CAT SCRATCH FEVER | PETER PARKER

A Web of Bad Luck

Having set five alarms the previous night, Peter had ensured he got up in time the next morning. Without the extra pressure of having to rush, he could take his time getting dressed and actually sit down and eat breakfast. However, just because he caught a break this morning didn't make Peter any less anxious. Now that he knew it was the scratch causing his bad luck, he became even more aware of his surroundings.

"Murphy's law," he said to himself as he boarded the subway. "Anything that can go wrong, will go wrong."

Looking around the crowded cart, Peter's mind began to travel to some dark and morbid places. He could already imagine the subway going off the tracks and crashing. Or perhaps the tunnel would collapse, trapping everyone beneath the rubble until they suffocated. Maybe when he got off and crossed onto the platform, his foot would get caught between the closing doors and he would be dragged under as the subway took off. Just how far his bad luck extended was still unknown.

"Curse you, Final Destination, for putting those thoughts in my head," he muttered under his breath. A subway was not the best place to be in right now, not when a million things could go wrong. So once the doors slid open, Peter practically jumped out of the subway and onto the platform.

On the way to class, Peter's eyes darted around in every direction. He kept glancing over his shoulder, thinking a car might suddenly fly into him. Each tree he passed made him speed up until he was completely out of its shadow. He knew anyone who happened to be watching him must have thought he was being tailed. Or worse, that he was mentally unstable.

Even once he reached the campus, Peter's paranoia did not ease up like he thought it would. It did the exact opposite. Knowing not one bad thing happened on the way over here, a looming suspicion hung over him like a dark cloud. Something was bound to go wrong.

But upon entering the GCASL without a single hitch, Peter couldn't help but heave a sigh of relief. Maybe the worst that would happen would be he'd give the wrong answer in class or his phone would go off in the middle of a lecture.

Holding his breath, he grabbed onto the handrail and climbed the stairs, taking slow, deliberate steps. He hadn't realized how fast his heart was pounding until he crossed the last step. It sounded as if it were about burst right out of his chest.

"Okay, Peter, just calm down." He pressed his hand over his heart and felt its irregular pulse against his chest. Too focused on trying to steady his racing heartbeat, Peter didn't notice he had turned to the left instead of the right. But as he walked down the aisle of the auditorium, scanning each row, he found that he couldn't recognize a single person.

Who were these people?

He knew this was only the second class, but he should recognize at least someone. Like Felicia. Where was she?

Turning his head towards the front, Peter's eyes widened in horror as he realized his mistake. For on the board, behind the professor, were several images of Renaissance paintings.

"This isn't U.S. History," he squeaked.

The student closest to him snickered. "No, it isn't. Freshman."

Peter winced at the name. It was like a punch to the gut, or maybe even worse. Before anyone else had the chance to call him out, he hurried back up the aisle and out of the auditorium.

When he finally reached his actual class, the students were bent over their desks in silence. The only sounds heard were their pencils scribbling across the paper in front of them. Felicia moved silently through each row of tables, watching as the students filled out their quizzes. But when she caught sight of Peter standing in the doorway, she motioned him over with a wave of her hand.