landing.”
Still. Transferring mid-semester? Not ideal.
They called it a “relocation”—some messy wording from her dad’s precinct change. Different borough, different rhythm. She was used to being the new girl by now, but that didn’t mean it got easier.
She passed through the front doors, clutching a worn folder against her chest. Inside: class schedule, a few blank sheets for notes, and a printed sticker of Spider-Man’s logo stuck to the front corner. Kinda subtle. Kinda not.
She’d peeled it off her laptop this morning, thinking it might be too much. Then stuck it back on. Again.
Whatever. Everyone had something.
Some kids were into anime, or obscure books about murderers, or whatever got them through the day.
Gwen?
She had Spider-Man.
Her blog had about eight hundred followers—small, but growing. She posted street sightings, theory posts, sketchy footage breakdowns, even ran a short podcast when she could. No one knew it was her, not even her dad. He already got weird when she brought him theories over breakfast.
“Could be anyone,” he always said. “Some college kid with a drone and too much free time.”
But Gwen knew better.
Spider-Man was real, and whoever he was, he was good.
She paused at the top of the main staircase. Voices echoed from the hallways ahead—early students, office staff, teachers laughing softly.
No one looked her way.
Just another kid in a hoodie, headphones looped around her neck, sneakers squeaking against polished floors.
And somewhere in this school, Spider-Man was probably just… existing. Going to class. Eating lunch. Acting normal.
She smiled to herself, just a little.
“Let’s find out who you are.”
Miles slouched into second-period Physics, hoodie half-zipped, earbuds still in even though there was no music playing. His body ached from yesterday’s patrol, and he was pretty sure his left shoulder was bruised in a way that shouldn’t be possible.
He slid into his usual seat near the back—second row from the windows, third desk in. Enough space to see the board without being front-and-center. Just how he liked it.
The teacher, Mr. Halpern, was already writing formulas across the whiteboard, long strings of variables that made even the most confident honor kids go quiet.
Miles pulled out his notebook and started doodling in the margins—tiny spider webs, naturally—barely listening until someone new walked in.
A girl. Blonde hair tied back in a loose bun, black hoodie, beat-up sneakers. She kept her head low as she handed a slip of paper to Mr. Halpern.
He nodded, gesturing her toward the empty seat.
The one directly across from Miles.
She didn’t glance around or try to make a grand entrance. Just sat down, unpacked a battered notebook, and opened it straight to a messy, half-filled page.
Miles peeked up casually, pretending to stretch.
She looked familiar. Not in a recognize-her way. More like a has-somehow-been-in-my-space-before kind of way. He couldn't place it.
Then she pulled out her laptop. It was covered in stickers—bands, drum logos, a tiny ballet slipper—
—and one red spider.
His eyebrows lifted just a little.
No way.
Across from him, Gwen tapped the keyboard a few times before glancing over.
“Do you know if he posts the notes online?” she asked, voice low and even. “Or do I actually have to… pay attention?”
Her tone was dry. Not unfriendly—just tired in the way smart kids got when they’d had to start over one too many times.
Miles blinked, then shook his head. “Nah, you’re stuck like the rest of us.”
Gwen made a face. “Figures.”
He smiled without meaning to.
And then, as Mr. Halpern launched into some complicated equation about gravity and velocity, Gwen leaned forward just a little and opened a second tab on her screen.
Miles caught a glimpse.
It was a blog.
Header: webwatch.net – Brooklyn’s #1 Spot for Spidey Sightings.
Under it?
A post titled “Red and Black—Who’s Under the Mask?” with over a hundred comments.
Miles stared.
She was a fan? Like… a fan-fan?
This was going to be complicated.