雙語(yǔ)暢銷(xiāo)書(shū)·怦然心動(dòng) Chapter 12　晚餐

Chapter 12

晚餐

一到家，我就知道，抵制羅斯基家的晚宴是一種自私的行為。

媽媽已經(jīng)花了很長(zhǎng)時(shí)間用來(lái)挑選做派的食譜，并且搜遍衣柜尋找一件“得體的衣服”。她甚至為爸爸買(mǎi)了一件新襯衫，還仔細(xì)審查了男孩子們打算穿什么。顯然，她很期待這次晚餐——我雖然不是很理解，但也不想把我剛剛對(duì)布萊斯產(chǎn)生的怨恨告訴她，毀掉這一切。

而爸爸已經(jīng)對(duì)戴維夠內(nèi)疚了。他完全不需要再次聽(tīng)到八年級(jí)小孩對(duì)他的惡毒評(píng)論。

于是，那天晚上我三心二意地幫媽媽烤派，說(shuō)服自己作了正確的決定。一次晚飯改變不了任何人的生活。我必須扛過(guò)去。

星期五上學(xué)的時(shí)候，我盡可能地躲著那個(gè)藍(lán)眼睛的家伙，但是晚上當(dāng)我打扮好之后，我發(fā)現(xiàn)自己正在盯著爸爸送給我的那幅畫(huà)，再一次感到憤怒。布萊斯從來(lái)不是我的朋友，從來(lái)都不是！他沒(méi)有捍衛(wèi)那棵樹(shù)，他扔掉我的雞蛋，他用叔叔的事拿我尋開(kāi)心……我為什么要把他當(dāng)成好朋友、好鄰居？

當(dāng)媽媽叫我們出發(fā)的時(shí)候，我踏進(jìn)走廊，非常想對(duì)她說(shuō)，我不想、不能去羅斯基家吃晚餐，可她看起來(lái)那么漂亮、那么開(kāi)心，我不能告訴她，就是不能。我深吸一口氣，把派包起來(lái)，跟在哥哥和父母的后面慢吞吞地走過(guò)馬路。

是查特開(kāi)的門(mén)。也許我也應(yīng)該對(duì)他生氣，是他把我叔叔的事告訴羅斯基一家的，但我沒(méi)有。我沒(méi)有禁止他告訴別人，他也絕對(duì)不是一個(gè)會(huì)拿戴維尋開(kāi)心的人。

羅斯基太太出現(xiàn)在查特身后，把我們迎進(jìn)去，興奮地在房間里走來(lái)走去。雖然她化了淡妝，但我仍然驚訝地發(fā)現(xiàn)她眼睛下面浮起黑色的眼袋。羅斯基太太和我媽媽拿著派離開(kāi)了，哥哥們跟著利奈特消失在走廊盡頭，爸爸和查特走進(jìn)客廳。

像不像安排好了一樣？只剩下我一個(gè)人在門(mén)廳，和布萊斯在一起。

他沖我打招呼，而我裝作沒(méi)有聽(tīng)見(jiàn)。我繞過(guò)他，惡狠狠地說(shuō)：“別跟我說(shuō)話！我聽(tīng)見(jiàn)你和加利特在圖書(shū)館說(shuō)的話了，我再也不想跟你說(shuō)話了，永遠(yuǎn)也不想！”

我往客廳走去，他攔住我，“朱莉！朱莉，等等！”他低聲說(shuō)，“那句話不是我說(shuō)的！是加利特！都是加利特干的！”

我盯著他：“我知道我聽(tīng)到了什么?！?/p>

“不！你不明白！我……我心情很糟糕，你知道的，因?yàn)殡u蛋的事，以及我對(duì)你家院子的評(píng)價(jià)。我對(duì)你叔叔和你家的處境一點(diǎn)兒也不了解，好嗎？我只是想和誰(shuí)聊聊?！?/p>

我們的目光碰在一起，良久，這是我第一次沒(méi)有被他的藍(lán)眼睛沖昏頭腦：“我聽(tīng)見(jiàn)你笑了。他開(kāi)了個(gè)玩笑，說(shuō)我是智障，而你笑了?！?/p>

“朱莉，你不明白。我想揍他一頓！真的，我真這么想！但我們是在圖書(shū)館里……”

“于是你沒(méi)有揍他，而是笑了?！?/p>

他聳聳肩，看上去又可悲又懦弱：“是的?！?/p>

我轉(zhuǎn)身走開(kāi)了。我走向客廳，把他留在身后。如果他是裝出來(lái)的，那他的演技很好。如果這是真的，那么查特說(shuō)得對(duì)——他是個(gè)懦夫。不管怎樣，我再也不想待在他旁邊了。

