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Chapter 7 — The Classroom With the Spider
Schools are systems.
I understood that the moment I stepped inside Midtown High.
Not socially.
Structurally.
Bell schedules. Attendance records. Locker assignments. ID cards. Teachers who followed scripts written years ago. Students sorted into predictable categories by age, test scores, and perceived potential.
Bureaucracy was beautiful in its stupidity.
It took me less than a week to get enrolled.
No hacking. No threats. Just forms, silence, and the quiet confidence of someone who never explained himself unless asked. People assumed competence when you acted like you belonged.
They always did.
So suddenly, I was a student again.
Jake. Age eighteen. Transfer. Quiet. Unremarkable.
Exactly where I needed to be.
First Sight
Peter Parker sat three rows ahead of me in physics.
He didn't look special.
That was the most interesting thing about him.
Messy hair. Slight hunch. Pencil tapping unconsciously against his notebook while he stared at the board like the equations were whispering secrets only he could hear.
Brilliant mind.
Fragile body.
Unstable variable.
I recognized the type immediately.
The kind of person who changed the world accidentally.
I watched him without staring.
Observation didn't require drama.
The Spider Problem
The spider wasn't here yet.
That irritated me.
I knew the timeline—not the exact date, but the gravitational pull of inevitability. Oscorp. A field trip. A mistake. One bite that rewrote biology like it was optional.
Chance masquerading as destiny.
I hated that.
Powers should be earned.
Engineered.
Replicated.
Not handed out by a radioactive insect with no sense of scientific rigor.
And yet…
If the universe insisted on using chaos as a distribution system, then I would exploit that system.
I didn't need Peter.
I needed the vector.
Sitting Still
Classes passed.
English. Math. Physics. Chemistry.
I answered questions only when called on. Never volunteered. Never impressed too openly. Genius attracted scrutiny, and scrutiny was inefficient.
Peter, on the other hand, couldn't help himself.
His hand twitched upward when questions were posed. His answers were always precise, always correct, always delivered with an apology baked into the tone.
He didn't want attention.
That was his mistake.
The Waiting
Waiting is difficult for emotional people.
For me, it was trivial.
I used the time to map routines.
Peter's seat.
Peter's locker.
Peter's lunch habits.
Peter's tendency to forget he existed when focused on a problem.
I also mapped the teachers.
Which ones enforced rules.
Which ones looked away.
Which ones followed schedules without deviation.
The spider would come through a sanctioned event.
Institutions loved field trips.
They outsourced liability.
Internal State: Jake
No jealousy.
No envy.
No impatience.
Just irritation at inefficiency.
The universe had selected Peter Parker for augmentation, not because he deserved it, but because he was available.
I planned to correct that imbalance.
Not violently.
Not emotionally.
Scientifically.
Lunchroom Observations
The cafeteria was loud, chaotic, and useless.
I sat alone.
Not because I couldn't sit with others—but because proximity invited conversation, and conversation invited questions.
Peter sat with a small group. They laughed. He smiled awkwardly, eyes distant, mind elsewhere.
Already split.
Already unstable.
I wondered briefly what he would become if the spider never bit him.
Then I discarded the thought.
Counterfactuals were unproductive.
The Idea of Theft
I didn't think of it as stealing.
Stealing implied ownership.
No one owned the spider.
No one understood it.
No one had engineered it with intention.
If anything, it was abandoned potential.
If I took it—or what it created—I would simply be giving it purpose.
That was how I justified most things now.
Clean logic.
No emotion required.
The Drone Remains Hidden
The drone stayed at home.
This environment didn't require force.
It required patience.
Technology waited best when unseen.
I didn't need to act yet.
I needed timing.
The Bell Rings
The final bell echoed through the halls, releasing students like pressure from a valve. Lockers slammed. Voices rose. Feet moved in predictable currents toward exits.
Peter packed his bag too carefully, like he was afraid of breaking something invisible.
I followed at a distance.
Not stalking.
Tracking.
A Thought
As I watched him disappear into the crowd, I allowed myself one small indulgence.
Not excitement.
Curiosity.
What would happen if I succeeded?
Would the spider choose me differently?
Would my body adapt more efficiently?
Would my lack of fear change the outcome?
Or would the universe resist correction?
Either answer was acceptable.
Data was data.
End State
I had access now.
Not to powers.
Not yet.
But to proximity.
And proximity was the most dangerous variable of all.
Status Update
Location: Midtown High
Target: Peter Parker (indirect)
Objective: Spider vector
Method: Observation / Timing
Emotional state: Null
Risk level: Dormant