September 18, 2007 — Morning, New York
The September morning in New York already carried a faint chill.
Dew clung to the lawn of Midtown High School, glittering under the rising sun like tiny shards of glass.
Yellow school buses lined the curb one after another, their engines rumbling loudly as students poured through the gates with backpacks slung over their shoulders.
Laughter, chatter, complaints about homework, and the occasional shout from the football field blended together into the familiar chaos of an American high school morning.
Emily walked among them quietly.
Her steps were slow and careful, deliberately keeping to the less crowded side of the path.
A clean white hoodie covered her slender figure, while pale blue jeans and white sneakers made her outfit look simple enough to disappear into the crowd.
At least, that was the idea.
Unfortunately, her appearance refused to cooperate.
Her snow-white hair fell all the way to her waist, the ends still slightly damp from her morning shower.
A few faint blue strands framed her cheeks naturally, and even though she kept her head lowered, her clear sea-blue eyes were still impossible to miss.
No matter how ordinary her clothes were, she looked anything but ordinary.
Today was her first official day at Midtown High School.
And honestly, she already wanted to go home.
A few days earlier, while completing her enrollment paperwork, Emily had secretly checked the school’s internal system.
That was when she saw her class assignment.
Freshman Class A.
The same class as Peter Parker.
At that moment, she had stared at the screen for nearly ten full seconds, seriously considering whether she should hack into the system and transfer herself somewhere else.
After all, this was not just any random student.
This was Peter Parker.
The future Spider-Man.
The friendly neighborhood hero of New York.
The boy who would one day be dragged into battles involving criminals, supervillains, alien invasions, and universe-level disasters.
Emily had spent the past few days carefully erasing her traces, lowering her presence, and trying to live as quietly as possible.
Yet somehow, on her very first day of school, she had been placed directly beside the future center of trouble.
Was this fate?
Plot gravity?
Or was the Marvel Universe just messing with her?
In the end, she did nothing.
Changing classes for no clear reason would be too suspicious.
A newly arrived international scholarship student suddenly requesting a transfer would create records, conversations, and unnecessary attention.
So she could only repeat one rule inside her head.
Don’t talk too much.
Don’t get close.
Don’t get involved.
Stay quiet.
Stay invisible.
Lay low.
No matter what, lay low.
Unfortunately, trouble didn’t wait even five minutes.
A loud burst of laughter came from behind her.
Then a cocky voice rang out.
“Hey!
White-haired girl!
Wait up!”
Emily’s steps paused.
Her expression instantly cooled.
There it was.
The classic American high school bully scene.
She turned slightly and saw several boys in football jerseys walking toward her.
The one leading them was tall, broad-shouldered, and wore a mocking grin like he owned the entire school.
Emily recognized him immediately.
Eugene “Flash” Thompson.
Peter Parker’s daily headache.
Future Spider-Man fanboy.
Current school bully.
Emily almost rolled her eyes.
A bunch of hormone-filled teenagers trying to harass a being who could silently take over half the city’s electronic systems.
The absurdity was almost funny.
Almost.
She didn’t respond.
She simply turned away and continued walking toward the main building.
There were too many people nearby.
Too many eyes.
Too many cameras.
A scene here would only create records.
And records were dangerous.
But Flash clearly had no intention of letting her leave.
He stepped in front of her and blocked her path, spreading his arms dramatically.
“New here?” he asked, looking her up and down with undisguised curiosity.
“Never seen you before.
You from Asia?
Is that hair dyed, or is it natural?”
His friends laughed behind him.
One of them whistled.
Another muttered something crude under his breath.
Emily’s eyes turned cold.
She looked at Flash and said only two words.
“Move aside.”
Flash laughed louder.
“Oh, fierce.
I like that.” He leaned slightly closer.
“Relax.
I’m just being friendly.
I’m kind of the guy who runs things around here.
Stick with me, and no one will bother you.”
Emily’s fingers twitched.
She had at least a hundred ways to ruin him without even touching him.
She could hack his phone and display his embarrassing photos on every screen in the school.
She could make the soda in his hand explode.