我站在爸爸身后，試圖跟上他和查特的對(duì)話，他們?cè)诹膱?bào)紙上讀到的什么東西。爸爸說(shuō)：“但他的建議需要一個(gè)永動(dòng)機(jī)來(lái)實(shí)現(xiàn)，所以這是不可能的。”

查特回答道：“也許在目前的科學(xué)發(fā)展水平下是這樣，但你怎么知道以后會(huì)怎樣呢？”

那一刻，我完全沒(méi)有一點(diǎn)兒對(duì)科學(xué)的好奇心。但是，我無(wú)論如何都想把布萊斯·羅斯基趕出我的頭腦，于是我問(wèn)：“什么是永動(dòng)機(jī)？”

爸爸和查特對(duì)看了一眼，笑了，然后聳聳肩，似乎達(dá)成某種一致，接納我進(jìn)入他們的秘密俱樂(lè)部。爸爸解釋道：“那是一種不需要任何外部能源就能一直運(yùn)轉(zhuǎn)的機(jī)器。”

“不用電、不用燃料、不用水能，什么都不用，”查特從我肩膀上面看過(guò)去，心不在焉地問(wèn)，“你覺(jué)得這可能實(shí)現(xiàn)嗎？”

是什么讓他分心？布萊斯還在門(mén)廳里嗎？他怎么不動(dòng)地方？

我強(qiáng)迫自己把注意力集中在這個(gè)話題上：“我覺(jué)得這能否實(shí)現(xiàn)？呃，我不清楚。所有機(jī)器都需要能量，對(duì)嗎？即使是那些特別高效能的機(jī)器。而能量總要來(lái)源于某些地方……”

“假如機(jī)器自己能產(chǎn)生能量呢？”查特問(wèn)，但他仍然瞥向門(mén)廳。

“它怎么能做到？”

沒(méi)人回答我。相反，爸爸伸出手，說(shuō)：“晚上好，瑞克。謝謝你們的邀請(qǐng)。”

羅斯基先生和爸爸握過(guò)手，也加入我們幾個(gè)，聊起了天氣。到了沒(méi)話可說(shuō)的地步，他說(shuō)：“哇，你們的院子弄得真不錯(cuò)。我想我們也應(yīng)該出錢(qián)雇查特來(lái)修整一下。他很會(huì)對(duì)付那些木樁，不是嗎？”

他在開(kāi)玩笑吧。我想。可是我爸爸并不是這樣想，查特也一樣。我正在擔(dān)心接下來(lái)會(huì)發(fā)生什么，但羅斯基太太敲響了一個(gè)小小的晚餐鈴，喊道：“各位，開(kāi)胃小吃來(lái)了！”

冷盤(pán)很美味。但是當(dāng)爸爸低聲告訴我，餅干上面小粒小粒的黑莓根本不是漿果，而是魚(yú)子醬的時(shí)候，我停止了咀嚼。魚(yú)子？太惡心了！

爸爸指出，我一直都在吃雞蛋，為什么對(duì)魚(yú)子這樣介意呢？他說(shuō)得有道理。我遲疑地把餅干吃完，很快又拿起另一塊。

布萊斯一直單獨(dú)站在房間里，每次我無(wú)意間看到他，他都在盯著我看。

最后，我只好完全背對(duì)著他，對(duì)爸爸說(shuō)：“那么，我們到底為什么要發(fā)明永動(dòng)機(jī)呢？”

爸爸笑了：“世界上到處都有瘋狂的科學(xué)家?！?/p>

“真的嗎？”

“沒(méi)錯(cuò)，從幾百年前就是這樣?！?/p>

“呃，他們都做些什么？他們長(zhǎng)什么樣子？”

沒(méi)過(guò)多久，查特也加入討論。我剛剛開(kāi)始理解磁力、回轉(zhuǎn)粒子和零點(diǎn)能量是什么東西，就發(fā)現(xiàn)有人站在我背后。

是布萊斯。

我的臉頰因?yàn)閼嵟兗t。他看不出我想一個(gè)人待著嗎？我挪了一步避開(kāi)他，但卻像是在人群中打開(kāi)一個(gè)缺口，邀請(qǐng)他走進(jìn)來(lái)。現(xiàn)在他站在我們的圈子里聽(tīng)我們聊天了！

