Chicken Chicken

I hate chickens.

They are filthy creatures, and they smell like… like… chickens.

“Crystal, it’s your turn to feed the chickens,” Mom says. My least favorite
words.

I carry the seed bucket out to the backyard, and they come scurrying over,
clucking and squawking and flapping their greasy wings. I hate the way they
brush up against my legs as they peck the seeds off the ground. Their feathers
are so rough and scratchy.

My brother, Cole, and I are always trying to convince my parents to get rid
of the chickens. “Just because we live on a farm doesn’t mean we have to have
chickens,” I always say.

“Right! We’re not farmers!” Cole agrees. “So why do we have to have those
smelly chickens?”

“It’s always been our dream,” Mom always replies. Blah blah blah.

Cole and I have heard the dream story a thousand times.

We’ve heard how Mom and Dad grew up in the Bronx in New York City. How they
hated the noise and the dirt and the concrete. How they dreamed of leaving the
city for good and living on a farm near a small country town.

So, when Cole was two and I was four, we moved to Goshen Falls. Lucky us! The
whole town is three blocks long. We have a cute little farm with a cute little
farmhouse. And even though Mom and Dad are computer programmers—not farmers—we have a backyard full of chickens.

Cluck. Cluck.
That’s
their
dream.

My
dream is that Cole gets punished for mouthing off the way he always
does. And his punishment is that
he
has to feed the chickens for the rest
of his life.

Everyone has to have a dream—right?

“OWW!” A chicken pecked my ankle. That hurt! Their beaks are so sharp.

I tossed a final handful of seed on the ground and hopped backward, away from
the gross, clucking creatures. Their little black eyes glinted in the sunlight
as they strutted over the grass. Pecking each other. Bumping each other out of
the way as they dipped their scrawny heads for the food.

I dropped the bucket in the back of the little barn we also use as a garage.
Then I washed my hands under the cold water spigot at the side of the barn.

I heard a low roar. A shadow rolled over the barn. I gazed up to see a small
plane dipping under the puffy afternoon clouds.

I took a deep breath. The tangy aroma of potatoes floated in the air.

That’s what the farmers grow around here. Mostly potatoes and corn.

I dried my hands on the legs of my jeans and hurried off in search of my
brother. It was a sunny Saturday afternoon. Most of my friends from school were
away on a 4-H club trip.

Mom asked me to keep an eye on Cole. He’s ten, two years younger than me. But
sometimes he acts like a four-year-old. It seems like he’s always finding new
ways to get into trouble.

I wandered through town. No sign of him. I asked Mrs. Wagner at the bakery if
she’d seen him. Cole likes to stop in there and beg her for free doughnuts.

Mrs. Wagner said she saw Cole and his friend Anthony heading out of town in
the direction of Pullman’s Pond.

Uh-oh, I thought. What are they planning to do at the pond? I started to the
door.

“I just love your hair, Crystal,” Mrs. Wagner called. “It’s such a beautiful deep shade of red. You should be a model.
Really. You’re so tall and thin.”

“Thanks, Mrs. Wagner!” I called as the door closed behind me. I wasn’t
thinking about my hair or being a model. I was thinking about Cole and Anthony
and the pond.

I trotted the rest of the way through town. Waved to Mr. Porter standing in
the window of the Pic ’n’ Pay. Then I turned off the street and followed the dirt
path that led to Pullman’s Pond.

I didn’t have to go far to find Cole and Anthony. They were hiding behind the
long hedge at the edge of Vanessa’s property.

I gazed beyond the hedge to the falling-down old farmhouse where Vanessa
lives.

Who is Vanessa? I guess you might say she is the most interesting person in
Goshen Falls. And the most weird.

Actually, Vanessa is like someone from a horror movie. She is kind of pretty,
with long, straight black hair and a pale, white face. She dresses all in black.
She wears black lipstick and black fingernail polish.

Vanessa is a mystery woman. No one knows if she’s young or old.

