A New Hero - Peter Parker (BOOK 1) | Spider-Man: Far From Home

Chapter Thirteen - The Plan

"Why did I do that?" Clara questioned herself, talking into the palms of her hands, covering her eyes with her fingers. She pulled her hands away from her face and stared down at the end of her double bed. On it, sat the navy-blue suitcase she had told the bellboy belonged to her.

She had spent the last twenty minutes in the shower; some of that time had been spent washing her hair and body, but the majority had been spent panicking over the fact that she had very spontaneously decided to take Peter's case. In the moment, it seemed like a good idea. Peter would have to talk to her if she were to return his clothes and, she's assumed she'd be returning his Spider-Man suit too, but she didn't dare open it to look.

Once she had left the confines of the shower and dried herself off, she had changed into her black ripped jeans, an oversized graphic tee tucked in around the waistband.

Now, Clara stood with her arms folded over her chest, feeling a chill in the well-ventilated room but ignoring it, knowing she'll be sweating through the thin material of the t-shirt as soon as she stepped into the warm evenings' heat. "I'm an idiot. That's why." She answered herself.

A knock on the door made her snap her head towards it. Oh God, she thought, it's Peter and he knows I took his case. She hesitated, waiting to see if he'd knock again. He did.

Clara felt her legs carry her towards the door, and she reached for the robe hanging on the hook behind it, the temperature now raising goose bumps over her arms. Finally, she pulled the door open slowly, peeking through the small crack she made before breathing a sigh of relief.

Mr Harrington stood waiting expectantly for her to open the door fully so he could speak to her. "I called the class down to the lobby to update them on this evening's plans. Why weren't you down there?"

"Sorry, I didn't hear you." She apologised. "I was in the shower."

The teacher looked at her still damp hair before continuing. "Well, good news: we're going to the opera!"

"The opera?" Clara asked with a raised eyebrow.

Mr Harrington nodded. "The tour company gave us these tickets – for free – so we're leaving in thirty minutes, be ready at the front entrance."

He turned to leave. The last thing Clara wanted to do tonight was sit through a four hour showing when she couldn't even understand Czech. "Actually, Mr Harrington, is it okay if I sit this one out? I've got a really bad..." She racked her mind for an excuse. Clara needed to think of something that would allow her to sit out of the event and not be questioned. "Cramps! I have really, really bad cramps."

"Can't you take some painkillers? You'll be sitting down the whole time."

Clara, you aren't going to be here longer that a few months, after this trip you may not even see the teacher again, she thought, reminding herself that even if she were to embarrass herself, it wouldn't matter for long. "And there's a lot of blood. Like, loads. I'm talking-"

Mr Harrington had gone pale, waving a hand out in front of him to get her to stop talking. "It's fine, you can stay. Just... Don't leave your room, and, er, don't talk to strangers."

Clara gave him a mock salute, closing the door before he could change his mind. Facing back to the centre of the room, the main problem at hand came back to her mind. Now he was going to be getting ready for an opera, Peter would definitely want his clothes back.

She sighed and took her robe off to toss it on the bed. Dragging the case from the linen sheets, she trudged back to the door, sticking her head out to ensure the teacher had left before leaving fully. Having seen Peter disappearing into Room 112, she headed that way, carrying the deceivingly heavy case five doors down.