The skinny boy just shrugged and started eating: bologna with mayo on white bread.
"The spider man!" Chick Hall looked over at Bobby, nodding. "Hey pretty cool story you read today. You know a lot about spiders, huh?"
"I got lots of books on them," Bobby admitted. "And I've got a pet tarantula at home. It's like a hobby with me."
"His family's got a spider farm in Illinois," Chick said to his friends.
"Spider boy!" one kid said.
"Yeah, the spider boy from Illinois!" Chick said, slapping the table. One of the kids started to laugh with food in his mouth, which got him choking. Chick stood up and started pounding the boy's back.
"I'm okay, I'm okay!" the boy said. He took a swallow of chocolate milk and gave Bobby an evil grin. "The spider boy from Illinois. Perfecto!"
"Thank you, thank you," Chick said, standing and bowing formally to the right and the left. He started singing to the tune of the Spiderman cartoon on TV:
"Spider boy,
Spider boy,
Spider boy from Illinois..."
The three of them drifted off, singing and roaring with laughter, leaving their lunch trays on the table. The skinny boy looked at Bobby.
"Friends of yours?"
"That one kid is in some of my classes," Bobby said.
"Chick Hall," the boy said, nodding. "He's pretty much a jerk. He works hard at it. And believe me, it takes a lot of practice to be such a pain in the butt. Teachers let him get away with it. I think it has a lot to do with him being on the swim team. I have a theory about teachers and jocks—basically any athlete can get away with murder, especially the good ones. Chick swims a mile every morning. He's ranked number one in the state in the under-thirteen group."
Bobby shrugged.
"His father was an Olympic swimmer. And his big brother, Luke, swims on the high school team. Check out that shirt Chick is wearing?"
Bobby shook his head.
"Take a good look. Yale swim team. Luke Halls an awesome swimmer. We're talking All-American. We're talking full scholarship to Yale. The whole family has webbed feet. And they're all pretty much jerks, the way I hear it." He pointed at his head. "All that swimming tends to make the brain a little soggy That's basically my theory about swimmers."
"Have you got a theory about everything?" Bobby asked.
"Basically," the boy said.
"Is Chick his real name?" Bobby asked. "What kind of name is that?"
"His real name is John," the boy said. "But everyone calls him Chick. He saved a guys life last summer, you know."
"Yeah?" Bobby was interested, despite himself.
"Yeah. This big kid, Ricky Horn, he was swimming at the lake and got a bad cramp and started going down for the count. Chick swam out and dragged him back to shore. Ever since, he's been strutting around like he's Gods gift."
"I've known guys like him," Bobby said, thinking of two conceited guys back in Naperville. Some things don't change no matter where you live.
"In this school," the boy was saying, "about ninety percent of the kids are obnoxious jocks, stuck-up girls, nerds, geeks, or basic jerks."
"And I guess you're in the other ten percent," Bobby said.
"Are you kidding? I'm captain of the chess team. Which pretty much makes me the biggest nerd in the school."
"Oh," Bobby said. They both laughed.
"I'm Butch Fostick," the boy said.
"Bobby Ballenger."
"Nice to meet you. Play chess?"
"Not much," Bobby said.
"Let's do a game," Butch said eagerly "Pawn to king four."
"I give up," said Bobby, throwing up both hands.
"Well play sometime. I can teach you stuff. I know this nasty five-move checkmate. People walk right into it every time. You're from Illinois, huh?"
"Yeah."
"Right. The spider boy from Illinois." Butch shook his head. "You know, that nickname just might stick."
"Yeah."
"Listen," Butch said, picking up his tray. "Whatever you do, don't let Chick Hall get under your skin. He's just testing, you know? Stay cool and pretty soon hell give up and find some other lucky kid to torture."
Bobby nodded.
"You know your watch is wrong," Butch said. "It's an hour off."
Bobby glanced at his watch: 11:58. In Naperville it was two minutes until noon.
"Yeah, you're right," Bobby said, though the voice in his head insisted, Oh no its not.
