Spider Brains: A Love Story (Book One) (25 page)

"Did not."

"Look. If you hadn't taken her out of Morlson's room, who knows what old sphincter face might've done to her?" I patted him on the back. "She's alive now because of you. So, um. Thanks."

"Okay. Sure." He said as he continued looking down into her webby ecosystem.

"Oh. Here's your jacket. Thanks for that too."

"Sure."

I walked behind him as we headed for the door. "Want some milk?"

"Goat's milk?"

I nodded and smiled, my braces pushed out between my lips.

"Sure."

He followed me down the hall and to the kitchen. "Mom's coming home early so you better leave before she gets here but come back around 5:30, okay?"

"Okay."

I pulled out my Hannah Montana tumblers and set them onto the counter and Matt went over to the table to sit down. The milk glorgled out of the jug as it filled each cup. After placing the milk back into the fridge, I made sure to wipe off the face of mom's favorite appliance, handle and all, the way mom liked it.

"She's gonna fail me."

"the Queen?"

"Uh huh."

I set a tumbler in front of Matt and sat perpendicular next to him at the table, at the corner, knee to knee.

"Nah."

"Yeah." I shook my head as I sipped on the thick creamy nectar from everything goat.

"Nah. She isn't."

"Matt, she hates me. She's gonna fail me and I'll be held back a year, I'll be the new poster child for everything stupid and it will wreck any chances I have of getting into NYU."

"Maybe you're wrong."

"Yeah. I'm wrong. Like, I'm not the only one that heard her screaming,
You're a thief! You're not smart enough!
OMG. How horrifying was that?"

"She definitely hates you."

"Jeez. Thanks."

"Sorry." He slugged down his milk and placed the glass back onto the table, looking at it, for a second, like he wanted to tell me something. He paused and looked at me, opened his mouth to say something.

I asked first. "Yeah. What's up?"

"Uhhh." Then, like, he re-thought saying anything, he closed his mouth and shook his head. "Nothing."

"Didn't look like nothing."

"It's nothing."

"Whatever."

Matt stood up then and blazing fast, he bent over and, oh my god, like, I hate even admitting this, but, like, he bent over and, lord. He kissed me on the top of my head. Definitely, NOT a pope kiss

Unbelievable.

The shock I felt paralyzed me, sort of how a spider paralyzes her prey, or like
Raid
paralyzed my spider.

"Bye." He said and walked out.

I couldn't move, couldn't speak. I just sat there. Stunned.

FORTY SEVEN - I'm Not in the Mood!

"Get off of me!" I screamed at Rider who had thrown all of his eight languid legs over me.

"Sh-sh-shhh!" He continued
mounting
me. "Don't scream."

"Agggggg!" I couldn't
NOT
scream! "What do you think you're doing, mister!?" I couldn't believe Rider was feeling amorous, and at zero hour, no less. I tried squeezing out of his grip much like Pepé Le Pew's skunk girlfriend in those old, old, OLD cartoons mom insisted on watching on Nick at Nite.

"Q-q-quiet." His whisper was so loud it might be defined better as a croak. Anyway, he continued wrapping his legs around my
body
,
squeezing
me and whispering, "Quiet. Quiet." Holy Moses. What's a girl to think?

Then everything whirled into a vortex of more hideousness, if that's even possible.

Morlson leapt to action. She moved with the deftness of an elephant ice skating. Off the bed, but paused, turned and spoke. "Now, you monster, now, I've found you."

"Agg!" I screamed in Rider's ear.

She held the bottle like a gun and walked over to our the corner, looking up at us the whole time.

"Get off me!" I pounded his chest but he moved like a spider on a mission and regained control, nearly smashing me into a tiny ball under his body.

That's when the unmistakable,
phfft phfft phfft
, made him tighten. His body froze, wrapped around me like that.

M
orlson had
sprayed Rider. He was paralyzed with me clutched in his grip.

FORTY EIGHT - He Was a Good Spider

After that, forces of nature played a key role.

First, Morlson got it.

She hadn't thought enough ahead of her attack on us to get out from under the inevitable rain shower from the poison she'd sprayed up at us.

Drops fell like acid into the Queen's face, into her eyes.

"RAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!" She bellowed out dropping the sprayer. It fell to the floor bouncing once and then tumbling askance on the carpeting.

