by R. McGeddon
“Oh, you know,” Felicia began, “it’s simply the molecular ionized sub-protein of a multitudinous array of benign atoms and radioactive quark compounds bound with the essence of sunshine and two crushed walnuts.”
Arty—the brainiest of all Sitting Duck residents and recent creator of artificial intelligence in the form of CHARLES the robot—stared in confusion.
“It’s just a little growth serum,” Felicia said. “Nothing to worry about.”
“S-sure,” Arty stammered. Although really, the serum was the least of his worries. This girl had everything: shiny hair, all her teeth, and a brain the size of a planet.
Arty was in lurrrrrve.
CHAPTER THREE
The huge bus chugged to a stop, and the doors opened with an angry hiss. There was silence for one beautiful moment—then came the kids, stampeding for the exit.
“Everybody off!” the bus driver cried.
Hordes of children rushed through the narrow gangway and out into the parking lot. Mr. Nerdgoober followed, clutching his clipboard and flapping about like a puzzled pigeon trying to solve a math problem. Ahead of them loomed the Sitting Duck Insectarium, which, despite being full of teeny-tiny insects, was actually quite large. It looked like a giant termite mound made out of fancy steel and glass.
The students assembled outside, and Mr. Nerdgoober hastily took roll just in case someone had fallen out the bus window on the trip. Sadly, he’d lost many students that way. Mr. Nerdgoober straightened when he realized something was wrong.
“Sam?” he called. “Sam Saunders?”
Emmie and Arty looked at each other. They were sure he’d followed them off the bus—but for a horrible moment they thought maybe he’d gone out the window instead.
“Er, we’ll get him,” Emmie said. “Just a minute.”
Emmie and Arty piled back onto the bus and looked around.
“Where is he?” Arty hissed.
They checked behind the seats, but there was no one to be seen.
“Where did he—” Emmie began, but before she could finish a Sam-shaped thing dropped out of the overhead storage compartment and landed on her head. Strangely, the Sam-shaped thing was actually just a backpack and an old blanket someone had shoved up there. But then another Sam-shaped thing fell down as well. This time it was our trusty hero and regular spider scaredy-cat, Sam Saunders. He looked up at Emmie and Arty and an embarrassed grin spread across his face.
“Oh, hello there,” he said. “Funny to see you here. I was just…”
“Just what,” Emmie demanded, “flying a kite? Knitting a sock? Looking for the lost city of Atlantis?”
“Er. The last one?” he suggested hopefully.
“You were hiding, you big wimp,” Emmie replied.
At this Sam perked right up and dusted himself off. “I am not a wimp. I am perfectly capable of getting off this bus and going to the Insectarium.”
Sam, determined to prove Emmie wrong, snatched up his things and trudged off the bus, defiantly making his way toward all the other kids. Unfortunately for Sam, though, just as he approached the building he spotted something outside. It had eight hairy legs and glassy black eyes and a face that said “I’m gonna chew you up and eat you for dinner.”
“Tarantula!” he cried. “We’re all doomed. DOOMED I tell you!”
Arty and Emmie held him back as he tried to dash back onto the bus.
“It’s just a sculpture, Sam,” Arty said. “Chill.”
Sam looked again at the giant arachnid. On second glance, he could see that it was made from metal and wood, and that the shiny black of its eyes was painted on. Sweat dripped from his brow and he didn’t look very chilled, but he did accept that the twelve-foot tarantula towering over them wasn’t about to eat them after all. Still, it was just as well that the tour guide and Insectarium official came out to meet them, and swiftly guided them indoors.
“Welcome, welcome, to Sitting Duck Insectarium!” the man cried as he ushered the children into the main hall. “I’m Professor Stix.”
Sam looked him up and down. If there was ever a genetic hybrid between a creepy crawly and a human, this guy would be the result.
“Today, I’m going to show you the wonders of the bug world. From the six-legged critters that make up the insects to hardy little crustaceans and eight-legged arachnids.”
“Can’t wait,” Sam murmured.
“That’s the spirit, young man. Now follow me!”
