双语畅销书·怦然心动 Chapter 05 嘿——嘿——嘿！快走开！
Chapter 05
嘿——嘿——嘿！快走开！
我害怕鸡蛋，也害怕鸡。好吧，你想笑就笑吧，不过我确实没有骗你。
关于鸡蛋，那是六年级的事了。
这里面还有一条蛇。
以及贝克家的兄弟们。
贝克家的两兄弟名叫马特和麦克，不过直到现在我也分不清谁是谁。他们一向形影不离。虽然不是双胞胎，但两个人的长相和声音却出奇地相似，他们都和利奈特一个班，所以其中的一个也许留过级。
反正，我从没见过哪个老师心甘情愿地连续两年教这两个疯子，无论哪一个。
不管怎么说，马特和麦克让我见识了蛇怎么吃鸡蛋。我说吃鸡蛋，是指连壳也不剥，囫囵吞下去的吃法。
如果不是利奈特，我可能一辈子都无法摆脱对爬行类动物的小小恐惧。利奈特和住在三条街以外的斯凯勒·布朗是死党，一有机会，她就跑去看他练习打鼓。就是那种，咚——咚——砰什么的，好像跟我也没什么关系，对吧？但是后来斯凯勒和朱莉的哥哥组了一个乐队，他们起名叫“神秘小便”。
妈妈听说以后，快要气炸了：“哪个父母会放任孩子组织什么‘神秘小便’乐队？太下流了。真是恶心！”
“这就是他们要达到的目的，妈妈，”利奈特试着给她解释，“名字什么也代表不了。只是为了惹那些老家伙生气。”
“你在说我老吗，年轻的女士？因为我确确实实生你们的气了！”
利奈特只是耸耸肩，表示妈妈随便怎么想都可以。
“去！回到你房间去。”妈妈恶狠狠地说。
“为什么？”利奈特也恶狠狠地回答她，“我什么也没说！”
“你当然知道这是为什么。现在给我回屋去，好好反省你的态度，年轻姑娘！”
于是，利奈特就这样再一次因为青春期的冲动被关了禁闭，从此以后，只要晚餐时间利奈特迟到了两分钟以上，妈妈就会命令我去斯凯勒家叫她回家。利奈特大概觉得很尴尬，但我感觉更糟。我还在上小学，而“神秘小便”的成员已经上中学了。他们成熟，穿着讲究，邻里之间都听得到他们的电吉他奏出的强力和弦，而我看起来就像是刚从主日学校回家的小孩儿。
我紧张得不得了，叫利奈特回家吃饭的时候连声音都变尖了。真的，我一点儿也不夸张。不过没过多久，乐队就把名字里的“神秘”二字去掉了，“小便”斯凯勒和乐队其他成员也慢慢习惯了我的出现。他们不再对我怒目相向，而是对我说：“嘿，小弟弟，过来一起玩一会儿！”或是“嗨，布莱斯弟弟，想跟我们来段即兴吗？”
于是，我就这样混进了斯凯勒·布朗家的车库，身边围绕着一群中学生，观看一条大蟒蛇吞鸡蛋。我早就在贝克兄弟家的卧室里见过它吃下一只老鼠，所以“小便”的把戏没那么容易吓到我。况且，我意识到他们是存心保留这个小节目用来捉弄我，于是打定主意不能让他们得逞。
不过，这还真有点难度，亲眼见证蛇吞下一只鸡蛋，要比想象中更令人毛骨悚然。那条蟒蛇把血盆大口张到吓人的程度，含住鸡蛋，只听“咕噜”一声，那只鸡蛋就滚进了它的喉咙。但是戏还没演完。蟒蛇吞下三个鸡蛋之后，马特——也许是麦克——说：“布莱斯弟弟，你知道它怎么消化这些蛋吗？”
我嫌恶地耸耸肩，试图保持住正常说话的声音，然后答道：“胃酸？”
他摇头，装出一副天机不可泄露的表情：“它需要一棵树，或者一条腿。”他冲我咧嘴笑着，“你愿意把腿借给它吗？”
我向后退了两步，眼前全是那个怪物把我整条腿当成餐后甜点一口吞掉的画面。“不——不行！”我说。
他笑了，指着正在爬过房间的大蟒：“噢，太糟糕了。它选择了另一种方式，打算用钢琴代替你的腿。”
用钢琴！这到底是条什么蛇啊？姐姐怎么能容忍跟这些疯子待在同一个房间？我看着她，虽然利奈特仍然表现出一副无所谓的样子，但我了解她——她早就被吓出一身鸡皮疙瘩了。
蛇把身体在钢琴脚上绕了三圈，然后马特——也许是麦克——竖起食指：“嘘！嘘！安静安静。看好了！”
蛇停止蠕动，开始收缩身体。随着收缩的过程，我们听到了鸡蛋在体内碎裂的声音。“天哪，太恶心了！”女孩子们感叹道。“哎哟，我的天！”男孩子们说。麦克和马特相视大笑：“准备开饭！”
面对蟒蛇，我希望保持冷静，但事实上我开始做噩梦，梦里全是蛇在吞鸡蛋、吞老鼠、吞猫。
还有我自己。
真正的噩梦由此开始。
在斯凯勒家车库里看完那场秀大约两周后的一天早上，朱莉出现在我家门口，猜猜她手里拿着什么？半箱鸡蛋。她蹦蹦跳跳的，就像在过圣诞节：“你好呀，布莱斯！还记得艾比、邦妮、克莱德和德克斯特吗？还有尤尼斯和佛罗伦斯？”
我一头雾水地看着她。圣诞老人的驯鹿好像不叫这个名字呀。
“你知道吧……我养的鸡？去年科技展孵化出的那些。”
“哦，没错。当然忘不了。”
