“Meaning?” “Meaning I went over there and took a look for myself.”
I tried very hard to sound like this was a major accomplishment, 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.”
Lynetta 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.”
“Lynetta!” my mother said. “Be nice.” Lynetta 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.”
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