AFTER THAT, I WENT OUT EACH NIGHT AND SAT ON THE FRONT STEPS TO watch the spider. He sure was ugly looking. I didn’t think I could stand having one as a pet, but if I was going to get me any courage, there didn’t seem to be a way around it. So, two days later, I finally called Frita on the phone and told her she should come over because I’d made up my mind. I was keeping the spider.
Frita couldn’t come over that night because she had a meeting for the Rockford Baptist Peace Warriors. But on Saturday her daddy drove her over in their station wagon and she got out lugging an old fish tank that she’d dug out of her basement.
“Look,” Frita said, showing me the tank as soon as she arrived. She lifted up the lid, then popped it back on again. “Your spider can live in here. It’s perfect.” She picked up the glass jar I was keeping him in and pressed her finger to the side so it looked like she was tickling the spider’s stomach. “You’re going to keep him for good, right?”
I stared at the spider’s awful, ugly eyes.
Frita twirled around in a circle. “It’s working,” she sang. “My super-duper plan is working.”
I wasn’t so sure, but I didn’t have time to press the point because that’s when Pop got home. Pop was working weekends so as to get us some extra money to buy a car. His old truck spattered and coughed as he turned into the driveway.
“Hey there, Frita,” Pop said, climbing out. “Hey, Gabe.” He walked over and kissed the top of my head. He was filthy from head to foot, but I didn’t mind. “What are you two doing?” he asked.
Frita showed him my spider and the new tank. She put a layer of grass in the bottom, then stuck a couple sticks inside.
“Gabe’s going to keep him as a pet,” Frita said. “He’s not scared of spiders anymore because he likes this one.”
Like was an awful strong word.
Pop squinted at the spider. “Is that so?” he asked. “Well, what kind of spider is he?”
Me and Frita shrugged. We hadn’t figured that part out yet.
“What are you feeding him?” Pop asked. “A spider needs food and water to live. And it’s a good thing you’ve got him a nice new tank because that jar is too small to keep a spider that size in.”
Pop sat down on the front step beside me and Frita and held the jar up to get a better look.
“Lee Ann, bring out the guidebook,” he yelled to Momma, who was inside getting hot dogs ready for dinner. Pop had a whole series of guidebooks—one for birds, one for reptiles, and one for insects and spiders. He once said he might’ve gone to school to study stuff like that if he’d been a smart man, but he wasn’t book smart, just hands smart. I thought Pop was just about every ways smart.
Momma brought out the guidebook. Plus, she had a tray full of hot dogs, ketchup, mustard, chili, soda pops, and a big glass of water with ice cubes. She set the tray down where the spider’s jar had been, then she sat on the top step behind Pop and put her chin on his shoulder to get a better look.
“He’s a beauty,” Momma said.
How come even Momma thought this was a good-looking spider?
Pop found a couple pictures in the guidebook that weren’t quite right, then he turned the page and there was our spider staring back at us.
“Argiope aurantia—the yellow garden spider,” Pop read. “Says here, the yellow garden spider is found throughout the United States. The body of the female is three-fourths to one and one-eighth inches across and the body of the male is one-fourth to three-eighths inches across.” Pop surveyed my spider. “I’d say you’ve got a male here. He’s not too big.”
Not too big? This was one gigantic spider, but I didn’t argue.
“The yellow garden spider is diurnal—that means they’re active in the daytime. And they’re carnivorous. That means they eat meat.”
Ha! I knew it.
“People?” I asked.
“Hot dogs?” Frita suggested, but Pop laughed.
“No,” said Pop. “They eat insects—bees, wasps, and grasshoppers.”
Now I was starting to lose my appetite.
I didn’t think I could take any more learning, and Pop must have guessed that, because he closed the guidebook, drank his soda, then started making a little water dish out of his can. He used his pocket knife to cut off the bottom of it. Then he filled that with water from Momma’s drinking glass and put it inside the new tank. He picked up the jar and slid the spider out. The tank already had airholes, but Pop made some of them bigger with his knife.
“There,” he said. “Not a bad home for a spider.”
Momma looked from me to Frita.
“Did you catch this spider for Gabe?” she asked. I knew Momma was thinking about me streaking by in my underwear. I held my breath, hoping she wouldn’t tell Pop.
“I’m glad,” Momma said. “He’ll be a good pet. Fun to watch.” She tapped on the glass tank. “What’s his name?”
Funny how everyone thought a spider should have a name. Fortunately, I’d given this some thought.
“His name’s Jimmy,” I said, and Pop smiled.
“That’s a good name,” he said. “A darn good name.”