Percy Jackson is Dead. LONG LIVE PETER PARKER!
Peter Parker was normal.
That was the lie he told himself every morning.
If he said it enough times, if he played the part well enough, maybe it would be true. Maybe the mask would sink into his skin and he’d forget what was underneath.
Normal kids worried about AP exams and college applications. They planned for the future, believing—really believing—that they had one. They didn’t lie awake at night, listening for threats that weren’t there. They didn’t wake up some mornings expecting the salt air of Montauk, only to find themselves in a cramped Queens apartment, surrounded by photographs of a life that wasn’t quite theirs.
But Peter was normal.
He had to be.
The air was cold against his skin when he finally pushed himself out of bed. The world outside was already awake—cars passing, voices in the street, life moving forward whether he was ready for it or not. He rubbed a hand over his face, trying to force himself into the present, but something still felt… off. A fraction of a second too slow. A little too distant.
The mirror in the bathroom didn’t help.
It was his face staring back at him—same green, same mess of curls, same sharp edges worn down over time—but some days, it felt like looking at a stranger. Like he was wearing someone else’s skin, someone else’s name, and if he stared too long, the illusion might crack.
He turned away before it could.
“Get it together, Parker.”
The kitchen smelled like coffee, warm and grounding. May stood by the counter, stirring her cup slowly, her movements unhurried, steady. She didn’t look up when he walked in, but he knew she felt him there—could sense it in the quiet shift of the air between them.
Well, May. But not May.
She’d changed her name after she killed Gabe. She’d said it once, voice calm but firm, like it was something that couldn’t be argued.
“Sally Jackson died with Gabe. We’re new people now”.
He never called her Sally anymore. It wasn’t safe. But sometimes, he wondered if she ever missed it—the old name, the old life, the old version of herself she’d left behind.
Peter hesitated, lingering by the doorway. He didn’t know why he asked, only that the words were already out before he could stop them.
“Do you ever miss it?”
The spoon paused for half a second against the ceramic.
Then she set it down, her expression unreadable. “Some things are worth letting go.”
Her voice was calm, but there was weight behind it, something unsaid resting in the space between them. A door carefully shut and locked.
Peter nodded, pretending the answer settled something in him.
May finally looked up, studying him like she could see straight through him. “You’re thinking too hard this morning.”
He snorted, moving toward the fridge. “Nah, I left my brain in bed. It’s still sleeping.”
She hummed, unconvinced. A moment later, a plate of toast slid in front of him, and her fingers ruffled his hair, casual and familiar. It was such a small thing—so normal—that for a second, he felt seven years old again, barefoot in a different kitchen, watching her make blue pancakes just because it made him laugh.
“Eat before you go,” she said. “And don’t be late.”
“I’m never late,” Peter said through a mouthful of toast.
May raised an eyebrow. “Pete, you used to get kicked out of class for showing up halfway through.”
Okay. Fair. But that was Percy.
Peter wasn’t like that anymore. He had a 3.9 GPA now. He turned in his homework on time. He wasn’t Annabeth or anything, but after everything, school made sense. It had rules. It had structure. He could do structure.
He finished eating, grabbed his backpack, and headed for the door. “See you later.”
“Stay out of trouble, Pete.”
He grinned. “I’m offended you even have to say that.”
May just sipped her coffee, unimpressed.
Yeah. Fair.
Outside, the morning air hit his face, cool and sharp. The city moved around him, alive and familiar. He took a breath, tried to shake the tightness in his chest, but it didn’t lift. It never really did.
The streets of Queens blurred past, the rhythm of the day pulling him forward. This was normal. This was routine.
And for a moment, it almost felt real.
—
Midtown High was too easy.
Not just in the ‘Percy Jackson survived Tartarus, this is child’s play’ way, but in the ‘he actually paid attention now’ way. His teachers still looked at him like they expected him to crack a joke or fall asleep, but he wasn’t that kid anymore. He turned in his work on time. He even got an A on his last physics test.
Annabeth—MJ now—was still smarter, though.
She was leaning against his locker when he arrived, arms crossed, already reading some textbook that was definitely not for class. She didn’t look up as she greeted him. “You’re late.”
Peter blinked at her. “The bell hasn’t even rung.”
“You’re emotionally late.”
He groaned, shoving his locker open. “That doesn’t even mean anything.”
MJ smirked. “I’m making it a thing.”
Peter rolled his eyes, stuffing his hoodie into his locker. “You know, I liked you better when you were just my terrifingly brilliant best friend. Now you’re my terrifingly brilliant girlfriend, and you bully me.”
She gave him a fake put. “Aww, but you make it so easy.”
“Who makes what easy?”
Their third and final partner-in-crime arrived—Ned, formerly Grover, wearing a Star Wars hoodie and still the most excited person in the room.
“Nothing,” Peter said quickly.
MJ, the traitor she was, grinned. “I was bullying Peter.”
“Classic.” Ned fist-bumped her.