很好！顯然他對(duì)永動(dòng)機(jī)沒(méi)有興趣。我還是一個(gè)人！我得出結(jié)論，繼續(xù)討論的話，他就會(huì)被趕走。于是我接著說(shuō)下去，當(dāng)談話逐漸趨于停滯，我拋出自己關(guān)于永動(dòng)機(jī)的想法。我像一臺(tái)提問(wèn)機(jī)器，無(wú)休止地扔出一些完全不靠譜的建議。

但他還是沒(méi)走。他什么也不說(shuō)，只是站在那兒聽(tīng)。當(dāng)羅斯基太太宣布開(kāi)飯的時(shí)候，布萊斯抓住我的胳膊低聲說(shuō)：“朱莉，對(duì)不起。我從來(lái)沒(méi)有像今天這樣感到抱歉。你說(shuō)得對(duì)，我是個(gè)渾蛋，對(duì)不起。”

我把手臂從他手里抽出來(lái)，說(shuō)：“我想你最近做了太多需要抱歉的事！”他被我扔在那兒，道歉的聲音還回蕩在空氣里。

沒(méi)過(guò)多久，我就發(fā)現(xiàn)自己犯了個(gè)錯(cuò)誤。我應(yīng)該任憑他道歉，然后繼續(xù)無(wú)視他。但我在他道歉時(shí)打斷了他，顯得我很無(wú)禮。

我隔著桌子飛快地瞥了他一眼，但他正看著他爸爸，后者正在問(wèn)我哥哥畢業(yè)的事，以及大學(xué)時(shí)的打算。

毫無(wú)疑問(wèn)，我見(jiàn)過(guò)羅斯基先生很多次，但一般都是遠(yuǎn)遠(yuǎn)地看到他。不過(guò)，我現(xiàn)在才注意到他的眼睛，這似乎很不可思議。它們是藍(lán)色的、湛藍(lán)的。雖然羅斯基先生離我很遠(yuǎn)，他的眼睛被眉毛和顴骨所遮擋，但毫無(wú)疑問(wèn)，布萊斯繼承了他的眼睛。他的頭發(fā)是黑色的，和布萊斯一樣，他的牙齒又白又整齊。

雖然查特說(shuō)布萊斯是他爸爸的翻版，可我從來(lái)沒(méi)想過(guò)他倆長(zhǎng)得這么像。但現(xiàn)在我看到他們確實(shí)很像，雖然他爸爸看上去有點(diǎn)自命不凡，而布萊斯則是……好吧，現(xiàn)在他有點(diǎn)憤怒。

從桌子的另一側(cè)傳來(lái)一個(gè)聲音：“你的諷刺一點(diǎn)兒也不好笑，爸爸。”

羅斯基太太輕輕地倒抽了一口氣，人人都看著利奈特?！班牛@不好笑?！彼f(shuō)。

這些年我們一直住在羅斯基家對(duì)街，我跟利奈特說(shuō)過(guò)的話不超過(guò)十句，而她跟我說(shuō)過(guò)的更少。對(duì)我來(lái)說(shuō)，她有點(diǎn)可怕。

因此，當(dāng)我看到她這樣瞪著她爸爸時(shí)，我吃了一驚，但也有點(diǎn)不自在。羅斯基太太的微笑凝固在臉上，可她拼命地眨著眼，緊張地環(huán)視餐桌。我也一個(gè)人一個(gè)人地看過(guò)去，想知道羅斯基家的晚餐是否一直這么緊張。

利奈特突然站起來(lái)，沖向走廊，但她馬上拿著一張CD回來(lái)了。當(dāng)她放進(jìn)唱機(jī)，從音響里飄出的旋律，我聽(tīng)出這是哥哥們寫(xiě)的一首歌。

我們聽(tīng)過(guò)這首名叫《蠟燭冰》的歌，它千百次地從哥哥們的房間里飄出來(lái)，我們?cè)缇土?xí)慣了。我看了媽媽一眼，有點(diǎn)擔(dān)心她會(huì)因?yàn)槠渲惺д娴募肼暫痛炙椎母柙~感到尷尬。

這音樂(lè)絕不是用來(lái)搭配魚(yú)子醬的。

她看起來(lái)有點(diǎn)迷茫，但心情還不算太糟。她和爸爸交換了一個(gè)隱蔽的微笑，誠(chéng)實(shí)地說(shuō)，我甚至聽(tīng)到她咯咯笑了幾聲。爸爸一副開(kāi)心的表情，但他畢竟要矜持一些，直到一曲結(jié)束，我才意識(shí)到他很自豪，為了兒子們制造的這些噪聲而自豪。

