A/N: Wow, thanks for all the reviews, they were great! This story is set in the comicverse, where Peter Parker is a teacher at Midtown High, his old school.
Sorry about the delay - computer problems. And a bit of tidying up in the story… Anyway, here it is - the next chapter!
Cheers,
Apteryx
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Chapter 3: Ensnarer & Ensnared.
"Peter Parker is Spider-Man!"
"Peter Parker is Spider-Man!"
The crowd of teenagers moved forward, closing in on Peter, surrounding him in a circle of excitement. At the forefront was Marc, louder than the rest, and K'so was by his side, differences forgotten as they chanted. A bread roll flew out behind Peter, and hit him in the back of the head – fresh this time, and shortly joined by a stick of butter, a ripe tomato, a slice of cheese and a slice of bologna. Peter flung his arms up to protect his head as the barrage of food continued. He had to get out of here, but how, without harming the students or revealing his powers? One last piece of fruit hit the front of his shirt, a juicy ripe pear, leaving another addition to the mess over his clothes. Something dripped off his hair on to his cheek. He lifted a hand to wipe the sticky liquid away.
"Watch out, he's gonna shoot some web!" a voice yelled.
"Spider-Man!"
"Spider-Man!"
The howls pounded in Peter's ears, as hands reached out for him, plucking at his clothing. One hand, extra keen, caught hold of the front of his shirt and jerked back. Two buttons gave way under the strain, and suddenly exposed was a black spider perched on black webbing over a blood red background.
"Spider-Man!"
"He is Spider-Man!"
Faces loomed up at him, distorted by their hysteria, bodies pressed in close, hot, and the combined smell of deodorants, perfumes, unwashed clothes and bodies, and the squashed food, made him nauseous. He had to get out… Sweating, suffocating, panicking, he thrashed out and leapt, not caring who saw him.
"Aaargh!"
"Peter, Peter? Are you OK hon?"
"Wha…?"
Peter found himself lying in bed, breathing hard, his sweat making strands of hair stick to his face. He passed his hand over his eyes. "Wheeeeeshh."
"Peter?"
Even in the darkness of early morning there was enough ambient light for Peter to make out MJ's concerned face next to him.
"I'm all right, I had a nightmare, that's all. It's nothing…"
"You were thrashing about a lot there. Who was it this time; Dr Octopus? Rhino? The Hypno Hustler?" MJ joked, thinking to relax him.
"Ha ha, very funny. No, there's a kid who's got this thing – thinks I'm Spider-Man. I don't know where he got that idea…" Peter found that his heart had stopped thumping now; he was calmer and could find the amusing side. "All Friday he was on my case. I tried ignoring him, but he was worse than a fly after rotten meat."
Mary-Jane cuddled up to him. "He's probably forgotten it now – he's had a whole weekend to forget it."
"Yeah, you're right." He glanced at the glowing red numbers on the clock radio. "It's Monday – a few short hours and I'll be back at the chalkface – or is that the whiteboardface…"
"Silly."
Peter was on time for school this morning – he had one of the dreadful coffees in the staff lounge, before classes started, keeping an eye out for Paul Kinross, Marc's teacher; he wanted to ask him a few questions.
A very tall, ectomorphic figure paused at the doorway into the staff area. He looked, with his long legs and considered gait, like an exotic heron. The sense of exoticism was enhanced by his extremely bright clothing – he had a predilection for saturated hues that had earned him the nickname 'Flamingo'.
Though Paul Kinross was young, he was a natural teacher and had been assigned the remedial class, along with the special budget granted by the State. His occasional acts of anarchy went down well with his students, but he could always control them and get results if allowed to do things his way. Like the time he made a deal and took all his class out for flying lessons as long as they learnt the required math, geometry and geography that went with it. Not a single student reneged on the deal.
Peter waved him over.
"Hey Paul," he greeted, as the tall man folded himself up into one of the low easy chairs.
Paul grinned. "How's it hanging, Spider-Man?"
Peter groaned and dropped his face into his hands. "Let me guess – Marc."
"Yeah, Zieba. Where ever did he get that idea?"
"He saw me help stop a mugging. I guess there are so few ordinary 'heroes' about, that I had to be a super hero, or something. Perhaps someone should tell the spandex brigade though – I'm not a signed up member of their union."
Chuckling, Paul spread his long arms out. "Marc is Marc. He's like a steamroller – very hard to push from his path unless the controls are handled the right way. Which is great if that single-minded drive is focused on school work. If he hasn't developed some new fixation, the best thing would be to disprove this Spider-Man jag conclusively."
"How?"
"Oh, I dunno. Get beaten up. Find Spider-Man and pose with him. Fail to climb walls or something," he remarked off-hand. "Whoa, is that the time? I'd better go prepare."
He rose from the chair and waved a hand at Peter. "I'll work on him too, if it's still a problem – I can't teach him effectively otherwise."
"Thanks."