Four
September 27
Mike sent me a letter with a whole list of cool facts about spiders:
The biggest spiders in the world are the gigantic bird-eating spiders from Guyana in South America. In 1985 they found a spider with a 10 1/2 inch leg span. This sucker had a body that weighed about 4 ounces. Its body was 4 1/2 inches long with fangs 1 inch long!
The smallest spider in the world is the Patu marplesi from Western Samoa. It measures just about the size of a period in a book.
The most common spiders in the world are crab spiders.
The rarest spiders in the world are the trap-door spiders found in Southeast Asia.
Tarantulas live longer than any other spiders in the world. Its not uncommon for females to live for 25 years. Males usually die younger.
The fastest spiders in the world are the African long-legged sun spiders. They need to run fast to eat geckos and other desert lizards. They can run about 10 miles an hour.
The biggest webs are made by the tropical orb weavers (Nephila)—they spin webs up to 18 feet long!
The worlds most poisonous spiders are the wandering spiders (Phoneutria) from Brazil—big spiders that hide in clothes and shoes and can bite furiously when disturbed. Luckily; scientists have an antidote for the poison.
I know Mike got most of these facts from the Guinness Book of World Records, but they were still fun to read. He wanted to know all about New York, and how Thelmas doing. Shes still moping around. Hasn't touched the fresh crickets I bought for her.
Mikes letter made me feel weird. He wrote about going camping and going to Wrigley Field to see the Cubs. Playing football on Saturday, watching a video, riding bikes with Chad. Last Sunday they got 10 kids together at his house for a big game of "killer croquet." He and Matt and Chad all got on the same travel team for soccer. Funny—its not the special things he told me about but the normal stuff that made me homesick.
In homeroom Bobby found a sign in heavy black lettering taped to the top of his desk:
WELCOME TO
SPIDER BOY
FROM ILLINOIS!
Bobby calmly took the sign off his desk and sat down. A minute later Chick Hall came running in.
"Hey Spider Boy!" Chick called from the other side of the room. "How d'ya like that sign, huh?"
Bobby ignored him.
"Yo, Spider Boy!" Chick called again. "Hey scuuuuse me, Spider Boy!"
Bobby forced himself not to turn around.
"Mr. Hall," Miss Terbaldi said. "Please lower your voice."
"But he's Spider Boy from Illinois," Chick said in a smirky, nerdy voice. "That guys wicked awesome cool! I wanna get his autograph! He's, like, a celebrity!"
A few kids laughed; Miss Terbaldi frowned at them. With her bony shoulders bent forward, she really did resemble an old eagle.
"That's quite enough," Miss Terbaldi said.
"But Miss T, his best friends are spiders!" Chick said.
"Enough, Mr. Hall!" Miss Terbaldi stood in front of him. "You have disturbed this class enough for one day. One more outburst and you can spend the day with our assistant principal."
"Good morning, girls and boys." The voice of Mr. Wagner, the principal, came booming over the intercom. On alternate days he began his announcements "boys and girls" and "girls and boys."
"Please listen for the days announcements. In less than two weeks, as you know, we will be trying an experiment with the honor system here at Regina White Middle School. The honor system will put more responsibility on each o
ne of you."
The voice droned on. Nobody in class seemed to be paying attention. Bobby half-tried to listen, but his thoughts kept floating back to Naperville—Mike, Cody, Chad. After Mike's letter he could think of little else. Mike's family had lots of money; he lived in a mansion with a humongous backyard. Every Saturday morning all the guys got together to lay down a regulation-size football field at Mike's house. They used real lime to mark the lines, and afterward they played tackle football. Sometimes twenty kids showed up to play. The games lasted for hours, and everyone always went home with ripped clothes, bruised and happy.
The bell rang; kids jumped up.
"Hope I'm not bugging you, Spider Boy!" Chick Hall called on the way out of the room.
Bobby glanced down at his watch: 7:20 A.M. In Naperville, school hadn't even begun.
