The air is bitter today. The cold mist stings my skin as we load into the bus for the field trip. The temperature doesn't change as I sit down in the back of the bus. No matter how much we beg, the driver never turns up the heat. It's like she enjoys making us suffer. I lean against the window, using my backpack as a makeshift pillow. Heavy footsteps shake the bus and I finally look down the aisle as someone crashed into the seat next to me. Peter Parker peers out from behind the seat in front of us, and I raise an eyebrow as he jerks back behind the seat.

      Flash Thompson bounds onto the bus looking as bitter as usual. He searches around the bus, clearly looking around for Peter. I purse my lips then wave at the bully. "Hey Flash!" He looks in my direction and Peter rapidly shakes his head at me, begging not to give up his terrible hiding spot. "He's in the other bus." Flash nods at me and climbs out, a certain power to his step. "Wow, thanks." I shrug at Peter and return to looking out the window. "I really thought you were going to tell him where I was."

      I shake my head, then I pause to look at Peter. He is now sitting normally in his seat, adjusting his glasses that I accidentally broke yesterday. "What did you do to piss him off?" I ask as the bus pulls away from the sidewalk. Peter shrugs, and his glasses become crooked again. "Exist." I purse my lips to stop myself from smiling, but Peter sees it. "Hey, it isn't funny! He's been tormenting me for years." I chuckle and glance at the brunette. "It's kinda funny. You looked like you had been shot."

      Peter glares at me and I smirk, looking out the window. There is a few minutes of silence, then he speaks up again. "Are you excited?" I nod passively. I wasn't really. Science wasn't my strong suit. I doubt I'm going to find a demonstration on how to safely handle nuclear laboratory waste entertainingly. "I guess, though the art museum is more my scene." Peter looks at me and I visibly wince. Everytime I mention being into art, someone asks. "You're into art?"

      I nod, absentmindedly clutching my sketchbook closer to my chest. "That's cool! My aunt went through an art phase once." Peter shivers and I turn my head to look at him. "She is not good at it. At all." I smile softly, then turn to look out the window. The sun begins to peek through the clouds and I frown. Fall has always been my favorite season, mostly because my birthday is in October. I prefer the weather. Rainy cloudy days are always my favorite. My brother used to call me weirdo because I would go to the roof of our building just to stand in the rain for hours.

      A frown etches on my features. My brother. I miss him. I'm never going to forgive myself for what happened. Neither will my mom. I shake my head, those thoughts leaving me as the bus pulls to a stop outside the New York Hall of Science. A few students stand from their seats, but Ms. Kline tells them to sit back down. "Everyone grab a partner. The buddy system is out savior." I sigh and pick at my nail polish, the black color now only flackey. I painted them last night, but with my nervous habits it never lasts.

      "Corin, do you want to be buddies?" I look at Peter, a bit surprised. "What?" I ask. Peter points at the several students already in pairs. "For the museum." I gape at him for a moment, then nod. I don't see anyone else asking me. "Sure." We both stand and leave the bus. My mind wanders into daydreams as the tour begins. I hear Peter mumbling science facts, but none of it makes any sense.

      Finally we make it to the star attraction and several students stare in awe (Peter looked like he had just witnessed a miracle). I blow a raspberry as I sneak through the crowd until I reach a wall in the back of the room. I slide down into a sitting position and open my sketchbook, creating several doodles of faces around the room. None of which have any life in their eyes. I constantly find myself drawing the dead, coming up with elaborate life stories for each one I see. It makes me feel better about having my ability.

      "Woah, are you okay?" I peel my eyes up from my drawing of a man with pink hair (Don't ask me. I just draw what I see). Through a part in the crowd of students I see Peter Parker laying on the ground, his glasses broken on the floor in front of him. I crease my brows as I realize he is in pain, clutching his hand. He looks up, panic in his eyes and he stands, stumbling away from the crowd. I watch as he almost falls as he enters the men's room. When no one in the crowd follows after him I become concerned.

      I consider going after him for a moment, but hearing a shout of pain come my the bathroom, my mind is instantly made up. I close my sketchbook and rush towards the men's room. I find Peter laying on the floor, halfway inside a stall. The smell of vomit fills my nose as I rush to his side. "Peter?" I roll him over and find him unconscious. My eyes widen and I whip out my phone calling 911. "I need an ambulance at the New York Hall of Science. One of my classmates is unconscious in the bathroom." I drop my phone knowing that that information will be enough for them.

      First thing I do is check for a pulse and crease my brows at discovering it is too fast. Then I check his airway, clear, but his breathing is rugged, so I push his so he is laying on his side. I pull his eyelids open and sigh in relief. No rapid eye movement. He isn't having a seizure. "Peter? Can you hear me?" I cup his face in my hands, and I notice a red rash on his cheek and neck. I hear a commission outside and I run out finding a group of paramedics looking around. "Over here!" They spot me and rush over, pushing their way into the bathroom.

      A crowd forms outside the restroom and I stay back, knowing better than to get in the way. "What happened?" A voice whispers in my ear. I turn to see Cindy Moon, looking pale and in pain. I crease my brows, but don't comment on it. "He passed out." Cindy nods and blinks her eyes hard, sweat forming on her upper brows. I tilt my head. "Are you okay?" She doesn't seem to hear me as she scrunches up her face, and pushes her way out of the crowd. In the park I see Peter's glasses laying on the floor and I run over to grab them.

      When I turn around I see the paramedics carrying Peter out on a gurney. I frown in worry. My mind runs through his several symptoms. Vomiting, fatigue, red rash, sweating... I've heard my mother talking about her patients, and all these things lead up to one thing. I look at the radiation waste machine behind me and frown. Had Peter been exposed in some way or another? If he had then why wasn't anyone else exhibiting symptoms?

      Unless...

      I look to the stairwell where Cindy Moon had run from. I bite my lip, unsure of what to think. It's not good to jump to conclusions, but I could be right. And if I am, then Cindy will need medical attention. I can only hope that she finds it.