American high schools operate on a credit-based system, meaning classrooms aren't fixed. Students attend specific classrooms for their chosen courses, and the rest of their time is flexible. Courses are divided into electives and required subjects. Midtown High has five required courses per semester and two electives. There are five classes a day, three in the morning starting at 8:20 AM, and two in the afternoon, with school ending at 3:00 PM.
The first day of high school was pretty uneventful: an orientation, an entrance exam, then getting class schedules based on test results and interests. After lunch, there were school club recruitment drives and discussions among upperclassmen about this year's homecoming activities—none of which had much to do with freshmen.
The only noteworthy thing was that the renowned scientist Norman Osborn gave a speech at the orientation.
The reason a prominent entrepreneur like Osborn would speak at a regular public high school like Midtown High was simple enough—his son was enrolling.
"I thought you were really interested in scientists. I didn't expect you to be half asleep during Osborn's speech."
"Osborn's an excellent investor and entrepreneur, but he's definitely not an excellent scientist or engineer... Hey, does our school have its own TV show?"
Peter answered Gwen vaguely. He felt a desire to pay attention to Norman but also a reluctance to intentionally do so. Peter Parker currently had no relation to Harry Osborn, but the spider that bit him was genuinely an Oscorp Technologies test subject.
And who could guarantee that the current Norman Osborn wasn't already the Green Goblin?
Perhaps the only good news was that this universe's Norman Osborn was white.
So, he could only answer Gwen distractedly, glancing at the TV in the hallway. On the screen, a male and female high school student were broadcasting "Midtown High Evening News." Of course, they weren't as professional as real anchors, but they looked quite presentable.
"The new semester has arrived, and voting for this year's homecoming theme has begun. Please visit the school's official website to cast your vote..."
They watched the news for a few seconds. Gwen seemed quite excited about high school life; it appeared much more vibrant than middle school.
As for Peter, he just wanted to bail. It was already 3:00 PM, and it was time for Spider-Man to begin his patrol in New York.
"Oh my god! Our school has a rock band! I want to join!"
"I think Uncle George would be pretty mad if he knew you gave up ballet for drum lessons in high school."
Peter said this as he walked to his locker. Gwen heard him and, leaning against the adjacent locker, raised an eyebrow.
"If you rat me out to my dad, you're dead, smarty pants."
"I surrender."
Peter made a gesture of raising his hands, then opened his new locker, assigned to him on the first day, and started putting things away. Gwen then noticed he was already packed and ready to go home: "Wait? You're already planning to leave?"
"Uh? Yeah?"
"First day of school? Aren't you going to get familiar with the classrooms or check out any clubs you might be interested in?"
"Maybe?"
"Even if there might be some kind of mad science club, a comic book club, or even a detective club?"
Peter Parker calmly considered for a few seconds and came to a definitive conclusion.
"Alright, you convinced me. Let's enjoy high school life."
Did Peter Parker want to enjoy high school life? Perhaps, but he was thinking about other things. For instance, Gwen had noticed that morning that Spider-Man and he had the same shoes. Of course, that was because making a pair of shoes cost more, and Peter had to ensure he had rotating uniforms, with no money to specifically customize a pair of shoes. But this also reminded him that he had to be careful not to expose his identity, to avoid affecting those around him.
Of course, if that really happened, those people would definitely regret it.
But it would certainly be better if it didn't happen. So he thought about it: if Peter Parker chose not to join any clubs and kept his distance from classmates, always appearing and disappearing mysteriously, not only would Gwen be suspicious, but perhaps even teachers and classmates would start paying attention to him. To avoid this, it would be best to become an ordinary high school student—that was the best way to keep his Spider-Man identity a secret.
Additionally, it would be best if he could get into an internship program with Stark Industries or Oscorp Technologies. That way, he could secretly upgrade his suit. But that would require even more careful time management. Fortunately, Spider-Man's rest quality was far beyond ordinary people's; Peter only needed about four or five hours of sleep to shake off fatigue.
"By the way, why did you say I'd take up drumming?"
"Because... you'd be a good fit." Peter thought, I can't exactly say that in some universe where you got bitten by a spider, you're the band's drummer, can I? He just laughed it off, trying to gloss over the topic.
"So, what clubs are you planning to join?"
"Hard to say," Peter said casually. "Definitely going for the Science Olympiad; that's great for college. Student council... I'm not really interested. Midtown High probably won't have very high-level scientific research clubs; an internship at Stark or Oscorp Industries seems more realistic. Otherwise, I'd hope for a place where I can code with people, play Dungeons & Dragons, or build LEGOs."
"Hmm..." Gwen mused, "Sounds like a nerd."