“它们下蛋了！”她把纸箱塞进我手里，“拿着！这是送给你和你全家的。”
“哦。呃，谢谢。”说着，我关上了门。
我以前很喜欢吃鸡蛋。尤其是炒蛋，配上培根或者番茄酱。可是，就算没有蟒蛇在其中作梗，我也知道这些鸡蛋无论怎么烹调，吃在我嘴里必定味同嚼蜡。因为生蛋的鸡是朱莉安娜·贝克在五年级科技展上孵出来的。
那是典型的朱莉作风。她完完全全支配了科技展，而她的项目自始至终都是在观察鸡蛋。要知道，孵蛋的过程其实没什么值得大书特书的细节。调好光线，摆好容器，铺上碎报纸，就是这样。没有别的了。
但是，朱莉决心要写一篇冗长的报告，还要加上图表——线图、柱状图和饼图——来描述鸡蛋的活动。几个鸡蛋而已！
她还计算了孵蛋的时间，控制它们在展览当天晚上孵出小鸡。她干吗非得这么做啊？我辛辛苦苦做了一个火山喷发的实景模型，结果人人都去关心朱莉的小鸡怎么破壳了。我也亲自去看了一眼——完全客观地说——太无聊了。小鸡只花了五秒钟的时间就破壳而出，而后的五分钟里就躺在那儿一动不动。
我听见朱莉叽里咕噜地对评委们说着什么。她拿着一支教鞭——你能相信吗？不是铅笔，而是一支真正的可伸缩的教鞭，以便她站在孵化器旁边也能指着那些图表，介绍观察小鸡21天孵化过程的兴奋之情。
她只差没穿一身小鸡戏服了，朋友，我敢保证——如果她真的想穿，早就穿上了。
不过，这件事已经过去了。这就是朱莉会做的事，对吧？但是一年后的今天，眼前突然跑出来一箱自家出产的鸡蛋。刚好妈妈从走廊里探出头来问我：“刚才是谁啊，亲爱的？你拿着什么东西？是鸡蛋吗？”这时候我很难压住火气，不去想她那个得了大奖的愚蠢的项目吧。
从妈妈的表情来看，她正在忙着做饭。“是的，”我把鸡蛋递给她，“不过我只想吃麦片。”
她打开纸箱看了看，然后笑着合上了。“真不错！”她说，“谁送来的？”
“朱莉。她下的。”
“她下的？”
“呃，她家的鸡下的。”
“是吗？”妈妈的笑容退去，她重新打开纸箱，“这样啊。我不知道她还……养了鸡。”
“记得吗？去年科技展的时候，你和爸爸花了一个小时看它们出壳。”
“好吧，可是我们怎么才能知道……这些鸡蛋里有没有小鸡？”
我耸耸肩：“我说过了，我只吃麦片。”
那天我们吃的都是麦片，但谈话的内容一直是鸡蛋。爸爸认为它们完全可以吃——他小的时候吃过农场养殖的新鲜鸡蛋，非常鲜美。但妈妈无法摒弃她会从鸡蛋里敲出一只死鸡的念头，然后话题迅速转向了公鸡的问题——我抱着我的麦片只好无语了。
最后利奈特说：“如果他们养了一只公鸡，你觉得我们会不知道吗？所有的邻居会不知道？”
嗯，我们都认为她说到点子上了。但是妈妈仍然不甘心：“也许他们养了一只不会打鸣的。你知道——就像不会叫的狗一样？”
“一只不会打鸣的公鸡。”爸爸说，就像听到了最最荒谬的故事一样。他看了妈妈一眼，意识到自己最好还是附和她关于公鸡不会打鸣的主意，而不是取笑她。“呃，”他说，“我从来没听说过，不过这也是有可能的。”
利奈特耸耸肩，对妈妈说：“你去问问他们好啦。给贝克夫人打个电话就知道了。”
“哦，”妈妈说，“好吧，我可不想问她关于鸡蛋的问题。这听起来不太礼貌，对不对？”
“问问马特或者麦克。”我对利奈特说。
她怒视着我，从牙缝里说：“闭嘴。”
“怎么了？我什么也没说！”
“你没发现我再也不去他家了吗，白痴！”
“利奈特！”妈妈喊道，就像是头一次听到姐姐用这种态度对我说话似的。
“嘿，这是真的！他怎么会不知道呢？”
“我正想问你呢，亲爱的。出什么问题了？”
利奈特站起来，把椅子推回去。“别装得好像你真的关心我似的。”她咬着牙说，然后冲回房间去了。
“唉，天哪！”爸爸说。
妈妈站起来：“不好意思。”然后跟着利奈特去了走廊。
妈妈走了以后，爸爸说：“好吧，孩子，为什么你不去问问朱莉呢？”
“爸爸！”
“就问个简单的问题嘛，布莱斯。没什么大不了。”
“但是她会拉住我解释半个小时！”
他盯着我看了一分钟，然后说：“男孩不应该害怕女孩。”
“我不是怕她……”
“我觉得你是。”
“爸爸！”
“真的，孩子。我希望你去问问她。克服恐惧，回来告诉我们答案。”
“问他们养没养公鸡？”
“是的，”他站起来，收起盛麦片的碗，“我得去上班了，你也要去上学。我希望今晚听到答案。”
好极了。真是好极了。这一天还没有开始，就被毁掉了。在学校，我跟加利特讲了这件事，他却只是耸耸肩说：“好吧，她就住在你家对街，是不是？”
“对，怎么了？”
“你爬上围栏去看看呗。”
“你让我偷偷摸摸去侦察一下？”
“当然了。”
“可是……我怎么才能知道他们养没养公鸡？”
“公鸡嘛……我不知道……体形大一些。羽毛更多。”