She could short-circuit every electronic device in his pockets.
She could make his student records temporarily vanish and have him locked out of every class for a week.
But she couldn’t.
Not here.
Not now.
Because even a tiny electronic anomaly could become a trail.
And in this world, trails could lead to S.H.I.E.L.D., HYDRA, or something worse.
Just as Emily was deciding whether to walk around him, another voice suddenly cut through the crowd.
“That’s enough, Flash!
Don’t bully the new student!”
The surrounding students turned.
A skinny boy stood near the edge of the crowd, clutching an old camera in one hand.
He wore a simple plaid shirt, jeans, and black-rimmed glasses.
His face was nervous, but his eyes were determined.
Emily’s eyebrow lifted slightly.
Peter Parker.
She hadn’t expected that.
This Peter hadn’t been bitten by the spider yet.
He had no powers, no super strength, no wall-crawling, no spider-sense.
He was still just a normal student who got bullied by Flash almost every day.
And yet, he still stepped forward.
For someone he didn’t even know.
Flash clearly hadn’t expected it either.
His grin vanished.
He turned, strode over, and grabbed Peter by the collar.
With a rough pull, he lifted him until Peter’s toes almost left the ground.
“Well, well,” Flash sneered.
“If it isn’t Parker.
What’s wrong?
Trying to play hero now?”
Peter’s face went pale.
He grabbed Flash’s wrist, struggling to breathe, but he didn’t back down.
“Leave her alone,” Peter forced out.
“This is the school gate.
Don’t go too far.”
Flash’s expression darkened.
Without warning, he raised his fist and swung it toward Peter’s face.
Several students gasped.
Peter shut his eyes.
But the punch never landed.
A soft slap sounded.
Flash’s wrist stopped in midair.
Emily stood beside him, one pale hand wrapped around his wrist.
Her grip looked light, almost casual, but Flash’s fist was frozen only a few inches from Peter’s face.
The crowd went silent.
Emily had stopped Flash’s punch with one hand.
She didn’t look angry.
She didn’t look nervous.
She looked as if she had merely caught an annoying insect.
Flash stared at her in disbelief.
Then his face flushed red with embarrassment.
He tried to pull his arm back, but Emily’s hand didn’t move.
It was like his wrist had been locked in steel.
No matter how hard he struggled, he couldn’t break free.
A sharp numbness spread through his arm, making his fingers tremble.
“Let go of me!” Flash snapped.
Emily’s voice was calm.
Cold.
“Let him go.”
Her gaze shifted to Peter’s collar.
“I don’t want a fight at the school gate.
Let him go, then leave.”
Flash gritted his teeth.
For a second, it looked like he wanted to say something threatening.
But the numbness in his wrist grew worse, and his confidence finally cracked.
He released Peter.
Peter stumbled backward, nearly dropping his camera.
Only then did Emily let go of Flash’s wrist.
Flash stepped back, rubbing his hand, his pride clearly wounded.
The students around them were staring now, and that made his face turn even redder.
“You’ll regret that,” he muttered, trying to save face.
“Don’t think you’re special just because you’re strong.”
Then he turned and stormed away with his friends.
The noise around the school gate slowly returned, but the atmosphere had changed.
More than a few students kept glancing at Emily with curiosity, surprise, and even a little fear.
Emily ignored all of them.
She turned and continued toward the school building.
She wanted to erase this moment from everyone’s memory if possible.
Unfortunately, Peter hurried after her.
“Um… thank you!”
Emily stopped.
Peter adjusted his glasses, still breathing a little unevenly.
“Thank you for helping me,” he said sincerely.
“If you hadn’t stopped him, I probably would’ve gotten hit.”
Emily looked at him.
He was nervous, awkward, and painfully sincere.
His eyes were clean, without calculation or hidden motives.
That made him dangerous in a different way.
Because people like Peter Parker attracted trouble naturally.
And trouble in the Marvel Universe did not come small.
Emily shook her head.
“You’re welcome,” she said flatly.
“I just didn’t want a fight happening in front of everyone.”
Before Peter could reply, she turned and walked away.
