The Spider Children (The Warren Brood Book 1)

by Bartholomew Lander

  Dinner was potatoes, green beans, and hamburger. Amanda crowded in with Spinneretta and Chelsea on one end of the table, with the rest of the family wrapping around either side. Aside from the increased volume and excitement from their end of the table, the meal proceeded without incident. It was near the end of this pleasant dinner that one of Spinneretta’s bouts of musical laughter reminded Amanda again of how playful she used to be, filling her with nostalgic amusement. “How long has she been like this?” Amanda said to no one in particular.

  “She’s been elated since she returned from her lectures yesterday,” Mark answered. “Although she did not seem quite so intoxicated before you arrived.”

  Spinneretta propped her head up with her hand. “Hey!” she said, voice thick with feigned indignation. “I haven’t even started on the pudding yet, you know.”

  Amanda couldn’t help but laugh. She’d known Spinneretta longer than anyone outside her family. Before she met that Will kid, she’d been a much bubblier person. When Amanda first met May, she knew at once where Spinneretta had gotten her personality from. But ever since six years ago, the girl had become oddly cynical, somehow different. Seeing Spinneretta like this, even over something as stupid as pudding, warmed her heart. And knowing that it was not caused by a momentary hormonal imbalance was a good sign.

  Amanda licked her lips. She’d been hesitant to deliver the message given her just before she left school, because she’d been certain that telling Spinneretta would break the spell that had come over her. But it seemed that the mood was intent on staying put, at least for the time being. That logically made it the best possible time to break the news to her. Strike while the iron is hot, she told herself, breathing a still-apprehensive sigh.

  “Spins, I almost forgot,” Amanda said, cautious. “You know Neil Mills, right?”

  “No?”

  “He’s that guy on the basketball team that Chelsea’s been talking about for like two weeks.” Chelsea’s expression darkened at the change of topic.

  “Uhh. Still no,” Spinneretta said.

  Amanda had to broach the topic carefully. “Well, whatever. He apparently wanted to talk to you earlier today, but with your suspension and all he couldn’t.”

  Chelsea sighed a sound that was half growl. “He wants to take you to prom.”

  The words caused the whole table to fall silent.

  “Right,” Amanda said, at once unnerved by the quiet. “So he wanted me to ask you on his behalf if you’d go with him.”

  Spinneretta’s heart stopped dead in her chest. Dumb in disbelief, she could only stare at her best friend. Her heart restarted, pumping a volatile mix of horror and fury. Her gaze shot across the table to where Mark sat. Their eyes met. She tried to convey the question on the tip of her tongue, and the smile that broke across his face answered. The mocking told you so self-satisfaction in that smile. Amanda’s stupidity to bring something like that up with everyone else within earshot. Being proven wrong in such a public venue. It all combined into a total collapse of her self-control. All joy in the world died in that moment. Her temper exploded.

  “Fuck you!” Spinneretta yelled across the table. “That does not count. There is absolutely no way that counts!”

  The eruption cracked the awed hush over the table. Everyone stared at her, expelling their individual noises of confusion and uncertainty; everyone except Mark. He just smiled at her. Then, he began to laugh.

  Her face burned, and before she knew it she’d shoved her fist into half-eaten hamburger. “Stop laughing! This isn’t funny, and it doesn’t even count, so just shut up! I want out of the bet! This is bullshit and you know it! Nobody asked me! They have to ask me personally, goddammit!”

  Mark, however, showed no sign of stopping his laughter. Around the table, everyone exchanged mystified glances. May raised her voice to quell Spinneretta’s anger, but her words fell on deaf ears. Arthr asked anyone and everyone what was happening. Kara, maybe in imitation of Mark’s display, began laughing herself.

  Finally, Mark answered. “You got suspended. On your first day back to school. Yet you still lost!” he said between bouts of laughter. “I know not how you did it, but I’m astounded! Never could I have imagined—”

  “It doesn’t count! It doesn’t fucking count, Mark!”