“羽毛？你是说我要去数羽毛？”
“不，笨蛋！我妈妈说公鸡的羽毛更鲜艳。”他笑了，“不过对你来说，我就不确定了。”
“谢谢。你帮了我大忙，伙计。太谢谢了。”
“记住，公鸡的个头更大，羽毛更鲜艳。你知道吧，就是屁股后面那些长长的羽毛。红色，或者黑色，或者别的颜色。还有，公鸡是不是头上长了些红色的软乎乎的东西？还有脖子上也是？没错，反正公鸡在脑袋的四周都长着红色的软东西。”
“所以你的意思是，我应该爬上围栏，寻找长了长羽毛和红色软东西的家伙。”
“哦，等等，万一小鸡也长了那些红色的软东西呢。你看着办吧。”
我朝他翻着白眼，差一点儿就想说，我还是问问朱莉算了。但他忽然说道：“如果需要的话，我陪你去。”
“真的吗？”
“当然，哥们儿。真的。”
于是，我和加利特·安德森就这样在下午三点半来到贝克家的后墙，紧张地朝院子里偷窥。不是为了行动隐蔽，而是不这样就没法在当天晚饭时间向爸爸交差了。
我们行动得很迅速。下课铃一响，我们就从学校溜出来，因为在计划里，如果我们到贝克家够早，就能在朱莉到家之前搞定一切。连书包都没放回家，我们就直接冲下小路，准备实施偷窥计划。
其实不一定要爬上贝克家的围栏。我发现，从外面几乎可以直接看到院子里的景象。但是加利特执着地抻着脖子向上看，我不得不照计划行事，不过潜意识里我还是想到，加利特不住这附近，而我还要继续住在这儿呢。
后院乱得一塌糊涂，这倒没有出乎我的意料。灌木已经长疯了，用木头和铁丝搭的鸡笼摆在一边，院子里没铺草坪，而是一层肥沃的土壤。
加利特先发现了那条狗，它睡在露台上两张丑陋的折叠椅中间。他指指狗：“你觉得它会给咱们捣乱吗？”
“我们不会在里面待太久的，不至于惹上麻烦！那些该死的鸡在哪儿？”
“也许在笼子里。”他捡起一块石头，朝那堆胶合板和铁丝网组成的破烂扔过去。
只听见一阵掀动羽毛的声音，后来其中一只拍着翅膀走出来。它没走多远，却也足够让我们看到它的羽毛和红色的冠子。
“怎么样？”我问，“这是公鸡吗？”
他耸耸肩：“我觉得像小鸡。”
“你怎么知道？”
他又耸耸肩：“我就是知道。”
我们看着它翻动泥土，然后我问：“好吧，母鸡长什么样？”
“母鸡？”
“是啊。有公鸡、小鸡，也有母鸡。母鸡长什么样？”
“那里就有一只。”他指着贝克家的后院说。
“那么，小鸡什么样？”
他看着我，就像我是个疯子：“你在说什么？”
“我说小鸡！小鸡什么样？”
他往后退了一步，说：“布莱斯弟弟，你疯了吗。那就是一只小鸡！”他弯腰捡起另一块石头，正要往外扔，这时露台的玻璃门被推开了，朱莉从屋里走出来。
我们一起缩回头。我一边透过围栏向里面望着，一边问道：“她什么时候回来的？”
加利特小声抱怨着：“就在你抽风问起那只小鸡的时候。”然后悄声说，“不过，这么一来倒是简单了。她是不是拿着篮子？她大概要过来捡鸡蛋。”
但是她要先宠爱一下她那条脏兮兮的狗。她弯下腰，把狗搓圆揉扁地爱抚了一通，然后唱起了歌。
她竟然真的在唱歌，用尽全力扯着嗓子：“在阴天中的一缕阳光，外边还很冷，这个月已经是五月，我猜测你会说是什么让我们走上这条路，我的女孩，我谈论的女孩……”
她朝鸡笼里望去，咕咕地叫着：“你好呀，弗洛！下午好，邦妮！过来呀，我的小宝贝！”
鸡笼不够大，她不能走到里面去。它更像一个单面坡顶的小屋，连狗都很难往里钻。不过，什么事情也难不住朱莉安娜·贝克。她弯下身，手掌和膝盖着地，一头扎进去。鸡们咯咯叫着，拍着翅膀跑出来，转眼院子里全是鸡，朱莉只露出一双沾满鸡粪的鞋在笼子外面。
我们听到的不光是鸡叫。她在笼子里继续颤声唱道：“我不需要金钱财富和名誉，我已经很富有，亲爱的，你就是我想要的，我猜测你会说是什么让我们走上这条路，我的女孩，我谈论的女孩……”
有那么一瞬间，我的注意力根本不在寻找小鸡身上有没有红色的冠子或是羽毛。我低头看着朱莉安娜·贝克的脚，好奇这世界上怎么会有人趴在东倒西歪的鸡舍里、鞋子上沾满鸡粪，却还是那么快乐。
加利特让我重新回到现实。“这些都是小鸡，”他说，“你看。”
我迅速地把视线从朱莉的鞋子上收回，开始研究那些鸡。先是清点数量，1——2——3——4——5——6，都在这里了。
不管怎么说，谁能忘了她当初孵出了六只小鸡呢？这是本校有史以来的最高纪录——县里的每一个人都听说了。
可我还是不知道该怎么开口请教加利特。没错，它们全是小鸡，这能说明什么问题？我不想让他再有机会数落我，但还是没看出其中的意义。最后，我还是问他：“你是说，这里没有公鸡？”
“绝对没有。”
“你怎么知道？”