She keeps to herself. I’ve hardly ever seen her in town. She lives in her old
farmhouse right outside of town with her black cat.

Naturally, everyone says she is some kind of sorceress.

I’ve heard all kinds of stories about Vanessa. Frightening stories. Most of
the kids in Goshen Falls are scared of her. But that doesn’t stop them from
playing tricks on her.

Kids are always daring each other to sneak up to Vanessa’s house. It’s kind
of a game everyone plays. Sneak up to her house, tap on the window, make her cat
screech. Then run away before Vanessa sees you.

“Hey—Cole!” I called in a loud whisper. I ducked my head as I ran along the
hedge. If Vanessa was home, I didn’t want her to see me.

“Hey, Cole—what’s up?”

As I came nearer, I saw that Cole and Anthony weren’t alone. Two other kids
huddled behind the hedge. Franny Jowett and Jeremy Garth.

Cole raised a finger to his lips. “Ssshhhh. Vanessa is in there.”

“What are you doing?” I demanded. I saw that Franny and Jeremy held plastic
water pitchers in their hands. “Is that lemonade or something?”

They shook their heads solemnly.

“Some kids dared them to fill Vanessa’s mailbox with water,” Cole explained.

“Huh?” I gasped. I stared at Franny and Jeremy. “You’re not going to do it—are you?”

“They have to,” Cole answered for them. “A dare is a dare.”

“But that’s so mean!” I protested.

My brother snickered. “The mailbox is right next to the front door. No way they won’t get caught.”

Franny and Jeremy are blond and pale. Now they looked even paler than usual.
Jeremy made a soft, choking sound. Franny gripped her pitcher tightly and peered
over the hedge at the black metal mailbox on its tilted pole.

“You accepted the dare. Are you going to wimp out?” Cole demanded.

Franny and Jeremy glanced at each other nervously. They didn’t reply.

“Don’t do it,” Anthony suddenly chimed in.

We all turned to Anthony. He’s short and chubby and has a round face and very
short black hair. He wears red-framed glasses that are always slipping down his
little pug nose.

“Don’t do it,” Anthony repeated.

“Why n-not?” Franny stammered.

“Didn’t you hear what happened when Vanessa caught Tommy Pottridge?” Anthony
asked in a hushed whisper. “Didn’t you hear what she did to him?”

“No!” Franny and Jeremy declared together.

I felt a tremble of fear run down my back. “What did Vanessa do to Tommy?” I
demanded.

I peered over the tall hedge. Did something move in Vanessa’s front window?

No. Just a glint of sunlight on the windowpane.

We huddled closer to Anthony. Even though it was a warm spring day, I
suddenly felt chilled. “What did Vanessa do to Tommy?” I repeated in a whisper.

“She caught him sneaking up to her house,” Anthony reported. “She did some
kind of magic spell on him. She made his head blow up like a balloon.”

“Oh, come on!” I exclaimed, rolling my eyes.

“No—really!” Anthony protested. “His head was huge. And it got all soft and
squishy. Like a sponge.”

Cole laughed.

Anthony clamped a hand over Cole’s mouth. “It’s true!” he insisted. “Vanessa
gave him a big, soft, spongy head. That’s why we don’t see Tommy around
anymore!”

“But the Pottridges moved away!” Franny cried.

“That’s why they moved,” Anthony replied. “Because of Tommy’s head.”

We all froze for a moment, thinking about Anthony’s story. I tried to picture
Tommy with a big, squishy head.

Cole broke the silence. “Give me that!” he cried. He grabbed the water
pitcher from Jeremy’s hands. “
I’ll
fill up her mailbox. I’m not scared.”

“No way!” Jeremy protested. He wrestled the pitcher away from my brother.
Then he turned to Franny. “We’re doing it—right? We were dared, so we have to
do it—right?”

Franny swallowed hard. “I guess,” she choked out.

