It's 11:30 and you all know it would be terrible of me to start a new story right now, but I just can't wait.

I don't own house of Anubis, I don't own Spider Man or Marvel (wish I did)

Enjoy!

Prologue

"Stop blocking the hallway!" Mick jeered, a team of jocks behind him as they shoved Jerome Clarke roughly into the lockers. Jerome sneered at their backs, brushing himself off and slamming his locker shut. "Loser!"

"Don't listen to them," Alfie sighed, patting Jerome's back "They're the losers,"

"You're still jealous of them though," Jerome rolled his eyes "Jealous of Mick, and his put out girlfriend, Amber, aren't you?"

"Jerome…" Alfie sighed "It's not just that. I mean…Mick could beat the two of us in a fight…" Jerome closed his eyes for a moment. God help them that was true enough. They knew from experience. But that was Jerome and Alfie. Tall and lanky boys, with no muscles, at least Jerome had brains, and Alfie had…well he had his charm. "What I would give to shove him into some lockers though," Jerome grinned, high fiving his best friend as they both relished in the thought.

"Hey Alfie!" the ginger bounced up to them with a gleam in her eyes "Wanna walk me to English?"

"Sure Willow," Alfie sighed, and let himself be dragged away, offering Jerome an apologetic shrug, Jerome waved him off, only to be knocked hard in the shoulder by the new American student. He was on his way to being a jock, that's for sure. He had the stature for it, the sports jacket, the same sneer.

"Get out of the way," he called, flipping Jerome's papers high into the air so they fluttered around him. No one laughed in the crowded hallway, no one stopped to help, because this was every day at Anubis High School, and people just couldn't care anymore. He gathered all of them, irritated that they were no longer in their organised stack, but he was getting late, his class was on the other side of the school and he-

"Algebra," a small girl stated, Jerome blinked once, unused to female interaction from someone who wasn't the annoying Willow. He said nothing, watching her. Mara handed him the sheet of paper "I think it's yours, Jerome?"

"Yeah." Jerome stated, relaxing slightly, he took the paper, and then frowned "H-how do you know my name?"

"We've been in the same class for three years," Mara rolled her eyes, swinging her bag over her shoulder and walking away from him. Jerome watched her leave, feeling slightly guilty. But could you blame him? Jerome stayed low, out of the sight of Mick and Eddie, out of the sight of the insanely popular girls who would probably humiliate him because he didn't play football. It wasn't that he was ugly. Far from it, Jerome Clarke was good looking. Tall, dirty blond hair, sparkling blue eyes, pale flawless skin, slim, agile. But that wasn't what people wanted. They wanted muscle, rippling muscles and popularity, and people who swore every third word. Not the quiet nerd.

Well Jerome wasn't quiet with his friends, and he didn't act like a nerd. But anyone in this school with some sort of intellect is placed into that group. The groups. God he hated the social system. The nerds, the lowlifes. Jerome was apparently a mix between the two, thanks to a lecture from Amber after he was forced to tutor her in maths. He wasn't an extreme nerd like Fabian, but not a complete lowlife. The Goths, the only goth he knew was Patricia Williamson. Or Trixie, as she was known in the corridors. And he only knew her because they went to primary school together.

No, he hung low, with Alfie and Willow. He struggled with school, despite being arguably a genius. Jerome Clarke was the average teenager. And quite frankly:

It sucked.