我很驚訝。對(duì)于哥哥們的樂(lè)隊(duì)，爸爸向來(lái)不怎么熱心，不過(guò)他也從來(lái)沒(méi)有發(fā)表過(guò)什么評(píng)論。但是，羅斯基先生隨即開(kāi)始對(duì)馬特和麥克嚴(yán)加質(zhì)詢，問(wèn)他們?nèi)绾呜?fù)擔(dān)得起錄音費(fèi)用。而他們解釋說(shuō)自己如何工作攢錢(qián)，尋找二手設(shè)備，這時(shí)我才明白，爸爸為什么那樣自豪。

看得出來(lái)，哥哥們的心情也很好。這也難怪，因?yàn)槔翁仄疵拇怠断灎T冰》是一首偉大的曲子。她真的過(guò)分熱情了，這些話竟然出自利奈特之口，實(shí)在有點(diǎn)奇怪。

環(huán)視四周，我忽然有種身處陌生人中間的感覺(jué)。我們兩家在對(duì)街住了很多年，但我根本不了解他們。利奈特確實(shí)是會(huì)笑的。羅斯基先生外表整潔優(yōu)雅，而內(nèi)心卻明顯有些東西深埋在外表之下，慢慢腐爛。而一向能干的羅斯基太太似乎慌亂到幾近亢奮的程度。她是因?yàn)槲覀兊拇嬖诓湃绱司o張嗎？

然后是布萊斯——他最讓人煩惱，因?yàn)槲也坏貌怀姓J(rèn)，我其實(shí)并不了解他。從最近的發(fā)現(xiàn)來(lái)看，我也不打算繼續(xù)了解下去?？粗雷訉?duì)面的他，我只覺(jué)得陌生、冷漠而超然。沒(méi)有火花，也不再有任何的憤怒或焦慮。

什么都沒(méi)有。

吃完甜點(diǎn)，我們準(zhǔn)備告辭。我走向布萊斯，說(shuō)我很抱歉在他之前找我的時(shí)候?qū)λ珒?。“我?yīng)該聽(tīng)完你的道歉，而且我真的很感謝你們?nèi)已?qǐng)我們來(lái)吃飯。我知道這很費(fèi)事，嗯，我想媽媽今晚很開(kāi)心，這對(duì)我很重要。”我們彼此對(duì)視著，但他似乎根本沒(méi)有聽(tīng)到我在說(shuō)什么，“布萊斯？我說(shuō)我很抱歉?！?/p>

他點(diǎn)點(diǎn)頭，然后我們?nèi)覔]手道別，互道晚安。

媽媽挽著爸爸的手，我和哥哥們一起走在他們身后，他倆拿著吃剩的派。我們一起走進(jìn)廚房，馬特給自己倒了杯牛奶，對(duì)麥克說(shuō)：“羅斯基先生今晚對(duì)咱們窮追不舍啊，是不是？”

“他還挺較真。也許他以為我們?cè)谧非笏畠骸！?/p>

“我可沒(méi)有，哥們兒！你呢？”

麥克也倒了一杯牛奶：“說(shuō)是斯凱勒還差不多。絕對(duì)不是我?！彼α?。

“可她今天晚上真酷。她狠狠批了她爹一通，對(duì)嗎？”

爸爸從櫥柜里拿出一個(gè)紙碟，切了一片派：“你們今天晚上很克制嘛。換了我，不知道能不能有你們那樣淡定?！?/p>

“啊，你知道，他只是有點(diǎn)……固執(zhí)?！瘪R特說(shuō)，“你得附和他的觀點(diǎn)，然后跟他討價(jià)還價(jià)?！彼盅a(bǔ)充道，“當(dāng)然，我可不想要個(gè)那樣的爹……”

麥克把牛奶噴了出來(lái)，“哥們兒！你能想象嗎？”馬特一掌拍向爸爸后背，“沒(méi)門(mén)兒。對(duì)我最重要的那個(gè)人在這兒呢。”媽媽站在廚房另一頭笑著說(shuō)：“我也一樣?！?/p>

我從來(lái)沒(méi)見(jiàn)過(guò)爸爸掉眼淚。他沒(méi)有坐在那兒大聲痛哭，但淚水明明白白地從眼眶里滑落。他拼命眨著眼睛，說(shuō)：“孩子們，不想再來(lái)點(diǎn)派配牛奶嗎？”

“哥們兒，”馬特跨坐在椅子上說(shuō)，“我也是這么想的。”

“是啊，”麥克補(bǔ)充道，“我餓壞了。”

