“What? Why didn’t you call?” May said.
He held up his cellphone. “Forgot to charge. Would’ve called from the office phone but I couldn’t find time. Barely had time to eat. The new guy may as well be illiterate. Fucking burden is what he is. Spins, I’d put money on you being able to code circles around him.”
Spinneretta shook her head, ignoring the praise. “Yeah, right. I’m terrible and you know it.”
“I had to teach him how to dereference a pointer.”
A laugh turned to a half-cough in her throat. “What? And you guys are paying him?”
“Not for long, if I can help it. Swear to God, I need to get you an internship in our department. Get you some experience beyond the basics, and you’ll be a real lifesaver in crunch time.”
She sighed and looked down at the cold spaghetti on her plate. “Just keep saying that.”
“Well, I’m going to take a shower. Eat without me. Really sorry to keep you all waiting.”
At that, Kara snatched the hunk of meat from her plate and dug her concealed fangs into it, making a high-pitched noise of glee. With a detached nostalgia, Spinneretta watched her sister envenom the meat. She waited until May returned to the table before she began to eat her naked spaghetti.
“Oh,” May called as she sat down. “Ralph? Do you know anything about the records for the Warren family tree?”
There was a brief interlude of silence, wherein Ralph’s footfalls from the hall ceased. “What about them?”
“They’re not in the attic where they should be. You haven’t seen them lately, have you?”
A longer pause drew Spinneretta’s ears right to the source. “No,” Ralph said. “I have no idea. Sorry.” With that, he ascended the stairs, leaving the rest of them to eat in peace.
“So, did you start the grade project?” Chelsea asked the next Monday at lunch. As she set her tray of food on the mesh table and sat down beside Spinneretta, the sunlight from the full-wall windows made her fair skin glow.
“Yep,” Spinneretta replied, prodding the shriveled sausage on her tray with a plastic fork. “I’m about halfway done with it.”
Amanda gave her a surprised look. “Jesus. I thought you were kidding when you said you were going to get started on it.”
She shrugged. “I figured, why the hell not. I was kind of interested in my family history anyways. Not anymore.” The thought just made her more bitter about the missing Warren documents, which her interest had been chiefly concerned with.
“Find any radioactive spiders in there?”
“Nah, Grandpa Parker would be on my dad’s side if he existed.” Spinneretta smiled. “I found an antiquarian, though. Apparently he found some really boring things that nobody in their right mind cared about.”
“That would excite you,” Chelsea said. “You could at least lie about it when you give your presentation so you don’t kill me with boredom.”
Spinneretta smirked at her. “I’m going to talk about pottery shards for forty minutes and there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”
“You wouldn’t dare.” Chelsea’s apparent earnestness caused Amanda to roll her eyes. “And yes, I know you’re kidding, but that doesn’t make it alright to say things like that.”
Amanda chuckled through a bite of her salad. “If Spins gives her presentation on pottery, I’ll do one better and give mine on sand.”
“You’re awful.” Chelsea propped her chin up with her hand and pretended to pout. She glanced off toward a table on the other side of the hall, where Arthr and his track friends were flinging bits of corn at each other.
“How about you guys?” Spinneretta asked. “Don’t suppose you’ve done anything on it.”
Chelsea pulled at her black ponytail, as she often did when distracted. “My family’s boring all the way back to France.”
“Not looking forward to that project,” Amanda said.
Chelsea barely seemed to hear her. “Why’s that?”
“Because of my grandfather?”
Chelsea gasped. “Oh! Right. Sorry.”
“Nothing to be sorry about.” Amanda brushed her wavy auburn bangs out of her eyes. “It’s just annoying having to deal with all the artificial pity whenever someone finds out he was one of the Norwegian Killer’s victims. And I think Mr. Worth would just fail me right then and there if I didn’t mention Grandpa.” She paused. “Not to mention the only question anyone’s gonna ask afterward is hey, Amanda, is it true San Solano is haunted? I mean, obviously you’d be the person to know, in a six degrees of separation kind of way.”