他耸肩：“公鸡走起路来趾高气扬的。”
“趾高气扬？”
“是的。可是你看——这里没有一只鸡长了长羽毛，还有那些红色的软软的东西，”他点点头，“是的。它们肯定都是小鸡。”
那天晚上，爸爸开门见山地问：“好吧，儿子，任务完成了吗？”他边说边用力刺向碗里的意大利面，在叉子上卷成一团。
我也把面条如此处理，朝他微微一笑。“嗯哼，”我的语气就像是播报新闻，“它们都是小鸡。”
他翻卷叉子的手忽然停住了：“所以？”
我感觉到有什么不对，但不知道是哪里不对。我试着继续保持微笑，说：“什么所以？”
他放下叉子，盯着我的脸：“她是这么回答你的？‘它们都是小鸡’？”
“呃，不完全是。”
“她到底是怎么回答的？”
“呃……其实她什么都没说。”
“这是什么意思？”
“意思是我跑去她家然后自己看了一眼。”我努力说得像是一项了不起的成就，但是爸爸不买账。
“你没问她？”
“我不需要问，加利特很懂行，我们一起去观察得出了结论。”
利奈特回来了，她刚才去洗掉了仅剩的几根面条上的干酪酱。拿过盐瓶，她瞪了我一眼：“你才是小鸡。”
“利奈特！”妈妈说，“你注意点。”
利奈特停止撒盐：“妈妈，他去偷窥了。你明白吗？他从别人家的围栏向里偷窥，难道你能容忍他这么做？”
妈妈把头转向我这边：“布莱斯，这是真的吗？”
现在人人都在盯着我看，我觉得有必要维护自己的脸面：“这算什么？你让我去搞清楚他们家养了什么鸡，我就去了！”
“嘿——嘿——嘿！”姐姐发出低低的吼声。
爸爸没有恢复咀嚼。“而你的答案是，”他字斟句酌地说，“它们都是……小鸡。”
“是的。”
他叹了口气，叉起一口面条，嚼了很久很久才咽下去。
我的心迅速地往下沉，却还是一头雾水。为了打破尴尬，我说：“所以，你们可以放心吃那些鸡蛋了，不过我连碰都不想碰，千万别再跟我提到它们了。”
妈妈一边吃着沙拉，一边用目光在爸爸和我的脸上反复逡巡，我相信她在等待爸爸对我侦察邻居家的壮举做出表示。但爸爸什么都没说，于是她清清喉咙，说道：“为什么？”
“因为……呃，因为……我不知道该怎么说。”
“说出来。”爸爸忽然开口。
“呃，因为，你知道，那里到处都是屎。”
“哦，太恶心了！”姐姐边说边扔下她的叉子。
“你是说鸡的粪便？”妈妈问。
“是的。那个院子里连草坪都没有。到处都是土，还有，呃，你懂的，鸡屎。小鸡踩在上面，在鸡屎里啄来啄去，还……”
“天哪，恶心死了！”利奈特哀号道。
“真的，就是这样！”
利奈特站起来：“你觉得我听了这个还吃得下去？”然后昂首阔步地走出房间。
“利奈特！你必须吃点东西再走。”妈妈朝她身后喊道。
“不，我不吃了！”她喊回来，一秒钟以后，她转过头，探进客厅说，“而且你再也别指望我吃一个鸡蛋了，妈妈。‘沙门氏菌’这个词对你而言一点儿意义都没有吗？”
利奈特冲向走廊，妈妈说：“沙门氏菌？”她把头转向爸爸，“你觉得鸡蛋上有沙门氏菌吗？”
“我不知道，佩西。我更担心的是，我儿子是个胆小鬼。”
“胆小鬼？瑞克，别这么说。布莱斯才不是胆小鬼呢。他是个出色的孩子，他——”
“他害怕一个小姑娘。”
“爸爸，我不怕她，是她总来烦我！”
“为什么？”
“你知道为什么！她也来烦过你。她做事太过分了！”
“布莱斯，我希望你克服恐惧心理，可是你总是半途而废。如果你喜欢她，那就是另外一回事了。爱是一种让人害怕的东西，但你面对的不是爱，是尴尬。是的，她话太多了，她对每一件小事都过分热心了，可是，那又怎么样呢？敲门进去，问她问题，再走出来。勇敢地面对她，把你的问题大声说出来！”
“瑞克……”妈妈说，“瑞克，冷静点。他确实回答了你问他的问题……”
“不，他没有！”
“你这是什么意思？”
“他告诉我说，那里全都是小鸡！它们当然都是小鸡！我的问题是，有几只公的，几只母的。”
爸爸的话好像一下一下敲进我脑子里，好吧，我觉得自己是个彻头彻尾的傻瓜。难怪他讨厌我。我真是个白痴！它们都是小鸡……上帝！加利特假装自己是个鸡类专家，其实他什么也不懂！我怎么会相信他的话呢？
但是太晚了。爸爸已经认定我是个胆小鬼，为了帮我克服恐惧，他决定让我把那盒鸡蛋送回贝克家，并告诉他们我家不吃鸡蛋，或者我们对鸡蛋过敏，任何借口都行。
妈妈插了进来：“你看看你都在教他什么呀，瑞克？这不是真的。如果他把鸡蛋还回去，难道不应该跟他们说实话吗？”
“怎么说？说你害怕沙门氏菌？”
“我？你不是也有点担心吗？”
“佩西，这不是重点。重点是，我不想有个胆小的儿子！”
“所以你教他说谎？”
“好吧。那就把鸡蛋扔掉算了。不过从现在开始，我要求你正视那个厉害小妞的眼睛，听见没有？”