“也給我拿個(gè)盤(pán)子！”麥克打開(kāi)櫥柜，我沖他喊道。

“但我們剛吃完飯?！眿寢尳械馈?/p>

“別這樣嘛，特瑞納，吃點(diǎn)派吧。味道好極了?！?/p>

那天晚上，我捧著吃撐的肚子，開(kāi)心地上床去了。躺在黑暗里，我想，一天之內(nèi)可以經(jīng)歷多少?gòu)?qiáng)烈的感情啊，像現(xiàn)在這樣結(jié)束這一天又是多么幸福。

當(dāng)我快要迷迷糊糊進(jìn)入夢(mèng)鄉(xiāng)的時(shí)候，我的心是那么……自由。

第二天早上，我的心情依舊很好。我走出屋子，給院子澆水，享受著水流擊打泥土的啪啪聲，心里想著，小草什么時(shí)候才能破土而出，沐浴陽(yáng)光呢。

接著，我清理了雞籠，平整了地面，拔除了院子邊緣幾叢瘋長(zhǎng)的野草。

我把殘土和野草鏟進(jìn)垃圾箱里的時(shí)候，斯杜比太太出現(xiàn)了，她靠在圍欄上問(wèn)道：“最近好嗎，朱莉安娜？準(zhǔn)備養(yǎng)只公雞了？”

“公雞？”

“怎么了，當(dāng)然哪。那些母雞需要一些激勵(lì)才能下更多的蛋！”

這倒是真的。邦妮、克萊蒂特還有其他幾只雞下的蛋只有過(guò)去的一半那么多。但是養(yǎng)只公雞？“我想鄰居會(huì)對(duì)我有意見(jiàn)的，斯杜比太太。另外，那樣我們就會(huì)有小雞了，我想我家院子里養(yǎng)不了更多家禽了。”

“胡說(shuō)。你把這些小雞寵壞啦，讓它們占用整個(gè)院子。它們可以共享這個(gè)空間。這很容易！否則你要怎么把生意繼續(xù)做下去？過(guò)不了多久，這些小雞就一個(gè)蛋也下不出來(lái)了！”

“真的？”

“嗯，非常少?！?/p>

我搖搖頭說(shuō)：“它們只是我養(yǎng)的小雞，現(xiàn)在長(zhǎng)大了開(kāi)始下蛋。我從來(lái)沒(méi)把它們當(dāng)成一樁生意。”

“好吧，我也不該在你這里賒賬，實(shí)在抱歉。我保證這個(gè)星期給你把錢(qián)補(bǔ)齊，不過(guò)，考慮一下買(mǎi)公雞的事吧。我有個(gè)住在紐康姆大街的朋友，她可眼紅我做的‘魔鬼蛋’了。我把菜譜告訴她，可她說(shuō)就是做不出我做的味道?！彼艺ＵＱ劬?，“如果可能的話，我保證她愿意出大價(jià)錢(qián)買(mǎi)到我的秘密原料?！彼吡?，最后對(duì)我說(shuō)，“順便提一句，朱莉安娜，你在前院的改造工作非常出色。實(shí)在太棒了！”

“謝謝，斯杜比太太，”她關(guān)門(mén)的時(shí)候我喊道，“非常感謝！”

我接著把自己制造出來(lái)的垃圾堆鏟干凈，想著斯杜比太太說(shuō)的話。

我是否應(yīng)該養(yǎng)只公雞？我曾經(jīng)聽(tīng)說(shuō)過(guò)，只要養(yǎng)一只，就能讓周?chē)哪鸽u下更多的蛋，不管它們是否有實(shí)際上的接觸。我甚至可以讓我的雞繼續(xù)繁殖，得到一群全新的用來(lái)生蛋的母雞。但我是不是真的想把這個(gè)過(guò)程重新經(jīng)歷一遍？

不。我不想為了鄰居維持一個(gè)農(nóng)場(chǎng)。如果我的母雞全都不再生蛋了，也許對(duì)我更好吧。

我把耙子和鏟子放到一邊，挨個(gè)親了每只母雞，然后回到屋里。主宰自己命運(yùn)的感覺(jué)真好！我感覺(jué)自己充滿力量，正確而堅(jiān)定。

那時(shí)我還不知道，前幾天在學(xué)校發(fā)生的事將改變一切。

Chapter 12

The Dinner

JULIANNA

By the time I got home, I knew it would be selfish of me to boycott the Loskis' dinner party. My mother had already spent a lot of time humming over pie recipes and going through her closet for "something suitable to wear." She'd even bought a new shirt for Dad and had scrutinized what the boys intended to wear. Obviously she was looking forward to the dinner — not that I really understood that, but I didn't want to ruin everything by telling her about my newfound hatred of Bryce.