"I am a nerd. I like reading, tech, anime, and board games. I'm terrible at sports. I just happen to keep up with long-distance running and combat training."
They chatted as they walked, intending to check out the school's club recruitment fair. However, after only a few steps, they heard a familiar, irritating laugh.
A tall, muscular man in a T-shirt was pinning another student's head against a locker. Peter sighed helplessly, reopened his locker door, and pulled something out.
"Can't believe this kind of stupid thing has to happen in every American high school: a football or basketball jock bullying a classmate by the lockers." Peter closed his locker door and looked at Gwen, who was waiting for him: "I thought you'd go help that poor little guy."
"I would if you weren't going to. But now I'd have to carry you back to the nurse's office."
"Not in high school, Gwen. I only went there a few times in middle school, and that was just in sixth grade."
Peter said, walking towards the scene of the bullying. It was quite lively around them. Sometimes Peter felt that the atmosphere of high school in his previous life was better. How could America have an atmosphere that despised studious nerds, admired athletic slackers, and even enjoyed watching and cheering on bullying?
The bullied student was a young Asian boy Peter didn't recognize, but the bully was someone he knew very well: Karlkin, who he'd been clashing with for three years in middle school.
Talk about running into trouble.
He was about to speak when someone beat him to it. A brown-haired guy in a black jacket squeezed between the two, intimidating Karlkin: "Listen, man, I don't know who you are, but if you don't stop, you're gonna be in big trouble."
"Oh yeah?"
Karlkin, like every high school bully in a TV show, cracked his knuckles, closing in with his six-foot-plus muscular frame: "You're in big trouble now, busybody."
"Hey, Karl."
A familiar voice called out to him. Peter Parker calmly and steadily walked towards him: "How about this: you don't bully anyone in high school, and we can be friends. What do you say?"
Peter Parker extended his hand towards Karlkin, a friendly smile on his face. Karlkin actually let go of the two students and reached out to Peter Parker, grasping, no, squeezing Parker's hand.
"You won't think that when you're begging for mercy, Parker, AAHHHHHH!!!!!"
"Pressure-activated taser, Karl. You wouldn't get shocked if you just shook hands properly." Peter still held Karlkin's hand: "And I suggest you don't try anything. I learned a lot of combat techniques from my uncle this summer. If I knock you out, I'll have to explain to the teachers that I wasn't the one bullying."
"Screw you!"
Karlkin, shaking Peter's hand off, angrily threw a punch, which Peter caught in his palm. Karl once again let out a pained howl. Peter sighed, rather helplessly, looking at the two guys: "Did anyone hear me say 'pressure-activated'?"
"Uh... isn't tasering a bit..."
"Don't worry, Karl and I have known each other for three years. I know he can take it." Peter smiled at the helpful guy. Karlkin recoiled again, then charged forward.
"I'm gonna beat you into a—"
"A piece of advice, Karl, don't yell." Peter quickly dodged, grabbing Karlkin's wrist and twisting it to pin his arm behind his back. When Karl yelped in pain, Peter let go, simultaneously giving his ankle a slight kick, and the big guy tumbled to the ground.
Karlkin, still angry, tried to get up, then saw Peter Parker's palm, with something on it, hovering over his face, then extending in a handshake gesture.
"Like I just said, you don't bully anyone in high school, and we can be friends. What do you say?"
"Screw you."
The same words, spoken with different tones this time. Karlkin learned his lesson, swatting Peter's hand away and scurrying off, looking disheveled.
The surrounding students who had gathered to watch were surprised and excited by this unexpected development. Peter ignored them, sighing feigned regretfully: "I thought we could be friends in high school. You guys alright?"
He turned to the bullied student, who was an alright little Asian guy getting back up. The other equally meddlesome guy had already approached him.
"You were so cool just now, man. You just took that guy down like that."
"He and I were in the same middle school. He used to bully me, so I know how to deal with him."
Peter then observed this guy closely. Short brown hair, almost six feet tall, if not exactly, and definitely handsome. At least in terms of looks, Peter thought the other guy was better than him.
"Peter Benjamin Parker, freshman."
"Harold Lyman, also a freshman. Just call me Harry."
Harry shook his hand, then realized belatedly: "Whoa! I really didn't feel anything."
"Only those who want to throw a punch get shocked. Are you alright?"
"Thank you... Uh, thanks. My name is Zhao, Amadeus Cho."
If Harry only made Peter think of Harry Osborn, who knows where he'd gone, then the name Amadeus was enough to make him zone out. However, he quickly adjusted his demeanor and extended his hand to the other person: "Nice to meet you, man."