Chicken Chicken Read Online Free PDF

class to her party, and about two dozen of her
relatives. It was a beautiful spring afternoon. And a lot of people were already
hanging out in the yard in front of the tall, white farmhouse when I arrived.
    Lucy-Ann has a lot of little cousins. As I hurried up the gravel drive, I saw
a bunch of them hanging around the side of the utility barn. Lucy-Ann’s dad was
giving tractor rides, and the little kids were jumping up and down, wrestling
each other in excitement, waiting their turns.
    I met Lucy-Ann at the top of the drive and handed her the wrapped-up CD.
    She studied the square-shaped box and grinned. “Wow. I’ll never guess
what this is!” she joked.
    “Okay, okay. So I’m not too original,” I replied with a shrug.
    “You don’t know what a perfect present it is,” she said as we began to walk
across the grass to the others. “Mom and Dad got me a Discman for my birthday—but no CDs.”
    I laughed. “Well, now you’ve got one ,” I said. “At least I know you
don’t already have it!”
    Lucy-Ann’s expression turned serious. “Are you going to chorus rehearsal
tomorrow morning?”
    I nodded. “Yeah. We really need to practice.”
    “I’ll be a little late,” Lucy-Ann said. “We usually don’t get back from
church till after eleven-thirty.” She frowned. “Did you talk to your brother?
Why did he act like such a total jerk yesterday? What was all that horrible
clucking? Did he think it was funny or something?”
    I shrugged. “Yeah. I guess.” Then I added with a sigh, “No way I can explain
my brother. Sometimes I think he’s from Mars.”
    Lucy-Ann laughed. “Tell me about it,” she muttered. “I’ve got four brothers!”
    I waved to a couple of girls from my class who were leaning against the broad
trunk of an old maple tree. I walked over to talk to them.
    I like a lot of kids in my class, although I don’t get to see some of them
outside of school. You see, Goshen Falls is so tiny, and we have the only middle
school for miles. So kids are bussed to our school from all over the county.
    That means some of my friends live over thirty miles away. When I want to
call them at night, it’s a long-distance call!
    It was a nice party. We stayed outside the whole time. Lucy-Ann cranked up
the volume on her tape player, and we all danced. I mean, all the girls danced. A couple of
the boys joined in. But most of them stood on the grass, making jokes about
those who were dancing.
    I really had fun—until birthday cake time.
    And then the fun turned to horror.

 
 
12
     
     
    As the afternoon sun started to lower itself behind the farmhouse, Lucy-Ann’s
mom carried out the birthday cake. Actually, she carried out two cakes—one vanilla from the bakery and one chocolate that she baked herself.
    “With so many kids in our family,” Lucy-Ann explained to me, “no one could
ever decide what kind of cake everyone liked best. So Mom always has to bake an
extra for every birthday!”
    We all grabbed plates and gathered around the long, white-tableclothed table
to sing “Happy Birthday” to Lucy-Ann. Beside the two cakes stood a blueberry pie
about the size of a pizza!
    It took a long while to light the candles on both cakes. The wind kept
gusting and blowing some of the candles out.
    Finally, Lucy-Ann’s parents got them all lighted, and we sang “Happy
Birthday”. Lucy-Ann looked really pretty standing behind the cakes, the flickering candlelight dancing over her face and curly blond hair.
    She seemed to be staring at me as we sang.
    And I suddenly realized that something was wrong.
    That loud clicking sound I heard—it was coming from me!
    My lips were clicking together noisily as I sang.
    As soon as the song ended, I rubbed my lips with my finger. They felt very
dry. Sort of cracked and dry.
    “Crystal—what kind of cake?” Lucy-Ann was asking. I gazed up to see her and
her mother slicing the cakes.
    I held my plate up. “A little bit of both?” I couldn’t