  “It does. The only condition agreed upon was someone asking you. We never ruled out the use of proxies or representatives. It is, as some say, the thought that counts.”

  It was not long before the curtain fell on their once peaceful dinner. Spinneretta and her friends retreated to her room, where she seethed in bitter defeat. “I can’t believe you,” she said to Amanda, pacing between two arbitrary points in space. “Why in God’s name would you even think to say something like that in front of my family? I swear, you have to be the stupidest person in the world to think that—”

  “Spins, chill out a second, will you?” Amanda said, half-reclining against the wall on Spinneretta’s bed. “I wanted to take advantage of your good mood so you wouldn’t flip the shit out about something that doesn’t warrant it.”

  Spinneretta rolled her eyes. “Yeah, good thing that didn’t happen. Did it ever occur to you that you could’ve told me in private? Then I would have at least avoided the embarrassment factor of it happening in front of my family!”

  “Sorry for expecting you to be reasonable,” Amanda said in a disinterested tone. “Besides, how was I supposed to know your cousin was the one you were into?”

  Her spider legs were racked by a cold shiver. “What?”

  Amanda sighed as she pulled a book on UFOs out of her bag. “I want out of the bet, I want out of the bet,” she said in imitation.

  Spinneretta caught her mistake too late. Oh, God. What have you done, Spins? Why did you tell them that you liked someone? Why did you even mention the damned bet? “Okay, look.” She suddenly felt dizzy, and took a deep breath to calm herself down. “I know what you’re thinking, and you’re so completely off that—”

  “You’re into your cousin,” Chelsea said from her seat on the carpet.

  Spinneretta’s shoulders slumped, and her heart began pounding faster. “Okay, maybe. But, before you get any stupid ideas about that, we’re not cousins. We’re ninth cousins, twice removed.”

  It was Chelsea’s turn to roll her eyes. “Umm, that’s still cousins. It has the word cousin in it. And you know what that means—it’s messed the hell up. And what does ninth cousins twice removed mean, anyway?”

  Spinneretta sighed, the taste of defeat heavy in her mouth; it was a dry, metallic taste that even that coveted rice pudding would be unable to erase. “Okay, so what’s a cousin?”

  “Parent’s sibling’s kid, duh,” Chelsea said, the same lick of disgust still clear in her voice.

  Spinneretta gave her head a small shake. “To make it more simple, cousins are two people who share a grandparent. Second cousins are separated one further degree. Instead of sharing a grandparent, they share a great-grandparent. So if your cousin is your father’s brother’s son, your second cousin would be your grandfather’s brother’s grandson. Are you following?”

  “I think so,” Chelsea said, still looking unsure.

  “So ninth cousins means that two people share an eight times great-grandparent. Twice removed means that there’s two generations separating us from that relationship. Meaning he was ninth cousins with my grandfather.”

  “That still ucks me out, Spins,” Chelsea said. “Family is family, and that’s just weird and still probably illegal.”

  “Not even first cousin marriages are illegal in California,” Amanda said flatly, eyes in her book.

  “And we may as well not even be related at all, given how far removed we are.” Spinneretta stared at her hands, hating that she was having this conversation. Getting the thoughts out was a relief in a way, but she still wasn’t sure she wanted them in the first place.

  But Chelsea looked decidedly unconvinced. “But like, illegal or not aren’
t you still going to have fucked up kids? That’s a thing, you know.”

  “Don’t have to worry about that,” Spinneretta answered. “Like I said before, I probably don’t have a chance with him anyways.” She smiled inside as she said that; she doubted that statement more and more as she reflected on the night of their not-date. “Either way, if, and that’s a pretty massive if, it ever comes to that, it would be a non-issue.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Consanguinity,” she said. She was thankful to have had a dry run of this conversation with herself before the inquisition fell upon her. “You remember Mr. Turner’s bio class last year, right?”

  “I had Ms. Rivera, so no.”

  “Right. Okay, well, we did like a third of a unit on some really contrived end-of-the-world scenario. Anyways, the main point was this concept of consanguinity, which is how much genetic material mating individuals share.”

