He walked down. His father was waiting for him on the landing. He grabbed Bobbys arm and escorted him into the dining room. Mom, Breezy, and Luke all stared at him.
"What is the meaning of this?" Dad asked, pointing at the bowl of olives. The top layer of olives was gone now; all you could see were the pig eyes. Staring up.
Bobby shrugged.
"Do those belong to you?" Dad asked. "Where did you get them?"
"They're pig eyes," Bobby said. "From my science teacher."
"What on earth are they doing in with the olives?" he demanded.
"I, uh, I, I..." Bobby stammered. What could he say?
"Eye is about right!" Luke said, starting to laugh.
That cracked the tension a tiny bit. Breezy looked at Luke, smiling uncertainly.
"It was, like, a practical joke," Bobby said, shrugging.
"Don't you have something to say?" Mom asked.
"Sorry?" Bobby offered, more of a question than anything else.
"Please, Bobby," Mom hissed. "Take those ... things ... out of here so we can eat!"
Bobby brought the bowl into the kitchen. He fished out the eyeballs and put them into a Ziploc plastic bag. Mom came in to get the pepper mill.
"I don't know what's gotten into you," she whispered tersely, "but I don't want any more nonsense. Right now I want you to wash your hands and come to dinner."
By the time Bobby returned, everyone had sat down. He took the last remaining seat next to Luke.
"Does this happen to all your guests?" Luke asked Breezy in a teasing voice.
"Told you I had a happy, normal family," Breezy replied with a big forced smile.
"Well," Mom said. "Shall we eat?"
"I vote aye!" Luke said with a short laugh. "And I think we'd have to agree that on this vote, the eyes have it!"
Breezy stared at Bobby and mouthed the words, I'm gonna kill you.
Nine
October 9
Got my newsletter today from the Tarantula Society of America. The big story was about some guy arrested for smuggling tarantulas from Mexico. They caught him with 600 spiders he bought for 3 dollars each in Mexico. He planned to sell them in the U.S. for 45 dollars each. They found the tarantulas all crowded together. Most of them were dehydrated. Some were missing legs. Some were dead.
People who would try to make a profit on endangered animals are about the lowest scum on earth. This idiot could get up to 25 years in jail and fines of over a million dollars. That's not enough, if you ask me.
Maybe someday I'll work for the government, helping to enforce the Endangered Species Act.
Mr. Niezgocki liked my spider journal. He's the first person I ever let read it. He wants me to put more stuff in about me. That doesn't sound very scientific, but I told him I'd think about it.
Took some pictures of Monk today. I'll take some pix of Thelma in school and send them to Mike and the guys.
Monk's an AWESOME tarantula. I wish Thelma had some of Monk's spunk. A couple of days ago I brought him downstairs. I put on the rubber gloves and sat with him on the floor but he jumped out of my hands and started running away. It was hilarious—he was running toward the living room and tried to swerve left around a corner, but his feet couldn't get any traction on the waxed floors. He slid about five feet. I could not stop laughing. Then Mom came in and told me to take him back upstairs before Brianna saw him and had a conniption.
One thing I notice about Brianna—she's a joiner. She got a lead part in West Side Story. She's hoping to join the Glee Club. She's going out for cheerleader. She's always doing stuff with her boyfriend. She cant be alone. Shes got to be with people every moment of her life.
Not me.
Spiders don't need to be busy every moment of the day. Spiders are patient. Most of their life is spent waiting.
Many insects and other animals have to band together for protection: bees, ants, ducks, chickens, cows, and sheep. Herd animals can't think or stand up for themselves. They can't survive unless they're part of a group.
A spider doesn't waste time worrying about cooperating or working together. Alone, he spins his web at dawn. Alone, he sends up a silky sail and lets the wind send him off to some unknown world. No need for anybody else. No need to depend on the herd for food or protection. Spiders are loners. They survive through their own strength, their own skill, their own guts.
Sounds good to me.
On Saturday Butch Fostick called and asked if Bobby wanted to go to the mall. Reluctantly he agreed. He didn't much like malls or shopping but he had nothing better to do.
