By Gina Headden
It was when she was ten that Cara first became a spider.
She was up on her toes, pedalling fast down a country lane on a hot, summer’s day, trying to leave behind the anger she felt towards her mother. As she gulped in air, a fly flew into her mouth and found its way to the bottom of her gullet.
The next thing she knew, she was scurrying through the grass. A mouse, a giant, ran in front of her. She lolloped away, her long spindly legs moving as if they didn’t belong to her at all. She hid beneath a rock, where she stayed until, hours later, she grew hungry and her hairy belly began to grumble. She felt herself expanding, pressing against her edges. Just as she thought she must explode, she was once more a girl, dressed in yellow shorts and a red t-shirt, sitting on the ground, beside her fallen bicycle.