Attack of the Spider Bots by Robert West Page B

“Someone’s on the roof!” Beamer exclaimed as he jumped up. He ran out the door, then suddenly reappeared, twisting around to look back in at Scilla. “Bring that stuff with you. We’ll get Ghoulie to go over it with us back at the tree ship.”
    â€œYou got any idea how heavy this thing is?” Scilla yelled after him. But he was already gone. Scilla rolled her eyes, muttering, “Boys talk, girls get things done,” as she carefully folded everything back up.
    A moment later Beamer was outside the station. He spun around to look at the roof just in time to get his breath knocked out. He fell back into a small snowdrift with a football planted on his chest.
    â€œHey, nice catch!” yelled the boy, laughing on the rooftop like a rooster.
    â€œHey, where have you been hiding?” Beamer yelled back at him. “We’ve been looking for you everywhere.”
    â€œYou and Social Services,” he said with a disgruntled look.
    â€œWhy’d you rat me out for?”
    â€œWhaddya mean, rat you out? It’s dangerous being here by yourself in the middle of winter. You could freeze to death or starve or get mugged or — ”
    â€œHey, old Jack can take care of himself. I’ve been doin’ it for a couple years now, ever since my dad died and my mom flipped out on drugs. Come on, throw me the ball,” he ordered.
    The boy — Jack — spoke with a drawl like Scilla but with a little country-western flair. Beamer stood up awkwardly and threw a wobbling pass back to him. “Where’d you get the football, anyway? Steal it?”
    â€œLook here,” he answered with a sudden hard look. “Jack’s no thief. I only take what other folks lose or throw away. You wouldn’t believe what they toss out — especially the rich folk.”
    â€œWhat about my wallet, huh?” Beamer asked with a cocky look. “I didn’t just ‘lose’ it.”
    â€œHey, I was gonna pay ya back. In fact, I’ve got it right here.” He threw what looked like a little ball at Beamer’s feet. “Just consider it a little investment.”
    Beamer picked up the object and discovered that it was a few dollar bills wrapped around a rock and held together by rubber bands.
    That’s when Scilla came running out of the station awkwardly carrying a half-torn paper box that bumped against her body. “Whatcha got?” she asked.
    â€œThe money he stole from me,” said Beamer, pointing at the boy on the roof as he examined the ball of money, “and one dollar more.”
    Scilla turned and shielded her eyes against the bright snow to see him, dropping the box in the process.
    â€œAll right, go long,” Jack yelled at Beamer, waving the football in the air.
    â€œWait, I’m — ” Beamer protested as he started to backpedal.
    â€œNo, the other way,” Jack yelled. “Come on, I said long !”
    Beamer ran, slipping and sliding across the snow and ice. Jack heaved the ball in an almost perfect spiral. Beamer stretched out to catch it and fell onto the ice. Amazingly, especially to himself, he still managed to hold on to the ball as he slid on his belly.
    Jack leaped off the roof like Peter Pan in a wintry Never-Never Land. “Way to go, what’s your face — nice catch!” Jack yelled. He leaped up, cocking his arms like a pro player on TV, or maybe a rooster on Animal Planet.
    Scilla ran over to see if Beamer was all right, but he waved her off. “My name is not what’s your face,” Beamer grumbled after he spit out a mouth full of snow. “It’s Beamer, Beamer MacIntyre.”
    â€œOkay, Beamer,” Jack said agreeably. But then he stopped to think about it. “You sure it’s Beamer? I’ve never heard of anythin’ besides a car called a Beamer.”
    â€œI am not ‘a Beamer,’ just Beamer, and I’ve never heard of anybody who lived