First day in school-2
I zipped into the school grounds on my glowing green bike, the soft hum of the engine fading as I parked it in the designated area. Getting off, I dusted off my sweatshirt and took a moment to look around. The courtyard was eerily quiet—everyone must already be in their classrooms. Pulling out my phone, I checked the time: 20 minutes until classes started.
"Plenty of time," I thought, deciding to head to the principal's office and formally introduce myself. Strolling through the hallways, I admired the clean, polished floors and colorful bulletin boards. After about ten minutes of wandering, I finally found the office.
I knocked on the door.
"Come in," a voice called from inside.
Sliding the door open, I stepped in with a polite smile. "Hello, sir. My name is Ben Tennyson, reporting for school."
The principal looked up from his stack of papers, his expression softening into a mix of curiosity and surprise. "So, the genius finally decided to come to school. Honestly, I thought I'd never see you," he said, leaning back in his chair.
Feigning innocence, I replied with a sheepish tone, "Cough, cough—no, sir, it's not like that. I've just been very sick lately, you know. The last three months have been so hectic, I didn't even have time to sit down. It's been pretty rough, sir. Had saline drips in my hands until yesterday."
The principal raised an eyebrow but then softened as concern took over. "Oh, Mr. Tennyson, you should've informed us earlier. Don't worry; I'll put it down as sick leave. Just make sure to take care of yourself in the future."
"Thank you, sir. That's very kind of you," I replied, still playing the part of the innocent student.
The principal glanced at the clock on his desk and adjusted his glasses. "Oh, it's time for classes. You should get going."
"Sure, sir. But, um… which class am I in?"
"Oh, I almost forgot to tell you—you're in Class B. Now hurry along," he said with a nod.
"Thank you, sir," I said as I turned to leave.
As I walked out, I could feel the principal's eyes on me. "Such a well-mannered kid," he thought to himself. "I'd assumed he'd be arrogant because of all his success. I should stop making judgments based on rumors."
As I approached the classroom, the faint murmur of a lesson in progress reached my ears. I paused at the door, taking a deep breath before stepping inside. The teacher, a stern-looking woman with sharp eyes, paused mid-sentence and turned her gaze towards me.
"May I come in?" I asked politely, standing at the threshold.
She looked me up and down, her expression a mix of curiosity and authority. "I haven't seen you in this class before," she remarked, her voice carrying a hint of skepticism.
I offered a polite smile, hoping to make a good impression. "Well, ma'am, it's my first day. I just came from the principal's office."
Her expression softened slightly, and she nodded.
Ben walked into Class B, his signature sweatshirt and confident stride immediately catching the attention of the students. The teacher gestured for him to come to the front of the class.
"Alright, everyone," the teacher said, "we have a new student joining us today. Ben, why don't you introduce yourself?"
Ben adjusted his sleeves and gave the room a casual smile. As his gaze swept across the room, his eyes landed on a few familiar faces he'd seen in passing before—Peter Parker, sitting in the middle of the class with his notebook open, MJ Watson, leaning back in her chair with a curious expression, and Ned Leeds, who gave Ben a subtle thumbs-up. Then his gaze stopped on Gwen Stacy, who sat near the window, her blonde hair catching the sunlight just right. Ben's heart skipped a beat. Keep it cool, Tennyson, he thought.
"Hey, everyone. My name's Ben Tennyson, but you can just call me Ben—or 'that genius kid,' if you prefer." He smirked, earning a few chuckles.
"I'm 15, and, uh… I guess I'm kind of into building cool stuff. You might've seen a certain app called Tweet making the rounds lately—yeah, that's me. Oh, and don't worry, I'm just here to learn, not to take over the school or anything."
As he glanced back at Gwen, who was now smiling faintly, he felt his cheeks warm up. Stay focused, Ben.
The class laughed, some already whispering to each other. Ben scanned the room, giving a quick nod to a few students who seemed friendly.
"Well," he added with a grin, "I look forward to getting to know you all—and if anyone needs help with homework… maybe don't ask me until I figure out where the cafeteria is."
The teacher smiled, clearly amused, and motioned for Ben to take a seat. "Thank you, Ben. Welcome to Class B."
As Ben walked to an empty desk, he couldn't help but glance at Gwen one more time. She caught his gaze, and for a brief moment, he thought he saw her blush, too. Settling into his seat, he heard whispers around him:
"Is that really the guy who made Tweet?"
"He's kind of funny."
"I heard he's, like, a genius!"
Ben smirked to himself but couldn't shake the image of Gwen from his mind. Focus, Tennyson. School first. Crush later.
Ben sat at his desk, casually adjusting his glasses. To the untrained eye, they appeared to be ordinary spectacles, but they were far from it. With a subtle touch to the side of the frame, a holographic screen flickered to life, visible only to him through the lenses.
With deft movements of his fingers, Ben navigated through a series of reports and data streams. The holographic interface responded seamlessly to his gestures, displaying a wealth of information. Among the myriad of updates, one report caught his attention—an escalating conflict between Russian and German factions. The details suggested it was orchestrated by none other than Wilson Fisk, the notorious Kingpin of Hell's Kitchen.
As he delved deeper, another alert surfaced, highlighting a series of unsettling events in Tokyo. The reports hinted at the involvement of the Hand, a shadowy organization known for its clandestine operations.
Ben's mind raced as he processed the information, aware of the delicate balance of power at play. The world was a complex web of alliances and enmities, and he knew that staying informed was crucial to navigating it safely.
Ben sat quietly, his mind racing with thoughts of the hidden threats lurking in the shadows. SHIELD, with all its resources, only saw The Hand as a minor gang, oblivious to the true danger they posed. Ben knew better; he had seen their plans, understood their reach.
"SHIELD might know of The Hand's existence," he mused, "but they don't grasp the full extent of their ambitions. To them, it's just another gang. But I know the truth."
He leaned back, considering the implications. "And Fisk... SHIELD doesn't even see him as a threat worth their time. Taking him out would only add fuel to the fire, drawing more attention and chaos."
Ben sighed, the weight of his knowledge pressing heavily on his shoulders. "It's a delicate game, one where every move counts. I have to be careful, strategic. The world doesn't see what I see, and it's up to me to keep it that way."