Of all the things you could say about Peter Parker, that his life had been free from tragedy was not one of them. His parents died when he was a baby in an automobile accident, leaving his aunt and uncle to raise him.

He had no complaints, though. They made sure he knew they loved him. He never wanted for anything, needed nothing, and, for a time, was happy, as every child should be.

They say the worst day of your life is when someone dies. For Peter, that day arrived with his Uncle Ben's death.

Ben had been waiting to pick him up from soccer practice. Peter had two things he loved: sports and robots. Robots were a little out of Ben and May's means, but sports were easy. Peter joined a minor league team and had proven to be an excellent player.

It was the final, and Peter's team was the favorite to win. Uncle Ben had been ill, but knowing how important it was to Peter, he had taken him anyway, staying in the car to keep warm. While Peter celebrated his victory with the team, a carjacker tapped a gun on the window.

Ben argued with the man, and as he saw the crowd leave the field, he panicked. As an excited Peter rushed toward him, Ben grabbed the gun, fearing what a desperate man might do. As the two wrestled, Peter heard a bang, and his uncle collapsed.

Hearing the gunshot, a retired police officer gave chase, grappling and forcing the carjacker to the ground. One of his friends, a retired EMT, put pressure on the wound and tried his best, but the injury was too serious. Even though his coach held him, Peter struggled and broke free, rushing to his uncle's side.

"Be good for her, son. I love you." And with his final breath, his uncle passed as Peter sobbed.

The funeral had been surreal for the 8-year-old. Unsure of what to do or how to act, he held onto Aunt May's hand the entire time. She cried, and while there were well-wishers there, no one stayed to help after the wake was over. She had cried alone, and Peter didn't know at the time what to do to make her feel better.

To add to the misery, the carjacker received the lowest sentence. His lawyer had been competent for a public defender. With enough reasonable doubt, he managed to argue the conviction down from manslaughter. Pleading guilty to accidental death, he would only serve three years—less if he behaved.

"Hey, kid," he shouted to Peter, who stood there, failing to understand why his aunt was crying. "No harm, no foul, huh?" His lawyer shushed him and pulled him away as he continued to complain.

It's a pain you can't explain, a hollow, empty kind of hurt, like losing a piece of yourself when nothing's missing. Peter would look around and expect his uncle to be there. The sudden pain would take his breath away, and he would stare into space, forcing himself not to cry as he fought against the memory of that day.

His Aunt May was the only person he had left in the world after that. Her parents had died, and so had his own grandparents. He had never met them and only ever saw a few pictures. So, with only each other, they did the best they could.

The life insurance payout was minimal at best, forcing the young boy and his aunt to move back into Queens, into a small apartment that stretched their budget. Aunt May made sure Peter never went without, even if it meant working two jobs and spending most of her time exhausted. She made sure there was always food on the table, that he always had clean clothes, and that each day Peter knew she loved him. It was the best she could do.

Life became more of a routine than an event. Aunt May took a job at a laundromat and a local convenience store. Her meager wage supported Peter as he changed schools and tried his best to shoulder the pain.

Peter wasn't stupid, though, and he could see that the work was killing her. Late nights and harsh cleaning fluids at the laundromat hurt her health. He knew she would never say anything, preferring to suffer quietly rather than let him see her pain. He promised himself that one day he would make sure she never had to work a second longer than she had to.

Changing schools should have been a good thing—a chance for new friends and new memories to help him cope with the grief of losing his uncle. But even at a new school, he never found peace. With no enthusiasm for sports, he was once more isolated, which rippled into Midtown High. The local superstar, Eugene "Flash" Thompson, decided to make Peter's life hell. A simple comment on budget allocation started four years of torment for Peter.

It began small. Peter would find his locker vandalized, or open his book bag only to find it empty. Later, he would discover it hidden somewhere he either couldn't get to or reach.

By the time the boys hit puberty, Flash, once similar in build to Peter, had buffed up. Helped by sports and whispers of various chemicals, things turned worse. The once harmless, childish pranks became sinister.

Peter would find his locker filled with garbage. His books were ripped or covered in substances far worse than water. On more than one occasion, it even turned violent. When Flash knew there were no teachers around, Peter "fell" and managed to burst his own lip, or worse.

The school was no help. When Aunt May made a scene, they did nothing. Flash was too well-known, too important to the school. He was a prominent football player, bringing in sponsorship deals and publicity, making him more valuable than Peter.

