He was moving like a turtle.

Peter was flabbergasted. Never once in his life had his mutation failed him—never once had he felt as if his legs were glued to the ground. He was moving in slow motion, and it was very, very frustrating. The students in the corridor seemed to be frozen in time, except for one person gracefully maneuvring between the unmoving figures.

You.

"Hey!" he called out, annoyed, trying to grab your attention. "What the hell did you do to me?"