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usual。 Not because she gushed about it or even waved
and winked or something。 No； she was back to avoiding me。 She'd say hi if we happened to
run into each other； but instead of being； like； right over
my shoulder anytime I looked； she was nowhere。 She must have ducked out back doors and
taken roundabout ways through campus。 She was； I
don't know； scarce。
I found myself looking at her in class。 The teacher'd be talking and all eyes would be up
front … except mine。 They kept wandering over to Juli。 It
was weird。 One minute I'd be listening to the teacher； and the next I'd be pletely tuned
out； looking at Juli。
It wasn't until Wednesday in math that I figured it out。 With the way her hair fell back over her
shoulders and her head was tilted； she looked like
the picture in the paper。 Not just like it — the angle was different； and the wind wasn't
blowing through her hair — but she did look like the picture。 A
lot like the picture。
Making that connection sent a chill down my spine。 And I wondered — what was she thinking？
Could she really be that interested in root
derivations？
Darla Tressler caught me watching； and man； she gave me the world's wickedest smile。 If I
didn't do something fast； this was going to spread like
wildfire； so I squinted at her and whispered； “There's a bee in her hair； stupid；” then pointed
around in the air like； There it goes； see？
Darla's neck whipped around searching for the bee； and I straightened out my focus for the
rest of the day。 The last thing I needed was to be
scorched by the likes of Darla Tressler。
That night I was doing my homework； and just to prove to myself that I'd been wrong； I pulled
that newspaper article out of my trash can。 And as
I'm flipping it over； I'm telling myself； It's a distortion of reality； it's my imagination； she doesn't
really look like that…。
But there she was。 The girl in my math class； two rows over and one seat up； glowing
through newsprint。
Lyta barged in。 “I need your sharpener；” she said。
I slammed my binder closed over the paper and said； “You're supposed to knock！” And then；
since she was zooming in and the paper was still
sticking out； I crammed the binder into my backpack as fast as I could。
“What are you trying to hide there； baby brother？”
“Nothing； and stop calling me that！ And don't barge into my room anymore！”
“Give me your sharpener and I'm history；” she said with her hand out。
I dug it out of my drawer and tossed it at her； and sure enough； she disappeared。
……… Page 55………
But two seconds later my mom was calling for me； and after that； well； I forgot that the paper
was in my binder。
Until first period the next morning； that is。 Man！ What was I supposed to do with it？ I couldn't
get up and throw it out； Garrett was right there。
Besides that； Darla Tressler's in that class； and I could tell — she was keeping an eye out for
wayward bees。 If she caught wind of this； I'd be the
one stung。
Then Garrett reaches over to snag a piece of paper like he does about fourteen times a day；
only I have a plete mental spaz and slam down
on his hand with mine。
“Dude！” he says。 “What's your problem？”
“Sorry；” I say； tuning in to the fact that he was only going for lined paper； not newspaper。
“Dude；” he says again。 “You know you've been really spaced lately？ Anyone else tell you
that？” He rips a piece of paper out of my binder； then
notices the edges of the newspaper。 He eyes me； and before I can stop him； he whips it out。
I pounce on him and tear it out of his hands； but it's too late。 He's seen her picture。
Before he can say a word； I get in his face and say； “You shut up； you hear me？ This is not
what you think。”
“Whoa； kick back； will ya？ I wasn't thinking anything…。” But I could see the little gears go
click…click…click in his brain。 Then he smirks at me and
says； “I'm sure you've got a perfectly reasonable explanation for why you're carrying a picture
of Juli Baker around with you。”
The way he said it scared me。 Like he was playing with the idea of roasting me in front of the
whole class。 I leaned over and said； “Zip it； would
you？”
The teacher hammered on us to be quiet； but it didn't stop Garrett from smirking at me or
doing the double…eyebrow wiggle in the direction of my
binder。 After class Darla tried to act all cool and preoccupied； but she had her radar up and
pointed our way。 She shadowed me practically all day；
so there was no real window of opportunity to explain things to Garrett。
What was I going to tell him； anyway？ That the paper was in my binder because I was trying
to hide it from my sister？ That would help。
Besides； I didn't want to make up some lame lie about it。 I actually wanted to talk to Garrett。 I
mean； he was my friend； and a lot had happened in
the last couple of months that was weighing on me。 I thought that if I talked to him； maybe
he'd help get me back on track。 Help me to stop thinking
about everything。 Garrett was real reliable in that arena。
Luckily； in social studies our class got library time to do research for our famous historical
figure report。 Darla and Juli were both in that class； but
I managed to drag Garrett into a back corner of the library without either of them noticing。
And the minute we were by ourselves； I found myself
laying into Garrett about chickens。
He shakes his head at me and says； “Dude！ What are you talking about？”
“Remember when we went and looked over her fence？”
“Back in the sixth grade？”
“Yeah。 Remember how you were down on me for wondering what a hen was？”
He rolled his eyes。 “Not this again…。”
“Man； you didn't know jack…diddly…squat about chickens。 I put my life in your hands and you
dumped me in a bucket of bull。”
So I told him about my dad and the eggs and salmonella and how I'd been intercepting eggs
for nearly two years。
He just shrugged and said； “Makes sense to me。”
“Man； she caught me！”
“Who？”
“Juli！”
……… Page 56………
“Whoa； dude！”
I told him about what I'd said； and how almost right after that she was out playing weed
warrior in her front yard。
“Well； so？ It's not your fault her yard's a mess。”
“But then I found out that they don't even own that house。 They're all poor because her dad's
got a retarded brother that they're； you know； paying
for。” Garrett gives me a real chumpy grin and says； “A retard？ Well； that explains a lot；
doesn't it？”
I couldn't believe my ears。 “What？”
“You know；” he says； still grinning； “about Juli。”
My heart started pounding and my hands clenched up。 And for the first time since I'd learned
to dive away from trouble； I wanted to deck
somebody。
But we were in the library。 And besides； it flashed through my mind that if I decked him for
what he'd said； he'd turn around and tell everyone that I
was hot for Juli Baker； and I was not hot for Juli Baker！
So I made myself laugh and say； “Oh； right；” and then came up with an excuse to put some
distance between him and me。
After school Garrett asked me to e to his house and hang for a while； but I had zero
interest in that。 I still wanted to slug him。
I tried to talk myself down from feeling that way； but in my gut I was flaming mad at the guy。
He'd crossed the line； man。 He'd crossed it big…time。
And what made the whole thing so stinking hard to ignore was the fact that standing right
next to him； on the other side of the line； was my father。
The Visit
Sunday mornings are peaceful in our house。 My father lets himself sleep in。 My mother lets
herself not fix breakfast。 And if my brothers have been
out late playing with their band； you won't even know they're around until noon。
Usually I tiptoe out to collect eggs while everyone else is asleep； then spirit a bowl of
Cheerios back to my room to have breakfast in bed and
read。
But that Sunday—after spending most of the night feeling upset or uneasy—I woke up
wanting to do something physical。 To shake off the
confused way I was still feeling。
What I really needed was a good climb in my sycamore tree； but I settled for watering the
lawn while I tried to think of other things。 I cranked open
the spigot and admired how rich and black the dirt looked as I sprinkled back and forth
across the soil。 And I was busy talking to my buried
seedlings； coaxing them to spring up and greet the rising sun； when my father came outside。
His hair was damp from a shower； and he had a
grocery sack rolled closed in his hand。 “Dad！ I'm sorry if I woke you。”
“You didn't； sweetheart。 I've been up for a while。”
“You're not going to work； are you？”
“No； I …” He studied me for a moment； then said； “I'm going to visit David。”
“Uncle David？”