# Chapter One: Introductions, The Worlds Best Tacos, and The Names I Swore Not to Forget
All right, everyone, let's do this one last time. My name is Summer Watson. I was bitten by a radioactive spider in Oscorp labs when I was fourteen and for the last (almost) two years I've been the one and only Spider-Girl. You guys know the rest. I fought my nemisis for the first time, saved the city, couldn’t save my sister, MJ. But I pushed forward and stayed the hero the city needed anyways.
So where’s this going? Your probably asking, well… I don’t know. That’s the one thing about being Spider-girl. You never know what’s going to happen.
“ A 10-11 at 675 Main. Back-up needed.” Perched on the edge of Central Park Tower, I hear it. My cue. I jump to my feet, peering over the edge of the building, soaking in the familiar view of the New York City skyline for one more moment. Then a smile grows underneath my mask. *Enter, stage right’* I think. I take a step back and then leap off the edge, twisting in the air as I plummet. At the last second, I shoot a web, which finds its purchase on the ledge of a nearby building.
The sound of wind rushing past my ears quickly turns to the cacophony of car horns blasting as I nearly stop traffic. The web catches and I’m back up in the air again. I can feel the blood pumping past through me, the adrenaline is addicting. I make it to the scene of the robbery in no time at all, which cuts my fun short. I perch in the nearest lamppost to the storefront. Now all I have to do is wait; it doesn’t take long. A man in all black clothes and a bright pink ski mask bursts out of the door, the sound of the waking security alarm following his wake.
“You know, if you’re going to rob a store, hot pink might not be the best clothing choice.” I call out, to the man. His head barely has time to snap upwards before I’ve released a web and knocked the gun out of his gloved hands. “It is a nice fashion statement though. you should’ve considered a career in design before you went and became a criminal.” I say pointedly. Then he starts to run. “Rude!” I call out. “And in the middle of our conversation no less.” I mutter underneath my breath as I pounce from my perch, dropping down in front of him. He skids to a stop and tries to turn the other way, but I give him a swift kick and he’s on the ground.
I stand over him, holding his gun. “This was fun, really, but I’m gonna have to leave you to the police.” I speak just in time, the blare of sirens has just reached a crescendo. I quickly web him up just as the cops round the block corner. “Hasta la vista, pinky-pie!” I yell with a salute as I swing out of sight. As I swing, I pull out my phone. “Shoot!” I curse, almost falling onto the sidewalk below me at the reminder notification on my home screen.
I make it back to the apartment in a blur of speed climbing in through the fire escape and changing. I make it out of room just in time. “You’re late.” Gayle says, leaning against the wall with a hint of scolding in her voice. I adjust the collar of my dress (which I threw on way too quickly), giving her an apologetic smile. “Sorry. I was skating.”
She just sighs and tucks a stray strand of hair behind my ear. Hair just the color of hers; strawberry blonde. We looked a lot alike, besides her hair being short. The same nose, the same ears, the same smile. I always found it strange how we looked so alike when MJ looked so different from us, despite being our sister too.
“Hey, you listening?” I snap out of my thoughts, at Gayle’s voice nodding vigorously. “Yep.” “So what did I say?” “Uhhh..” I trail off, wincing. “That’s what I thought. Come on, Smiles, I’ll explain again in the car.” She says with under one of fondness in her voice as she says my long-time nickname. I skip after her all the way down the stairs, out the door, and into the nearest taxi we managed to flag down.
“So, what’s up?” I ask as I get settled into the worn seat. As the car jolts forward, Gayle explains again. “We’re going to celebrate.” “Celebrate what?” I ask mindlessly, glancing out the window as the the world streaks past in technicolor. “You don’t remember?” She asks, and I turn to look at her with my eyebrows raised. “Remember what?” She looks at me for a moment as if giving me time to think of it. “Uhhh, is it your birthday?” I ask. She shakes her head with a laugh. “Mom’s birthday.” “Still no.” “Dang, that’s all I got. What is it?” “Summer. It’s *your* birthday.”