  “What’s your point?”

  “The higher the consanguinity, the higher the probability of genetic defects. A parent and a child have fifty percent consanguinity, because the child gets half of each parents’ chromosomes, right?”

  “Okay,” Amanda said, following with more interest than Chelsea.

  “Now, statistically two siblings will also have around fifty percent consanguinity, because they get different chromosomes from the parents. So, following those two figures, that means that cousins will have twelve point five percent consanguinity. Each separation you add to the relationship will exponentially reduce it. Same thing with adding generations of removal.”

  “Sounds like you’ve done your research,” Amanda said.

  Spinneretta fidgeted. “Yeah, I looked it all up a while ago.”

  “Well, how close are you two with your math, then?” Chelsea asked, her tone a little less judgmental.

  “About two one hundred thousandths of one percent. It’s a miracle we still share a surname after eleven generations.”

  Amanda laughed. “It’ll save you some trouble when you get married.”

  Spinneretta ground her teeth and looked away. “We’re not getting married. Jesus.”

  Chelsea shook her head. “Well, I still think it’s weird, but I guess I can’t argue with science. I guess all I can do is try to be happy for you.”

  “There’s nothing to be happy about,” Spinneretta said. “Because of him, I’m now honor-bound to attend the stupid prom for stupid idiots.” She took a deep breath. “God, I’m such a fucking moron.”

  Amanda smiled at her. “Well, whatever happens happens. I don’t know him well at all, but I’m sure there are worse people you could go with than Neil. So try being just a bit happy again.” Chelsea sent a sidelong glare Amanda’s way as she spoke.

  “I might have to go,” Spinneretta said, “but nobody ever said I had to enjoy it.” She huffed and turned to Chelsea. “Whatever, give me your phone. I might as well call him and tell him personally.”

  Chelsea hesitated. Spinneretta could tell she was bitter about being passed up by the all-star basket-sports player. The girl sluggishly reached into her pocket and drew out her phone. Without a word, she handed it to Spinneretta and fell backward onto the carpet in defeat.

  Spinneretta opened the phone and scrolled down through Chelsea’s sizable address book until she reached the entry labeled Neil <3. She took a deep breath and hit the call button.

  One ring.

  Two rings.

  Three rings.

  A click. “Hey Chels, how’s it goin’?” came a slimy voice that Spinneretta did not recognize.

  She cleared her throat. “Sorry. Not Chels. Guess again.”

  A pause. “Ahh, hey! Spinnerette?”

  “It’s Spinneretta, actually. There’s a whole extra syllable there.”

  “How’s it goin’? Did ya get my note? Man, this is weird, I thought it said it was Chels calling so I just kinda assumed that—”

  “Shut up,” Spinneretta said. “I’m calling you about your stupid prom request.”

  The young man drew in a sharp breath. “Ahh, awesome! I didn’t expect you to call! Didn’t think you’d want to go with me.”

  “Yeah, I don’t. And I’m not.”

  As she said it, Chelsea and Amanda exchanged confused glances. Chelsea’s face lit up in excitement.

  There was a moment of hollow silence on the other end of the phone. “What? What the hell, Spins? Then why did you call me?”

  “Don’t call me Spins. You have to earn that.” She took a deep breath. “And I was calling out of courtesy to let you know that I already have a date.”

  “You do? Who?”

  “You probably know them, but I’m going with Amanda and Chelsea, my gay best friends.”

  The meager silence of the room was plunged into a new dark age of sound. Spinneretta flashed her eyes to her friends. She had to fight back a chuckle when she saw the priceless look of shock plastered across Chelsea’s face.

  Another splinter of silence on the phone. “Wait, Mandy and Chels are gay?”

  “Oh, you didn’t know that?” Spinneretta laughed. “Yeah, they’re totally into chicks only. But don’t tell anyone else I told you that, unless they’re really good at keeping secrets.”

  “Wow, yeah, gotcha. I just . . . I totally thought Chels was into me.”

  “Nope. Chicks only.”

