No not yet

Her mind drifts, unspooling the week like a frayed cassette tape.

The night in the alley with her fingers shaking as she stuck her first web to a dumpster.

The blur of sirens two blocks over, her legs burning from running rooftops.

The Daily Bugle headline — "Spider-Woman: Menace or Miracle?" — crumpled in her pocket.

Every moment since the bite has felt like that first lurch on a roller coaster, right before the drop.

“You’re quiet today,” MJ says, twirling her drumstick like she’s waiting for the downbeat.

“I’m fine,” Gwen lies, pulling her gaze from the shoelace. The fibers blur again into normality, but the memory won’t fade — the mix of triumph and guilt. She’s been Spider-Woman for only a week, and the mask is starting to weigh heavier than her sticks.

She’s still missing classes.

Still forgetting band practice.

Still replaying the moment she almost didn’t get there in time.

And for every purse she’s saved, there’s a text from her dad asking why she’s never home for dinner anymore.

She forces her hands back to the kit, willing the rhythm to hide the pulse still thudding in her ears.

Tomorrow, she tells herself.

Tomorrow she’ll get the balance right.

But she doesn’t believe it.