Then I tried to make a fast break for the garbage can in the side yard, only she body-blocked me. Seriously.
She stepped right in my way and put her arms out like she’s guarding the goal. She chased me and blocked me again.
“What happened?” she wants to know. “Did they break?” Perfect. Why hadn’t I thought of that?
“Yeah, Juli,” I told her. “And I’m real sorry about that.”
But what I’m thinking is, Please, God, oh please, God, let me make it to the garbage can.
God must’ve been sleeping in. Juli tackled the trash and pulled out her precious little carton of eggs,
and she could tell right off that they weren’t broken.
They weren’t even cracked. She stood frozen with the eggs in her hands while I dumped the rest of the trash.
“Why did you throw them out?” she asked, but her voice didn’t sound like Juli Baker’s voice.
It was quiet. And shaky. So I told her we were afraid of salmonella poisoning because her yard was a mess
and that we were just trying to spare her feelings.
I told it to her like we were right and she was wrong, but I felt like a jerk. A complete cluck-faced jerk.
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