Cheating for the Chicken Man Read Online Free PDF

couldn’t hear the judge and had to endurethe sight of her brother, thinner than ever, with his hair buzzed off and an electronic bracelet on his ankle. It was no wonder he was so quiet. It was like it was all supposed to be over, but it wasn’t.
The
windshield wipers th
umping
 . . . Not by a long shot.
    *
    When they arrived home, Kate’s grandmother was waiting on the porch with her hands on her cheeks and tears in her eyes. Kerry rushed down the front steps and plowed into J.T., wrapping her skinny little arms around him while Tucker went crazy barking and jumping up and down. Seeing Kerry and his dog, J.T. fully smiled for the first time. He buried his face in Tucker’s fur and let the dog practically lick his face off.
    Inside the house, Kate’s mother stood stiffly in the living room with a plate of warm brownies in her hands. When she didn’t say anything, Grandma took the plate from her hands. “Extra chocolate chips and
no nuts
!” she announced cheerfully. Everyone knew that was the way J.T. liked his brownies. Kate thought surely that would prompt a small “welcome home” from her mother, but no such luck. The plate was passed around, but it turned out that, just then, no one was hungry for brownies.
    â€œI’ve gotta get back. Take care, Angela,” Uncle Ray said to Kate’s mother. To Grandma, he said, “Good to see you again, Sarah.”
    It was always funny to hear someone call her grandmother Sarah, or Mrs. Gunter, Kate thought.
    Uncle Ray turned to J.T. “Good to have you home, son. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
    At dinner, J.T.’s favorite meal was put on the table: spaghetti,a green salad, and a loaf of hot, buttered garlic bread. Grandma said grace, thanking the lord for J.T.’s safe arrival home, and as soon as she finished, Kate watched her brother wind up a big ball of spaghetti on his fork.
    â€œYou don’t know how good this tastes,” he said around a mouthful.
    Kate spooned sauce over her pasta, carefully avoiding the lumps of meat.
    â€œWas the food not very good at that place?” Grandma asked.
    J.T. shrugged and swallowed. “It wasn’t that bad,” he said, “But nowhere near as good as Mom’s cooking.”
    Even though Grandma was the one who made the sauce, no one pointed it out. Instead, they all turned to look at Kate’s mother, who sat quietly, picking at her food as if she hadn’t even heard the compliment. The air felt heavy. There was an open wound in her family, Kate thought. When was somebody going to make it better?
    â€œMommy, how come you don’t talk to J.T.?” Kerry asked. It took a six-year-old to do it. “Aren’t you glad he’s home?”
    Kate’s mother lifted her head to look at J.T. “You never wrote to us.”
    J.T. met his mother’s eyes. “No. I didn’t think you wanted me to.”
    â€œYou weren’t here at the end, when your father got so sick.”
    Just then, the cat, the bell on its collar jingling, jumped off the extra chair at the table, as though sensing the tension, and ran from the room.
    J.T. put his fork down. “I don’t know what you want me tosay, Mom. I’m sorry for what happened. I’m sorry Dad died and I wasn’t here. I am sorry for everything. You think I’m not ashamed of it?”
    This was her mother’s chance, Kate thought. If only she would say “I understand” or “Let’s start over.” But she didn’t. She just sat there, silent as a stone, with a pained expression, like she didn’t know what to do or say.
    Kerry’s little voice broke the silence again. “Well, I’m glad you’re home,” she told J.T. “So is Tucker. And so is Jingles!”
    â€œMe too,” Kate added.
    â€œWe’re all glad you’re home, dear,” Grandma said. She reached across the table to touch both J.T.’s and