“好的，长官。”
“好，就这样吧。”
接下来的八天里，我完全忘记了这件事。第九天，她又出现了，早上七点钟，在我家门廊上手里拿着鸡蛋，蹦蹦跳跳地说：“嗨，布莱斯！给你。”
我试着直视她的眼睛，礼貌地谢绝，可是该死的，她看起来那么高兴，我根本没有完全睡醒，不敢就这样拒绝她。
她兴奋地把又一盒鸡蛋塞进我手里，而我紧张地把它们塞进厨房的垃圾桶，赶在我爸爸下楼来吃早餐之前。
这种情况一直持续了两年。两年哪！它已经变成我早上的固定节目。我得留心朱莉的到来，这样就能在她敲门或者按门铃之前把门打开，我还得在爸爸出现之前及时地把鸡蛋毁尸灭迹。
终于有一天，我搞砸了。那段时间，因为无花果树被砍，朱莉其实已经不怎么出现了，但是突然有一天早上，她又回到我家门口的台阶上来送鸡蛋。像平时一样，我接过它们，然后想拿去丢掉。但是厨房的垃圾桶太满了，盛不下这个盒子，所以我把它们放在垃圾的最上面，提起垃圾桶，推开房门，打算把它们一股脑儿地倒进门外的垃圾箱。
猜猜谁像个雕塑似的站在我家门廊上？
当然是送蛋的小母鸡。
我差点把垃圾桶翻倒在门廊上。“你怎么还在这儿？”我问她。
“我……我不知道。我只是在……想事情。”
“想什么？”我绝望了。我急需找到什么东西用来转移她的注意力，在她发现这堆垃圾最上面是什么之前。她把目光移开了，就像难为情似的。朱莉安娜·贝克会觉得难为情？我认为这是不可能的。
不过，管他呢。这是个难得的机会，我可以把一本湿漉漉的杂志盖在盛鸡蛋的盒子上，而我抓住了这关键的机会。然后，我试图向侧院里的垃圾箱发起快攻，但她竟然上来封堵我。没错，她走过来严严实实地挡住了我的去路，然后伸出手臂，就像在断球。
她追着我不放，堵住我。“怎么回事？”她追问道，“是摔碎了吗？”
太好了。我怎么没想到？“是的，朱莉，”我告诉她，“我真的很抱歉。”
而我心里想的是，求求你，上帝，哦求求你，上帝，让我把它们扔进垃圾箱吧。
但上帝一定是睡着了。朱莉抓住垃圾箱，翻出她宝贵的鸡蛋，马上就发现它们都好好的，连裂纹也没有。
她手里拿着鸡蛋，定定地站在那里，而我倒掉剩下的垃圾。
“你为什么要扔掉它们？”她问，可听上去完全不像平时的朱莉安娜·贝克。那声音轻轻的，带着颤抖。
于是，我告诉她我们害怕被传染沙门氏菌，因为她家的院子实在太脏了，而且我们不想伤害她的感情。我说得好像我们是对的，她才是错的，但我觉得自己就像个浑蛋，一个假惺惺的浑蛋。
她说，有几家邻居从她那里买鸡蛋。花钱买。
当我的脑子还在处理这个惊人的消息时，她已经迅速地心算过了。“你有没有想过，为了给你这些鸡蛋，我已经损失了超过一百美元？”她的眼泪汹涌而出，转身跑过街道。
我只能努力说服自己，并不是我开口向她要这些鸡蛋的——我从没说过我们想要、需要或是喜欢它们——事实上，我从来没见朱莉哭过。不管是体育课上摔断了手臂，还是在学校被别的孩子欺负，或者被她的哥哥们戏弄。即使他们砍倒无花果树的时候她也没哭。刚才，我可以肯定她哭了，但我并没有真的看见她的眼泪。
对我来说，朱莉安娜·贝克那么坚强，不可能掉眼泪。
我回到自己的房间收拾上学用的东西，感到自己是地球上有史以来最糟糕的浑蛋。我躲着她、躲着爸爸鬼鬼祟祟地扔了两年鸡蛋——我成什么了？我为什么不能站出来说，不要再送了，谢谢你，我们不想要，我们不需要，我们不喜欢……把它们留给蛇吃吧，为什么不告诉她？说什么都可以！
难道我真的害怕伤害她的感情？
或者，我害怕的是她？
Chapter 05
Brawk-Brawk-Brawk!
BRYCE
Eggs scare me. Chickens, too. And buddy, you can laugh at that all you want, but I'm being dead serious here.
It started in the sixth grade with eggs.
And a snake.
And the Baker brothers.
The Baker brothers' names are Matt and Mike, but even now I can't tell you which one's which. You never see one without the other. And even though they're not twins, they do look and sound pretty much the same, and they're both in Lynetta's class, so maybe one of them got held back.
