We'd heard this song； “Candle Ice；” pouring out of my brothers' bedroom at least a million
times； so we were used to it。 But I looked over at my
mom； worried that she might be embarrassed by the distorting guitars and the gritty lyrics。
This was definitely not caviar music。
She seemed a little uncertain； but in a happy way。 She was sharing secret smiles with my
father； and honestly； I think she even giggled。 My dad
was looking amused； although he was very reserved about it； and it took me until the end of
the song to realize that he was proud。 Proud that this
noise came from his boys。
That surprised me。 Dad has never been real big on any rendition of my brothers' band；
although he's never really criticized it either。 But then Mr。
Loski started grilling Matt and Mike about how they'd afforded to record their own music； and
they explained about working and saving and
shopping for good deals on equipment； and that's when I realized why my father was proud。
My brothers were feeling pretty good； too； you could tell。 And it was no wonder； with the way
Lyta was carrying on about how great “Candle
Ice” was。 She was positively gushing； which seemed very odd； ing from Lyta。
As I looked around； it struck me that we were having dinner with a group of strangers。 We'd
lived across the street for years； but I didn't know
these people at all。 Lyta did know how to smile。 Mr。 Loski was clean and smooth on the
outside； but there was a distinct whiff of something rotten
buried just beneath the surface。 And the ever…efficient Mrs。 Loski seemed flustered； almost
hyper。 Was it having us over that was making her
nervous？
Then there was Bryce—the most disturbing of all because I had to admit that I didn't really
know him； either。 And based on what I'd discovered
lately； I didn't care to know any more。 Looking across the table at him； all I got was a strange；
detached； neutral feeling。 No fireworks； no leftover
anger or resurging flutters。
Nothing。
After we'd had dessert and it was time to go； I went up to Bryce and told him I was sorry for
having been so fierce when we'd first e in。 “I
should've let you apologize； and really； it was very nice of your family to have us over。 I know
it was a lot of work and； well； I think my mom had a
really good time and that's what matters to me。” We were looking right at each other； but it
was almost as though he didn't hear me。 “Bryce？ I said
I'm sorry。”
He nodded； and then our families were waving good…bye and saying good night。
I walked behind my mother； who was holding hands with my father； and beside my brothers；
who were carrying home what was left of our pies。
We all wound up in the kitchen； and Matt poured himself a glass of milk and said to Mike；
“That Mr。 Loski was sniffing us out pretty good tonight；
wasn't he？”
“No kidding。 Maybe he thinks we're hot for his daughter。”
“Not me； dude！ You？”
Mike got himself a glass of milk； too。 “That's Skyler's gig。 No way I'd go there。” He grinned。
“But she was really cool tonight。 Did she e down
on papa bear or what？”
My dad took a paper plate out of the cupboard and cut a slice of pie。 “You boys showed a lot
of restraint tonight。 I don't know if I could've kept my
cool that way。”
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“Aw； he's just； you know… entrenched；” Matt said。 “Gotta adjust to the perspective and deal
from there。” Then he added； “Not that I'd want him as
my dad…。”
Mike practically sprayed his milk。 “Dude！ Can you imagine？” Then Matt gave my dad a slap
on the back and said； “No way。 I'm sticking with my
main man here。” My mom grinned from across the kitchen and said； “Me too。”
I'd never seen my father cry。 And he didn't exactly sit there bawling； but there were definitely
tears welling up in his eyes。 He blinked them back
the best he could and said； “Don't you boys want some pie to go with that milk？”
“Dude；” said Matt as he straddled a chair。 “I was just thinking that。”
“Yeah；” Mike added。 “I'm starved。”
“Get me a plate； too！” I called as Mike dug through the cupboard。
“But we just ate；” my mother cried。
“e on； Trina； have some pie。 It's delicious。”
I went to bed that night feeling very full and very happy。 And as I lay there in the dark； I
wondered at how much emotion can go into any given day；
and thought how nice it was to feel this way at the end of it。
And as I nestled in and drifted off to sleep； my heart felt wonderfully… free。
The next morning I still felt good。 I went outside and sprinkled the yard； enjoying the splish
and patter of water on soil； wondering when； when； that
first little blade of grass would spring up into the sunshine。
Then I went out back； cleaned the coop； raked the yard； and dug up some of the bigger
weeds growing along the edges。
Mrs。 Stueby leaned over the side fence as I was shoveling my rakings and weeds into a
trash can and said； “How's it going； Julianna？ Making
neat for a rooster？”
“A rooster？”
“Why； certainly。 Those hens need some motivation to start laying more！”
It was true。 Bonnie and Clydette and the others were only laying about half the eggs that they
used to； but a rooster？ “I don't think the
neighborhood would appreciate my getting a rooster； Mrs。 Stueby。 Besides； we'd get chicks
and I don't think we can handle any more poultry back