Peter sighed. “I have no friends.”
Ned slung an arm over his shoulder. “Nah, man. You have us. You’re welcome.”
Peter gave a long-suffering sigh but didn’t shake him off.
This was his life now. He went to school, did homework, had friends who didn’t have to watch his back in battle. No monsters. No gods. No prophecies.
Normal.
But, the thing about living a normal life is that it’s terrifying.
Sure, Peter had fought literal Titans, beheaded monsters, and been personally threatened by Zeus himself one too many times, but none of that compared to the horror of trying to pass AP Calculus. At least in battle, his sword swings fast enough that he doesn’t have to think. Here, he had to show his work.
Which is stupid, by the way. If he gets the right answer, why does it matter how he got there?
But that’s the price of the peace. Peter Parker—high school junior, aspiring normal kid, and all-around exhausted teenager—didn’t get to be a hero anymore. No quests. Just school, homework, and college applications.
And he hated how much he liked it
“Parker. You’re zoning out again.”
Peter blinked and refocused just in time to see MJ frowning at him over the top of one of her notebooks. She was sitting backward in her chair—one arm draped over the backrest, her expression set to Annoyed Girlfriend.
“I’m not zoning out,” Peter lied.
MJ raised an eyebrow. “Then what’s the derivative of—”
“Nope.” Peter slammed his textbook shut. “Not today.”
She smirked, clearly amused. “So, what were you thinking about? Monster attacks? Grand prophecies? The trauma of being a former child soldier?”
“Math, actually.”
MJ immediately looked suspicious. “... Liar.”
“It’s true!” Petter grinned, shoving his books into his bag. “Maybe all those years of barely surviving made my brain desperate to learn something.”
“Yeah, well, don’t go getting smarter than me.” She poked his chest. “I need to maintain my intellectual superiority.”
“You’ve got nothing to worry about.”
MJ snorted.
Behind them, Ned Leeds-Underwood stumbled out of his desk, looking entirely done with the school day. “Ugh. That test fried my brain, dude. I think I felt my SAT score drop in real-time.”
“You’re still taking the SAT?” Peter asked, surprised. “I figured you’d just go full-time into environmental activism.”
“Oh, I am,” Ned said, adjusting his hoodie. “But my mom wants me to ‘keep my options open.’” He made air quotes with his fingers. “Even though I literally have satyr magic and can talk to plants.”
MJ shrugged. “You could always write an essay about that. Colleges eat up weird personal stories.”
“Great. ‘Hi, I’m Ned Leeds, and I used to be a goat-man until my best friend convinced me to change my identity to live a peaceful human life. Also, I can smell emotions and sometimes get the urge to eat tin cans.’”
MJ burst out laughing, clutching her stomach.
Peter grinned. It was moments like this—stupid high school conversations, friends just messing around—that made everything feel… real.
Normal.
Even if it was built on a lie.
The last bell rang, signaling the end of another day, and Peter felt the usual rush of relief. No more school work for the night. Well, at least for the next couple of hours, until he had to dive into the homework he’d probably put off.
He grabbed his bag and slung it over his shoulder. “So, field trip tomorrow,” he said, trying to sound casual, but there was that familiar knot in his stomach at the thought of leaving his safe little bubble of normality.
“Yeah, I heard it’s to Oscrop’s lab,” MJ said, already standing and gathering her things. “You nervous?”
“Nervous?” Peter smirked. “Please, what’s the worst that could happen? A small explosion? The building falls down? Maybe some genetically engineered spider bites me and turns me into a superhero?”
MJ raised an eyebrow. “That sounds suspiciously specific.”
Peter shrugged, grinning. “I’m just saying. It’s Oscorp. Anything could happen.”
Ned snorted. “Dude, you sound like you’re asking for trouble. You sure you don’t have a weird curse or something?”
“Please,” Peter said, trying to sound dismissive. “I don’t believe in curses. I mean, I am a walking curse, so I’m pretty much immune at that point.”
MJ rolled her eyes, but there was a hint of worry in her expression. “Well, just don’t do anything stupid tomorrow. We don’t need a repeat of your last ‘field trip.’”
Peter shuddered at the memory. It hadn’t been his fault the entire bus was almost eaten by a monster, but he was still blamed for it. Typical.
“Fine, fine,” Peter said, raising his hands in surrender. “I’ll try to behave. I’m sure Oscorp is just some fancy lab full of science-y stuff.”
“Well, good,” MJ said, her voice taking on that teasing tone again. “You don’t need any more weird mutations. You’re fine just the way you are, Seaweed Brain.”
Peter smiled, feeling a flicker of something in his chest. The comfort of normalcy. The mundane chaos of high school.
But as the group walked out of school, Peter’s mind wandered back to the earlier conversation. The possibility of something happening at Oscorp—it was a stupid thought, an idle joke. What were the odds? He had no reason to believe it. Oscorp was just another corporation, after all.
But still, something felt off.