Although I can't exactly see a teacher voluntarily having either of those maniacs two years in a row.
Regardless, Matt and Mike are the ones who taught me that snakes eat eggs. And when I say they eat eggs, I'm talking they eat them raw and shell-on whole.
I probably would've gone my entire life without this little bit of reptilian trivia if it hadn't been for Lynetta. Lynetta had this major-league thing for Skyler Brown, who lives about three blocks down, and every chance she got, she went down there to hang out while he practiced the drums. Well, boom-boom-whap, what did I care, right? But then Skyler and Juli's brothers formed a band, which they named Mystery Pisser.
When my mom heard about it, she completely wigged out. "What kind of parents would allow their children to be in a band named Mystery Pisser? It's vile. It's disgusting!"
That's the whole point, Mom, Lynetta tried to explain. "It doesn't mean anything. It's just to get a rise out of old people."
Are you calling me old, young lady? Because it's certainly getting a rise out of me!
Lynetta just shrugged, implying that my mom could draw her own conclusion.
Go! Go to your room, my mother snapped.
For what? Lynetta snapped back. "I didn't say a thing!"
You know perfectly well what for. Now you go in there and adjust your attitude, young lady!
So Lynetta got another one of her teenage time-outs, and after that any time Lynetta was two minutes late coming home for dinner, my mother would messenger me down to Skyler's house to drag her home. It might have been embarrassing for Lynetta, but it was worse for me. I was still in elementary school, and the Mystery Pisser guys were in high school. They were ripe and ragged, raging power chords through the neighborhood, while I looked like I'd just gotten back from Sunday school.