Professor Stix bundled everyone down through the glassy atrium and into the dark corridors that housed the insects. He wore a bright white lab coat and carried a walking stick that he thwacked against the ground with every pace. It was like being given a tour by Willy Wonka. (That’s if Willy Wonka had had thousands and thousands of lethal bugs at his disposal, instead of delicious candy and a funny way with words.)
“Now,” Stix began, “let’s start with something exciting!” He rounded a corner and hurried the kids along with him. When everyone was ready, he indulged in a little fanfare, making a funny trumpeting noise with his fist and mouth, before introducing them to the notorious black widow spider.
“Isn’t it something?” he gasped.
Sam peered closer, nervously. Inside the tank was a small-bodied spider with shiny black legs and a bright red spot on its abdomen.
“The red spot warns you that it’s dangerous, see?” Professor Stix said excitedly.
“Oh yeah?” said Emmie. “What happens if it bites you?”
At this, Felicia cut in, desperate to show off her spider knowledge. “It causes swelling, nausea, stomach cramps, and sometimes death,” she said, beaming.
Professor Stix gave her a wide smile and a thumbs-up. He seemed to think death-by-spider wasn’t too bad a way to go.
“That’s very clever, Miss, er—”
“Forrester. Felicia Forrester,” she said. “And I’ve also made this.” She fished out a vial from her backpack and gave him some of the insect food. Professor Stix beamed in delight at having such an attentive student.
“Urgh,” Emmie groaned. “What a show-off, right, Sam? It’s not like he’s going to use it.”
Sam just looked around nervously, eyes darting from left to right, sweat dripping down his brow. He looked like he was in one of Arty’s favorite comics, Spiders from Space, Vol. 17: the Legs of Doom, and he was the unfortunate victim.
Professor Stix quickly moved on to the next exhibit and unveiled to the class the tiny golden orb-weaver spider.
“… and this specimen has some of the stickiest silk known to mankind,” he enthused. “Stickier than a stick stuck to a sock!”
* * *
Spiders in Space
Speaking of Spiders from Space, if you’ve never heard of the Insects in Unusual Places franchise, you really ought to get down to your nearest comic-book store fast. Anyway, here are Arty’s top-three essential horror comics:
• Spiders from Space: In Your Face: Ah, where it all began. Featuring the gas giant guzzler spider from Jupiter, which burst out of its victim’s chest and wreaked havoc on the Starship Supernova until a plucky heroine chopped off its legs with a sword.
• Bees in Your Knees: What’s that buzzing noise? Is it a bird with an alarm clock? An airplane with a faulty engine? Or is it a bee in your knee? Seriously. It might be a bee in your knee. If this comic taught me anything, it’s to check your knees regularly.
• Praying Mantis in the City of Atlantis: This one’s a tearjerker—you just don’t know who to root for. Sadly, since there is no city of Atlantis anymore, I think we all know what happens. That’s right, the praying mantis chops off everyone’s head and sinks the city. It’s fairly upsetting.
* * *
The children didn’t even blink—I mean, really, what kind of attempt at a joke is that? I could do better in my sleep. In fact, one time I told a joke in my dream and I woke up laughing in real life. It was that good. But anyway, I’m getting distracted, which is exactly what happened t
o Professor Stix and the rest of the class. Just as they moved on to the next exhibit, Felicia grabbed Arty’s arm and pulled him back. She hadn’t even noticed Stix’s terrible joke, instead her eyes were wide with amazement.
“What are you doing?” Arty hissed.
“This,” Felicia said sweetly. When she was sure no one was looking, she unlocked the glass box and thrust her arm in. “I need one for an experiment. Help me hold the lid open.”
Now, Arty was a good lad, and he’d never normally be involved in such a terrible thing as stealing. But sometimes when you’re a bit in love, it’s difficult to see straight. Instead, you see left and right and upside down at the same time. So, as you can imagine, things get very confusing.
“Help me!” Felicia gasped as the heavy lid closed itself on her arm. Arty, love-struck and silly, propped it up, and Felicia managed to slither her hand out.
