In the bustling indoor gym of Midtown High School in Queens, New York, the air was thick with the sounds of students chatting, sneakers squeaking on the polished wood floors, and the rhythmic thud of basketballs. First-year students buzzed with energy, immersing themselves in various activities, from shooting hoops to tossing around a football.
Suddenly, the piercing ring of the bell sliced through the noise, jolting a handsome, black-haired boy awake in the stands. James blinked rapidly, disoriented, muttering to himself, "Where am I? What's going on?" He shook his head, desperate to shake off the remnants of confusion. A reality he hadn't expected washed over him—one that felt both foreign and oddly familiar.
"Am I… dead? And somehow, I'm here?" he thought, his mind racing.
A lanky boy beside him—a familiar face he recognized as Peter Parker—patted James on the shoulder, urging him to get up. "Come on, hurry up! The bus is arriving in ten minutes. You don't want to miss it."
James opened his mouth to respond, but before he could utter a word, a basketball slammed into his back, nearly knocking him off balance.
"Parker!" a teasing voice called from behind. "I noticed you skipped gym today, and you're always in a hurry to leave after school."
**James' Thoughts**
So, I've somehow landed in a Marvel-like world, and that lanky dude in front of me is Peter Parker, the future Spider-Man. But he hasn't gained his powers yet; right now, he's just a regular kid who, like me, gets picked on. And this guy here? He's Eugene Thompson, a.k.a. Lightning, the school's star athlete in both basketball and football. I've got to find a way out of this predicament.
**End Thoughts**
Thompson and his sidekick, a burly boy named Flash, stepped forward, blocking James's path as they surrounded both him and Peter .
"Listen, Thompson," Peter spoke calmly, his voice steady. "It's not that we don't want to participate in sports. We have part-time jobs to get to. Can you let us go? We've got a bus to catch."
Thompson rolled his eyes and shoved Peter back with a basketball. "Peter, you can work anytime. But skipping school sports? High school life is short; we should enjoy it."
The other students, having witnessed this scenario countless times, exchanged glances of sympathy and understanding. They knew Thompson's message well—work wasn't for them; fun was the priority.
"I can't just goof off. We have bills to pay," Peter protested, ready to make a run for it. Seeing Peter's determination, Thompson smirked and hurled the ball at him. Parker braced himself, expecting the worst.
With a sudden burst of energy, Peter broke free from the group, looking around in disbelief, unaware of the newfound strength coursing through him.
Glancing back, he saw Thompson with an empty hand, an embarrassed look on his face.
In the center of the circle stood James, who had snatched the ball from Thompson's grasp.
"Wow!" gasps echoed through the crowd. This was no longer the same James who had been bullied relentlessly. Having crossed over into this world, he was determined to carve out a new identity.
"You want us to join the club activities, right?" James said, bouncing the basketball before spinning it on his finger. "We'll play with you, but on one condition: a single point determines the winner. Do you agree?"
Thompson hesitated, still processing the bizarre turn of events. Then, his anger flared. Challenged by this seemingly ordinary boy, he felt deeply insulted.
"Is James asking for a beating?" he sneered.
The crowd buzzed with excitement as the school star prepared to face James on the basketball court.
Beside James, Peter whispered in disbelief, "Are you out of your mind, James? You're challenging Thompson, the school's best player?"
"Just watch," James replied with a confident grin, catching the ball with ease.
As both players took their positions on the court, Thompson charged at James, intent on overpowering him.
"Here goes nothing," James thought, bracing for the oncoming confrontation.
But just as Thompson neared him, he realized the ball had vanished from his view.
"Where's the ball?" Thompson exclaimed, looking back in confusion.
James stood behind him, spinning the ball effortlessly on his fingertip, a broad grin plastered on his face.
"What just happened?" Thompson asked, bewildered.
"Don't ask me; I'm as surprised as you are," James replied, a thrill coursing through him.
The crowd buzzed with amazement, their eyes glued to the unfolding drama.
"I thought you were about to shoot an airball!" someone shouted.
"Stand back; I'm going in!" James declared confidently.
Before Thompson could react, James dashed toward the basket. At the free-throw line, he leaped, holding the ball high above his head. The spectators gasped, their excitement palpable, wondering if James had truly lost his mind or if something extraordinary was about to happen.