“Who?”
“The spider. This is her web, but I can’t reach it.”
“How do you know it’s hers?”
“’Cause it is,” she said simply, like it wasn’t up for debate. “Did you know webs are stronger than steel?”
“Yep.”
Her eyes narrowed, suspicious. “How come you know?”
“Because I know everything about Spider-Man.”
“He’s not real.”
“He’s still cool. His web’s made of liquid silk and he shoots it at the bad guys.”
“So?” she argued fiercely. “Her web catches food.”
“That’s cool too. But how do you know it’s a girl?”
“’Cause I don’t like boys. They’re mean and dumb.”
“I’m not mean or dumb.”
“You probably are. You just don’t know it.”
I shrugged, strangely fascinated. Even then, she seemed so sure of herself. “Want me to help put her back?”
“If you promise not to hurt her.”
“I promise.”
“You have to pinkie promise or it doesn’t count.”
“Okay.” I unlatched the gate and crossed over.
She stepped down from the ladder and, keeping the spider cupped in her hands, extended her pinkie with a solemn look. Icurled mine around it. Then I carefully took the spider, climbed up, and placed it on the web even though I was pretty sure it could’ve built a new one just fine.
“What’s your name?” I asked as I climbed down.
“Charlotte Webber.”
“For real?” I laughed.
She planted her hands on her hips, ready to throw down. “Why’s that funny?”
“We read a book in class calledCharlotte’s Web. The spider’s name was Charlotte, like you. That’s funny, right?”
“No.” She made a disgusted face. “I don’t wanna be a spider. They eat flies.”
I figured I’d better not tell her the spider dies in the end.
“I like jelly beans,” she said, mood swinging like a pendulum, pulling a handful from her dress pocket. “Want one?”
“Yeah.”
That was the first thread. A skinny little promise looped around pinkies and spider silk. It held us together. Even after years apart, the tension may have pulled, frayed… but the thread hasn’t broken.