Bobby was surprised to see the mall crowded on such a nice fall day. In Naperville on a day like this he and Mike and the guys would play football at Mikes house. He and Mike always ended up on the same team. Mike was skinny but he had a great arm. Mike played quarterback; Bobby played wide receiver.
"Go long," Mike would tell him. "I'll get the ball to you."
Bobby would sprint down the field and look up. Like magic the ball would be there, spinning, hanging like a ripe piece of fruit. All he had to do was reach up and pluck it from the sky. He wondered, What lucky kid is catching one of Mikes perfect passes right now?
"I want to go to the Hobby Shop," Butch said. "Need a new chess clock."
"Hey, you like football?" Bobby asked.
Butch shrugged. "Football's a lot like chess. Every player has certain things they can and can't do. Everybody has to work together to help the team."
"So you like it?"
"Hate it," Butch admitted. "Why would a little guy like me like getting stomped on by a bunch of gorillas? I go for games where strategy is more important than muscle. You ought to let me teach you how to play chess."
"I like contact sports," Bobby said. "Like football."
"If you don't think chess is a contact sport," Butch said, "you dont know the first thing about it."
Inside the Hobby Shop there was a large sign that read:
THIS STORE USES ADVANCED
ELECTRONIC SURVEILLANCE.
ALL SHOPLIFTERS WILL BE
PROSECUTED TO THE FULLEST
EXTENT OF THE LAW.
"No honor system around here," Butch said, pointing at the sign.
"Huh?"
"The new honor system," Butch said. "They're starting it at school next week, and it's going to be real weird. Teachers can walk out of the room during a test. It'll be up to us kids to squeal if we see anybody cheating. I think it's a bad idea. I've got a theory about stuff like this. You want to hear it?"
"Do I have a choice?"
"My theory is people are basically evil," Butch said. "If people can cheat and get away with it, they will. The new honor system will last about three weeks. Remember, you heard it from me first."
They cruised through three more stores: Record World, Book-O-Rama, and Pets Galore (no tarantulas). Then they each bought a couple slices of pizza at the food court before Butch called his mother to come pick them up.
Back home the house seemed even quieter than before. Dad, Mom, and Breezy had gone to see a play and wouldn't be back until supper. Bobby wrote three short letters to Mike, Cody, and Chad. Then he lay on his bed, pitching his football up into the air. At 3:30 he flipped out of bed and picked up the phone. He dialed Mikes number and let the phone ring fifteen times before he finally hung up.
At around four o'clock he went downstairs and plopped down in front of the TV. He started watching a football game and reading a magazine article ("Lies People Believe About Spiders") all at the same time. The house stayed quiet as a morgue. A little later he went upstairs to check on Monk, who was resting quietly in his burrow after gorging himself on another live cricket.
At five o'clock Bobby took out his math folder and started studying for Monday's test. There were eight ditto pages of algebra problems. He yawned and tried to concentrate. At around five thirty he drifted over to the phone and picked it up. He'd only called Lucky a couple times, so he was surprised to discover he knew her numbe
r by heart.
"Hello?" He recognized Lucky's voice.
"Hi," he said. "It's Bobby."
"Hi." She sounded happy and a little surprised.
"Hi," he said stupidly. How many times would they say it?
"Just got back from a run," Lucky said.
"Yeah?" He tried to picture her, standing in her sweat suit, maybe, with a pink sweatband across her forehead. "I've been studying for the algebra test. They should use this stuff as sleeping pills. Five minutes and I'm, like, falling asleep."
"I know, I studied this morning. Hey, you never told me how dinner with Luke Hall went."
"It was fantastic." Bobby told her the whole story. When he got to the part about putting the pig eyes in with the green olives, Lucky started laughing and couldn't stop.
"Tell me you're making this story up," she managed. "Tell me!"
"No, it's true."
"You wicked thing!" She let out another peal of laughter. "Say, you still nursing that bad mood?"
"Not so much."
"Why don't you come over later? It's gonna be a real clear night."