Next, Rider's grip began to slip. His first set of claws unlatched from the webbing. Then, his second set gave way. Then, the third and fourth set followed.

Now! Remember. He had me in this strangle hold of sorts, his legs paralytic around my body. So, when he finally lost hold of his cobweb, we
both
tumbled down, falling leaf like, spiraling, in tandem, parachuting to the ground.

Morlson still had both hands into her face and she was moaning in pain. She stumbled blindly toward her bathroom door and disappeared.

Rider landed on his back with me on top of him. He let out an
oof!
at the point of impact. His legs splayed open, unlocking me from his grip. Rider's head arched backwards in a horrid angle.

"Rider!" I screamed. "Rider!" He couldn't respond. The spray had him frozen solid. Plus, him landing so hard and with me on top of him like that, well, he looked as though the fall had killed him. A needle tip sized tear bled from my four eyes.

Just then, a cranking sound from a tap opening let me know Morlson was splashing water into her eyes. The sound also jarred me from the moment. I couldn't help Rider. Not now. Not any longer.

I could only save myself.

I traversed underneath the bed again, back the other way toward the window where Delilah sat still washing her face. She looked enrapt. Even as I screamed her name. What, with the noise from the water and the whooshing wind outside, pussy couldn't have heard the ever-identifiable
peep peep peep
of even a mouse!

Clambering toward the window felt like crossing the Sahara desert in anti-gravity boots.

Another crank of the faucet and the water stopped.

"I'm gonna
crush
you!" Morlson bounded out of the bathroom wearing the biggest set of hot-pink bunny slippers I'd ever seen. She intended the worst kind of death for me.

Death by bunny slipper.

The intake of my breath was overlapping the exhaling of it, which made my head spin a little and I had to slow down or my lungs felt like they would explode.

Morlson ran to the corner where we'd fallen.

"
What!?
" She belched in anger. She turned in a circle one way, then in a circle the other way. Where she stood, I was 100% certain she had stepped on poor, poor Rider. It was over for him.

Oh the wickedness! Oh the pain!

Oh these tangled webs we weave...

My delay fed my sapped state with enough renewed energy I was now able to reach the wall, to the window's opening, enough of an opening for a human's pinky finger to poke through. I took off!

Now. Morlson must have some pretty fantastic vision because as soon as I ran, her head wrenched in my direction.

"You!" She belched out another single-syllable vexation making me freeze in my spot.

From my carpet-level vantage point, all I could see were two pink fuzzy bunny faces pointing their puffy little white button noses in my direction. Their eyes were made of clear plastic holding inside a set of black discs inside that moved when Morlson moved and came to an eerie stop when Morlson stopped.

And, now, the bunnies were staring right at me!

"Argh!"

At the same second, we both moved. Me for the window. The bunnies toward the foot of the bed.

When I reached the wall, the bunnies turned the corner of the bed.

When I climbed to the casement, the bunnies made it to the other corner of the bed.

A
nd, when I reached the crack
in-between the window and the sill, Morlson's hands grabbed the top of the window and pulled it down with such force the pulley strapping inside the casement snapped and ricocheted out with an incredibly loud
SPROING!
The detached end went flinging like the tail of a loose electrical wire!

FORTY NINE - Can I Take That Back?

"No, Gramma. Mom's not home from work yet." I hated lying to my Gramma Jean.

Mom's eyes plated open like the tender box dogs from
Aesop's Fables
and she shook her head violently, waving her hands in front of her face, like a pedestrian trying to get the attention of a car heading directly at her.

It had been ten months since we'd seen Gramma Jean. She stayed for nearly a month with us after dad's funeral--the anniversary of which was approaching like a Formula One racer, head on, toward me.

"I will, Gramma." pause, pause, "I promise." pause "No. Gramma. Jeez." pause, pause, roll eyes, "I won't forget to tell her. Yep. Bye." Click.

"That was a close one." Mom let out air like a fizzling balloon.

"She just misses dad."

"I know."

"Like me."

"Oh, honey. I know." She pulled me into her chest and squeezed my head so tight it nearly broke my ear off.

"Gah. Mom. My head!" When I pulled away I looked up to her face. "Pretend it's a chicken egg, un-boiled, it can crack if you squeeze it too hard."

"Yes. Dear."

"You need to call her someday. Or. Like. What? Are you afraid you'll slip about your new boyfriend."