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372 pages, Hardcover
First published July 11, 2017
I wanted desperately to tell him that I had very good hearing—because I was starving myself—because it gave me superpowers.
I experimented in secret. In the cafeteria at lunch, eyes closed, I slipped off my shoes and pressed my feet to the floor.
I saw, through the soles of my feet. I saw the shape of the room, the hallway beyond it, the whole school. I saw the crowds of kids moving past.
Hunger was a pack of wolves, starving and mad, running through my bloodstream, gaunt ribs showing through mangy scabbed fur, fangs bared at every shadow.
Hunger pulled me out of bed after midnight, twisting my stomach like wringing out a wet towel, sinking savage talons into my skin and marionetting me: clothes on, socks off, down the hall, out the door, into the night.
Hunger rumbled in my belly, and I felt like if I reached out hard enough, I could stretch myself taller than any of the trees. Hunger is funny like that.
I detected things others did not. I saw, heard and smelled things others could not.
Somehow, I had become Peter fucking Parker.
Somehow, I had - could I even say it? I had powers.
“Hunger makes you better. Smarter. Sharper.
I have learned this through practical experimentation.”
“My best guess is that a spell has been cast on me, so that everyone else sees me as a scrawny gangly bag full of bones, and I alone see the truth, which is, as I mentioned, that I am an enormous fat greasy disgusting creature.”
“I saw, heard, smelled things others could not.
Somehow, I had become Peter f*cking Parker.”