Spinneretta’s smirk returned. “I’m going to ask you that verbatim no matter what you give your presentation on.”
Amanda sighed. She buried her head in her hands, her fingers digging into her hair and along her scalp. “Wish whoever’s in charge of Parson’s Grove these days would just take down that fence. Put an end to all the urban legends. I’m just so sick of people expecting me to know anything about it!”
Chelsea’s gaze drifted away again. “Do you think it’s true the Roswell wreckage ended up there?”
Amanda’s perpetually sleepy-looking eyes flashed with irritation. She looked like she wanted to punch Chelsea in the mouth. “I think it’s a dismantled prison. And the Roswell wreckage ended up at Wright-Patterson.”
Chelsea leveled her gaze at Amanda with an exasperated sigh. “Okay, look. Don’t tell me you really think that’s all San Solano is. There’s gotta be something—”
“Why would I know!? What part of not having a grandpa makes me an authority on abandoned prisons?”
Stirred by laughter, Spinneretta stretched her arms over her head and flexed her cramped spider legs beneath her olive-colored jacket. They couldn’t breathe under the heavy fabric. She planted her elbows on the table and smiled at her bickering friends. She’d met them at a young age when she’d transferred to the Mount Hedera Montessori Academy in Widow’s Creek. They’d been the first kids to overcome their revulsion of the spider-girl, and they’d quickly become fast friends. They were the only people who truly understood her, and that was a fact she would be forever grateful for.
“Oh, Spins,” Chelsea said, breaking away from her squabble. “Amanda and I were going to go to the mall after school. Want to go?”
Spinneretta groaned. “Is this going to be anything like the last time I went shopping with you?”
“Okay, okay, I said I was sorry about that. If I promise not to even look at a swimsuit would you come?”
She thought about it a moment, discarding the bleak memory in good humor. “I guess. Wait, is Chad going?”
Chelsea shuddered. “No. He has soccer practice.”
“Oh, thank God.” She didn’t think she could take any more of Chelsea’s twin brother’s scumbucketry so soon after Arthr’s sleepover back in December. “I don’t really need anything at the mall, though.”
“Oh, who cares?” Chelsea said with a laugh. “It can’t be worse than choking on the grade project.”
“Two hours in the changing room begs to differ.”
“I said I was sorry!”
“My dad said he’d take us after he gets off work,” Amanda said through a bite of corn. “Would it be cool if we picked you up around five-ish?”
Spinneretta considered it a moment. “It’s fine with me, but Mom’ll probably be expecting me to be home for dinner.”
Amanda frowned. “So no sushi?”
She wrinkled her nose. “No sushi. But we should have at least a couple hours since Dad’s been getting home late anyways.”
Chelsea sighed. “You really are no fun.”
Spinneretta answered with a shrug. “Too bad.”
Spinneretta arrived home just after 4:10. The warmth of the new spring made the journey to their secluded home in the sylvan outskirts of Grantwood a recurring test of her resolve. Nestled in the foothills of the Sierra Nevadas, Grantwood was heavily forested, and their neighborhood—if such a word could be used—was built deep i
n the pine groves that hugged the border with Widow’s Creek. Their nearest neighbors were separated from them by a half-mile of woods, and the walk to and from school took the better part of an hour. No sooner had she made it through the front door than she threw her jacket off and freed her spider legs. She cracked her leg-joints, flexing her sub-plate muscles and inviting a euphoric release of restricted blood flow.
Dizzy with relief, she strolled into the kitchen and drew a glass of water that she downed in a single gulp. She refilled the glass, her spider legs shivering from the cold injection into her overheated core. With the glass refilled, she headed back into the living room. Thoughts of homework hung like a specter above her head. The grade project, trigonometry, that stupid poetry unit in English. She didn’t have much time before she’d be leaving again, so there wasn’t much point in getting started. Instead, she dropped her bag and jacket beside the couch and flopped down into its cushions, skillfully keeping her glass of water upright between a pair of appendages. Stretching her arms above her, she set the water upon the end table at her head and let her eyes drift shut.
