cold outsi…ye…yide； I've got the month of May。 I guess
you'd say； what can make me feel this way？ My girls。 Talkin' 'bout my little gir…ur…rls …”
She looks inside the coop and coos； “Hello； Flo！ Good
afternoon； Bonnie！ e on out； punkin！”
The coop wasn't big enough for her to walk in。 It was more like a mini lean…to shack that even
her dog would have trouble crawling in。 Does that
stop Juli Baker？ No。 She gets down on her hands and knees and dives right in。 Chickens
e squawking and flapping out； and pretty soon the
yard's full of birds； and all we can see of Juli is her poop…covered shoes。
That's not all we can hear； though。 She's warbling inside that coop； going； “I don't need
money； no fortune or faaa…ya…yame。 I got all the riches；
baby； anyone can claim。 Well； I guess you'd say； what can make me feel this way？ My
girls。 Talkin' 'bout my little gir…ur…rls； my girls…”
At this point I wasn't checking the chickens out for rubbery red stuff or feathers。 I was looking
at the bottom of Juli Baker's feet； wondering how in
the world a person could be so happy tunneling through a dilapidated chicken coop with
poop stuck all over her shoes。
Garrett got me back on track。 “They're all chickens；” he says。 “Look at 'em。”
I quit checking out Juli's shoes and started checking out birds。 The first thing I did was count
them。 One…two…three…four…five…six。 All accounted for。
After all； how could anyone forget she'd hatched six？ It was the all…time school record —
everyone in the county had heard about that。
But I was not really sure how to ask Garrett about what he had said。 Yeah； they were all
chickens； but what did that mean？ I sure didn't want him
ing down on me again； but it still didn't make sense。 Finally I asked him； “You mean
there's no rooster？”
“Correctomundo。”
“How can you tell？”
He shrugged。 “Roosters strut。”
“Strut。”
“That's right。 And look — none of them have long feathers。 Or very much of that rubbery red
stuff。” He nodded。 “Yeah。 They're definitely all
chickens。”
That night my father got right to the point。 “So； son； mission acplished？” he asked as he
stabbed into a mountain of fettuccine and whirled his
fork around。
I attacked my noodles too and gave him a smile。 “Uhhuh；” I said as I sat up tall to deliver the
news。 “They're all chickens。”
The turning of his fork came to a grinding halt。 “And…？”
I could tell something was wrong； but I didn't know what。 I tried to keep the smile plastered
on my face as I said； “And what？”
……… Page 26………
He rested his fork and stared at me。 “Is that what she said？ ‘They're all chickens’？”
“Uh； not exactly。”
“Then exactly what did she say？”
“Uh … she didn't exactly say anything。”
“Meaning？”
“Meaning I went over there and took a look for myself。” I tried very hard to sound like this was
a major acplishment； but he wasn't buying。
“You didn't ask her？”
“I didn't have to。 Garrett knows a lot about chickens； and we went over there and found out
for ourselves。”
Lyta came back from rinsing the Romano sauce off her seven and a half noodles； then
reached for the salt and scowled at me； saying； “You're
the chicken。”
“Lyta！” my mother said。 “Be nice。”
Lyta stopped shaking the salt。 “Mother； he spied。 You get it？ He went over there and
looked over the fence。 Are you saying you're okay with
that？”
My mom turned to me。 “Bryce？ Is that true？”
Everyone was staring at me now； and I felt like I had to save face。 “What's the big deal？ You
told me to find out about her chickens； and I found
out about her chickens！”
“Brawk…brawk…brawk！” my sister whispered。
My father still wasn't eating。 “And what you found out；” he said； like he was measuring every
word； “was that they're all… chickens。”
“Right。”
He sighed； then took that bite of noodles and chewed it for the longest time。
It felt like I was sinking fast； but I couldn't figure out why。 So I tried to bail out with； “And you
guys can go ahead and eat those eggs； but there's no
way I'm going to touch them； so don't even ask。”
My mother's looking back and forth from my dad to me while she eats her salad； and I can
tell she's waiting for him to address my adventure as a
neighborhood operative。 But since he's not saying anything； she clears her throat and says；
“Why's that？”
“Because there's … well； there's …I don't know how to say this nicely。”
“Just say it；” my father snaps。
“Well； there's； you know； excrement everywhere。”
“Oh； gross！” my sister says； throwing down her fork。
“You mean chicken droppings？” my mother asks。
“Yeah。 There's not even a lawn。 It's all dirt and； uh； you know； chicken turds。 The chickens
walk in it and peck through it and…”
“Oh； gross！” Lyta wails。
“Well； it's true！”
Lyta stands up and says； “You expect me to eat after this？” and stalks out of the room。
“Lyta！ You have to eat something；” my mother calls after her。
“No； I don't！” she shouts back； then a second later she sticks her head back into the dining
room and says； “And don't expect me to eat any of
those eggs either； Mother。 Does the word salmonella mean anything to you？”
Lyta takes off down the hall and my mother says； “Salmonella？” She turns to my father。
“Do you suppose they could have salmonella？”
“I don't know； Patsy。 I'm more concerned that our son is a coward。”
“A coward！ Rick； please。 Bryce is no such thing。 He's a wonderful child who's — ”
“Who's afraid of a girl。”
“Dad； I'm not afraid of her； she just bugs me！”
“Why？”
“You know why！ She bugs you； too。 She's over the top about everything！”
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“Bryce； I asked you to conquer your fear； but all you did was give in to it。 If you were in love
with her； that would be one thing。 Love is something to
be afraid of； but this； this is embarrassing。 So she talks too much； so she's too enthused
about every little thing； so what？ Get in； get your question
answered； and get out。 Stand up to her； for cryin' out loud！”
“Rick …；” my mom was saying； “Rick； calm down。 He did find out what you asked him to — ”
“No； he didn't！”
“What do you mean？”
“He tells me they're all chickens！ Of course they're all chickens！ The question is how many
are hens； and how many are roosters。”
I could almost hear the click in my brain； and man； I felt like a plete doofus。 No wonder
he was disgusted with me。 I was an idiot！ They were
all chickens … du…uh！ Garrett acted like he was some expert on chickens； and he didn't know
diddly…squat！ Why had I listened to him？
But it was too late。 My dad was convinced I was a coward； and to get me over it； he decided
that what I should do was take the carton of eggs
back to the Bakers and tell them we didn't eat eggs； or that we w