A GRACEFUL CHICKEN
We stand on the patio, a circle of raised eyebrows. If no one else will ask, I will. “What is it?”
Pete waves a hand at the mass of golden feathers and wire. “Duh, Grace, it’s a chicken.”
“It was a chicken.” Jason kicks a broken wing.
Nathan crouches to tinker with the wires. “You might fix it.”
“So it can do what, cross the road?” I wish I had a sister, even a brother with some sense.
“We play Lewistown Friday.” John holds the chicken up, like Mom does to check if a shirt will fit me. “Team Lewiston just got an unexpected mascot.”