May arrived home from picking up Kara not long thereafter. The sound of the door opening and her sister’s voice jarred Spinneretta’s mind out of its half-asleep state. “Welcome home,” she said to neither of them in particular, waving her hands and anterior legs in the direction of the door.
“Hey there,” May said with a smile, setting Kara free to scurry up the stairs. “How was school?”
She stretched again. “Fine.”
“Fine? How boring. Are you going to be around for a while?”
“I’m going to the mall with Amanda and Chelsea in a bit.” She eyed the clock. 4:45. What the hell? Felt like I was asleep for at least an hour.
Her mother vanished into the kitchen. “Ahh, alright. Will you be home for dinner this time?”
“Yep. Made sure of that one for you.”
“Good. Have you seen your brother?”
“No. He’s probably bird-watching.”
“Oh, God. Are you serious?” May sighed. “What am I going to do with him?”
Spinneretta hummed. “You could try nailing him in a coffin.”
“No, he’d just break out,” she said in a hopeless tone. She drummed the tile countertop with her keys. “I think I’m going to start giving him a negative allowance until he learns to respect groundings. Want to make some extra money policing him when I’m not around?”
She considered the offer for less than a second. “Nah. Pass.”
May continued tapping her keys in thought. “Figured you’d say that.”
Spinneretta rolled over onto her side and let her eyes fall closed again. The nap had been entirely unsatisfactory. She folded her spider legs around her like a chitin blanket. “What’s for dinner?”
“Meatloaf.”
Spinneretta groaned.
“Well, would you like me to just give you a slab of meat instead? We still have beef.”
Spinneretta shuddered. It felt a lot like being asked if she wanted to drink formula out of a bottle. “No, thanks.”
“Then don’t complain about my meatloaf,” May said with a chuckle.
“Just try and stop me.”
A few minutes later, there was a knock at the front door. Jolted again from her comfort, Spinneretta took another look at the clock. 4:51. They were early. She hadn’t even rebrushed her hair yet. She snatched the brush from her bag and leapt to her feet, checking her phone to make sure she hadn’t dozed through a message of we’re here, get outside, stupid. But her inbox was empty, so she just threw her jacket back on. “That’ll be for me,” she called toward the kitchen. “I’ll call when I’m on the way back. Probably won’t be too long.”
“Have fun. If you see your brother there, tell him that he’s in a lot of trouble.”
Walking toward the door, Spinneretta ran her brush through her hair. Her legs, still extended from beneath her jacket, twitched as she worked out the few lingering kinks. She threw the door open dramatically and made an accusatory gesture with half of her legs. “You’re early!” But she froze, realizing a moment too late that the person at the door was neither Chelsea nor Amanda, nor was it any member of their families.
Waiting on the other side of the door was a young man, somewhere in his early twenties. He was tall—taller than Arthr—with short, shaggy brown hair. He wore a pair of lightly faded jeans and a dark brown T-shirt with no discernible marks or patterns. In one hand he held a duffel bag that looked older than he did. On first glance, there was nothing distinct about him besides the color of his eyes—an odd color somewhere between faded tan and pale amber.
Those eyes. Something about them bothered her. She couldn’t quite figure out what it was, and she didn’t have time to contemplate it. A wave of embarrassment struck her. She quickly drew her exposed spider legs beneath her jacket. But even as she did so, the man didn’t seem to notice the oddity before him. His eyes shone with surprise, but with neither revulsion nor fear. A mild curiosity, but otherwise no reaction stirred those strange, pale irises.
After a moment of awkward silence, the man offered her a smile. He raised his hand in a gesture of greeting as warm as the coming spring. “Well met.”
Chapter 3
Mark
“Forgive me for intruding,” the man at the door said. “But would this be the Warren residence?”
When Spinneretta found herself unable to speak, her mother came to her rescue with a characteristic cheer. “It sure is. I’m May. How can we help you?”
