I placed the cage in the middle of the floor. I hadn’t fed Madam Octa since last night. I figured she might not want to perform if she was full of food. Animals can be lazy, just like humans.
I removed the cloth, put the flute in my mouth, turned the key and opened the tiny door to the cage. I stepped back and squatted down low, so she could see me.
Madam Octa did nothing for a while. Then she crept to the door, paused and sniffed the air. She looked too fat to squeeze through the gap, and I began to think I must have overfed her. But somehow she managed to suck her sides in and ease out.
She sat on the carpet in front of the cage, her big round belly throbbing. I thought she might walk around the cage, to check the room out, but she didn’t show the faintest sign of having any interest in the room.
Her eyes were glued to me!
I gulped loudly and tried not to let her sense my fear. It was difficult but I managed not to shake or cry. The flute had slipped a couple of centimetres from my lips while I was watching her but I was still holding it. It was time to start playing, so I pressed it back between my lips and prepared to blow.
That was when she made her move. In one giant leap, she sprang across the room. She flew forward, up into the air, jaws open, fangs ready, hairy legs twitching – straight at my unprotected face!
IF SHE had connected, she would have sunk her fangs into me and I would have died. But luck was on my side, and instead of landing on flesh, she slammed against the end of the flute and went flying off to the side.
She landed in a ball and was dazed for a couple of seconds. Reacting rapidly, aware that my life depended on speed, I stuck the flute between my lips and played like a madman. My mouth was dry but I blew regardless, not daring to lick my lips.
Madam Octa cocked her head when she heard the music. She struggled to her legs and swayed from side to side, as though drunk. I sneaked a quick breath, then started playing a slower tune, which wouldn’t tire my fingers or lungs.
“Hello, Madam Octa,” I said inside my head, shutting my eyes and concentrating. “My name’s Darren Shan. I’ve told you that before but I don’t know if you heard. I’m not even sure if you can hear it now.
“I ’m your new owner. I’m going to treat you real good and feed you loads of insects and meat. But only if you are good and do everything I tell you and don’t attack me again.”
She had stopped swaying and was staring at me. I wasn’t sure if she was listening to my thoughts or planning her next leap.
“I want you to stand on your back legs now,” I told her. “I want you to stand on your two back legs and take a little bow.”
For a few seconds she didn’t respond. I went on playing and thinking, asking her to stand, then commanding her, then begging her. Finally, when I was almost out of breath, she raised herself and stood on her two legs, the way I wanted. Then she took a little bow and relaxed, awaiting my next order.
She was obeying me!
The next order I gave was for her to crawl back into her cage. She did as I bid, and this time I only had to think it once. As soon as she was inside, I closed the door and fell back on my bum, letting the flute fall from my mouth.
The shock I’d got when she jumped at me! My heart was beating so fast, I was afraid it was going to run up my neck and leap out of my mouth! I lay on the floor for ages, staring at the spider, thinking about how close to death I had come.
That should have been warning enough. Any sensible person would have left the door shut and forgot about playing with such a deadly pet. It was too dangerous. What if she hadn’t hit the flute? What if Mum had come home and found me dead on the floor? What if the spider then attacked her or Dad or Annie? Only the world’s dumbest person would run a risk like that again.
Step forward – Darren Shan!
It was crazy, but I couldn’t stop myself. Besides, the way I saw it, there was no point having stolen her if I was going to keep her locked up in a silly old cage.
I was a bit cleverer this time. I unlocked the door but didn’t open it. Instead I played the flute and told her to push it open. She did, and when she came out she seemed as harmless as a kitten and did everything I’d communicated.
I made her do lots of tricks. Made her hop about the room like a kangaroo. Then had her hang from the ceiling and draw pictures with her webs. Next I got her lifting weights (a pen, a box of matches, a marble). After that I told her to sit in one of my remote control cars. I turned it on and it looked like she was driving! I crashed it into a pile of books, but made her jump off at the last moment, so she wasn’t hurt.
I played with her for about an hour and would have happily continued all afternoon, but I heard Mum arriving home and knew she would think it odd if I stayed up in my room all day. The last thing I wanted was her or Dad prying into my private affairs.
So I stuck Madam Octa back in the wardrobe and trotted downstairs, trying to look as natural as possible.
“Were you playing a CD up there?” Mum asked. She had four bags full of clothes and hats, which she and Annie were unpacking on the kitchen table.
“No,” I said.
“I thought I heard music,” she said.
“I was playing a flute,” I told her, trying to sound casual.
She stopped unpacking. “You?” she asked. “Playing a flute?”
“I do know how to play one,” I said. “You taught me when I was five years old, remember?”
“I remember,” she laughed. “I also remember when you were six and told me flutes were for girls. You swore you were never going to look at one again!”
I shrugged as though it was no big thing. “I changed my mind,” I said. “I found a flute on the way home from school yesterday and got to wondering if I could still play.”
“Where did you find it?” she asked.
“On the road.”
“I hope you washed it out before you put it in your mouth. There’s no telling where it might have been.”
“I washed it,” I lied.
“This is a lovely surprise,” she smiled, then ruffled my hair and gave my cheek a big wet kiss.
“Hey! Quit it!” I yelled.
“We’ll make a Mozart out of you yet,” she said. “I can see it now: you playing a piano in a huge concert hall, dressed in a beautiful white suit, your father and I in the front row …”
“Get real, Mum,” I chuckled. “It’s only a flute.”
“From small acorns, oak trees grow,” she said.
“He’s as thick as an oak tree,” Annie giggled.
I stuck my tongue out at her in response.
The next few days were great. I played with Madam Octa whenever I could, feeding her every afternoon (she only needed one meal a day, as long as it was a large one). And I didn’t have to worry about locking my bedroom door because Mum and Dad agreed not to enter when they heard me practising the flute.
I considered telling Annie about Madam Octa but decided to wait a while longer. I was getting on well with the spider but could tell she was still uneasy around me. I wouldn’t bring Annie in until I was sure it was completely safe.
My schoolwork improved during the next week, and so did my goal-scoring. I scored twenty-eight goals between Monday and Friday. Even Mr Dalton was impressed.