Cheating for the Chicken Man Read online

  J.T. stared at her. “You didn’t tell me that.”

  “It’s hard sometimes,” Kate went on, glad to have a sympathetic ear. “Like when we drop Jess off for a piano lesson on our way to the Food Lion. Nobody else I know has a mother who won’t drive.”

  “How do you know what to cook?” J.T. asked, apparently still stuck on the fact that Kate was preparing entire meals now.

  Kate raised her eyebrows. “Grandma and I wrote up dinners on index cards. Every meal has a protein, a starch, and a vegetable. The cards are in a rubber band on top of the bread box, if you want to see.”

  J.T. frowned and rubbed his chin.

  “Don’t tell Mom I’m not eating meat, okay?” Kate pleaded. “Don’t tell Grandma either.”

  “I won’t,” he said, hesitating. “Look, Miss Hatcher’s coming any minute. I need to be out front.”

  On the porch steps, they sat side by side, staring down the long driveway. The sun felt good on Kate’s face. They had shared a secret. They could talk now, she thought. The hopeful feeling was coming back.

  “Are you looking forward to school?” Kate asked gingerly.

  Her brother shrugged. “I’m glad I’m not at Cliffside anymore,” he said. “But I don’t know about school.”

  Most kids hadn’t seen J.T. in more than a year, and while everyone knew he’d been sent to a juvenile detention center, Kate hoped no one would hold what he did against him or say mean things, especially since J.T. had been bullied in middle school. A boy named Curtis Jenkins used to call him Chicken Man. Curtis had stuffed chicken feathers into J.T.’s locker and once accused him out loud of stinking up the classroom by not cleaning the chicken manure out of his shoes (only he didn’t call it manure).

  “Guess I worry about it,” he added.

  Kate nodded softly in agreement. “Me too.” She didn’t have much faith that the anti-bullying campaign in middle school had sunk in deep enough to carry over into high school. It was a nice effort, for sure. A “Words that Hurt” program took up an entire afternoon with students acting out roles on the stage in the auditorium. The students designed T-shirts and crafted posters. Kate and Jess made one together: DON’T STAND BY—STAND UP! But Kate felt flat about the anti-bullying stuff now. She suspected that for a lot of kids it was all a halfhearted gesture, like the fire drill or the canned food they brought in at Thanksgiving. Just something you had to do at school that day.

  She shifted her position on the steps to face her brother. “You should try out for marching band,” she said brightly.

  “Why?” J.T. asked.

  “Because you play the trumpet!”

  When J.T. didn’t respond, Kate tried again. “Band camp’s in August, and maybe you’d get to know a few kids before school started.”

  Pressing the tips of his long fingers together, J.T. looked down. “I don’t ever want to touch that trumpet again.”

  Kate just stared at him like, what in the heck does that mean? She didn’t get it.

  But J.T. got up and walked off across the yard, because Miss Hatcher had just turned up the driveway.

  It wasn’t going to be easy, Kate was realizing. And while she didn’t want to admit it so soon, she knew her brother was different now. You couldn’t talk about Cliffside with him. And you couldn’t mention Brady and Digger. Both of which Kate could understand. But the trumpet? Why would J.T. not play it anymore and refuse to join the marching band? It just didn’t make sense.

  *

  By noon, Miss Hatcher had left, and Uncle Ray had finished the mowing and turned off the tractor. In the quiet that followed, Tucker stretched out, his dog tags clinking on the wooden porch floor, while Kate lay on the porch swing, pushing herself back and forth with one foot. An open book lay on her chest, but her eyes were closed as she wondered if Jess had found her bathing suit and whether she and her mother also got lunch at the mall. Maybe even sweet potato fries in the food court. Jess and Kate always got a batch and split them. Sometimes, it was all they ate.

  “Uncle Ray, what you got there?”

  The sound of J.T.’s voice prompted Tucker to scramble and dash from the porch. Kate held the book and sat up. She could see that, down at the tractor shed, J.T. and Uncle Ray had something in their hands.

  “What is it?” she asked, after running to where they stood.