"Well, yeah, I guess I can. I mean, I don't think I've ever looked through a real telescope before."
"Come at seven thirty if you can. Gets dark by then. Can you get a ride?"
"Yeah," he said. "No problem."
"Bring a jacket. We're going to be outside."
***
"It was nice of Lucky to invite you over," Mom said on the short ride to the Prescotts' house.
"Yeah."
"I'm glad you've found a friend."
"Yeah." He was glad she had not said girlfriend.
"She seems smart and sensible. And I do think she's striking. There it is! Bantam Street. Last house on the left."
She peered through the windshield and pulled the car over to the curb. "This must be the place. Have fun. Call me if you need a ride home, okay?"
Just as Bobby started getting out of the car the front door to the house opened, and none other than Roland Prescott, local TV anchorman, came out. Mom shot out of the car.
"Hello!" the man called. Bobby saw Lucky come out of the house behind him. For a moment everyone was smiling and shaking hands.
"You must be Bobby. And you must be Bobby's mother. I'm Roland Prescott." He had a deep, stirring voice. "My wife is inside. She's had a long day at work."
"You don't have to tell me, I'm a nurse myself," Mom said. "You know, we've seen you on TV. You're wonderful. We watch you all the time."
"Well, thank you," he said. "You're very kind. Won't you come in?"
Please, no, Bobby thought, and for once Mom read the situation right.
"Thank you, but I think I'll pass," she said. "My husband and I are going to enjoy a rare night in the house, all by ourselves. We're going to watch a movie."
"Well, we'll be watching a movie, too," Mr. Prescott said. He rubbed his beard and pointed up at the sky. "There's nothing like it."
"Looks like a perfect night," Mom said. "I'm sure it'll be breathtaking."
That word—breathtaking—sounded funny out there on the Prescotts' driveway. Don't try so hard, Mom. Bobby was relieved when she finally got back into the car and left.
He followed Lucky into the house, where he heard music. At the far end of the living room he saw a woman playing the piano.
"That's Ma," Lucky said. "Ma, this is Bobby. From school."
The woman rose from the piano and extended her hand to him.
"Hello, Bobby," she said. She had a nice smile. "I'm glad to meet you."
"Hi," Bobby said, taking her hand.
"That piece sounded good, Ma," Lucky said. "Really."
"Thanks, Lucky." Mrs. Prescott gave Bobby another smile. "This is the best part of my day."
"Hey, we going to use the telescope or what?"
Bobby turned in the direction of the voice and saw a boy, maybe eight, sitting on the couch and flipping through a pile of books.
"Thats my brother, Sam," Lucky said to Bobby.
"Hi," Bobby said. Just then Mr. Prescott came into the room.
"I think we're just about ready," he said, putting his hand on Mrs. Prescott's shoulder. "Lila, are you going to join us?"
"No, I think I'll stay down here and enjoy this music," Mrs. Prescott replied. "You all have fun."
Everyone else followed Mr. Prescott upstairs and into a large room with a king-size bed. With some embarrassment Bobby realized they were walking through Mr. and Mrs. Prescott's bedroom. Mr. Prescott opened the door so they could all step outside onto a deck.
And there it was: the telescope, sleek and black, pointing skyward like a small cannon.
"I've been wanting one of these for years," Mr. Prescott said, rubbing his hands together. "Gave my family all kinds of hints around my birthday and Father's Day. Nothing. So, finally I went out and bought it myself."
"Dad, can I see first?" Sam asked, jumping on his tiptoes. "I'm gonna look for UFOs."
"Hold your horses," Mr. Prescott told him. He peered through the telescope, adjusting several knobs. "I hear you're interested in science, Bobby. Lucky tells me you know just about everything about spiders."
"I wish," Bobby said. "The more I read, the more I find out how much I don't know."
"That's true about space, too," Mr. Prescott said. "Maybe it's true about everything."
"This is the best night we've had in a while," Lucky said to Bobby. "Last week we had a clear night like this, but there was a big old moon messing everything up."
