Page 5 of The Spider Queen
“Why am I supposed to think you’re weird and creepy?”
“I just told you. I’m into spiders.”
“Is that a real spider? Or one you drew from your imagination?”
“It’s a cartwheeling spider that lives in the desert.”
“Cool,” he said, pushing the sketchbook back in my direction. “That would be a sick tattoo.”
I blinked. Maybe I wasn’t the only weird one at the table. “Did you hear what I said?”
“Yeah, you like spiders. That’s awesome. Most girls aren’t into bugs.”
“Spiders aren’t bugs. They’re arachnids.”
“My bad.” He unzipped his backpack. “As fun as this conversation is, I do actually have to study.” He pulled out an organic chem book and flipped it open.
“You’re pre-med?” I asked in surprise.
He looked up at me and winked. “Don’t judge a book by its cover.” He took the pencil from behind his ear and set it on the table. “You have plans tonight?”
“Huh?”
“Plans. It’s a Friday night, remember?”
“Yeah, I have plans.”
“You’re not lying are you, Spider Girl?”
“Don’t call me that,” I hissed. “I have a name.”
“Yeah?” he asked with glee. “What is it?”
“Poppy,” I snapped.
“Poppy, do you have plans tonight?”
“Yes, Pre-Med, I have plans tonight.”
“My name is Hunter,” he replied, blue eyes twinkling. “Thanks for asking.”
I sighed.
“Now, Poppy, please stop trying to engage me in conversation, I’m trying to study.”
I put my ear bud into my ear and focused on my drawing. At first I had a hard time getting back into the groove of my sketch, distracted by the sight of Hunter’s bent blond head. But when it was clear he was actually studying, I lost myself again in the art. Before I knew it, I had completed the drawing of the spider and even whimsically drawn in a desert scene with dunes.
“That looks awesome,” Hunter said.
His voice startled me. My playlist had come to the end, and I’d never put it on repeat, so it was dead silent when he spoke. “Thanks,” I said, leaning back in the chair and stretching my arms over my head. I looked out the library window to see a dark sky. “Crap, what time is it?” I asked, touching the home screen of my phone. It was 7:15. Anita would kill me. I stood up from the table and shoved my belongings into my bag. I yanked the ear buds from my ear. “I have to go.”
“Wait,” Hunter called. “I’ll walk out with you.”
“No, it’s okay, I—”
“It’s dark outside,” he said, gathering his possessions. He hoisted his backpack onto his strong shoulders, and I wondered if he was into sports. He was Anita’s type: cute and blond.
“You don’t have to walk with me,” I said when we got outside of the library, the air cooler. “I have pepper spray.”
