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I’m thirty-one, closing in on thirty-two fast, but sometimes I feel like an old man. Sore back, sore joints, the works.
“What’re you supposed to do, practice writing out your phone number on a paper napkin?”
“Ha ha. That’s not how to find a nice guy, Cole. It’s more complicated than that.”
I stuff a few logs into the stove so we’re ready later, once the sun goes down.
Behind me, she goes on.
“The class includes reading assignments, quizzes, and even essays.”
The end of a split log inches into my view. She’s handing it to me.
I turn to grab it, but before I can get my hand around the thing, she shrieks so loud in my ear that I forget about everything except a desperate need for silence.
It’s like a fire alarm going off inside my skull.
She drops the split log she’s holding out for me. It falls onto my thigh and then tumbles down to the floor.
“Eek, right there!” she shrieks.
“What? The wood?”
What is she freaking out about? Then I see movement. A brown spider, about as big as a penny, skitters across a stretch of slate.
“That thing?” I ask her.
“Yes, that thing!”
It’s nothing but a harmless cellar spider, so I grab the nearest piece of paper I can find and use it to scoop the spider up.
I don’t waste time getting it to the door, mostly because I don’t want her to shriek again and blow my eardrum. Once I fling the little guy out onto the red dirt, I head for the woodpile again.
I grab up more wood and then step toward the door.
Olivia, on her way out, nearly bumps into me.
“What’d you do with it?” she asks, hugging her arms and looking left and right.
“What, that little spider?”
“It won't come back inside, right?”
“Olivia, that thing’s harmless. Don’t worry about it. Can you grab some wood? We might as well have enough for the night inside so that we don’t have to go in and out all night. Every time we open this door, we’re going to let heat out.”
“Hang on,” she quips. “Let’s go back to what just happened. I think we should have a house rule: You’re the one who takes care of spider problems. They give me goosebumps.”
“Okay, we’re making house rules? Here’s one. No shrieking. I feel old enough as it is, I don’t want to go deaf, too.” I rub my ear to make my point.
She brushes past me, heading for the woodpile. I’m about to tell her that six more pieces should cut it when I hear another shriek. What now?
Chapter 7
Olivia
The spider was bad enough. Now there’s an actual dog-sized, furry, hornedthingrunning toward me.
It’s like the lion event, only that happened in broad daylight. Right now, the sun’s down low in the sky, and it’s hard to see against the glare.
