Flipped // DNF

Chapter Six

When my science teacher first suggested hatching eggs as my science project, I was less than excited. That is, until I saw my first sign of life.

George and his father were looking at an egg that was placed over a light, so they could see the inside.

"That's the embryo," his father pointed.

"It looks like a bean," George laughed.

Suddenly it felt real. All the eggs were alive. There were, like, little bean babies inside every one.

On the day of the fair, all six chicks hatched. What are the odds? I won first place. That was cool, but all I really cared about were my chicks.

My mom wasn't crazy about us raising chickens, but I begged and pleaded. I told her I would take care of everything. And I did.

One day, George was feeding his chickens. He only counted five, but he had six.

"Where's Clyde," he asked his other chickens, not expecting an answer. He looked around and saw the chicken laying in the straw. He picked the chicken up, and was surprised. Clyde had laid eggs.

As it turned out, my hens laid more eggs than we could eat. At first, we tried to keep up, but after a month of boiling, frying, and deviling, we were being taken over by eggs. Then, opportunity, in the form of our neighbor, knocked.

"Hello, dear," a soft, old voice came from over the fence. "If you ever have any extra, I'd be happy to buy them from you."

"Really?" George asked.

"Certainly!"

"Great."

"Nothing like fresh eggs," the neighbor laughed.

Between my two neighbors, my egg overflow problem was solved. Then, I realized Clay's mom deserved eggs too. But I didn't think it would be right to charge her. She had been such a good neighbor, lending us supplies when we ran out, giving my mother a ride when our car wouldn't start, it was the least I could do. Besides, if I happened to run into Clay, that wouldn't be the end of the world.

By the third time I brought eggs over to Clay's family, I realized Clay was waiting for me. Waiting to pull open the door and say, "Thanks, George. See you at school." And in return, I got a few moments alone with the world's most dazzling eyes. It was a bargain.

Until the day it wasn't.

It was about 2 weeks after the sycamore tree was cut down, and I was just starting to feel normal again.

George knocked on Clay's front door.

Clay opened the door right away. "Hey, George. Right on schedule."

"Yeah, well, rain or sleet," George joked.

"Huh?" Clay asked.

"You know, the mailman thing."

"Oh, right." Clay still didn't know what George was talking about.

There was an awkward silence.

"So, um, are you going to start riding the bus again?" Clay asked.

"I don't know. I haven't been up there since," George was interrupted.

"It doesn't look so bad anymore. It's all cleared away." Clay blurted.

George didn't say anything.

"Well, um, I better get ready for school. I'll see you there."

"See ya," George said.

Maybe Clay was right. Maybe it is time I start riding the bus again. After all, didn't he just tell me he wanted me to? Could it be that Clay actually misses me?

Clay opened his front door again, before George left his driveway. George turned around.

"George? What are you still doing here?" Clay asked, holding a bag of trash.

"Sorry, I was just thinking."

"It's pick up day, the cans are in front."

"I know. Do you need some help?" George asked.

"No. Maybe I'll do it later." Clay was trying to hide the eggs sitting on the top of the bag of trash.

"Are those my eggs?"

"Yeah," he paused. "Yeah, I dropped them."

"They're not broken." George folds his arms. "Why are you throwing them away?"

Clay looked down at the eggs.

"Don't you want them?" George asked.

"It wasn't me. My dad didn't think it was worth the risk," Clay blurted.

"Risk? What risk?"

"Salmonella."

"What are you talking about? He's afraid of getting poisoned?"

"Well, George, look at your yard. It's a complete mess. It's, like, covered in turds."

"That's not true. I clean up after my chickens every day." George was holding back tears.

"We just didn't want to hurt your feelings."

"Have you always thrown them away?" George asks softly.

Clay looks down at the eggs again.

"You know, the other neighbors pay me for my eggs," George said, grabbing the eggs from Clay's bag of trash.

"They do?"

"They pay me sixty cents a dozen."

"I didn't know."

"How could you?" George's voice had a trembling tone.

"I'm sorry."

"No you're not." George walked away.