When Stink got home, he was quiet. As quiet as a trapdoor spider waiting to catch a beetle. He slumped like a lump on the couch. Stink was down in the dumps.
“What’s wrong with you, Stinkerbell?” Judy asked. Stink shrugged and dragged himself upstairs.
“Could he be missing that spider?” Mom asked.
“Maybe he has the opposite of arachnophobia,” said Judy. “No-spider-itis.”
Upstairs in his room, Stink put on his spider ring. He turned his Spiderman sleeping bag right side out. He rescued his Big Head Book of Spiders from inside his Shark Attack game. He freed his spider plant from the back of the closet.
He sang “The Itsy-Bitsy Spider” to Toady. Even that did not cheer him up.
Stink took a bath. He read one whole chapter of Charlotte’s Web. But it just wasn’t as much fun without Lula, aka Kiki the Superbad.
“Stink,” called Judy up the stairs. “Come see what Mom and I did. It will cheer you up.” Judy wiggled her toes. “We painted our toenails pink!”
“Actually, mine are called Ballet Slipper Beauty,” said Mom, holding out a foot.
“Mine are called This Little Pinky, whatever that means,” said Judy. “It’s to remind you of the pink-toe tarantula. In case you feel sad or something.”
“Thanks,” said Stink. “That’s funny.”
“I could paint your nails, Stink.” Judy held up a bottle of nail polish. “How about Cherry Berry Bubble Gum? Or Flipped-Out Flamingo?”
“I’m good,” said Stink.
“We could play double spider solitaire,” said Mom.
“Or I could teach you how to dance the tarantella,” said Judy. “It’s a step-hop dance from Italy that makes you look like you’ve been bitten by a spider.”
“Thanks, but I have origami to fold.” He folded a rainbow spider. He folded a two-headed spider. He folded a whole spider family until it was time for dinner.
The next morning, Stink hurried outside. He looked in the tall weeds and all around the yard and up in the old oak tree. But he did not find one creature. Not a house spider. Not a cricket. Not one worm.
Stink stuck his head in the recycling bin. He turned over a tuna-fish can. Not one single escaped South American pink-toe tarantula. Not even a zebra tarantula. Or a plain old curly-hair tarantula. BOR-ing!
When Stink popped up out of the bin, there she was, right smack-dab in the middle of his backyard!
Not Kiki the Tarantula, but Izzy Azumi herself. And she was turning a cartwheel. She looked like she had eight legs!
“Did you bring Kiki over?” Stink asked.
“Hi, Stink,” said Izzy. “Your dad told me you were out here.”
“Did you?” Stink asked again.
“Sorry. I can’t move her or take her outside for a week. Because she molted!” Izzy held up a plastic bag. “I brought you something.”
The something had eight legs. The something had an inside-out middle. The something had no head. But the something looked just like a tarantula.
The something was a skeleton. An exoskeleton of a tarantula. Lula, aka Kiki, had shed her skin!
“Freaky-deaky,” said Stink. “Wait till I show the Web Man. That’s my friend Webster. This is the coolest thing ever. Are you sure I can keep it?”
“I’m sure. It’s to thank you for taking care of Kiki.”
“This is even better than my dried-up baby belly button that Judy took to school for Share and Tell.” Izzy scrunched her nose. Stink cracked up.
Izzy turned another cartwheel. Judy came outside. “Hi, Izzy Azumi! Remember me? Judy Moody? You taught me how to do a cartwheel one time. Watch.” Judy put her hands down flat, kicked her feet in the air and . . . fell on her rear.
“She looks like a Brazilian wandering spider doing a threat dance,” said Stink. “Am I right?” Izzy nodded.
“Did you know the goliath tarantula can eat a hummingbird?” asked Stink.
“Jumping spiders can jump more than fifty times their body length,” said Izzy.
Izzy told Stink all about Kiki molting. And Stink taught Izzy how to sing “The Itsy-Bitsy Spider” in Spanish.
“I liked it better when you were afraid of spiders,” said Judy.
Izzy stayed for dinner. “Did you know there are so many spiders in the world that they could eat all the humans on Earth in one year?” asked Stink.
“Is that true?” asked Judy.
“No lie,” said Stink. “Spiders could eat all of us and still be hungry.”
“The entire spider population on Earth weighs twenty-five million tons,” said Izzy.
“Yeah, that’s almost four hundred seventy-eight Titanics,” said Stink.
“Kids,” said Mom, “can we have one spider-free meal?”
“That means no exoskeletons on the table while we eat,” said Dad.
“For the next twenty minutes,” said Judy, “this is officially a Spider-Free Zone.”
Stink munched on a taco shell. He checked the clock. The big hand hardly seemed to move. Nineteen more minutes to go. “Did you know Izzy has letters after her name? Izzy Azumi, F.D.O.”
“Future Dog Owner,” said Izzy.
“Do you think you’ll get a dog anytime soon?” Judy asked.
“I hope so. Now that Stink rescued my spi—oops, I mean, pet.”
Stink checked the clock again. “Do you think that clock is broken?”
“It works,” said Mom.
“It works,” said Dad.
“For now,” said Stink, “you can be Izzy Azumi, P.T.T.O. Pink-Toe Tarantula Owner!” Izzy beamed, showing off a missing tooth.
Judy shot Stink a sourball look. “What?” said Stink. “I didn’t say spider. I said tarantula.”
“Same-same,” said Judy.
“I only said spider to tell you I didn’t say spider,” Stink explained.
“You said it two more times!” Izzy giggled.
“Twenty minutes feels like three hours,” said Stink.
“It’s hard to believe a few days ago this kid was terrified of spiders,” said Dad.
Mom nodded. “Now he can’t go twenty minutes without talking spiders.”
“Time’s up!” said Stink, bouncing in his chair. “I can’t wait until March fourteenth!”
“Me too!” said Izzy.
“March fourteenth?” said Dad. “National Pi Day?”
“National Bake-a-Pie Day?” asked Mom. “Or is it National Potato Chip Day?”
Judy flipped pages on the wall calendar to March 14. “National Genius Day? Ask a Question Day? Nothing about spiders here. Oh, wait—”
“National Save a Spider Day!” Izzy squealed.
“On March fourteenth, Izzy Azumi and I are going to save a spider.”
“Maybe it will be a dark-footed ant spider,” said Izzy. “A tricky spider that looks like an ant!”
“Maybe it will be a spider species that hasn’t even been discovered yet!”
Just then, Izzy’s dad tooted the horn out front. It was time for her to go.
“Say hi to Kiki for me,” said Stink. “Remember to read her a bedtime story. And don’t forget to sing ‘The Itsy-Bitsy Spider’ to her.”
“Come see Kiki next week.” Izzy waved goodbye. “Remember, Stink, you are always within three feet of a spider.”
Stink sat in the dark, under the Red Spider Nebula at the center of the Milky Way. He felt a shiver. Not a shiver of fear. Not a shiver of cold. A shiver of wonder at the Earth. A shiver of awe at the universe, with its many creatures.
Suddenly Stink felt a little less alone. After all, there were about twenty-one quadrillion spiders in the world. Spiders were all around.
Freaky-deaky!