I'd get so nervous going down there that my voice would squeak when I'd tell Lynetta it was time for dinner. It literally squeaked. But after a while the band dropped Mystery from their name, and Pisser and its entourage got used to me showing up. And instead of glaring at me, they started saying stuff like, "Hey, baby brother, come on in!" "Hey, Brycie boy, wanna jam?"
This, then, is how I wound up in Skyler Brown's garage, surrounded by high school kids, watching a boa constrictor swallow eggs. Since I'd already seen it down a rat in the Baker brothers' bedroom, Pisser had lost at least some of the element of surprise. Plus, I picked up on the fact that they'd been saving this little show to freak me out, and I really didn't want to give them the satisfaction.
This wasn't easy, though, because watching a snake swallow an egg is actually much creepier than you might think. The boa opened its mouth to an enormous size, then just took the egg in and glub! We could see it roll down its throat.
But that wasn't all. After the snake had glubbed down three eggs, Matt-or-Mike said, "So, Brycie boy, how's he gonna digest those?"
I shrugged and tried not to squeak when I answered, "Stomach acid?"
He shook his head and pretended to confide, "He needs a tree. Or a leg." He grinned at me. "Wanna volunteer yours?"
I backed away a little. I could just see that monster try to swallow my leg whole as an after-egg chaser. "N-no!"
He laughed and pointed at the boa slithering across the room. "Aw, too bad. He's going the other way. He's gonna use the piano instead!"
The piano! What kind of snake was this? How could my sister stand being in the same room as these dementos? I looked at her, and even though she was pretending to be cool with the snake, I know Lynetta — she was totally creeped out by it.
The snake wrapped itself around the piano leg about three times, and then Matt-or-Mike put his hands up and said, "Shhh! Shhh! Everybody quiet. Here goes!"
The snake stopped moving, then flexed. And as it flexed, we could hear the eggs crunch inside him. "Oh, gross!" the girls wailed. "Whoa, dude!" the guys all said. Mike and Matt smiled at each other real big and said, "Dinner is served!"
I tried to act cool about the snake, but the truth is I started having bad dreams about the thing swallowing eggs. And rats. And cats.
And me.
Then the real-life nightmare began.
One morning about two weeks after the boa showin Skyler's garage, Juli appears on our doorstep, and what's she got in her hands? A half-carton of eggs. She bounces around like it's Christmas, saying, "Hiya, Bryce! Remember Abby and Bonnie and Clyde and Dexter?Eunice and Florence?"
I just stared at her. Somehow I remembered Santa's reindeer a little different than that.
You know ... my chickens? The ones I hatched for the science fair last year?
Oh, right. How could I forget.
They're laying eggs! She pushed the carton into my hands. "Here, take these! They're for you and your family."
Oh. Uh, thanks,I said, and closed the door.
I used to really like eggs. Especially scrambled, with bacon or sausage. But even without the little snake incident, I knew that no matter what you did to these eggs, they would taste nothing but foul to me. These eggs came from the chickens that had been the chicks that had hatched from the eggs that had been incubated by Juli Baker for our fifth-grade science fair.
It was classic Juli. She totally dominated the fair, and get this —her project was all about watching eggs. My friend, there is not a lot of action to report on when you're incubating eggs. You've got your light, you've got your container, you've got some shredded newspaper, and that's it. You're done.
Juli, though, managed to write an inch-thick report, plus she made diagrams and charts — I'm talking line charts and bar charts and pie charts — about the activity of eggs. Eggs!
She also managed to time the eggs so that they'd hatch the night of the fair. How does a person do that? Here I've got a live-action erupting volcano that I've worked pretty stinking hard on, and all anybody cares about is Juli's chicks pecking out of their shells. I even went over to take a look for myself, and — I'm being completely objective here —it was boring. They pecked for about five seconds, then just lay there for five minutes.
I got to hear Juli jabber away to the judges, too. She had a pointer —can you believe that? Not a pencil, an actual retractable pointer, so she could reach across her incubator and tap on this chart or that diagram as she explained the excitement of watching eggs grow for twenty-one days. The only thing she could've done to be more overboard was put on a chicken costume, and buddy, I'm convinced — if she'd thought of it, she would have done it.
But hey — I was over it. It was just Juli being Juli, right? But all of a sudden thereI am a year later, holding a carton of home-grown eggs. And I'm having a hard time not getting annoyed all over again about her stupid blue-ribbon project when my mother leans out from the hallway and says, "Who was that, honey? What have you got there? Eggs?"
I could tell by the look on her face that she was hot to scramble. "Yeah," I said, and handed them to her. "But I'm having cereal."
She opened the carton, then closed it with a smile. "How nice!"she said. "Who brought themover?"
Juli. She grew them.
Grew them?
Well, her chickens did.
Oh? Her smile started falling as she opened the carton again. "Is that so. I didn't know she had... chickens."
Remember? You and Dad spent an hour watching them hatch at last year's science fair?
