wanted to bop her on the head.
“How many days do you think are left?” Mr. Laskey asked Mr. Parker.
There was an awkward silence. Then Mr. Parker said, “Don’t worry, we’ll get all your wheat cut before the rain. But, uh, up in Oklahoma we have a customer who’s expecting rain soon. So we’re going to have to split up the team. We’ll keep two combines here and send two up to Oklahoma.”
Mr. Laskey frowned. “I hired your whole team to cut this wheat, not half your team.”
“We’ll get it done before it rains here. I guarantee you that,” Mr. Parker said. “I’ve crunched all the numbers. We’re working sixteen hours today, and the way it’s going, by the end of Tuesday we should have more than four thousand acres cut.”
“But rain is expected here,” Mr. Laskey said.
“Right, and we’ll have already finished your farm. If we don’t get your grain in on time, I will personally pay for any wheat that gets wasted,” Mr. Parker replied.
Mr. Laskey didn’t answer, just drove off with his daughter.
Mr. Parker said impatiently, “All right, we’ve had enough to eat. Back to work.” So even though everybody still had food in their bowls, they all got back into their various machines.
We loaded up the bowls and canvas chairs. Obaachan didn’t say a word to me. But later when we had finished cleaning the dishes, and the bowls were stacked in the rack, she said, “I never been so ashamed of you.” Then she went to lie down facing south, while the rest of us would sleep north. Maybe I should have started sleeping south as well.
Then I plopped down on the front steps of the camper with Thunder at my feet. I was filled with shame that I hadn’t confessed, but now it just seemed impossible that I could. I pushed my hands against my head, hard. It was the sort of thing Jaz might do. I felt like my whole world was filled with nothing but responsibilities and consequences. I didn’t even know if I wanted to grow up. I would have even more responsibilities then, even more consequences.
I mean, I knew there were consequences, I knew I had to talk to the Parkers, but I just didn’t understand why my life was right here, in this particular place, and why I was the most unamazing person in the world. Why was I the girl wearing an apron?
I thought about going to talk to Mr. Laskey, but it might be that the Parkers would want to explain it themselves. I also thought very seriously about doing nothing at all. Mr. Laskey already thought a coyote was to blame. The only people who knew otherwise were me, Robbie, and Obaachan. Why had I told her? I knocked my hand against my skull and said, “Eejit!”
And what kind of crazy person pays a hundred dollars for a single chicken? I looked up at the stars. Jaz thought that out there in other galaxies, there were other inhabited planets, and that each inhabited planet had its own Bible, and that somewhere in some library in outer space there was something like a galactic
Instantly remorseful, I said, “Sorry, mothie.”
I wiped the moth gunk off my arm. Mr. Laskey could afford to lose three hundred dollars more than we could afford it. Dang!
“Come,” I said to Thunder, and he followed me into our camper, to our end of it.
Obaachan, who was reading a Japanese magazine, said, “What you want?”
“Obaachan, I can’t tell anyone now. Mr. Laskey’s already so upset.”
“Sometime it very inconvenient to tell truth. But girl I be proud of tell the truth, anyway.”
“You are the guilt trip queen!” I shouted at her.
“Grounded for week for yelling at me.” She spoke without moving her eyes from the magazine. I made a mental note that I should start keeping track of how much she said she was grounding me. It was adding up.
I pulled my purse from my luggage and took out three hundred dollars. It was a pretty, yellow straw purse with a wooden fish attached to the zipper. I had gotten it for Christmas. I had twenty-one one-dollar bills and the rest in twenties. “Stay,” I said to Thunder. “I’m about to do something that’s probably really stupid.”
I strode across the field toward the farmhouse. It was just like a house I would love to live in one day—two stories, a big covered porch, and wicker chairs. They looked so pretty that I went to sit on one for a moment. It would be so nice to sit out here at night and look at the stars. I thought I heard a noise and jumped up and looked around guiltily. But I didn’t see anyone. I knocked on the door.
Mrs. Laskey answered. “Yes?”
I hesitated—Mrs. Laskey didn’t look like I would have imagined. Her hair was completely unstyled, not even combed. It was just kind of smooshed on top of her head. And she wore bright red lipstick. Who wore bright red lipstick on a farm? She was exactly my height, five foot one. She looked a little crazy, actually, but in kind of a cute way, like someday she might become Obaachan or Jiichan. That kind of cute ... although I guess Obaachan wasn’t so cute.
“May I speak to Mr. Laskey? I’m with the Parkers.”
“Is it something I can help you with?” She gazed at me sincerely, like she really would like to help me.
“It’s about the coyotes.”
“Oh, all right, then. I’ll get him. He’s in a war with the coyotes.” She invited me inside, then she turned to pick up something from a small table in the foyer. “Would this be yours? It kind of looks like the one you’re wearing.” She held up a crumpled apron.
I looked at the apron. “Yes, that would be mine.” My face burned. I hadn’t even realized I’d dropped it. She handed it to me, and I stuffed it into my back pocket.
She studied me for a moment. Then she said, “Don’t worry, I won’t tell him,” and my heart went out to her.
On the table in the foyer there was a lamp that was darkish silver glass interspersed with lighter silver glass in the shape of flowers. I had never seen such a beautiful lamp. I didn’t even know anyone made beautiful lamps. I thought lamps were just lamps. It took all my self-control not to lean over and touch it.
Mr. Laskey walked into the foyer. “So you saw the coyotes?” He looked at me as if we were both involved in some kind of conspiracy against those evil coyotes.
“No, sir.”
He waited. I stared at him. I had the sudden thought that this was maybe the stupidest idea ever, like, in history. But it was too late now. He started to look puzzled as I just stood there.
“Well, what is it, then, young lady?”
“There are no coyotes,” I said sadly. “I mean, there are coyotes, but not here. I mean, not that I know of. My dog killed your chickens, sir.” I thrust a wad of bills out to him. “And here’s three hundred dollars to pay for them.” As I was handing him the money, my intuition told me that he had exaggerated how much his chickens were worth. Only a madman would pay one hundred dollars for a chicken.
I was hoping he wouldn’t take the money, but he did. Close up, he seemed so normal, not like someone I should be scared of. His balding head looked soft, and his face looked kind of doughy. And maybe somewhere in that face I saw a hard life. He frowned and counted the money as if I might have cheated him. I waited for him to lecture me. I’d heard many lectures in my life, so I was prepared. “You let your dog run wild in the vicinity of my house?” he asked.
“No, he’s always with me. I went to see your giant horse, and I forgot about Thunder—that’s my dog—and he found the chickens.”
“Where is he now?”
“In the camper. He’s confined.”
“I want you to keep a good eye on him every second from now on. And I mean every second.”
“I will.”
“And your parents do what exactly?”
That panicked me a bit—I didn’t want Obaachan and Jiichan getting fired. “My grandfather drives a combine and my grandmother is the cook for the crew.”
He pulled at his upper lip with a thumb and forefinger. He was quite expert at it and pulled his lip out farther than I would have thought a lip could go. Then he said, “I’ll tell you what. I’ll take a hundred and leave you the
