Disaster Diaries--Spiders! Read online

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  FOR JACKSON …

  CHAPTER ONE

  Sitting Duck was quiet.

  I mean, really quiet. Like, have you ever heard a mouse play the drums? No? Well, that’s because they’re incredibly quiet. They just can’t get a proper grip on the drumsticks and they only have tiny little arms, so …

  Yep. They’re quiet.

  However, Sitting Duck was even quieter than that. And that was unusual. Because despite Sitting Duck being a boring kind of place, with seriously boring events like the world’s largest stare-into-space competition and the watching-paint-dry Olympics taking place every four weeks, some really unusual things had happened.

  First there were the zombies. You know, dead people with bad skin coming back to gnaw people’s faces in a not-very-friendly way? Then it was the aliens, who were trigger-happy and smelled like a butt blast mixed with a cabbage burp. And then came the evil scientist and the giant robot, both of which made quite a lot of noise. So, without all those things destroying the town, things were pretty quiet, let me tell you.

  Although, things do tend to change quite quickly in Sitting Duck. For instance:

  “Dull, dull, dull!” a voice cried, shattering the quiet. It was as if someone had heard what I was writing and decided to prove me wrong; it sliced the air like a knife through a balloon. And it wasn’t just a voice. If you look closely, you’ll see that the voice was actually attached to a real-life person.

  Hitching up his backpack, Sam Saunders came wandering around the corner. Sam was an all-out good guy and floppy-haired hero champion. Up until recently he’d been saving Sitting Duck from all the noisy threats that came its way and leading the town with his general kick-butt nature in the face of danger. But ever since it got quiet—not so much.

  “Dull is a good thing,” his friend Arty Dorkins said, walking alongside him.

  “Yeah,” said Emmie Lane, his other best pal. “It wasn’t dull recently when we nearly got our heads blown off by a superintelligent robot.” She raised an eyebrow in Arty’s direction.

  “For the love of dogs,” said Arty. “Anyone could have made a maniacal robot bent on destruction. It was an honest mistake!”

  Emmie grumbled under her breath. She was pretty sure that only big-brained Arty could do something as dumb as that. (To be honest—and I like being honest—I’m on her side. Emmie is tough, and I don’t want to argue with her because she will definitely win.)

  Sam remembered how fun it was fighting off the killer robot and sighed. They were on the way to school, and there was definitely nothing to be excited about there. As they made their way through Sitting Duck, the sun shining down and the smell of wet paint drifting through the air from this month’s paint-drying competition, they passed the main square. Sam looked up and sighed again.

  “I want to be more like him,” he said, staring at a statue on top of a tall column.

  “Really?” Emmie asked. “Made of stone and covered in pigeon poo?”

  “Because that can be arranged…,” Arty added.

  “No!” Sam cried. “Don’t you know who that is?”

  He pointed up at the statue. It depicted a man on top of a galloping horse, staring out into the distance. He wore a wide-brimmed hat set at a jaunty angle and had a crooked smile that made him look like he was about to tell a joke. He thrust out a sword with one hand, and in the other he held a duck proudly to his chest.

  “Armitage Caruthers!” Sam gasped. “The greatest Sitting Ducker ever to live. They say he sailed the seven seas looking for a place to call home—fighting pirates, gorillas, mermaids—all so he could create our amazing town!”

  Arty and Emmie looked at each other and frowned.

  “Mermaids?” Emmie asked.

  “Yes! Mermaids are evil.”

  (Just for the record, I can confirm that that’s true. I’ve met one. He stole my lunch money and spent it on tuna. In general, a good rule of thumb is that if it has scales but also talks to you, it’s not friendly.)

  “Anyway,” Sam continued, “the point is, Armitage Caruthers wasn’t afraid of anything. Not. One. Thing. Just like me. And he was always having adventures. When he eventually landed here, he took his trusty duck companion, Albertus, down from his shoulder”—he couldn’t afford a parrot—“and sat him on the ground. And thus, Sitting Duck was born!”

  * * *

  Armitage Caruthers Character Profile

  1.  Born in England in Ye Olde Days (a specific historical time period of about 400 years ago).

  2.  Developed a reputation for adventuring when he single-handedly beat the Loch Ness monster in arm wrestling.

  3.  Showed a flair for piracy early on when he made his brother Barnabus walk the plank for stealing his favorite pair of socks.

  4.  Earned a reputation for disaster in 1666 when he accidentally left his oven on and started a small fire that burned down half of London.

  5.  Left England and traveled the eight seas. (Soon there would only be seven, as Caruthers accidentally pulled the plug on one of them.)

  6.  Was cursed and imprisoned by the Mermaid Queen for impersonating a monkfish, but escaped and set off for the mystical New World.

  7.  Founded Sitting Duck but never did shake the Mermaid Queen’s curse. (I told you they were evil.)

  8.  Died a hero, defending the town against its first catastrophic event—the Great Octopus Invasion of 1675.

  9.  Lives on forever in the hearts and minds of Sitting Duckers.

  * * *

  Sam had become so carried away with his story that his arms were flailing wildly. Arty and Emmie just let him carry on being dramatic—it really was best that way.