Well, how do we know there're not ... chicks inside these eggs?
I shrugged. "Like I said, I'm having cereal."
We all had cereal, but what we talked about were eggs. My dad thought they'd be just fine — he'd had farm-fresh eggs when he was a kid and said they were delicious. My mother, though, couldn't get past the idea that she might be cracking open a dead chick, and pretty soon discussion turned to the role of the rooster — something me and my Cheerios could've done without.
Finally Lynetta said, "If they had a rooster, don't you think we'd know? Don't you think the whole neighborhood would know?"
Hmmm, we all said, good point. But then my mom pipes up with, "Maybe they got it de-yodeled. You know — like they de-bark dogs?"
A de-yodeled rooster, my dad says, like it's the most ridiculous thing he's ever heard. Then he looks at my mom and realizes that he'd be way better off going along with her de-yodeled idea than making fun of her. "Hmmm," he says, "I've never heard of such a thing, but maybe so."
Lynetta shrugs and says to my mom, "So just ask them, why don't you. Call up Mrs. Baker and ask her."
Oh,my mom says. "Well, I'd hate to call her eggs into question. It doesn't seem very polite, now, does it?"
Just ask Matt or Mike, I say to Lynetta.
She scowls at me and hisses, "Shut up."
What? What'd I do now?
Haven't you noticed I haven't been going down there, you idiot?
Lynetta! my mom says. Like this is the first time she's heard my sister talk to me or something.
Well, it's true! How can he not have noticed?
I was going to ask you about that, honey. Did something happen?
Lynetta stands up and shoves her chair in. "Like you care," she snaps, and charges down to her room.
Oh, boy, my dad says.
Mom says, "Excuse me," and follows Lynetta down the hall.
When my mother's gone, my dad says, "So, son, why don't you just ask Juli?"
Dad!
It's just a little question, Bryce. No harm, no foul.
But it'll get me a half-hour answer!
He studies me for a minute, then says, "No boy should be this afraid of a girl."
I'm not afraid of her... !
I think you are.
Dad!
Seriously, son. I want you to get us an answer. Conquer your fear and get us an answer.
To whether or not they have a rooster?
That's right. He gets up and clears his cereal bowl, saying, "I've got to get to work and you've got to get to school. I'll expect a report tonight."
Great. Just great. The day was doomed before it had started. But then at school when I told Garrett about what had happened, he just shrugged and said, "Well, she lives right across the street from you, right?"
Yeah, so?
So just go look over the fence.
You mean spy?
Sure.
But ... how can I tell if one of them's a rooster or not?
Roosters are ... I don't know... bigger. And they have more feathers.
Feathers? Like I've got to go and count feathers?
No, stupid! My mom says that the male's always brighter. Then he laughs and says, "Although in your case I'm not so sure."
Thanks. You are giving me big-time help here, buddy. I really appreciate it.
Look, a rooster's going to be bigger and have brighter feathers. You know, those long ones in the back? They're redder or blacker or whatever. And don't roosters have some rubbery red stuff growing off the top of their head? And some off their neck, too? Yeah, the rooster's got all sorts of rubbery red stuff all around its face.
So you're saying I'm supposed to look over the fence for big feathers and rubbery red stuff.
Well, come to think of it, chickens have that rubbery red stuff, too. Just not as much of it.
I rolled my eyes at him and was about to say, Forget it, I'll just ask Juli, but then he says, "I'll come with you if you want."
Seriously?
Yeah, dude. Seriously.
And that, my friend, is how I wound up spying over the Bakers' back fence with Garrett Anderson at three-thirty that afternoon. Not my choice of covert operations, but a necessary one in order to report back to my dad that night at dinner.
We got there fast, too. The bell rang and we basically charged off campus because I figured if we got to the Bakers' quick enough, we could look and leave before Juli was anywhere near her house. We didn't even drop off our backpacks. We went straight down the alley and started spying.
It'snot really necessary to look over the Bakers' fence. You can see almost as well looking through it. But Garrett kept sticking his head up, so I figured I should too, although in the back of my mind I was aware that Garrett didn't have to live in this neighborhood — I did.
The backyard was a mess. Big surprise. The bushes were out of control, there was some kind of hodgepodge wood-and-wire coop off to one side, and the yard wasn't grass, it was highly fertilized dirt.
Garrett was the first to notice their dog, sacked out on the patio between two sorry-looking folding chairs. He points at him and says, "You think he's going to give us trouble?"
We're not going to be here long enough to get in trouble! Where are those stupid chickens?
Probably in the coop, he says, then picks up a rock and throws it at the mess of plywood and chicken wire.
At first all we hear is a bunch of feathers flapping, but then one of the birds comes fluttering out. Not very far, but enough so we can see it's got feathers and rubbery red stuff.
So? I ask him. "Is that a rooster?"
He shrugs. "Looks like a chicken to me."
How can you tell?