  In the sweaty T-shirt he’d taken off, her uncle held a sorrowful sight: three dead baby bunnies, their little bodies mangled and bloodied. He didn’t need to explain it. The mower blade had hit their nest. It had happened before. Kate winced and started to look away but saw that J.T. held something, too. A single survivor, a tiny brown cottontail missing one leg, was cradled in the palm of his hand.

  “What are you going to do with him?” Kate asked.

  “Best thing to do, Kate, is just put him out of his misery,” Uncle Ray said. “I’m so sorry. I told J.T. I’d take care of it.”

  “No!” Kate protested. “Can’t we help him? I’ll do it! I’ll take care of him!”

  Her uncle hesitated and looked from Kate to J.T. “What do you think?”

  J.T. met Kate’s eyes.

  “Please,” Kate begged again.

  Her brother turned to Uncle Ray and shrugged. “I say let her try. Let her find out how much work it is to raise a baby rabbit, let alone one without a leg!”

  “You’ll have to dab ointment on that stump, Kate, to keep away infection. And this little, you’ll have to feed it several times a day,” Uncle Ray warned. “We’ll have to get special formula at the feed store, and even then there’s no guarantee.”

  “I understand,” she said, pressing her hands together. “Really!”

  Within the hour, Kate had a baby bunny, encased in a fuzzy sock and snug in her hand, accepting droplets of warm formula from a plastic syringe. She’d already texted Jess twice to come see him as soon as she got back.

  “Will he live?” Kerry asked, sitting tight against Kate on the living room couch. On her lap she held the baby bunny’s new home: a flannel-lined shoebox.

  “Don’t know,” Kate said. “I hope so.”

  “I promise I’ll keep Jingles away,” Kerry said.

  Just then Kate’s cell phone alerted her to a message. It was from Jess, but no response about the bunny. No words at all. Just a picture of a bathing suit on a dressing room bench. The suit was dark blue. Two piece.

  “Someday this bunny and Jingles can be friends,” Kerry said.

  “He’ll be hopping around one day, you wait and see,” J.T. said, surprising the girls that he stood behind them.

  Kerry’s face lit up. “We should name him Hoppy!”

  “Hoppy,” Kate repeated, trying to get back into the moment. “Perfect!”

  *

  The baby bunny and J.T.’s arrival home truly marked the beginning of summer. Soon, the pink and white crepe myrtle trees blossomed as though loving the longer, hotter days. The cicadas got louder, making the air hum with their noise. And a different kind of routine settled in. J.T. was the first one up every day, until one morning when Kate’s mother beat him to the kitchen and had bacon frying. The good smell got everyone up early. “You need something more than cereal if you’re going to go out and work all morning,” Kate heard Mom tell J.T.

  Every morning Kate had chores, dishes, or vacuuming, then she was free to write in her journal or read or do whatever she wanted. She fed the baby bunny every three hours, even setting her phone alarm at night, and kept antibiotic cream on the missing back leg’s stump. Some afternoons, she babysat her three little girl cousins—Alice, Annie, and Alyssa. Kate had reconnected with Jess, and the girls had agreed that half the money they made babysitting over the summer would go toward the hefty admission fee to an animal sanctuary in North Carolina where they could actually hold a baby tiger on their laps. They would ride down next summer and stay with Kate’s grandpa
rents so there wouldn’t be travel expenses. On sleepovers, the girls also started compiling a list of wildlife rehab centers they could apply to for volunteer work when they were older. So far, they’d found a koala refuge in Australia and an elephant foundation in Thailand that captivated them with an online video of a young woman giving a baby elephant a sudsy bath in the river.

  Grandma had chosen to stay on over the summer, and despite what J.T. had said about her other life, Kate was grateful. Her grandmother had taken over the cooking and braiding Kerry’s long hair. She was even carpooling with Jess’s mom to the middle school for the girls’ field hockey camp one week, and the next, into town for a pottery class. It was during this week that Kate’s mother surprised everyone by offering to feed the baby bunny while Kate was away.

  “This is how I hold him,” Kate said, adjusting the fuzzy sock. Her fingers touched her mother’s as she handed over the tiny rabbit.

  “I think I’ve got it,” her mother said. “Oh, my. So tiny. So hungry!” Her mouth turned up at the corners, and when their eyes met, Kate smiled back.