here。”
“Nonsense。 You've spoiled these birds； giving them the whole yard。 They can share the
space。 Easily！ How else are you going to maintain your
business？ Soon those birds won't be laying anything a…tall！”
“They won't？”
“Well； very little。”
I shook my head； then said； “They were just my chicks that grew into chickens and started
laying eggs。 I never really thought of it as a business。”
“Well； my runnin' a tab has probably contributed to that； and I'm sorry。 I'll be sure and get you
the whole sum this week； but consider buying
yourself a rooster with some of it。 I've got a friend down on Newb Street who is positively
green over my deviled eggs。 I gave her my recipe； but
she says hers just don't taste the same。” She winked at me。 “I'm certain she'd pay
handsomely for a supply of my secret ingredient if it became
available。” She turned to go； then said； “By…the…by； Julianna； you have done a mighty fine job
on that front yard。 Most impressive！”
“Thanks； Mrs。 Stueby；” I called as she slid open her patio door。 “Thanks very much。”
I finished scooping up the piles I'd made and thought about what Mrs。 Stueby had said。
Should I really get a rooster？ I'd heard that having one
around made chickens lay more； whether they were in contact with each other or not。 I could
even breed my chickens and get a whole new set of
layers。 But did I really want to go through all of that again？
……… Page 74………
Not really。 I didn't want to be the neighborhood rancher。 If my girls quit laying altogether； that
would be just fine with me。
I put away the rake and shovel； clucked a kiss on each of the hens； and went inside。 It felt
good to take charge of my own destiny！ I felt strong and
right and certain。
Little did I know how a few days back at school would change all of that。
Flipped
After the dinner Juli was nice to me at school。 Which I hated。 Mad was better than nice。
Gaga was better than … nice。 It was like I was a stranger to
her； and man； it bugged me。 Bugged me big…time。
Then the auction happened； and I found myself with even bigger problems。
The auction is this bogus way the Booster Club raises money for the school。 They insist it's
an honor to be chosen； but bull…stinkin'…loney to that！
Bottom line is； twenty guys get shanghaied。 They have to e up with fancy picnic lunches
and then be humiliated in front of the whole school while
girls bid to have lunch with them。
Guess who made this year's top twenty。
You'd think mothers would say； Hey； there's no way you're going to auction my son off to the
highest bidder； but no。 Instead； they're all flattered
that their son's been elected a basket boy。
Yes； my friend； that's what they call you。 Over the P。A。 you hear stuff like； “There will be an
organizational meeting of the newly elected basket
boys in the MPR at lunch today。 All basket boys must attend。”
Pretty soon you've pletely lost your name。 You and nieen other saps are known
simply as Basket Boy。
My mom； of course； was into it； ing up with all sorts of stuff to put in my basket so I'd get
the highest bid。 I tried to explain that I didn't want to
be in Mayfield Junior High's Basket Boy Hall of Fame； and that really； what was in the basket
didn't matter。 It wasn't like girls were bidding on the
basket。 When you got right down to it； this was a meat market。
“You eat lunch on campus and that's the end of it。 It is hardly a meat market； Bryce。 It's an
honor！ Besides； maybe someone really nice will bid on
you and you'll make a new friend！”
Mothers can be in such denial。
And then Garrett bends my ear with the news that Shelly Stalls is breaking up with Mitch
Michaelson； and that she； Miranda Humes； and Jenny
Atkinson are starting some bidding war over me。 “Dude！” he tells me。 “The two hottest chicks
on campus。 And I swear to god； man； Shelly's
dumped Mitch because of you。 I heard it direct from Shagreer； and dude； Shagreer the Ear
knows all。” He throws me this nasty grin and says； “Me；
I'm rooting for Jumbo Jenny。 It would serve you right for being such a basket boy。”
I told him to shut up； but he was right。 With the way my luck was running； I'd probably get
stuck with Jumbo Jenny。 I could just see it — six feet of
beefy babe downing both halves of my lunch and then ing after me。 Jenny's the only girl
or guy on campus who can dunk a basketball。 The
whole gym shakes when she lands。 And since she's got no； you know… female parabolas；
the girl could shave her head and make it in the NBA。
Seriously。 No one would ever suspect。
Her parents give her anything she wants； too。 Rumor has it they converted their garage into
a full…on basketball court just for her。
Which meant that in the game of the basket boys； I was as good as slam…dunked。
Unless； unless Shelly or Miranda was high bidder。 But how could I make sure that happened？
My brain went into overdrive； constructing a plan；
and in the end I decided that there was only one sensible course of action。
……… Page 75………
Kiss up to both of them。
Halfway through my first day of doing this； I felt like a skunk。 Not that I was being gross about
it or anything。 I was just； you know； friendly。 And even
though Shelly and Miranda didn't seem to smell a thing； Garrett did。
“Dude！” he says to me on Thursday。 “I can see you