  “Wow, I had no idea.”

  “Anyways, good luck finding a date,” she said.

  “Yeah, thanks, Spins.” He sounded distracted. “Peace out.”

  The line went dead and Spinneretta smiled a broad, mischievous grin. Amanda’s face was twisted in a mask of confusion and anger. She knew as well as Spinneretta did that a rumor like that—which was only a rumor when delivered to someone with no concept of obvious and vengeful lies—would spread faster than smallpox.

  Chelsea, however, wore a look of only short-sighted anger. She glared at Spinneretta, her mouth agape in disbelief. “What the hell is wrong with you? Why would you fucking tell him that I was gay!?”

  She flashed a glare of her own at Chelsea, who fell silent. “Now you listen to me, Chels. It’s because of you two idiots and your gargantuan mouths that I lost the bet in the first place. Since I have no choice but to go, I’m seeing to it that someone pays the price for it. Consider that rumor-seed your down payment.”

  “That’s all well and good,” Amanda said, “but why did you have to make me gay too? I didn’t even do anything!”

  “You were the one who brought it up. Besides, I thought it would be funny.” Spinneretta smiled, joining her friend on the bed and crossing her legs.

  “Jesus, remind me not to mess with you, Spins,” Chelsea said. “You’re a ruiner of reputations.”

  “I prefer to think of myself as a repairer of reputations.”

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Chelsea snapped at her. “And more importantly, how am I supposed to get someone to go with me if I’m fucking gay now?”

  Amanda laughed. “What, are you kidding? Now that you’re a lesbian, you’re a challenge. Everyone will be dying to take you. That’s just how guys work. Isn’t that right?” She flashed a glance in Spinneretta’s direction that screamed play along.

  Flustered by the spotlight, Spinneretta just shrugged. “Y-yeah. That’s the repairer of reputations at work.”

  As the frankly absurd possibility dawned on her, Chelsea began to nod. Over the following minutes, the remnants of her anger would fade into the tranquility of the placid night’s ambiance.

  Despite May’s excitement at the news that her oldest daughter would be attending prom, she was crushed to discover that the dance was scheduled for the seventh of June. She would be unable to fully enjoy her daughter’s attendance, as she’d already promised to accompany Ralph to the genetic clinic in Eugene over that weekend. In order to arrive on time, the two of them would have to leave well before the event’s commencement.

  No one would give this coincidence a second thought until long
after the fact.

  Chapter 24

  The Promenade Looms

  The next day, May took Spinneretta out to buy her prom dress. While the competition was stiff, this would turn out to be the third worst experience of Spinneretta’s life. She decided on the very first dress she saw upon walking into Nelly’s Boutique. She wanted it more than anything in the world, for buying that one would mean she could avoid spending the rest of the morning, afternoon, and evening with her gushing mother. May, however, saw through her ploy and dragged her around to three additional stores before the nightmare ended.

  Spinneretta lost count of how many dresses she was forced to try on. V-necks, open-back affairs, strapless, half-cuts, mermaids, one-shoulders, sequins, some material that looked like feathers but felt like burlap—it all blended into a dizzying maelstrom of fuchsia, gold, and some color called phlox.

  When the day ended, Spinneretta was one dress richer and never wanted to see her mother again. The dress they had ultimately agreed upon was a floor-length midnight blue chiffon gown with an empire bodice, crossing halter and pleated skirt. The dress was comfortable enough and acceptably modest. She may not have been in love with it, but since it was midnight blue she could at least get a lot of mileage out of the this is the midnight of my soul joke. It was still no consolation.

  For the next three nights, Spinneretta did her damnedest to avoid Mark as punishment for winning the bet. It was distressing how lonely she got now when she stayed in her room listening to music or reading. Still, she stubbornly clung to her resentment for as long as she could. Yet it did not take long for that resolve to weaken. Then splinter. And then break.

  That night, when everyone else had gone to bed, she went downstairs to the study. She knocked twice and creaked the door open. As expected, Mark sat in his usual spot, a folder of documents open in his lap.