“Gotcha!” she said, bundling the golden orb weaver into a box she’d dug out from her backpack.
Arty’s mind whirred and his stomach flipped a little as he wondered what he’d just done. Felicia didn’t seem to care that she’d just stolen a rare specimen from the Insectarium.
He didn’t have long to worry about it, though—suddenly he heard a scream from up ahead, one that he recognized. They raced to catch up and found Sam tearing around the room. Professor Stix was holding on to a tarantula, encouraging him to do the same.
“But it won’t hurt you, Mr. Saunders,” he said. “They’re very friendly.”
But Sam didn’t listen and tore from the room, straight out the museum’s front door. “Doomed, I tell you … dooooooooomed!”
CHAPTER FOUR
Sam trudged out of the school building the next day and into the yard. Ever since the Insectarium, he’d been in a bad mood. He was supposed to be the hero champion of Sitting Duck, and now he was the boy who was scared of stupid arachnids. Even Lunch Lady Susan with the hairy lip had noticed how miserable he was and heaped an extra pile of boiled turnip on his plate. Obviously, stinky turnip just made things worse.
Arty and Emmie followed him into the yard, talking furiously.
“Sam, wait up,” Emmie cried. “I have an idea. I think I know how to cure you.”
Sam stopped dead in his tracks. “Are you serious?”
“No way,” Arty said. “You can’t cure someone of a phobia, not something like this.”
“Oh yeah?” Emmie snorted. “Wanna bet?”
Arty puffed out his chest defiantly. “Sure! What terms?”
Emmie wrinkled her brow and tried to think of something devilish. I probably would have gone for money or power or maybe asked Arty for a unicorn that shoots candy out of its horn (if anyone could create one, it’d be Arty), but no, not Emmie.
“If you win, I’ll go to the dance. In a dress,” she declared.
Sam and Arty smirked in disbelief. They hadn’t seen Emmie in a dress ever.
“But if I win,” Emmie continued, “it’s you that has to wear the dress.”
Arty rubbed his chin and thought about it for a nanosecond. The possibility of seeing Emmie in a dress was too good to pass up.
“Agreed!” he cried.
Emmie spat on her hand and shoved it out in front of her. Arty reluctantly did the same and shook her slimy hand. The bet was sealed.
“Eww, guys,” Sam began, but Emmie silenced him. She wasn’t going to waste any time proving Arty wrong and curing Sam. Her plan was to try to get Sam used to spiders so he didn’t panic every time he saw one.
She dug around in her backpack, pulled out a plastic box, and held it up toward Sam, who peered at it curiously.
“First, I just want you to take a look,” she said calmly.
Sam peered closer at the plastic box. He could just about make out a shadow darting about inside.
“Is that what I think it is?” he asked warily.
“Yup,” Emmie continued. “See, it’s no problem, right?”
Sam nodded and crept a little closer. Emmie, encouraged, went one step further. She lifted the lid on the plastic box and let Sam see inside. The tiny spider stood still and looked kind of cute. Its big eyes stared up at Sam as he watched it. For a split second, Sam let his guard down and thought that maybe spiders weren’t so bad after all. Maybe this one was like a cartoon version of a spider. Maybe it would sing a song and help him with his chores.
“See,” Emmie said to Arty triumphantly. “Easy peasy!”
“Yeah?” Arty asked. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”
Suddenly, the tiny spider began to move. First, it roamed about the bottom of the box, and then it began crawling all over the sides. Sam became very jittery and flittery, and before they knew it, he was tearing off across the school field.
“Yarhg flabba raddahh,” he screamed as he pushed his way past the kids playing soccer. “Abloog a hurumph.”
Arty rolled his eyes at Emmie, gloating silently.
“Okay,” Emmie sighed, “that didn’t work. But I’m not giving up!” She turned and ran after Sam.
