Spider Brains: A Love Story (Book One) (6 page)

SEVEN - Butt String

Delilah waited for me on the fire escape landing. She became my taxi to and from Morlson’s apartment on the quick trek about a block away from our house and closer to the main road. I just grabbed hold of the hair on pussy’s head and whispered where to go in her ultra-sensitive ear. It felt good riding on her like that. I made tiny little spider
wee-wee-wees
as she ran.

I
couldn't help but think, after this whole spider experience ended maybe Delilah would bite me too so I might become a cat at night!

First things first, however.

The brick wall felt rough and easy to climb. With dark falling upon the city, no one could notice me. Well, no one but possibly an insect-eating bird--like a SWALLOW! Gulp! But, none were around, they all seemed to have gone to their nests for the night.

A
t that point, I hadn’t thought about anything that might harm me--nothing, nada, zilch.

Morlson kept her windows cracked about an inch because she liked to “feel the draft as it wafted through lifting the light curtains and stilling the muggy interior” of her home.

(I know this because she’d written it once as an example for some lame homework assignment. She was subbing for Mr. Rally, our cooler and REAL English teacher. Morlson got all teary when she read it too, like it was some award-winning literary masterpiece and we should all cower at her words. Bleek!)

Anyway, the window, as suspected, was cracked wide enough for a small rat to climb through. I walked in and could’ve been carrying a cane and top hat for as much space as I had. Easy Breezy!

And, there she was!

Asleep, in bed.

Shhhut-UP
!

I leapt from the sill and grabbed hold of the gauzy beige linen curtain. With the breeze swinging me outward toward her bed, I easily jettisoned my silken spool of thread onto her headboard.

And, by the way, the silk does NOT come out of your wrists like Spiderman would have you believe. No. It comes out of your butt. The holes are called spinnerets and you force your back set of legs straight and grunt like a little pig and it goes zinging to wherever you aim your butt.

Azin’. Way
way
azin’.

After the silk attached, I walked across the line like an eight-legged circus performer on a trapeze. That’s how cool it was.

EIGHT - Icky Gooey (Squared)

When I woke up, my homework papers had been tossed all over the bed and there was this sticky sort of string around my hands and mouth and the papers on the bed were stuck to the sheets. No lie.

I said, “What the?” But remembered the dreams which had become more vivid with every passing day.

And, every morning after getting out of bed, I had to use a loofa just to get all the sticky off my fingertips, out of my hair and scraped off from my lips before mom could see me.

Later, I kept the sponge in bed with me so mom would never, ever see me looking like a cocoon. Especially, when she expected to see her daughter. That might prove disastrous.

My skin began to clear up and my vision was becoming better, even without those socially-crippling glasses. Plus, there were more times than not throughout my classes that reading with them bothered me more than aided me.

Even so, by the end of each day, it was like everything reverted back to my old self and I was just plain old Susie Speider again.

I groaned out my homework at night, pop my meds and then would go to bed so early mom started to think I was sick or something.

“
No mom, I just realized that when I get my rest, I feel so much better.” That was not a lie. I did feel better, yes, but mostly while I was sleeping! It was like as the spider, I always felt I could do anything and I never thought about my dad dying. All the bad just melted away as the spider. Sort of.

Mom didn’t need to hear that. Lest she go into back-flips with worry. We needn’t freak out mom, need we?

No.

So.

I would get my homework done and slip into my lovely dreamy state of uber-consciousness (uber, uber, uber... I love to say uber) and go visit Ms. Morlson.

It became quite the habit.

N
ow, here’s where things get a little weird so hold onto your ponytails!

Ms. Morlson called in sick that first night I went on the prowl.

She said she’d gotten bitten by something and needed to go to the doctor because she felt ill, like all nauseous and headachy and stuff. Plus, she said her leg had swelled up around the bite. Like. God. It could get any bigger. Lord.

Plus, I wasn't expecting the taste. Something like overly salty eggs sprinkled with parched garlic powder.

The bite went deep when my fangs penetrated the layers of her skin. It felt like a release of sorts. Like, I needed to do it as part of my make-up. Like, it was the nature of things.

P
lus, in her druggy state from the booze, it was easy to sidle under her sheets, over her thick ankle and attack.

She never felt a thing. It was sort of funny too. It was almost
too
easy.

No worries! She'd survive it. My venom isn't that horrific necrotic-tissue-destroying type.

“
Hello people.” She always called us people. “Sorry for missing class yesterday. It seems we have a pest problem at our apartment building. I got bit by something that required medical attention. So, guess what we’ll be studying today?” We all did this look-between each other like we didn’t really care and she went on, “That’s right, insect bites. Specifically, spider bites. We’re going to do a little research.”

Just then, she whips out copies of these enlarged color photos of her ankle showing the area where she got bit and, I mean, the size of the welt looked enormous. But, what was really gross about the photos is that they were so close up you could see the shaven nubs of her hair follicles, like little tiny black dots all over her moon white legs.

Ew.

She went on as she passed out the photos to each of us, “We’re going to determine which kind of insect has a bite that looks like this.” All I could think was probably a soon-to-be-
dead
-spider!

I kind of thought the bite looked cool and giggled but Jamie and Ricki just made a yick noise when they got their photo copies.

“
Sick!” Billy Walton screamed and made a gagging noise when he stuck his finger deep into his mouth like he was about to puke or something. Everybody laughed. “A brave spider, indeed.” He continued in his most swashbuckling kind of voice.

“
Mr. Walton!” Morlson screamed. “This is a
real
assignment and accounts for twenty percent of your grade.” She started scribbling on the whiteboard but talked as she scribbled, like we couldn’t read. Jeez. She wrote so angrily, in fact, and fast that the flab on her upper arm waved at the class sitting behind her. No one uttered a word. It was that hypnotic.