  Occasionally, there were trips to the Tastee-Freez for soft ice cream and on really hot days—if there weren’t many jellyfish—swimming in the river. Since his ankle bracelet was waterproof and the river was practically in their backyard, even J.T. joined the girls for a swim one afternoon.

  “Cannonball!” he shouted before jumping in off a fallen locust tree that jutted over the water and making a huge splash.

  The girls got soaked, their screams turning to laughter as they got their hands ready to spray J.T. when he surfaced.

  But he didn’t come up.

  Slowly, the smile melted off Kate’s face. Treading water, she turned to Jess.

  “Oh, my God,” Jess said.

  Suddenly, J.T. emerged from the dark, cool water, relieving both girls, but then startling them, too, with the stricken look on his face. He wiped the water out of his eyes and hauled out of the river fast, slipping once on the slick, grassy bank before grabbing his towel and heading back up the path.

  “What’s wrong?” Kate called after him.

  Jess slapped the water and hollered, “J.T., come back!”

  When he didn’t even turn around, Kate guessed that maybe J.T. had been thinking about a little boy who died from exposure in the same river just over a year ago. Judging from her rueful expression, Jess may have thought the same thing, too. But the girls didn’t talk about it. Despite their friendship, a lot of things went unspoken between them. They never talked about how Kate’s mother had changed or the stigma from J.T.’s crime that hung over the Tyler family, or how embarrassing it was for Kate to go food shopping with Jess’s mom. Kate was never sure why they didn’t talk about these things, although she did worry she’d lose Jess if there were too many problems. In life, she was learning, there were some things you just didn’t talk about.

  The rest of summer slid by quickly. While the girls had their fun, it seemed that all J.T. did was work. He weeded and watered the gardens, mowed the yard, painted the shed roofs, and took care of the chickens, which was huge because every day he had to remove the dead ones and then do the culling. To Kate, this was the absolute worst job in the entire world. Culling meant picking out the weakened chicks, or the ones not growing as fast, and getting rid of them. It seemed like culling was playing God, deciding who would live and who would die, and she didn’t want any part of it.

  Maybe, Kate thought, hard work was J.T.’s way of trying to redeem himself and make up for what he’d done. He didn’t even watch TV or go on his computer much.

  By mid-August, J.T.’s dark hair had grown back in and the ankle bracelet was gone. Kate’s bunny had grown big enough to need a wire cage and had to be moved outside. He was getting around just fine on three legs, but still, Kate kept lots of hay and even a small piece of old carpeting in his cage so he had something soft to hop on. Jess wanted Kate to go shopping for school clothes at the mall in Annapolis, but everything was more expensive there, and Kate had to tell her she couldn’t go. Instead, Grandma took all three of the kids to the Walmart in Easton for clothes and school supplies. J.T. didn’t have to check in with his probation officer as often, so no one worried when it all took longer than they’d planned, and they decided to stop for pizza on the way home. They all laughed when Kerry said, “I want juth,” and had to repeat herself three times before anyone could figure out she meant “juice.” Even Kerry giggled, flashing her missing-front-teeth smile.

  Only one person wasn’t there. Kate quickly texted her mother as their meal arrived: We’ll bring pizza home, so you don’t have to cook.

  New school clothes. Dinner out. Laughter. Under the table, Kate tapped her hands together and was quietly grateful. This was how her life used to be. This was how it was supposed to be. It had a name, too: normal. And normal had never felt so good, Kate thought while carefully picking the pepperoni off her slice of pizza.

  But then came the first day of school.

  ~5~

  FAR FROM HEAVENLY

  We have a lot to cover this year. So be forewarned. This class is not a social hour!” Kate’s new English teacher, Mrs. Langley, looked up from her notes and flashed a threatening look at the class over her reading glasses.

  Kate was listening. She wanted to work hard. She had to do well. Ever since she’d started going to public school, bringing home a good report card was about the only thing that made her mother even a little bit proud of her. “Straight A’s,” her mother might actually say with the glimmer of a smile and her eyes connecting with Kate’s. “Good job.” And yet Kate was distracted and anxious, because the first day of high school was not what she had envisioned.