In English class Miss Terbaldi gave a lecture about the short story. Conflict and resolution. Characters, plot, setting. But the only setting Bobby could picture was his bedroom on the third floor of their house back in Illinois. In the long crawl space behind his bed he had set up a whole system of boxes for his fossils, arrowheads, crystals, and baseball cards. The room had two windows that overlooked a patch of woods. On certain nights the moon rose over those woods and threw slanted arrows of silver light into his room.
In science, there was an assignment written on the board, SHORT ORAL PRESENTATION.
"You're going to choose a topic of interest to you," Mr. Niezgocki explained. "This is not a big deal. These will be short, five to ten minutes, maximum." He underlined the word short on the board. "These will be due next Monday. Next week well spend time in class listening to the presentations."
"Can we work with a friend?" a boy asked.
"Let me finish," Mr. Niezgocki said. "Yes, you will do your reports with one person. Please get together with a partner."
There was a wild scramble as everyone started pairing up. Bobby sat watching.
"Need a partner, Mr. Ballenger?"
Bobby looked up and saw Mr. Niezgocki smiling down at him. A tall girl stood beside him.
"Do I?" Bobby asked, shrugging.
"You do," Mr. Niezgocki said. "And by coincidence, Lucky also needs one. Bobby, this is Lucky. It turns out you are both new to the school. Why don't you work together?"
"Okay," the girl said in a low voice. She didn't seem thrilled about it.
"Yeah, all right," Bobby mumbled. The voice in his head said, Just my luck.
***
After class Bobby pressed into the mass of students heading for their lockers. And home.
"There he is!"
He looked up. Chick Hall.
"Spider Boy from Illinois!" Chick said, grinning. "I cant believe I'm actually talking to him! Can I have your autograph? Please?"
Bobby walked up to him. He took out a piece of paper and scribbled his name on it.
"Here," he said, handing it to Chick. "My name is Bobby Ballenger. In case you're interested. B-O-B-B—"
"Mr. Ballenger!"
They looked up. Mr. Niezgocki. He took Bobby by the arm and led him away while Chick Hall madly waved after him.
"I'd like to speak to you for a moment. Here."
He led Bobby through an unmarked door and shut it. Inside, the only sound came from two aquariums bubbling along one wall. Bobby counted five terrariums on the other side of the room. There was also a mass of green plants under bright lights.
"Hope you didn't mind me pairing you up with a stranger today," Mr. Niezgocki said.
"I don't know anybody in this school," Bobby said with a shrug.
"Did you two pick a topic yet? For your report?"
"Not yet." He shuffled his feet.
"Just don't leave it until the last minute," Mr. Niezgocki said, leaning back against one counter. He was a tall man, much taller than Dad, with a deeper voice. He had reddish hair and glasses. "Say, that was some essay you wrote Friday about your father's silk farm."
"Thanks," Bobby said quietly. He turned to watch two fish—black angels—chasing each other in one of the aquariums.
"You sound like quite an expert."
"I know stuff about spiders," Bobby said. "Its kind of like a hobby with me."
"Really." Mr. Niezgocki nodded and crossed his arms.
"Yeah, well, I have a tarantula at home. A pet. And I've read a bunch of books about spiders."
"Spiders are fascinating," Mr. Niezgocki said. "I've done some reading on them myself. Some of their survival mechanisms are ingenious."
"I keep a journal," Bobby said. "Like a science journal about spiders."
"A spider journal. That's interesting. I'd love to read it."
Bobby blinked. He had never imagined letting anyone read the journal.
"Well, parts of it are sort of personal."
"I see," Mr. Niezgocki said. "Well, you could just show me the scientific parts. Say, I haven't shown you around my office, have I? Let me give you the tour. These aquariums are for tropical fish. Last year I bred Siamese fighting fish in this one, and I'm hoping to do it again this year. The conditions have to be exactly right—pH, water hardness, temperature, salinity, everything. You know how it happens? The male makes a bubble nest in one corner of the tank. When the time's right, he wraps himself around the female, squeezes the eggs out of her, and blows them into the nest. Its the male who tends the eggs."