  “… So I’m determined to have more fearless adventures,” Sam concluded as they approached the school gates. He’d managed to keep up his speech about Armitage Caruthers all the way there, and Arty and Emmie were actually relieved to see the school building looming up ahead.

  As the three friends piled into the bustling main corridor, Sam’s hero sensors pinged into action, and he thought he was finally going to get his chance for adventure. A strange, gloopy figure peered out from behind one of the lockers. Its eyes bugged out as if on sticks behind thick metal goggles and its hair stuck out in all directions at once, like a spilled plate of spaghetti.

  “Guys, look!” Sam cried. “It’s a zombie! Or, actually, an alien? Or an alien zombie?!”

  “No, it’s neither…,” Emmie began, but it was too late. Sam barreled past her and dodged through the crowd of kids. He yanked a fire extinguisher off the wall and was just about to blast that sucker into next week when …

  “Mr. Saunders, is that you?”

  A suddenly familiar figure pulled off his glasses and looked down his rather long nose at Sam.

  “Oh, Mr. Nerdgoober,” Sam said, gingerly putting down the fire extinguisher. “It’s you.” Thei
r science teacher was often mistaken for some sort of alien creature. (Something to do with the hair and googly eyes … imagine, that!)

  “Of course it’s me,” Mr. Nerdgoober said sternly. “Now come along. Class is about to begin.”

  Sam trudged into the classroom, disappointed he didn’t get to have even a tiny bit of adventure. Arty and Emmie followed him, scurrying over to the back row, where they always sat. In front of them sat Emmie’s nemesis, Phoebe, along with her friend Felicia, who was newly arrived from Silver Spoon Academy just down the road. Their heads were bent close together as they talked excitedly about the upcoming school dance.

  “… And there’ll be, like, boys and makeup and dancing…” Phoebe began, swooshing her hair around as she spoke.

  “… And lights and music and a fog machine,” Felicia continued, her eyes sparkling.

  “And I’ll vomit if I have to hear one more mention of this stupid dance,” Emmie finished. She wasn’t a fan of dances and getting all dressed up and things like that, and she wasn’t afraid to let everyone know. Felicia and Phoebe just rolled their eyes in her direction.

  “That’s enough,” Mr. Nerdgoober snapped, desperately hoping the children would pay attention to him for once. “If you’d care to listen for five minutes, you’d hear that I have a very special announcement.”

  Yeah, right, Sam thought. Unless you’re really a swamp monster from Mars, I don’t want to hear it, pal.…

  “First as you know, this term we’ll be studying insects, arachnids, and all things creepy crawly. It’s going to be oodles of fun! And, to make things even more fun, we’ll be going on an exciting trip to the Sitting Duck Insectarium,” he said.

  A few murmurs of approval went up throughout the class. Sam, however, stayed silent. He lifted his head from the desk, eyes widening and heart beating slightly faster than usual.

  “And second,” Mr. Nerdgoober continued, “I’d like to introduce you to our new class pet, Gerry.”

  The science teacher lifted a sheet covering a rectangular glass tank. In it were some rocks and sand, but also a huge, brown eight-legged monstrosity.

  “It’s an ogre-faced spider,” Mr. Nerdgoober beamed. “Isn’t he great?”

  At this, Sam turned milky white and sweat started dripping from his brow.

  “S-s-s-spi-spi…,” he stuttered. But before he could finish, he slithered down the side of the table and landed with a thud on the cool, hard floor.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Emmie clutched her sides and danced up and down. She let out a belly laugh that sent a sound like a hamster in a washing machine reverberating through the hallway. Believe me when I say, that’s not a fun sound. I still think of Mr. Nibbles every time I do the laundry. Well, not every time—it’s been a while now. But sometimes I think of poor Mr. Nibbles when I do the laundry.

  “Spiders?” she laughed, accidentally spitting out a bit of her lunch and a couple of quarters she’d been hiding behind her teeth for safekeeping. “Not zombies or aliens or evil scientists … it’s spiders you’re scared of? What would Armitage Caruthers say to that?”

  Arty nudged her in the ribs with his pointy elbow. “Quit it, Emmie,” he said, snatching up the quarters and wiping away the gunk on his sleeve.

  “Hey, give those back,” Emmie cried, grabbing at Arty and quickly rehiding the quarters: one in the mound of curly hair on top of her head, the other in her left ear. “I may need them.”

  Sam still looked like he’d seen a ghost. His eyes were puffy like an angry cloud and his hands were jittery like a dancing wombat. Mr. Nerdgoober had tried to send him to the school nurse when he came around, but Sam wasn’t having any of it. As he went to grab some books from his locker, he dropped them all over the floor and slammed his locker shut in annoyance.

  “Even Superman has kryptonite, okay?” he began. “It’s fine, as long as I don’t have to go anywhere near Gerry, or any other sp-sp—”

  “Spider?” Emmie laughed.

  “What? Where?” Sam jumped, sending the books he’d just picked up flying once again. He glared at Emmie.

  Arty cleared his throat and reminded Sam about the bad news. “Lots of people have arachnophobia,” he said. “I’m pretty sure even Spider-Man is not one hundred percent into them. But you do know you’re going to have to go to the Insectarium with the rest of the class tomorrow, right?”

