The morning in New York in September already carried a hint of chill.
Morning dew clung to the lawn of Midtown High School, shimmering with fine light under the rising Sun.
The school gate was crowded with students carrying backpacks.
The noise, typical of an American high school, mixed with the sound of school bus engines, making one’s temples throb.
Mio blended into the crowd, walking slowly, deliberately keeping to the less crowded areas.
Her crisp white hoodie covered her overly slender figure.
Pale blue jeans paired with a pair of clean white sneakers made for the most inconspicuous outfit in the crowd.
However, that snow-white hair cascading to her waist was simply too eye-catching.
The tips were still damp with tiny water droplets from just washing her hair, and a few strands of naturally blue highlights hung down along her cheeks.
Even though she deliberately kept her head down, it couldn’t hide her round, clear, sea-blue eyes.
Today was her first day of school.
When she completed her enrollment paperwork a few days ago, she had already seen her class assignment in the administration system—the same class as Peter Parker, Class A of the freshman year.
At that time, she stared at the name on the screen and almost couldn’t resist hacking into the system on the spot to change her class.
What a joke?
She had tried so hard to erase all traces, just wanting to be a transparent person and survive these few years, only to be assigned to the same class as the future Spider-Man?
Was the plot gravity of this Marvel Universe broken?
But in the end, she didn’t take action.
Changing classes was too conspicuous.
A newly enrolled Chinese international student asking to change classes for no reason would only leave unnecessary records.
She could only repeatedly build up her mental defenses: It’s fine, it’s just the same class.
As long as I don’t talk, don’t make contact, and don’t get involved in his affairs, there won’t be any problems.
Lay low, I must lay low.
She was walking toward the teaching building with her head down when a burst of laughter suddenly came from behind.
Immediately after, a voice with a heavy American accent and a cocky tone pierced through the noise, heading straight for her.
“Hey!
You white-haired girl!
Wait up!” Mio’s footsteps paused, and her brows furrowed instantly.
Here it comes.
The typical American high school bully scenario.
She turned her face to the side and saw a few boys wearing football jerseys walking over with their arms around each other.
The one in the lead was very tall, with a sturdy build and a light, mocking expression on his face.
It was none other than the person she had seen countless times in the administration system photos—Eugene “Flash” Thompson, the future Spider-Man’s number one fan, and also the school bully who harassed Peter Parker every day.
Mio rolled her eyes in her heart.
A bunch of hormone-fueled high school students coming to harass her, an existence that was essentially a super artificial intelligence—the thought alone felt absurd.
She didn’t intend to respond.
Her footsteps didn’t stop, and she didn’t even spare them a glance, turning to walk around the group toward the teaching building.
She didn’t want to cause trouble, especially at the school gate where there were many eyes.
If a scene broke out and left any records, it would be troublesome.
But she didn’t want to cause trouble, yet trouble insisted on finding her.
Flash crossed the distance in a few steps, opening his arms to block her path.
He let out a loud whistle and looked her up and down, the frivolity in his eyes undisguised: “New here?
Haven’t seen you before.
From Asia?
Is this hair dyed?
Or is it natural?” The few boys behind him followed with raucous laughter, spouting some off-color profanity, mostly teasing her for being pretty and asking if she wanted to hang out.
The offensiveness in their tone was almost overflowing.
Mio’s gaze turned cold.
There was no warmth in her sea-blue eyes, but she still suppressed her temper and only spat out two words: “Move aside.” “Yo, pretty fierce.” Flash laughed even more arrogantly, leaning in half a step.
“What?
Not giving me face?
I’m the one who covers this school.
No one will dare to bully you in the future, how about that?” Mio’s fingers moved slightly.
She now had a hundred ways to make this guy suffer social death on the spot.
For example, hacking into his phone and casting his stupid photos onto the school’s bulletin board; for example, making the soda in his hand suddenly explode and spray all over him; or even with just a single thought, she could short-circuit every electronic device on him.
But she couldn’t.
Once she did, she might leave traces.
S.H.I.E.L.D.’s network monitoring covered the entire United States; even in 2007, it wasn’t completely full of holes.
She didn’t want to expose her existence because of such an idiot.
Just as she was suppressing her temper and wondering whether to just walk to the other side of the road, a voice that was a bit timid but exceptionally firm rang out from the side of the crowd.
“That’s enough, Flash!
Don’t bully the new student!” Hearing this, the surrounding crowd subconsciously stepped aside, revealing the person who had spoken.
It was a slightly skinny boy wearing an ordinary plaid shirt and jeans, carrying an old backpack, and clutching a film camera in his hand.
He had delicate features, a pair of black-rimmed glasses on his nose, and an obvious nervousness on his face, with even his ear tips a bit red.
It was Peter Parker.
Mio’s brows arched slightly, feeling a bit surprised.
She hadn’t expected that this future superhero, who hadn’t even been bitten by the spider yet and was bullied by Flash every day himself, would actually stand up to speak for her.
Flash clearly didn’t expect it either.
He turned around, the mockery on his face instantly turning into ferocity.
He walked up to Peter in a few steps, reached out, grabbed his collar, and with a little force, lifted him up entirely, his toes almost off the ground.
“Yo, isn’t this our ‘insignificant Parker’?” Flash sneered, leaning his face toward Peter.
“What?
Did you take the wrong medicine today?
Or are you saying you want to take a beating for this girl?” Peter’s face turned white instantly.
Being held by the collar made it hard for him to breathe, and he gripped Flash’s wrist tightly, but he couldn’t break free at all.
Yet, even so, he gritted his teeth and mustered the courage to look at Flash: “I said, don’t go too far.
This is the school gate—”