I blink at her, processing. “Oh.” “Oh? That’s all you have to say?” She prompts, laughter glinting in her eyes. “Sorry, sorry, I really did forget.” I apologize, still blindsided by the way that information slipped my mind so easily. I guess I’ve been too busy being Spider-girl instead of Summer lately. “so where are we going?” I ask, leaning forward in anticipation. “You already know where.” And just on time, we pull up to my all time favorite restaurant, or rather hold in the wall; Uncle Rick’s Taco Shack. “Yes!” I whoop, throwing the door open and jumping out. I can hear Gayle’s laughter over the traffic as she gets out. The taxi speeds off as I drag Gayle forward.
The second we pass open the door, the mouth-watering smell of freshly cooked torillas, chili, and a variety of spices so spicy my nose is already burning. Gayle orders for us faster than the speed of light and manages to get us a seat by the window. She’s well seasoned in this game after years of taking me here after failed math tests. We get our food in no time and I’m already done before Gayle’s taken her first bite. “You know I never could figure out how you and MJ could eat so goddamn fast.” She laughs, shaking her head at me. My heart drops and sputters like a needle being dropped on an old record at the sound of her named
Gayle immediately notices. I apologize first. “You don’t have to apologize, Smiles.” She sighs, setting her taco down. Her face softens as she looks at me. “Even though I call you that stupid nickname, you don’t have to smile all the time. I know it’s hard without her, especially on your birthday.” I nod slowly. “Yeah.” I say quietly. For a moment I let myself feel the grief. And then I shove it back down my throat. “You gonna finish that?” I pipe up, pointing at her taco. She gives me a small smile and pushes the plate to me. “Have at it.”
We walk home, enjoying the light drizzle, chatting about previous birthdays. Gayle manages to avoid tiptoe around any mention of MJ with such expertise it’s frightening. It’s been two years since the fire. Since her and Peter… left. I cant say it. I have to say left. Because if someone leaves, they can come back. It’s not permanent. And I need that. I know they’re not coming back, but it softens the blow that I know would take me out. When I think about it I think I might throw up all over the sidewalk.
When we get home we have a celebratory cupcake with way too many candles stuck in it. Gayle doesn’t light them. I know why.Afterwards, she leaves for her night shift at the diner and I sit at the kitchen table, alone. I hate myself as I notice the table is set for three. Always three. It used to be seven. Then the divorce happened. It went down to six. Then the fire. Four. And then Mom kicked me out. And now it stays permanently at three, even though it should be two. Some days I find Gayle sitting at the table, staring at the empty chair to her side, talking. I know she thinks she’s still there, somehow, maybe in spirit, watching over us. But I find it a different kind of haunting. She’s always hovering over my shoulder, her once warm hands now ice cold, one hand on my arm the other laying as always on her pregnant belly. She whispers in my ear “it’s your fault. You killed us.”
I close my eyes, resting my chin on the cold table. I take off my ever-present gloves reach out, my hand feeling as if it’s moving through mud. I touch my index finger to one of the candles buried in the melted icing. A tiny flame dances in the air, just barely a wisp, swaying back and forth violently with every tiny breath of mine. It’s too small to smell so thickly of smoke but it does. It always does.
A million fractured memories flashes across my eyelids as I close them. That vivid bright red hair, those happy green eyes. *********************Do you know that I didn’t mean to? Do you know that I wish more to an anything that that day never happened? Do you know that I wish it was me. Goddamn it, I wish it was me. Three lives for one. I would burn for the rest of my life to have saved you.*********************
The tears leak out of my eyes. I’ve cried so much that I could’ve put out that fire a thousand times over and still flooded the city. But nothing will change what happened. I killed them. And I will say their names as I have done every birthday since it happened; Mary Jane Watson. Peter Benjamin Parker. Mayday Reilly Parker. And last but not least; Summer Rose Watson…
************************************Did you know that I died that day too?************************************