In the shimmering city of Neo-Brighton, where buildings stretched tall like giant candy canes and hover-cars zoomed through the air with a vroom-vroom, lived a boy named Aiden. His apartment smelled like warm cinnamon cookies—his grandma’s secret recipe—every time he walked through the door. The walls hummed with a soft zzzzip, like a tiny robot singing a lullaby, and the floor was always cool and smooth under his bare feet, like stepping on a giant mint leaf.

One morning, Aiden’s mom handed him a shiny silver box. "For your bravery badge test," she said, wiggling her eyebrows. "You just need to touch the plastic spider inside." Aiden’s stomach did a little flip-flop, like a pancake on a hot griddle. He peeked inside the box. There it was—a big, wobbly spider with legs that looked like bendy straws. It even had googly eyes that jiggled when he tilted the box. Jiggle-jiggle.

Aiden gulped. The spider wasn’t real, but it sure *looked* real. Its legs were fuzzy, like a caterpillar’s back, and the box smelled like the inside of a new backpack—plasticky and sharp. His fingers trembled as he reached out. Tap. His fingertip barely grazed one of the spider’s legs. Boing! The spider wobbled, and Aiden yanked his hand back so fast he knocked over his glass of juice. Splash! The liquid spread across the table like a blue ocean, and the spider seemed to grin at him from its box.

"I can’t do it," Aiden muttered, his shoulders slumping like a deflated balloon. His best friend, a round little robot named Beep, rolled over and bumped into his leg. Beep’s screen flashed a sad face, and his voice chirped, "Bweep?" (That meant, "Why so glum, chum?") Aiden sighed. "It’s just… what if it *moves*? What if it crawls up my arm?" Beep’s lights flickered, and he sprouted a tiny arm from his side, holding out a lollipop. "Bweeep!" (Translation: "Here. Sugar helps.")

Aiden took the lollipop. It tasted like strawberries and sunshine, and the sticky sweetness made his tongue tingle. He licked his lips and stared at the spider. Maybe… maybe it was just a silly toy. He took a deep breath—the air smelled like rain and metal, the usual Neo-Brighton scent—and reached into the box again. This time, he didn’t just tap the spider. He gave it a little poke. Boing-boing! The spider wobbled, but it didn’t bite. It didn’t even *try* to crawl up his arm. It just… sat there, jiggling.

Aiden giggled. "You’re not so scary," he said. He scooped the spider up in his hand. Its legs tickled his palm like tiny feathers, and its googly eyes wobbled so hard they almost fell off. Plop. One eye rolled onto the table. Beep zoomed over and stuck it back on with a squelch. "Bweep-bweep!" ("Good job, buddy!")

That evening, Aiden’s mom pinned a shiny bravery badge to his shirt. It sparkled like a tiny star, and the metal was cool against his chest. "I knew you could do it," she said, ruffling his hair. Aiden grinned. The apartment smelled like cinnamon cookies again, and the hum of the walls sounded like a victory song. He looked at the spider, now sitting proudly on his nightstand, and gave it a little wave. "Thanks for not being scary," he whispered. The spider’s googly eyes wobbled back at him, as if to say, "No problem, kid."

And with that, Aiden drifted off to sleep, his fingers still tingling from the spider’s tickly legs, his heart as light as a hover-car floating on air.