Moreover, his father was rich, and the donations he gave to the school each year boosted the school's budget. All Flash received was a minor telling-off, glaring daggers at Peter. After that, Peter said nothing, swallowing the humiliation and anger directed at both Flash and the school.

He had two things in his life that made high school bearable. The first was a girl: Gwen Stacy. They shared a love of science and math. As her father was Police Chief, she didn't care who Flash was or who he was friends with. This meant that as soon as she decided they were friends, they were friends.

Gwen was as brilliant as Peter, even if their talents lay in different fields. He could look at something, listen to its motions and noise, and figure out what was wrong with it—a skill honed from years of taking things apart and reassembling them. Not that he was always successful.

Gwen's talent lay in chemistry. She could look at a formula on paper and know what it was. Math came easily to both of them, and they bonded over shared science and math clubs.

Gwen was the one person Peter liked more than a friend. They shared looks, small, intimate hugs, and little things that he felt made their friendship special. But he also saw the way Flash looked at her—the way everyone looked at her—and the looks they gave him right after. He was afraid, not of rejection if she said no, but of what the school would do. Flash didn't need a reason, but this would give everyone else one.

As part of their group, Felicia Hardy also kept a presence in Peter's life. She always seemed more interested in Gwen, but as they spent more time together, he found comfort in her familiar face, even if he ignored her attitude.

Felicia didn't care who Flash's father was, or how important he was to the football team. Being captain of the Judo club meant Flash and the others stayed away from her, and, by extension, from Peter.

Peter had one last acquaintance: Harry Osborn, the son of the second-richest man in America. Unfortunately, Harry failed to follow in his father's footsteps.

When Harry was younger, his mother died of a rare genetic disease. One of her wishes was that he attend a public school to be more grounded. Lacking intelligence and motivation, it fell to Peter, the smartest boy in school, to help him.

Harry was happy to accept Peter's help. His father was dismissive of him, and Peter offered him a chance to make friends without hidden agendas.

Norman Osborn, Harry's father, objected. But when Harry's grades came back below average, Norman begrudgingly paid Peter for tutoring. The small sum helped Peter with bills, so he accepted.

Norman never liked Peter; his background was offensive to the billionaire. In a rare act of defiance, Harry ignored his father's objections and kept his friend.

With a small group of friends, Peter kept to himself. Even when his old childhood friend, MJ Watson, resurfaced, he kept his distance. A painful warning from Flash reminded him that MJ had her own life now.

They shared classes and friends but never reconnected meaningfully. Peter was polite but distant with MJ and most of his classmates.

Each had a connection to Flash. Each looked at Peter with either disgust or pity. As he endured the rumors, he knew none of them cared. Nobody cared.

The years at Midtown passed, and Peter, once a cute 8-year-old, found himself 18 and graduating, in the prime of life. He would graduate as Valedictorian, heading to New York University's mechanical and electrical engineering department. A scholarship and a full-ride grant covered his costs.

Everything was on track. He had his education and an internship with Hammer Technologies lined up. Harry, being Norman Osborn's son, even offered him a position at Oscorp, but Peter declined—not out of pride, but because he feared Flash might be there.

This was Peter's way of escaping the hell Flash had made of the past four years. Even if Hammer didn't have the best reputation, it was still one of the big three.

Stark Enterprises would have been his first choice, but internships there were rare. With Oscorp off-limits, Hammer was his best option.

He celebrated when he received his acceptance letter.

Hammer might have been more of a showman, but he still got military contracts, plenty of press, and it was a huge asset on Peter's résumé.

He had celebrated his 18th birthday. Christmas and New Year's had passed, and only six months of school remained.

Exams and the end-of-year Prom were on the horizon. Once he mustered the courage, he planned to ask Gwen to be his date.

He was building up to it. Last week, she had said happy birthday and gave him a quick peck on the lips. He stood stunned as she scampered off to hide next to Felicia.

They both blushed as Felicia glared at him, then whispered to Gwen, who grinned.

He had proof she liked him, and he was going to ask her. He even started looking at corsages, which Aunt May teased him about.

Despite Flash's efforts to make school miserable, Peter came home to a safe, welcoming environment. Life was good. It could be better—Peter knew it could be—but he was still happy. He could only hope that Uncle Ben would be proud of him.