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looked up, and up, at Flash, and for a moment wondered if there might be a problem, wondered if Flash had figured out what he was up to.
    But Flash quickly disabused him of that notion. The jock was obviously only capable of figuring something out if it involved tormenting someone smaller than he. "Explain me something, Osborn," he said.
    I'm not sure I know enough small words, he thought, but said gamely, "Sure, Flash. What?"
    "You and Parker. I mean, he's such a loser, and you're Mister Megarich Dad and riding around in a Rolls Royce . . ."
    "That was a Bentley."
    "Whatever," Flash said impatiently. "The point is, why do you bother hanging around with the guy? What's the big at traction? You and Parker ain't . . . uh . . ." and he flipped one hand forward and down in a decidedly limp-wristed manner. "Huh? No!" said Harry with extreme vehemence. "No, it's nothing like that. It's ... look, you really wanna know?" "I asked, didn't I?" Flash's disposition wasn't improving. Harry glanced right and left to make sure no one was paying attention, and was sufficiently satisfied with Mr. Sul livan's fruitless endeavors to get everyone to pay attention. He was reasonably sure they could chat undisturbed for a few moments. "Okay, look . . . my previous schools, all the best, preppy, private schools there were ... I got bounced out of them, okay? I couldn't cut it scholastically. In point of fact, I didn't even want to."
    Flash let out a whistle. "I wondered how you wound up at our dump of a school."
    "Yeah, well, if I'd been left on my own, I'd probably have
    flunked out of yours, too." He leaned against the wall, shift ing uncomfortably, as if his shoes were suddenly too tight. "I'd been at Midtown for about two weeks, and I had this bi ology report due. I didn't have a clue how to approach it. So I figured I'd do what I always do when I run into a problem: throw money at it. I track down Parker, the biggest brain in school, and offer to buy a biology paper off him. He writes it, I sign my name, pay him off, everybody's happy."
    "I get it! So you're Parker's meal ticket!" Flash grinned broadly, as if pleased to learn that Peter Parker's feet were as made of clay as any other guy's.
    But Harry shook his head vehemently. "No. No, not at all. Because Peter wouldn't do it. He says it's wrong. He says it won't accomplish anything. I double the offer. Two hun dred bucks, I offered him. He still won't take it. I say, 'What? Don't you need the money?' He says, 'More than you know. But that would be wrong,' he says to me. Instead he says to me, 'Look ... I'll help you do it yourself. Help you pick a topic, show you how to research it, the whole nine yards. And I'll proofread the paper for you once you've writ ten it. Make sure all the facts are right. That way, it's really your paper and it's all aboveboard.' I ask him, 'How much will that run me?' And he says, 'Nothing.' I say, 'So why would you do this for me?' He says, 'Because you look like you need the help. And that would be right.'
    "So I take him up on it, because I figure I can still talk him into it. The thing is, thanks to him, I really started getting into it. As I found out stuff in my research, I really did get excited about the idea of seeing it through, for maybe the first time in my life. So I did, and I got a B+, and it was the sweetest grade I ever got, 'cause it was mine. And Peter never took a dime from me.
    "Y'see, Flash, most people are like you. They see me, they see a walking dollar sign. Not Peter. He's barely got two nickels to rub together, but I realized—thanks to hanging out
    with him—that some things, like integrity, are beyond price." He put a hand on Flash's upper arm, and cringed slightly as he felt the rock-solid muscle beneath the shirt sleeve. "You hear what I'm telling you, Flash? Does that tell you something about Peter Parker?"
    "Yeah," said Flash with a snort. "Parker's even dumber than I thought. Walking away from two hundred bucks! He probably