Fast.
Clear.
Decisive.
Peter remained where he was, watching her disappear through the entrance.
After a long moment, he scratched his head and muttered softly, “So cool…”
When the first bell rang, the classroom was already noisy.
Students talked in groups, laughed, threw paper balls, and complained about morning classes.
Then the homeroom teacher entered with Emily beside him.
The room quieted almost instantly.
Dozens of eyes landed on her.
Curious.
Amazed.
Excited.
Judging.
Emily’s brows tightened slightly.
She hated this.
The teacher clapped his hands.
“Class, settle down.
This is our new transfer student, Emily.
She’ll be studying with us from today onward.
Please welcome her.”
Sparse applause filled the room.
A few boys whistled quietly.
Emily stood beside the teacher without expression.
She gave a small nod but didn’t introduce herself.
Her eyes swept across the classroom.
Then stopped.
There was one empty seat near the window.
And beside it sat Peter Parker.
Emily stared for half a second.
Of course.
Of course this would happen.
The teacher smiled and pointed.
“Emily, you can sit there.
The empty seat next to Peter is available.”
Emily said nothing.
Internally, she sighed.
Externally, she gave a calm nod.
“Okay.”
She walked to the seat and placed her backpack inside the desk.
Peter quickly moved his things aside and smiled nervously.
“Hi.
We meet again.”
Emily sat down and answered with a simple, emotionless, “Mm.”
That was all.
No smile.
No extra words.
No invitation to continue the conversation.
Peter understood the message and turned forward, slightly embarrassed.
But during class, he still couldn’t help sneaking glances at her.
Emily noticed.
She ignored it.
On the surface, she was looking at the blackboard.
In reality, her mind was doing three things at once.
One part listened to the lesson.
Another part remotely fixed code bugs for three small companies.
A third part scanned the school network, checked her enrollment file, and erased the morning’s surveillance footage from every camera and backup server.
Every record of her stopping Flash disappeared silently.
Only after confirming there were no traces left did Emily relax slightly.
Then the math teacher suddenly stopped writing.
“Emily,” he said, turning toward her.
“Would you come up and solve this problem?”
The classroom fell silent.
Several students exchanged looks, clearly waiting to see whether the new girl would embarrass herself.
Peter looked worried.
He leaned slightly toward her, as if he wanted to whisper a hint.
But Emily had already stood up.
She walked to the board, picked up the chalk, and began writing.
No hesitation.
No pause.
Her wrist moved smoothly.
Line after line appeared on the blackboard.
The solution was clean, direct, and precise.
Then, without stopping, she wrote a second method—shorter, clearer, and even more elegant than the first.
When she finished, she placed the chalk down and looked at the teacher.
The room was dead silent.
Even the teacher stared for a few seconds before reacting.
“Perfect,” he said, visibly impressed.
“Both methods are excellent.
Your foundation is very strong.”
The class erupted in whispers.
Peter’s eyes brightened.
Emily returned to her seat as if nothing had happened.
To her, it really was nothing.
But to everyone else, it was another reason to remember her.
And that was exactly what she did not want.
By the time the school day finally ended, Emily had learned one painful lesson.
Trying to stay invisible while being too capable was almost impossible.
She packed her books quietly and left before anyone could speak to her.
But as she walked down the hallway, she could still feel eyes following her.
Curiosity.
Admiration.
Suspicion.
Interest.
All of it was troublesome.
Outside, the sky was already beginning to dim.
Emily pulled her hood over her white hair and lowered her head.
Today had gone badly.
She had interacted with Peter Parker.
She had confronted Flash Thompson.
She had solved a difficult problem in front of the whole class.
And she had attracted attention on her very first day.
None of that was part of the plan.
Still, the important thing was that there were no records.
No footage.
No digital traces.
As long as she kept her distance from Peter, avoided Flash, and stayed quiet from now on, things could still return to normal.
Emily tightened her grip on her backpack strap and walked toward the subway station.
Behind her, the cameras around Midtown High School flickered once.
Then all footage of her from the day vanished.
As if the white-haired girl had never appeared at all.
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