And Dad felt bad enough about David already. The last thing he needed was to hear about crackpot comments made by immature eighth graders.

So that night I went through the motions of baking pies with my mother and convinced myself that I was doing the right thing. One dinner couldn't change anyone's life. I just had to get through it.

Friday at school I avoided the blue-eyed brat the best I could, but that night as I got dressed, I found myself staring at the painting my father had given me and became furious all over again. Bryce had never been a friend to me, ever! He hadn't made a stand for the tree, he'd thrown away my eggs, and he'd made fun of me at my uncle's expense...Why was I playing along like we were jolly friends and neighbors?

When my mother called that it was time to go, I went out in the hall with every intention of telling her that I would not, could not go to the Loskis' for dinner, but she looked so lovely and happy that I couldn't. I just couldn't. I took a deep breath, wrapped up a pie, and shuffled across the street behind my brothers and parents.

Chet answered the door. Maybe I should've been mad at him, too, for telling the Loskis about my uncle, but I wasn't. I hadn't asked him not to tell, and he certainly wasn't the one making fun of David.

Mrs. Loski came up behind Chet, whisked us in, and fluttered about. And even though she had quite a bit of makeup on, I was surprised to see the blueness of bags beneath her eyes. Then Mrs. Loski and my mother went off with the pies, my brothers vanished down the hall with Lynetta, and my father followed Chet into the living room.

And wasn't that just dandy? That left me alone in the foyer with Bryce.

He said hi to me and I lost it. I spun on him, snapping, "Don't you speak to me! I overheard you and Garrett in the library, and I don't want to talk to you now or ever!"

I started to walk into the living room, but he stopped me. "Juli! Juli, wait!" he whispered. "I'm not the bad guy here! That was Garrett. That was all Garrett!"

I glared at him. "I know what I heard."

No! No you don't! I ... I was feeling bad about, you know, the eggs and what I'd said about your yard. I didn't know anything about your uncle or what kind of situation your family was in, okay? I just wanted to talk to someone about it.

Our eyes locked for a minute, and for the first time the blueness of his didn't freeze up my brain. "I heard you laugh. He made a joke about me being a retard, and you laughed."

Juli, you don't understand. I wanted to punch him! Really, I did! But we were in the library...

So instead you laughed.

He shrugged and looked miserable and sheepish. "Yeah."

I left him. Just walked into the living room and left him. If he was making it up, he was quite an actor. If he was telling the truth, then Chet was right — he was a coward. Either way, I didn't want to be anywhere near him.

I stood beside my father and tried to follow his discussion with Chet about something they'd both read in the paper. My father was saying, "But what he's proposing would require a perpetual-motion machine, so it's not possible."

Chet replied, "Maybe in the context of what scientists know now, but do you rule it out completely?"

At that moment I was feeling absolutely no scientific curiosity. But in a desperate attempt to block Bryce Loski from my mind, I asked,"What's a perpetual-motion machine?"

My father and Chet glanced at each other, chuckled, then shrugged, giving me the sense that they'd just agreed to let me into a secret club. My father explained, "It's a machine that runs without any external power source."

No electricity, no fuel, no water propulsion, nothing. Chet glanced over my shoulder and asked rather absently, "You think that's a doable thing?"

What had distracted him? Was Bryce still in the foyer? Why didn't he just go away?

I forced myself to focus on the conversation. "Do I think that's a doable thing? Well, I don't really know. All machines use energy, right? Even real efficient ones. And that energy has to come from somewhere..."

What if the machine generated it itself? Chet asked, but one eye was still on the foyer.

How could it do that?

Neither of them answered me. Instead, my father stuck out his hand and said, "Good evening, Rick. Nice of you to have us over."

Mr. Loski pumped my dad's hand and joined our group, making little comments about the weather. When that topic was all dried up, he said, "And wow, that yard of yours has really come along. I told Chet here that we ought to hire him out. He really knows his pickets, doesn't he?"

He was joking. I think. But my father didn't take it that way, and neither did Chet. I was afraid of what might happen next, but then Mrs. Loski tinkled a little dinner bell and called, "Hors d'oeuvres, everybody!"

The hors d'oeuvres were delicious. But when my father whispered that the teeny-tiny black berries on top of the crackers weren't berries at all, but caviar, I stopped midbite. Fish eggs? Repulsive!

Then my father pointed out that I ate chicken eggs all the time, so why get squeamish over fish eggs? He had a point. I hesitantly finished the cracker, and before long I was having another.