He returned a smile as Spinneretta slunk back inside, still embarrassed. “I came looking for Ralph Warren. Might he be around?”
May shook her head. “I’m afraid he’s at work right now. He’s been getting home pretty late, these days.”
“I see. In that case, I shall return later. Forgive me for—”
“Oh, nonsense!” May said. “Come in! Any friend of Ralph’s is welcome here.”
The man hesitated. “I really do not want to intrude.”
“It’s not intruding, I’m inviting you!”
Spinneretta looked at his face from the safety of the living room couch. He appeared baffled at her mother’s aggressive display of hospitality. What are you doing, Mom? Don’t just invite random people in. After a moment, the man gave a cautious nod and entered at May’s request.
May closed the door and beckoned him toward the couch. “Please, make yourself at home.”
Nervously, Spinneretta watched him from one side of the couch as he took a seat on the other end. His demeanor was aloof, distant. He looked as though he wanted to apologize for even taking a seat.
“So, what’s your name?” May asked, entering the living room with a jubilant step.
“Mark,” he replied.
“Mark. Hmm, don’t think I’ve heard Ralph mention any Marks. Last name?”
He was quiet a moment. “Warren.”
An inexplicable chill worked its way through Spinneretta’s legs. Silence buzzed between her and her mother.
May bubbled with excited laughter. “Warren? You’re related to my husband, then?”
“That is correct.” He seemed quite uncomfortable with the woman’s exuberance.
A wide grin came to May’s face. “That’s great! I didn’t know he had any family left these days.”
He gave a cautious nod. “It would seem he does. Your husband and I are quite far removed, however. It took a long while to find your family here. I didn’t know you even existed until just recently.”
May hummed a note of playful consideration where she stood. “So, what did you want with my husband? Are you planning on staying a while? Did you come to ask for money to get back on your feet? What’s up?”
“No, nothing like that.”
She tilted her head suspiciously. “I noticed you brought your bag.”
“It was a long trip.” He fidgeted. “Perhaps you would like to sit down? You’re making me quite nervous just standing
there.”
“Ahh, right, sorry.” She flopped down on the couch between Mark and Spinneretta, apparently oblivious to her daughter’s unease. She crossed her legs and half-leaned against the backrest. “So, you’re not from around here, then. Where are you from?”
He shifted where he sat, clearly just as uncomfortable as Spinneretta herself was. “I am from the family seat, back East.”
Hearing that, Spinneretta gave a sharp, incredulous laugh that took her malaise with it. She leaned out from behind her mother to address him. “Family seat? Who uses that expression these days? What, are we nobility now?”
May snapped her head around and glared at her. “Spins, that’s not how you speak to a guest.”
Mark blinked, his pale eyes expressionless. “Forgive me, miss, but what was your name?”
She started. Now in the spotlight, she was unable to force a reply. Her mom, however, had no problem answering for her. “Oh, I’m so sorry, where are my manners? This is our oldest daughter, Spinneretta.”
Spinneretta hissed in embarrassment. “Mom!” Hearing her full name spoken aloud was worse than going to the dentist.
“If you do not mind me asking, Miss Spinneretta,” Mark said, not giving a second thought to the monstrosity of a name, “has your father told you much of the Warren family?”
Mouth dry, she just shook her head.
“I see. Suffice it to say, you wouldn’t think the usage of the phrase so odd if he had.” His tone was flat and measured, with barely any hint of inflection. While his voice sounded gentle, Spinneretta couldn’t help but imagine a stronger rebuke beneath it. She shut her mouth, wishing she hadn’t said anything.
May crooned a low note and nodded. “Just as I thought. Not from around here at all. Kind of strange. I don’t think Ralph ever mentioned anything about his family being from the East.” A note of suspicion rang in her voice. “How distantly related are you, exactly?”
Mark drummed his fingers on his knee and looked down in thought. “Well, Ralph’s father, whose name I believe was George, was my ninth cousin.”
The Spider Children (The Warren Brood Book 1) Page 4