“All right!” Cole cheered, slapping them both on the back. Franny nearly
dropped her pitcher. “You can do it! Lots of kids play tricks on Vanessa. And
they don’t get squishy heads.”

“I still think it’s mean to fill someone’s mailbox with water,” I protested.
“And it’s not worth the risk.”

No one wanted to listen to me or my warnings.

Franny and Jeremy tiptoed to the end of the hedge. Then they began slowly
making their way over the tall, weed-choked grass.

They carried their plastic water pitchers in both hands in front of them. And
they kept their eyes on the tilted mailbox to the right of the front door of Vanessa’s
farmhouse.

Cole, Anthony, and I crept out from behind the hedge to watch. I held my
breath and stared at the front window, looking out for Vanessa.

But the glare of yellow sunlight filled the windowpane. I couldn’t see a
thing.

Franny and Jeremy seemed to be moving in slow motion. It was taking them
forever
to cross the lawn to the mailbox!

A million tiny white gnats flew over the tall grass. Swirling and dancing in
the sunlight, the gnats sparkled like jewels.

Franny and Jeremy walked right through them. Their eyes didn’t leave the
mailbox.

The two boys and I stepped a little closer, eager to see better.

No sign of anyone inside the house.

We stepped even closer.

At last, Jeremy pulled down the metal mailbox lid. He and Franny raised their
plastic pitchers.

They both lowered the pitchers to the mailbox.

And poured.

The water made a soft splashing sound as it hit the metal mailbox.

Franny emptied her pitcher. Jeremy had nearly emptied his.

Then the front door swung open—and Vanessa burst out.

She wore a flowing black dress. Her straight black hair flew wildly behind her. Her black-lipsticked lips were open in an
angry cry.

The cat screeched shrilly from somewhere in the house.

Franny dropped her pitcher. She bent to pick it up.

Changed her mind.

Ran.

Jeremy was already diving into the bushes at the far side of the house.
Franny ran close behind him.

Cole, Anthony, and I hadn’t moved.

We stood in the grass. Frozen. Watching Vanessa.

I gasped when I saw Vanessa’s furious stare.

I turned to Cole and Anthony. “Why is she staring like that at
us
?” I
choked out. “Does she think
we
did it?”

My whole body stiffened. As if Vanessa’s eyes were shooting out some kind of
laser ray.

I forced myself to spin away. And I started to run.

Cole and Anthony were at my sides. Our sneakers thudded heavily over the dirt
path. We kicked up clouds of dirt as we ran. A blur of green and brown, the
fields appeared to tilt and sway around me.

We ran through town without stopping. Without saying a word. Without even
looking
at each other!

Mrs. Wagner stepped out of the bakery. She started to say hello. I caught the
shocked expression on her face as the three of us ran past her without slowing
down.

We ran until we reached my house. We burst through the gate, slamming it open
so hard, the whole fence shook. I pushed open the front door with my shoulder, and all three of us staggered into the living room.

Gasping for breath, I dropped to my knees on the carpet.

Cole and Anthony collapsed onto the couch.

We struggled to catch our breath. I brushed my hair back off my sweaty
forehead. The clock on the mantel chimed. Three o’clock.

Cole and Anthony burst out laughing.

I narrowed my eyes at them. “What’s so funny?” I demanded breathlessly.

That made them laugh even harder.

“What’s so funny, guys?” I repeated. I climbed to my feet and pressed my
hands into my waist, waiting for an answer. “Why are you laughing?”

“I don’t know!” Cole answered finally.

“I don’t know, either!” Anthony echoed.

And they both laughed again.

“You’re crazy,” I muttered, shaking my head. “That wasn’t funny. It was
scary.”

Cole pulled himself up. His expression turned serious. “Did you see the way
Vanessa stared at us?”

“She didn’t see Franny and Jeremy,” Anthony said. “She only saw us.” He
pulled off his glasses and cleaned them on his T-shirt sleeve. The short black
hair on his round head glistened with sweat.