Peter remained seated, thinking over what Paul had said. Disproving who he was would be no easy matter. He shrugged; no sense worrying about until he had to.
When he walked into the classroom, the first thing that caught Peter's attention was K'so, sitting slouched behind his desk, hat pulled low, his eyes behind the dark shades following Peter's movements as he made his way to the front of the classroom.
From the stifled giggles and the ingenious expressions on the students' faces, Peter knew that Friday's fad hadn't been forgotten. The tittering increased slightly as he reached his desk; Peter frowned slightly, and carefully placed his briefcase on the floor beside it. He leaned across the desk using his arms as a support, and eyed his pupils, staring silently at them for one long minute.
The noise quietened, changed timbre and began again. Expressions also changed; as he looked, he saw students register surprise, disgust, awe even. K'so nodded slightly and his lips twitched.
"Morning. How many of you remembered the substance of the last chapter we covered while you were in your element over the weekend…" Peter trailed off as he observed the almost unnatural attention he'd got from his students; his teaching wasn't that riveting – had he spilt something down his front, or left his fly undone?
He glanced down.
"Oh my lord…"
Inwardly he cursed the mysterious Ezekiel and his talk of totemic powers – he'd become so inured to spiders, that he had unconsciously accepted the hundred or so that had crawled up his arms and were busy exploring his body.
Someone had put a lot of work into this prank. And he knew who.
Peter stood straight, making no attempt to brush the spiders off.
"K'so, come up here for a moment, will you?"
The boy slid out of his chair, thrust his hands in his sweatshirt pockets and walked up to Peter.
"Yo," he said.
A challenge.
"This is chemistry, not biology." Peter held one of the spiders out on a fingertip and smiled. "But since you have already completed the field work for your next project, you can complete it by writing a report naming all the species here, their distinguishing features, and their natural habitats. I want your report by the end of the week." Peter watched the spider. "I'll give you a head start: this is Salticidae Phidippus…"
The spider suddenly jumped, landing on K'so's chest, startling him.
"…also known as the jumping spider."
The class erupted into laughter.
"That's enough!" warned Peter, "Books out, and read that chapter you neglected. K'so, get your jar or whatever, and get these things off me – spiders are the bane of my life at the moment!"
Grumbling, K'so complied. Peter took the chance to have a few quiet words with him.
"…want help, I'm around, just ask. Oh, and could you possibly ignore Marc Zieba? He's more of a pain than you are at the moment."
He couldn't believe it – was that a smile from K'so?
That smile was the high point of the day. Word had spread rapidly about the morning's spider incident, and as these things do, the facts became magnified and distorted with each telling. Of course, someone had to tell Marc one of the more fantastic versions – Mr Parker could control spiders and had gotten them to web this kid and start biting him as punishment for not doing his homework.
Marc took this to heart as further proof, and spent every spare moment he could snatch hanging about outside Peter's classroom; following him, fawning on him and making little speeches at him when he left the room to go to the bathroom or the staff area. A crowd of kids hung about with him, hoping that they'd get a rise out of Parker; man, he was such a geek, this teacher, it'd be fly to see him go postal.
Even the staff area at the end of the school day was no sanctuary for Peter. The rest of the staff gave him heaps; they had all been the butt of practical jokes, and the relief that it wasn't them this time hung palpably in the air.
By now, Pete was in a foul mood, though he didn't show it. He joined in with the joke-cracking, but half-heartedly as he set the work up for the next day's classes. Maybe if he took long enough, Marc would have gone home already. If he didn't see his inanely grinning face again, it wouldn't be soon enough.
No such luck; the lanky figure was on his tail again as soon as he stepped out the front doors of Midtown High. Peter didn't have the x to change direction today. Let Marc follow him, see how an ordinary boring high school teacher walked to the subway and caught a train home, the same mundane existence millions of others led.
However, when Marc was still following him as he turned into the street that included his apartment, he finally did go postal.
"Quit following me!" he whirled about and shouted at the surprised teenager. "I've had enough of it. Go inflict your adolescent fantasies on someone else and leave me alone!"
Marc fearlessly moved closer to Peter, and looked him straight in the eye, completely unconcerned about the outburst of anger directed at him.
"Mr Parker sir, don't you like me? I'm a big fan of Spider-Man…"
Peter suddenly turned and ran, not looking back, until he reached the lobby of his apartment building and slammed the street door shut and leant against the inside of it, his head lowered.
He had almost lost control.
He had almost turned on Marc and hit him. He was shocked, horrified and ashamed at how close he had come to using his strength in thoughtless anger. It certainly wasn't the act of a responsible man…
'If it were Ocky, Rhino or even Spot, at least I could give them a good walloping and get it over with and forget the whole thing - well… maybe not Doc Ock - but I can't do that to an innocent school kid, no matter how annoying he may be. My only saving grace is that I did stop myself in time – and that at the moment no one takes him seriously still.'