  Sam stood up straight and puffed out his chest and did his best to look unconcerned. “Yes. Of course,” he began, “but, you know, maybe we won’t go. Maybe it will be closed. Or, er, a meteor might hit it. Or maybe it will get swallowed by a sinkhole and all the spiders in the world will die a fiery and horrible death.…”

  Emmie grinned a wicked grin. “Uh-huhh,” she said slowly.

  “Anyway, at least I’m not scared of this,” Sam said, ambling over to a poster on the wall advertising the school dance in four days. Emmie’s face creased and her fists clenched as she looked at the poster. It showed a couple of kids looking way too excited to be the only ones on the dance floor under a glitter ball. Fog drifted across the background, and the kids grinned at each other. If I were the romantic sort, I’d say it looked quite delightful. But I’m not. So, I won’t.

  “I’m not scared of that,” Emmie huffed. “You’d just never ever see me in a dress. I’m not like Phoebe Bowles or that weirdo new girl.”

  At the sound of “new girl,” Arty’s ears pricked up like a cactus. It was really quite a sight; I mean, his ears even looked sharp.

  “About Felicia,” he began, “you don’t think she’ll be going do you?”

  All at once, Arty realized his mistake. Emmie began pretend-waltzing around him, making kissing noises with her lips like a wet seal landing on a damp rock.

  “Mwahhh! Mwahhh! Oh, Felicia, how I love thee…,” she chortled.

  “It’s not like that!” Arty protested. “I just … I was just…”

  “When can we get married?” Emmie joked. “I didn’t know true love until I saw your beautiful face!”

  Arty cheeks went as red as a traffic light, and he began to protest. Luckily for him, the school bell went off like an angry cat and the corridor began filling up with kids jostling in and out, forcing Emmie to abandon her merciless teasing. The three of them were about to head to their next class when Arty realized he’d left his pencil case back in the science lab.

  “Shoot,” he said. “I’ll catch up to you guys.”

  “Sure thing, Romeo,” Emmie called.

  Arty frowned and fought his way through the packed crowd and back to the lab. He couldn’t help thinking about what Emmie had said. I mean, sure, Felicia Forrester had lovely shiny hair and a big smile with all her teeth still intact. She also had two legs, two arms, and as far as he could tell was a functioning human girl with no signs of zombieism or alienness. But that didn’t mean he was in lurrrrrve, right? Well, my friendly readers, let’s see.

  Arty pushed open the heavy lab doors and almost toppled over when he saw who was in the room. It was none other than Felicia Forrester, with her lovely hair and functioning-human-being-ness, crouched over a Bunsen burner and petri dish. Fancy that.

  “Ablughadurf,” he flubbed. “Heloofawah.”

  Felicia looked up from the bench. “Er, hello?” she said.

  “Th-that’s it,” Arty said, coming to his senses. “I knew it was something like that.”

  Arty quickly gathered himself and made his way over, mumbling about having left his pencil case behind. He grabbed it off the desk, wondering what in Sitting Duck Felicia was doing with all that experimenty equipment.

  “Er, I’m Arty by the way,” he said, peering down at a test tube full of neon-blue liquid.

  “I computed that already,” Felicia beamed, giving Arty a warm smile and shaking her lovely hair all around her shoulders. Honestly, it was so shiny it looked like a mirror. She was also so smart that she sounded like she was puking an encyclopedia.

  * * *

  How to Make a Good First Impressi
on

  Do:

  •  Use your mouth to form complex vocal noises called “words.”

  •  Make a banana shape with your teeth and mouth, also known as a “smile.”

  •  Shower person with candy and flowers and, if very desperate, puppies.

  Don’t:

  •  Walk in on your hands, humming the theme song from Jaws.

  •  Do an impression of a Chihuahua on a tightrope to break the ice.

  •  Tell them all about the warty nubbin growing on the end of your big toe.

  * * *

  “What you up to?”

  Felicia turned away from her beakers and flasks and metal rods and flashed a wry smile.

  “I’m just helping Mr. Nerdgoober out,” she said. “We didn’t have much science equipment back at Silver Spoon, so now I want to make up for lost time. I’m developing a growth supplement; it’s going to help keep Gerry the spider in top condition. Here, hand me that beaker.…”

  Felicia continued to explain as Arty leaned over the bench and handed her the bright green powder she requested. Apparently Silver Spoon was all about arts and drama and rainbows, but Felicia wanted to be a scientist and all she cared about were bugs and insects and animals. So, her parents moved her to Sitting Duck. No harm in that, right? I mean, it’s not like a scientist in Sitting Duck has ever caused a problem before.

  Felicia poured the powder into a flask containing sloppy blue goo, and turned up the heat on the Bunsen burner. At first, nothing happened, but then sparks started flying, the mixture turned yellowy-orange, and foam starting gurgling over the top of the flask.

  “By the ghost of Einstein!” Felicia cried, gathering up the liquid in a set of vials, making sure not to miss a drop. “It worked!”

  Arty stared in amazement. “What is that stuff?” he gasped.