Once Emmie had gone, Arty’s thoughts soon turned to Felicia. She was basically the perfect girl, except she’d gotten him mixed up in stealing a golden orb weaver and he didn’t feel great about that. In fact, it felt as if there was a snake in his stomach, like the time Mrs. Withers from Pets and Jets Animal and Airplane Supplies accidentally ate that boa constrictor. She thought it was a Twizzler and, well, the rest is history. By which I mean she’s dead. Very dead.
* * *
Common Phobias Dos and Don’ts
The Dark:
• Do carry a flashlight with you at all times, even outside in bright daylight, just in case the sun explodes and we’re stuck in perpetual night.
• Don’t enter dark caves, haunted forests, or your older brother’s dingy stink lair of a bedroom.
Heights:
• Do avoid tall buildings, trees, people over ten feet tall, and birds that might swoop you off the ground and dangle you in the air.
• Don’t panic. Heights are not your enemy. It’s hitting the ground with your face that’s the problem.
Sharks:
• Do pat sharks on the head and gently stroke their teeth in a friendly greeting.
• Wait a second … Scratch that.
* * *
Arty decided he was going to confront Felicia, and so he headed where he knew he’d find her: the lab.
He dashed inside—as fast as Arty dashes anywhere—and made his way up to the second-floor classroom, passing Mr. Nerdgoober, who was feeding Gerry the ogre-faced spider a pipette full of Felicia’s magic formula.
“You looking for Ms. Forrester, Arty?” he asked. “She’s just through there.”
Mr. Nerdgoober pointed toward the antechamber next to the classroom, where most of the experiments were carried out. Arty thanked him and made his way in.
He found Felicia in a frenzy. Her lovely hair was wild and her eyes looked like they were going to pop from her head. Even her white, perfect teeth were chattering, and she was whirling around the room like a mini-tornado.
“Arty! I’ve done it!” she cried. “I’ve done it! In your face, Darwin!”
“Done what?” he called. “I wanted to talk to you because—”
“The supplement. The bug food,” she continued, ignoring Arty. “I never thought it would have this effect. I mean, I hoped. I always hoped. But now it’s come to pass! The molecular quark protein bonded with the spider’s natural DNA radiance cells, and it must have been the walnuts and the sunshine that really did it, which is frankly a stroke of genius, because…”
Felicia went on for some time like this. I’m just going to let you imagine it, because it’s all very scientific, and she does like to brag a bit. There’s no need to give this too much book space, you know? Especially once you see what happens next.
“But what does that mean?” Arty asked finally, when Felicia decided she really must take a breath.
&
nbsp; “This!” Felicia said. She moved over to the corner of the room where a sheet draped over what looked like a glass tank. With a flourish, she lifted off the sheet and revealed what she’d been talking about.
“Ta-da!”
In the tank sat Felicia’s golden orb weaver, the very one that she’d stolen. Except now it was different. Very different. It had grown to humongous proportions. Its black-and-yellow legs strained against the glass—which was making cracking noises, by the way—and its body heaved up and down. Felicia had created the biggest spider the world had ever seen. No, maybe even the biggest spider the universe had ever seen (outside of the Spiders from Space comics, obviously).
“I don’t believe it,” Arty gasped. “That’s genius … that’s incredible … that’s…”
“That’s science!” Felicia beamed. “I’m going to be a famous scientist! And rich, probably, because that’s what comes next, right?”
“But wait,” Arty said. “What happens if that thing gets out of there?”
“Oh well, what’s it going to do? Take over the world?”
Arty let out a shaky little laugh. Sitting Duck did have a history of bad things like that happening. It wasn’t completely out of the question. I mean, really, Felicia shouldn’t jinx it like that.
Before he could reply, he heard glass shatter from the room next door, and a terrifying scream rang out.
Arty sighed. The people of Sitting Duck just never learn, do they? he thought. And once more, he prepared himself to meet something terrible.…
CHAPTER FIVE
Arty and Felicia surged out of the lab and into the main classroom.
“Uh-oh,” said Arty, “that’s not good.”
“Not good” was pretty much the understatement of forever. At the other side of the classroom, glass lay strewn across the floor where the tank had shattered; Mr. Nerdgoober was struggling to believe what was in front of him.