"What's wrong with the moon?" Bobby asked.
"Nothing," Mr. Prescott said. "But if you want to look farther, at the planets and stars, you won't have much luck because the moonlight is so bright it washes everything else away. There. Have a look, Bobby."
Bobby looked through the eyepiece. Saturn! Saturn like he'd never seen it with rings of green and blue, brilliant bands in distinct shades of emerald green and aqua and sapphire blue. And a black ring in the middle. It stunned him that something so far away could be so clear and sharp.
"There's supposed to be about a thousand different rings around Saturn," Lucky said as he stepped away from the telescope. Sam jumped up to the eyepiece.
"I'm gonna go to Saturn," Sam exclaimed. "Definitely."
"You wouldn't have any place to stand," Lucky said. "It's nothing but gas."
"Wouldn't need to stand," Sam replied. "I'd fly around with my portable power pack. Hey Dad, can you find us a DSO?"
"DSO?" Bobby asked.
"A deep space object," Lucky explained. "Can you find one, Dad?"
"Hang on," Mr. Prescott said after a moment. "Here, Bobby. Feast your eyes on that."
This time Bobby saw a swatch of tiny dots or bubbles, countless bright spots in a swirl of pinks, magentas, indigos.
"That's Andromeda, the closest galaxy to our Milky Way," Mr. Prescott told him. "You're looking at a galaxy with billions of stars, two million light years away."
They took turns looking through the telescope until Sam got bored and went inside. Then the phone rang, and Mr. Prescott left to take the call. For a minute Bobby and Lucky just sat there looking up at the stars.
"So what do spiders do at night?" Lucky finally asked. Bobby shrugged.
"Lots of things. For a spider, nighttime is where the action is. Some repair their webs. Lots go hunting. There are more bugs out at night than during the day."
"Do spiders dream?"
"You ask the strangest questions, you know that?" Lucky had moved next to him, her arm touching his. But when the bedroom door slid open, she quickly moved away from him.
"All right!" Mr. Prescott said, rubbing his hands together. "What should we look for next, Lucky?"
"Whatever," she said. In the darkness Bobby could see that she was smiling at him.
Ten
October 11
Dance, Dance, Dance. Seems like all anybody talks about in school these days is the Seventh Grade Halloween Dance. I walked past Chick Hall in the library ye
sterday and heard him yapping to some girl about it. What's the big deal?
All this talk about the big dance reminds me of something I read in one of my spider books.
In the 1600s, in Italy, doctors believed that people who got bit by a tarantula could catch a disease they called "tarentism." The symptoms of tarentism were pain and swelling, paralysis, vomiting, delirium, palpitations, fainting, "shameless exhibitionism," and depression. People who had tarentism often died.
Supposedly the only way to cure tarentism was for the sick person to dance wildly for hours and hours until that person was covered with sweat.
For a long time scientists argued about tarentism. Was it a real disease or just a hoax? There haven't been any cases reported for many years. But today in Italy women still do a dance called the tarantella.
On Monday night, Bobby went back to Lucky's house. Mr. Prescott had just locked the telescope onto Neptune when the phone in his bedroom began to ring.
"I've been waiting for this call," he said, stepping away from the telescope. "Help yourself. I'm going to be a little while."
After he went inside, Bobby and Lucky took turns looking at Neptune. Then they sat next to each other on the bench.
"Want to play a game?" Lucky asked softly.
"Like what?"
"I don't know. How about Truth or Dare?"
"Huh?" He looked at her.
"Don't tell me you've never played Truth or Dare," she said. "Don't they have that game in Illinois? There's different ways of playing. The simplest way is that I get to ask you a question, anything, and you've got to answer. Even if it's your biggest, baddest secret. Then you get to ask me something."
"I don't know," he said uncertainly.
"C'mon, it's fun," Lucky said.
"All right," he said. "But I go first."
"Okay, shoot."
"Raise your right hand," he ordered. "Do you solemnly swear to tell the truth-the-whole-truth-and-nothing-but-the-truth-so-help-you-God?"
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