Bobby leaned down to peer inside a terrarium; a green lizard glared back at him.
"I'm pretty interested in tarantulas myself, but we don't have any here yet, unfortunately," Mr. Niezgocki said. "That lizard you're looking at is a gecko. I'm planning to get a snake or two as well."
He rubbed his chin.
"You know, I could use someone to help take care of this lab after school. Feeding, cleaning cages, putting stuff away. Do you have any interest in a job?"
"I don't know," Bobby said.
"I'm thinking of maybe three hours a week. The hours would be pretty flexible. I'd pay you, of course. We could work out a fair hourly wage."
Bobby looked down into the empty aquarium.
"You could even bring your tarantula in here if you'd like," Mr. Niezgocki said.
"Really?"
"Sure. That way you could see her during the day." He glanced at his watch. "Think about it. We can talk more tomorrow."
Five
September 28
Spiders lie. Well, not exactly lie. But some spiders change what seems to be true by pretending to be something they're not. And isn't that what lying is all about?
They do it through camouflage. Some spiders can change to look like the bark of a tree. This makes them invisible to birds and other predators.
There is one spider that imitates an ant. Other ants don't get scared when the disguised spider comes near. When it gets close enough, it pounces.
A certain kind of crab spider can make itself look like the stamen on the inside of a flower. A bee sees it, flies in and—WHAM! Supper time.
Spiders lie, all right, but there's a good reason for it, the only reason animals do anything: Survival.
Lying was easy. Simple. You could tell people all sorts of fake stories about yourself, but if you told them with a straight face, well, people would believe you. Especially if you had just moved to town from another state, with no way for people to check whether or not you were telling the truth. This was maybe the only advantage to being the new kid in town.
It amazed Bobby how easily everyone swallowed the tall tale about the spider silk farm. Afterward he felt funny about it, the same way he had felt after lying to Mike about all the amazing things Thelma had been doing. It was wrong, and he told himself he had to stop making up stuff like that.
On Tuesday Miss Terbaldi talked to him after English class.
"I've been wanting to welcome you to New Paltz," she told him. "You moved here from Illinois, right? What brought you here?"
"Spiders," he said. Miss Terbaldi looked surprised.
"What do you mean?"
"My dad just took a job as director of the spider department at the Museum of Natural History in New York City. That museum has just about the biggest collection of spiders in the world." Bobby knew that this was true—he had just read an article about it. "Over a million different specimens. Keeping track of them all is a pretty big job. My dad's got a dozen people working for him."
On Wednesday he told the librarian that his father trained dolphins for a living.
"Really!" Mrs. Nederhauser gave him an enormous smile. "You know, I have always dreamed of working with dolphins. Fascinating creatures! So friendly and so intelligent!"
On Thursday during homeroom, Bobby got a call to report to the Guidance Office.
"Uh-oh," Chick snickered. "Disaster for Spider Boy!"
At Guidance, Bobby expected he would meet with Mr. Carney, the advisor who had given him his schedule on the first day of school. Instead, a young woman came out and ushered him into her office. Posters of rock stars and surfers on the wall. The gold nameplate on the desk read JENNIFER DAVENPORT. Miss Davenport had California blond hair and a California tan, to boot. Very pretty. But Bobby didn't trust anybody who looked like they'd just popped out of a fashion magazine. She gave him a huge smile with straight white teeth. Somebody, he thought, must've shelled out megabucks for teeth like that.
"Aren't I supposed to see Mr. Carney?" he asked.
"We've shuffled around some students, so from now on I'll be your guidance counselor," she said. "Hows your year going?"
"Okay" he said. Another lie. Easy.
"Any problem with your class schedule?" Miss Davenport asked.
"Nope, its fine." Bobby glanced at his watch. Seven forty-eight in Naperville. He pictured Mike at that moment, chowing down on a huge bowl of cornflakes. "Can I go now?"
"Not yet," she said, giving him another high-watt smile. "I wanted to introduce myself to you. I want you to think of me as someone you can talk to. You know, if something's bothering you."
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