Bryce was standing all by himself across the room, and every time I happened to look his way, he was staring at me.

Finally I completely turned my back on him and said to my father, "So who's trying to invent a perpetual-motion machine, anyway?"

My father laughed. "Mad scientists all over the world."

Really?

Yes. For hundreds of years.

Well, what do they do? What's one look like?

It wasn't long before Chet was in on the discussion. And just as I was finally starting to catch on to magnetism, gyroscopic particles, and zero-point energy, I felt someone standing behind me.

It was Bryce.

I could feel my cheeks flush with anger. Couldn't he see I wanted to be left alone? I took a step away from him, but what that did was open up the group and allow him to move forward. Now he was standing in our circle listening to our discussion!

Well! Surely he was not interested in perpetual motion. I barely was myself! So, I reasoned, continuing our discussion would drive him away. I dove back in, and when the conversation started to peter out, I came up with my own ideas on perpetual-motion machines. I was like a perpetual-idea machine, spinning ridiculous suggestions right out of the air.

And still he wouldn't leave. He didn't say anything, he just stood there, listening. Then when Mrs. Loski announced that dinner was ready, Bryceheld my arm and whispered, "Juli, I'm sorry. I've never been so sorry about anything in my whole life. You're right, I was a jerk, and I'm sorry."

I yanked my arm free from his grasp and said, "It seems to me you've been sorry about a whole lot of things lately!" and left him there with his apology hanging wounded in the air.

It didn't take me long to realize that I'd made a mistake. I should have let him say he was sorry and then simply continued to ignore him. But I'd snapped at him in the middle of an apology, which somehow made me the rude one.

I sneaked a peek at him across the table, but he was watching his dad, who was asking my brothers about graduating and their plans for college.

I had, of course, seen Mr. Loski many times, but usually from a distance. Still, it seemed impossible that I'd never noticed his eyes before. They were blue. Brilliant blue. And although Mr. Loski's were set farther back and were hidden somewhat by his eyebrows and cheekbones, there was no mistaking where Bryce had gotten his eyes. His hair was black, too, like Bryce's, and his teeth were white and straight.

Even though Chet had called Bryce the spitting image of his father, I'd never really thought of them as looking alike. But now I saw that they did look alike, though where his dad seemed kind of smug, Bryce seemed... well, right now he seemed angry.

Then from the other side of the table, I heard, "Your sarcasm is not appreciated, Dad."

Mrs. Loski gave a small gasp, and everyone looked at Lynetta. "Well, it's not," she said.

In all the years we've lived across the street from the Loskis, I've said about ten words to Lynetta, and she's said fewer back. To me she's scary. So it wasn't a surprise to see her glaring at her father, but it was uncomfortable. Mrs. Loski was keeping a smile perched on her face, but she was blinking a lot, glancing nervously around the table. I looked from one person to the next, too, wondering if dinner at the Loskis' was always this tense.

Suddenly Lynetta got up and dashed down the hall, but she was back in a flash with a CD in her hand. And when she put it in the player, I recognized one of my brothers' songs blaring through the speakers.

We'd heard this song, "Candle Ice," pouring out of my brothers' bedroom at least a million times, so we were used to it. But I looked over at my mom, worried that she might be embarrassed by the distorting guitars and the gritty lyrics. This was definitely not caviar music.

She seemed a little uncertain, but in a happy way. She was sharing secret smiles with my father, and honestly, I think she even giggled. My dad was looking amused, although he was very reserved about it, and it took me until the end of the song to realize that he was proud. Proud that this noise came from his boys.

That surprised me. Dad has never been real big on any rendition of my brothers' band, although he's never really criticized it either. But then Mr. Loski started grilling Matt and Mike about how they'd afforded to record their own music, and they explained about working and saving and shopping for good deals on equipment, and that's when I realized why my father was proud.

My brothers were feeling pretty good, too, you could tell. And it was no wonder, with the way Lynetta was carrying on about how great"Candle Ice" was. She was positively gushing, which seemed very odd, coming from Lynetta.

As I looked around, it struck me that we were having dinner with a group of strangers. We'd lived across the street for years, but I didn't know these people at all. Lynetta did know how to smile. Mr. Loski was clean and smooth on the outside, but there was a distinct whiff of something rotten buried just beneath the surface. And the ever-efficient Mrs. Loski seemed flustered, almost hyper. Was it having us over that was making her nervous?

