“Go！ Go to your room；” my mother snapped。
“For what？” Lyta 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 Lyta got another one of her teenage time…outs； and after that any time Lyta was two
minutes late ing home for dinner； my mother
would messenger me down to Skyler's house to drag her home。 It might have been
embarrassing for Lyta； 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 Lyta 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； e 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 Lyta — she was totally
creeped out by it。
……… Page 22………
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 show in Skyler's garage； Juli appears on our
doorstep； and what's she got in her hands？ A halfcarton
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 pletely 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 there I 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。”
……… Page 23………
She opened the carton； then closed it with a smile。 “How nice！” she said。 “Who brought them
over？”
“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