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“Thanks。 You are giving me big…time help here； buddy。 I really appreciate it。”
“Look； a rooster's going to be bigger and have brighter feathers。 You know； those long ones
in the back？ They're redder or blacker or whatever。
And don't roosters have some rubbery red stuff growing off the top of their head？ And some
off their neck； too？ Yeah； the rooster's got all sorts of
rubbery red stuff all around its face。”
“So you're saying I'm supposed to look over the fence for big feathers and rubbery red stuff。”
“Well； e to think of it； chickens have that rubbery red stuff； too。 Just not as much of it。”
I rolled my eyes at him and was about to say； Forget it； I'll just ask Juli； but then he says； “I'll
e with you if you want。”
“Seriously？”
“Yeah； dude。 Seriously。”
And that； my friend； is how I wound up spying over the Bakers' back fence with Garrett
Anderson at three…thirty that afternoon。 Not my choice of
covert operations； but a necessary one in order to report back to my dad that night at dinner。
We got there fast； too。 The bell rang and we basically charged off campus because I figured
if we got to the Bakers' quick enough； we could look
and leave before Juli was anywhere near her house。 We didn't even drop off our backpacks。
We went straight down the alley and started spying。
It's not really necessary to look over the Bakers' fence。 You can see almost as well looking
through it。 But Garrett kept sticking his head up； so I
figured I should too； although in the back of my mind I was aware that Garrett didn't have to
live in this neighborhood — I did。
The backyard was a mess。 Big surprise。 The bushes were out of control； there was some
kind of hodgepodge wood…and…wire coop off to one
side； and the yard wasn't grass； it was highly fertilized dirt。
Garrett was the first to notice their dog； sacked out on the patio between two sorry…looking
folding chairs。 He points at him and says； “You think
he's going to give us trouble？”
“We're not going to be here long enough to get in trouble！ Where are those stupid chickens？”
“Probably in the coop；” he says； then picks up a rock and throws it at the mess of plywood
and chicken wire。
At first all we hear is a bunch of feathers flapping； but then one of the birds es fluttering
out。 Not very far； but enough so we can see it's got
feathers and rubbery red stuff。
“So？” I ask him。 “Is that a rooster？”
He shrugs。 “Looks like a chicken to me。”
“How can you tell？”
He shrugs again。 “Just does。”
We watch it scratching at the dirt for a minute； and then I ask； “What's a hen； anyway？”
“A hen？”
“Yeah。 You got roosters； you got chickens； and then there's hens。 What's a hen？”
“It's one of those；” he says； pointing into the Bakers' backyard。
“Then what's a chicken？”
He looks at me like I'm crazy。 “What are you talking about？”
“Chickens！ What's a chicken？”
……… Page 25………
He takes a step back from me and says； “Brycie boy； you are losin' it。 That's a chicken！” He
stoops down to pick up another rock； and he's just
about to let it fly when the sliding…glass door to the back patio opens up and Juli steps
outside。
We both duck。 And as we're checking her out through the fence； I say； “When did she get
home？”
Garrett grumbles； “While you were losing it about chickens。” Then he whispers； “But hey；
this'll work great。 She's got a basket； right？ She's
probably ing out to collect eggs。”
First she had to get all mushy with that mangy mutt of hers。 She got down and nuzzled and
ruffled and patted and hugged； telling him what a good
boy he was。 And when she finally let him go back to sleep； she had to stop and coo at the
bird Garrett had scared out； and then she started singing。
Singing。 At the top of her lungs； she goes； “I've got sunshine on a cloudy day。 When it's
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 fas