Then there was Bryce — the most disturbing of all because I had to admit that I didn't really know him, either. And based on what I'd discovered lately, I didn't care to know any more. Looking across the table at him, all I got was a strange, detached, neutral feeling. No fireworks, no leftover anger or resurging flutters.

Nothing.

After we'd had dessert and it was time to go, I went up to Bryce and told him I was sorry for having been so fierce when we'd first come in. "I should've let you apologize, and really, it was very nice of your family to have us over. I know it was a lot of work and, well, I think my mom had a really good time and that's what matters to me."We were looking right at each other, but it was almost as though he didn't hear me. "Bryce? I said I'm sorry."

He nodded, and then our families were waving good-bye and saying good night.

I walked behind my mother, who was holding hands with my father, and beside my brothers, who were carrying home what was left of our pies. We all wound up in the kitchen, and Matt poured himself a glass of milk and said to Mike, "That Mr. Loski was sniffing us out pretty good tonight, wasn'the?"

No kidding. Maybe he thinks we're hot for his daughter.

Not me, dude! You?

Mike got himself a glass of milk, too. "That's Skyler's gig. No way I'dgo there."He grinned. "But she was really cool tonight. Did she come down on papa bear or what?"

My dad took a paper plate out of the cupboard and cut a slice of pie. "You boys showed a lot of restraint tonight. I don't know if I could've kept my cool that way."

Aw, he's just, you know... entrenched, Matt said. "Gotta adjust to the perspective and deal from there." Then he added, "Not that I'd want him as my dad..."

Mike practically sprayed his milk. "Dude! Can you imagine?"Then Matt gave my dad a slap on the back and said, "No way. I'm sticking with my main man here." My mom grinned from across the kitchen and said, "Me too."

I'd never seen my father cry. And he didn't exactly sit there bawling, but there were definitely tears welling up in his eyes. He blinked them back the best he could and said, "Don't you boys want some pie to go with that milk?"

Dude, said Matt as he straddled a chair. "I was just thinking that."

Yeah, Mike added. "I'm starved."

Get me a plate, too! I called as Mike dug through the cupboard.

But we just ate, my mother cried.

Come on, Trina, have some pie. It's delicious.

I went to bed that night feeling very full and very happy. And as I lay there in the dark, I wondered at how much emotion can go into any given day, and thought how nice it was to feel this way at the end of it.

And as I nestled in and drifted off to sleep, my heart felt wonderfully... free.

The next morning I still felt good. I went outside and sprinkled the yard, enjoying the splish and patter of water on soil, wondering when, when, that first little blade of grass would spring up into the sunshine.

Then I went out back, cleaned the coop, raked the yard, and dug up some of the bigger weeds growing along the edges.

Mrs. Stueby leaned over the side fence as I was shoveling my rakings and weeds into a trash can and said, "How's it going, Julianna? Making neat for a rooster?"

A rooster?

Why, certainly. Those hens need some motivation to start laying more!

It was true. Bonnie and Clydette and the others were only laying about half the eggs that they used to, but a rooster? "I don't think the neighborhood would appreciate my getting a rooster, Mrs. Stueby. Besides, we'd get chicks and I don't think we can handle any more poultry back here."

Nonsense. You've spoiled these birds, giving them the whole yard. They can share the space. Easily! How else are you going to maintain your business? Soon those birds won't be laying anything a-tall!

They won't?

Well, very little.

I shook my head, then said, "They were just my chicks that grew into chickens and started laying eggs. I never really thought of it as a business."

Well, my runnin' a tab has probably contributed to that, and I'm sorry. I'll be sure and get you the whole sum this week, but consider buying yourself a rooster with some of it. I've got a friend down on Newcomb Street who is positively green over my deviled eggs. I gave her my recipe, but she says hers just don't taste the same. She winked at me. "I'm certain she'd pay handsomely for a supply of my secret ingredient if it became available." She turned to go, then said, "By-the-by, Julianna, you have done a mighty fine job on that front yard. Most impressive!"

Thanks, Mrs. Stueby, I called as she slid open her patio door. "Thanks very much."

I finished scooping up the piles I'd made and thought about what Mrs. Stueby had said. Should I really get a rooster? I'd heard that having one around made chickens lay more, whether they were in contact with each other or not. I could even breed my chickens and get a whole new set of layers. But did I really want to go through all of that again?

Not really. I didn't want to be the neighborhood rancher. If my girls quit laying altogether, that would be just fine with me.

I put away the rake and shovel, clucked a kiss on each of the hens, and went inside. It felt good to take charge of my own destiny! I felt strong and right and certain.

Little did I know how a few days back at school would change all of that.