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gooey…eyed or something stupid like that。 No； I'd go up and just tell her that I felt bad for
being a jerk and I wanted to make it up to her by helping her
cut back some bushes。 Period。 End of story。 And if she still wanted to be mad at me after
that； then fine。 That was her problem。
My problem was； I never got the chance。 I came trekking down from the bus stop to find my
grandfather doing my good deed。
Now； jump back。 This was not something I could immediately absorb。 My grandfather did not
do yard work。 At least； he'd never offered to help
me out。 My grandfather lived in house slippers — where'd he get those work boots？ And
those jeans and that flannel shirt — what was up with
those？
I crouched behind a neighbor's hedge and watched them for ten or fifteen minutes； and man；
the longer I watched； the madder I got。 My
grandfather had already said more to her in this little slice of time than he'd said to me the
whole year and a half he'd been living with us。 What was
his deal with Juli Baker？
I took the back way home； which involved climbing two fences and kicking off the neighbor's
stupid little terrier； but it was worth it； considering I
avoided the garden party across the street。
Again I got no homework done。 The more I watched them； the madder I got。 I was still a
cluck…faced jerk； while Juli was laughing it up with my
grandfather。 Had I ever seen him smile？ Really smile？ I don't think so！ But now he was knee…
high in tles； laughing。
At dinner that night he'd showered and changed back into his regular clothes and house
slippers； but he didn't look the same。 It was like
someone had plugged him in and turned on the light。
“Good evening；” he said as he sat down with the rest of us。 “Oh； Patsy； that looks delicious！”
“Well； Dad；” my mom said with a laugh； “your excursion across the street seems to have
done you a world of good。”
“Yeah；” my father said。 “Patsy tells me you've been over there all afternoon。 If you were in
the mood for home improvement projects； why didn't
you just say so？”
My father was just joking around； but I don't think my grandfather took it that way。 He helped
himself to a cheese…stuffed potato and said； “Pass
the salt； won't you； Bryce？”
So there was this definite tension between my father and my grandfather； but I think if Dad
had dropped the subject right then； the vibe would've
vanished。
Dad didn't drop it； though。 Instead； he said； “So why's the girl the one who's finally doing
something about their place？”
My grandfather salted his potato very carefully； then looked across the table at me。 Ah…oh； I
thought。 Ah… oh。 In a flash I knew those stupid eggs
were not behind me。 Two years of sneaking them in the trash； two years of avoiding
discussion of Juli and her eggs and her chickens and her earlymorning
visits； and for what？ Granddad knew； I could see it in his eyes。 In a matter of seconds he'd
crack open the truth； and I'd be as good as
fried。
Enter a miracle。 My grandfather petrified me for a minute with his eyes but then turned to my
father and said； “She wants to； is all。”
A raging river of sweat ran down my temples； and as my father said； “Well； it's about time
someone did；” my grandfather looked back at me and I
knew—he was not going to let me forget this。 We'd just had another conversation； only this
time I was definitely not dismissed。
After the dishes were cleared； I retreated to my room； but my grandfather came right in；
closed the door behind him； and then sat on my bed。 He
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did this all without making a sound。 No squeaking； no clanking； no scraping； no breathing …I
swear； the guy moved through my room like a ghost。
And of course I'm banging my knee and dropping my pencil and deteriorating into a pathetic
pool of Jell…O。 But I tried my best to sound cool as I
said； “Hello； Granddad。 e to check out the digs？”
He pinched his lips together and looked at nothing but me。
I cracked。 “Look； Granddad； I know I messed up。 I should've just told her； but I couldn't。 And I
kept thinking they'd stop。 I mean； how long can a
chicken lay eggs？ Those things hatched in the fifth grade！ That was like； three years ago！
Don't they eventually run out？ And what was I supposed to
do？ Tell her Mom was afraid of salmonella poisoning？ And Dad wanted me to tell her we
were allergic—c'mon； who's going to buy that？ So I just
kept； you know； throwing them out。 I didn't know she could've sold them。 I thought they were
just extras。”
He was nodding； but very slowly。
I sighed and said； “Thank you for not saying anything about it at dinner。 I owe you。”
He pulled my curtain aside and looked across the street。 “One's character is set at an early
age； son。 The choices you make now will affect you
for the rest of your life。” He inute； then dropped the curtain and said； “I hate
to see you swim out so far you can't swim back。”
“Yes； sir。”
He frowned and said； “Don't yes…sir me； Bryce。” Then he stood and added； “Just think about
what I've said； and the next time you're faced with a
choice； do the right thing。 It hurts everyone less in the long run。”
With that； poof； he was gone。
The next day I went to shoot some hoops at Garrett's after school； and when his mom
dropped me off later that afternoon； my granddad didn't
even notice。 He was too busy being Joe Carpenter in Juli's front yard。
I tried to do my homework at the breakfast bar； but my mom came home from work and
started being all chatty； and then Lyta appeared and
the two of them started fighting about whether Lyta's makeup made her look like a
wounded raccoon。
Lyta。 I swear she'll never learn。
I packed up my stuff and escaped to my room； which； of course； was a total waste。 They've
got a saw revving and wailing across the street； and
in between cuts I can hear