Tarantula Toes (4 page)

SEVEN

It was Tuesday.

Miss Hershey was writing on the board. Her back was to the class.

Perfect!

Jason glanced at Abby Hunter.

When she looked at him, he made his fingers wiggle and crawl. Just like a spider. A big one.

Abby shook her head and frowned at him.

Erase boards
, Miss Hershey wrote.
Stacy Henry
.

Stacy grinned, probably because erasing
boards was her favorite job.

“Lucky Stacy,” someone whispered.

Jason stared at Stacy. Then he made his spider-y hand.

Stacy's eyebrows floated up. She looked the other way.

Miss Hershey wrote on the board:
Hamster helper—Jason Birchall
.

Jason sat tall.
Ya-hoo!

Feeding the hamster was the best job. The coolest for a zoo keeper. A zoo-in-his-room keeper!

The class said the pledge.

“I pledge allegiance to the flag,” Jason began. But he was thinking about his tarantula.

He couldn't stop thinking about Pinktoes. He thought so hard, he missed six spelling words. He thought so long, he forgot to feed the hamster.

“What is wrong today?” Shawn Hunter asked at recess.

“Nothing,” Jason said. “Are you
coming to my house after school?”

“To see fake spider?”

“Didn't Abby tell you?” Jason asked.

“Abby not tell me. Jimmy, little brother, tell about pretend spider.” Shawn's eyes nearly closed shut.

“So . . . are you coming?” asked Jason.

“I not believe you,” Shawn said.

Jason shrugged. Nobody did.

He was the coolest, bravest tarantula owner around. And no one believed him!

Then they ran to the soccer field.

After school, Jason stood on his front porch.

He wondered if maybe, just maybe, someone would show up. The sun was in his eyes. So he sat on the step.

What's wrong with me?
he thought.
Why don't my friends believe me?

Across the street, Carly and Dee Dee were cutting out paper dolls.

Abby and Stacy were walking their dogs.

The boys were nowhere to be seen.

Jason waited and waited. He went inside to check the clock.

Next, he went to his room.

Everything was set.

Croaker seemed well-behaved. He sat quietly in his glass home on the dresser. He blinked his eyes at Jason.

Pinktoes was in his tank on the bookcase. He flicked his fangs.

The zoo-room was absolutely perfect.

Jason tiptoed to Pinktoe's tank. “I think everyone's a 'fraidy cat,” he said. “Everyone on Blossom Hill Lane!”

Pinktoes looked like he was snoozing. He didn't budge a single black hair. He was probably dreaming about his next cricket.

Jason went to the living room. He sat on the sofa.

He stayed there till supper.

But no one showed up. Not a single brave kid.

“It's very quiet around here,” his mother said.

Jason got up and helped set the table.

“I was sorta expecting company,” he said. “But no one came.”

“That's strange,” she said. “Don't the Cul-de-sac Kids stick together?”

“What?” Jason said.

His mother repeated the familiar words.

That's it
, Jason thought.
They're sticking together! They think I'm lying . . . again
.

He felt foolish. And very upset.

Just then an idea hit him.

“I'll show them I'm not lying,” he whispered to himself. “I'll take Pinktoes' picture!”

He was going to prove himself.

The Cul-de-sac Kids would have to believe him now.

Then he had another idea.

It was a better-than-good idea.

He would have a spider show. He'd invite all the kids. They could see the picture, then come to his amazing show.

Ya-hoo!

EIGHT

After supper, Jason took a bunch of pictures. He used his dad's instant camera. Then he made invitations. Eight in all. One for every Cul-de-sac Kid. Not counting himself.

He drew a big, black spider on the front, then he wrote the message.

Jason licked each envelope shut.

He thought of all the money he would make.

What a super-cool idea.

Eight kids times seventy-five cents. Six whole bucks!

Six dollars would buy a lot of crickets.

If only he could get the kids to come.

He could hear Dunkum bouncing his basketball. That was the first house. He stuck the invitation and the instant picture of Pinktoes on the front door.

Dunkum glanced his way. “Whatcha got?”

“Something for you.” Jason forced a smile.

“Oh . . . thanks,” Dunkum said. But he was frowning again.

“You didn't show up today,” Jason said.

Dunkum shot a basket. “I know.”

“Well, I thought we had a deal. You know, about not lying?” Jason said.

“I never promised to come.”

“Did too,” Jason said.

Dunkum shook his head. “I said ‘maybe.' ”

Jason shook his head. He wasn't going to push for answers. He'd let the invitation and the picture do their jobs.

“Well . . . see ya,” Jason said. And he left.

At Abby's house, he stuffed four invitations in the screen door. One for each Hunter kid.

Then he went around the block and delivered the rest.

He almost stopped to visit Mr. Tressler. He was the old man at the end of the cul-de-sac.

But Jason was too busy. He had some practicing to do. Lots of it.

The Brave Tarantula Tamer had a cool super-spider. But no amazing act to go with it.

So he hurried home.

First things first. He needed a pair of thin rubber gloves. Something to protect his hands.

He borrowed his mother's kitchen gloves. They were too big. Better than nothing.

Jason dashed to his bedroom. “OK,
Pinktoes, it's you and me,” he said.

Gently, he took off the lid and reached inside.

Very slowly, the tarantula crawled onto his gloved hand.

“Nice and easy,” he whispered.

He had a jumpy stomach. But he had to be brave.

Pinktoes mustn't sense his fear. Not now. Not for their first time together.

“Here you go,” he said softly.

Jason put his left hand next to his right. He held them close together. That way Pinktoes wouldn't fall.

He must NOT fall, because his body was very delicate. Falling could be a deadly thing.

Pinktoes went from one hand to the other.

It tickled. Jason got goose pimples on his goose bumps.

“Cool stuff,” he said, but not too loudly. He didn't want to scare his new zoo friend.

“Can you do it again?” he said.

Jason moved his hand back. He held his breath.

The tarantula kept going.

“Good for you,” Jason said.

He didn't want to tire Pinktoes out. So he put him back in the glass tank.

“We'll practice again tomorrow. OK?”

Pinktoes did not reply. Anyone knows tarantulas don't talk.

Still, Jason waited. He watched his spider climb the cork bark. “We're having a show in two days,” whispered Jason.

Could he pull it off?

Jason tried not to worry. He looked out his bedroom window.

The Hunter kids—Abby, Carly, Shawn, and Jimmy—sat on their front steps. They were looking at his invitations. And the pictures.

Will they come?
he wondered.

Silently, he closed the curtains.

He crossed his fingers and hoped so.

NINE

The next morning, Jason got up before the sun.

He pulled on his mother's kitchen gloves. Time to practice his spider act.

Today he was more sure of himself. Much more.

And things went very well.

Jason decided he was braver now. He would practice without the gloves after breakfast.

His mother wasn't told about it. Nope.

This
was top secret.

Jason made his hands flat and firm. Pinktoes crawled over them.

It tickled just a little. But Jason felt comfortable with his pet.

No gloves. And no bites.

Perfect
.

“We'll practice again right after school,” he said.

And off he went to school, feeling braver than ever.