  The shoes were the first clue. Kate should have paid more attention. All those niggling doubts about the way she looked came flooding back. She had read the dress code on the website. It said “no flip-flops, no slippers, and no bare feet.” So she figured sneakers would be okay. They were new—plain white, comfy, and inexpensive. Grandma was delighted she’d found such a great deal. Kate hadn’t thought much about them until a girl on the bus made a weird face. “Off brand,” she heard the girl say before she and her friend grunted and laughed behind their hands.

  But it was true. No one was wearing sneakers like hers—none of the girls, anyway. Most of them—including Jess—were wearing flip-flops!

  During second class, Honors English, Kate was still beating herself up over it. She had wanted this day to be perfect. Why hadn’t she talked to Jess about this? Why hadn’t Jess said something? Was it because Kate hadn’t gone shopping with her?

  “Each and every student in this room needs to come prepared—be on time and ready to work.” Mrs. Langley continued.

  It didn’t help that Kate’s heart was still pounding from the run to class either. She’d gotten lost in the upstairs hallway and had almost been late. Somehow she’d had the wrong room number in her head—and it was a long way from 213 to 109!

  Nervous, Kate twisted several strands of her shoulder-length hair with her index finger and thumb. It wasn’t just the shoes either. She should have done something with her hair, too. She should have straightened it. But she hated the flat iron because she was always burning herself on it. Plus it took too long. She should have made a ponytail. Anything would have been better than nothing.

  Tucking her hair behind one ear, Kate scanned the handout, her eyes lighting on the book list. She recognized some of the titles like To Kill a Mockingbird, The Scarlet Letter, Romeo and Juliet. But others were new to her and had interesting titles like I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings by Maya Angelou. She was going to love the reading.

  “Cell phones and iPods are a distraction in class. They are not allowed! All of your electronic devices should be in your locker during the day.” Mrs. Langley’s voice hammered out the warning: “Rest assured, people, that I will confiscate these devices if I see them bei
ng used!”

  Kate glanced at the girl across the aisle and recognized Glenda Newbie from eighth grade. Glenda looked really tan. But Kate wondered why she’d put on so much black eyeliner. Other than lip gloss, Kate still didn’t use any makeup. Like Jess, she believed true beauty was natural, not something fake you painted on your face. When they made eye contact, Kate started to smile and widen her eyes, as in, Can you believe this teacher? But Glenda swung her head around and turned away as she shook back her long, straight-as-a-broom blond hair.

  In fact, the eye makeup made Glenda Newbie look like a raccoon, Kate decided.

  From the corner of her eyes, Kate watched Glenda cross her legs. Glenda had on cute leather sandals and what appeared to be fresh black nail polish that made her toes look bruised.

  Kate pulled in her sneakered feet. What a dork she must look like in her off-brand sneakers, her loose-fitting jeans, and her plain pink T-shirt that hung on her lean frame. Next time she did the wash, she would throw everything in the dryer for an extra ten minutes to see if they’d shrink.

  Or not! Why should she? Just because most girls wore snug tops and short skirts didn’t mean she had to do it, too.

  Did it?

  Confused, and suddenly panicked, Kate stared down at the syllabus in her hands. She gritted her teeth. There was so much for her to get used to—the clothes, the makeup, the way older kids acted, the block schedule with ninety minutes per class, which seemed so long. It was a huge mistake for her to be in high school, wasn’t it? She was only thirteen. She should have been in the eighth grade, not the ninth! The year she had skipped back in fifth grade when she entered public school had messed her up now!

  “You need to listen. You need to participate,” Mrs. Langley told them.

  Listen . . . participate . . . Kate blinked and bit a fingernail and tried to focus, but already her mind was straying again. She couldn’t help it. She had imagined the first day of high school so many times over the summer—it almost glittered like a distant star in her mind. New classes, new friends—a new beginning! It had been almost a year since her father had died. J.T. had been home for three months. It was way past time for a new start. But the first day was here, and it was far from the heavenly new chapter in her life that she had imagined for herself—or for her brother, because no one had sat with him on the bus that morning.