Chapter Text
The next day felt like it had come straight from hell. Spot woke up late, his alarm had been blaring for fifteen minutes, causing him to arrive to school half an hour late, which caused him to get another tardy.
At lunch, that kid from yesterday after school was at his lunch table. What was his name again? Race? Spot thinks. It wasn’t particularly strange, he hung out with Spot’s friends normally but he never sat at their table, though, maybe Race was part of the friend group, and Spot hadn’t known.
You see, Spot had friends, Katherine, Jack, Davey, Crutchie, they were a group, but they constantly hung out without him. So, it would make sense if they had added a new member without him knowing. “Oh, hey! Spot!” Race calls, waving wildly from the table. Spot makes his way over to the table and sits.
“We were just talking about you and your new cat?” Jack asks, pausing for a moment before adding, “I wouldn’t exactly pin the term, ‘cat person’ on you, Spot.” Crutchie snorts at that, but tries to mask it as a sneeze, Spot looks up at Race sharply,
“Why would you tell them about that?” He questions. Race replies instantly, extremely defensive,
“I wouldn’t want them thinking that I made diabetic friendly cat treats for myself. I had to explain.” He pauses, studying Spot’s expression, then adds, “You will not believe how difficult it is to find a recipe for these.” Race says, pulling something out of his bag, and tossing it onto the table. It appears to be a ziplock bag with around five, bone shaped baked treats.
“Cats don’t eat bones.” Spot tells Race. Race throws his hands up.
“Like I said, it’s extremely difficult to find a cat treat recipe that’s diabetic friendly.” He says, pointing to the treats.
“Oh. Thanks,” Spot pauses, thinking of what to say, “…for the treats,” He clears his throat, trying to sound sad, “but, uh, we put Fluffball down last night. She did end up getting to the cookies, and had just one too many.”
Spot nods solemnly, trying to sell the story. Crutchie frowns, his earlier laughter completely forgotten,
“Aw geez, Spot. You must have been really attached to that cat. You just got her and already had put her down, and you’re so…emotional. I’ve never seen you so sad before.” Davey nods in agreement before adding,
“Yeah. We’re sorry for your loss.” The next few minutes were completely filled with awkward silence, the kind where no one knows what to say. Spot looks around, wanting to die in a hole, when suddenly, sirens sound somewhere in the city, police sirens. Meaning there’s a criminal. They might need help. Spot thinks. Spot stands speaking up, at the same time, Race also stands abruptly, and they speak at the same time.
“I have to go to the bathroom.”
“I forgot to get work for study hall.”
Spot’s brows furrow as he looks Race up and down, before rolling his eyes and turning to walk in the direction of the custodial closet. Race going the opposite way to the bathroom. Once Spot had turned the corner and snuck into the janitor’s closet, he suits up and luckily finds a window, and hops out, swinging from building to building.
When he arrives to where he saw police lights, he can see a few cops talking, he approaches them,
“Hey? What’s the problem?” Spot asks one of the policemen.
“Oh there’s a thief, he took some money from this store” The cop replies.
“Which way did he go? I can catch him for you.” Spot’s tone is confident, but the cop frowns, shaking his head.
“Sorry, Spider-man, this guys fast, and you haven’t exactly been in the best shape lately.” The cop says. Spot’s offended, to say the least,
“Well who’s gonna catch him if not me? It’s not like you’re in any better shape than I am.” Spot retorts, clearly annoyed, and his tone is sarcastic, but the cops reply is serious.
“New guy got here way quicker than you did, Spidey.” Just as Spot was about to reply, a blur of red and yellow passed by, went around the car and stopped in front of the police officers, apparently having dragged the criminal with him.
“Here he is officers.” The other hero says. One cop nods gruffly and loads the thief into the car, and they drive off, Spot, meanwhile, is livid.
“Who the hell are you? You can’t just swoop in here and take my job!” Spot snaps, the other hero, puts his hand over his heart in fake offense.
“Sorry, Spidey. I’m still new to this whole thing. I’m calling myself, The flash.”