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the day at the river. We’d planned to go collect some fruit, but it wasn’t ripe, so we went to the river instead. We returned home right before church let out.”
    â€œBut you broke all those eggs a few weeks ago.”
    My heart sank. “I know, sir, but we did not touch Grandpa’s bird.”
    Grandpa exploded. “This is ridiculous. How can you believe anything this boy has to say? I know he and his little band of thugs killed my bird.”
    All I could think was, Xao, you picked a very bad day to skip church.
    I guess Grandpa could tell my mind was wandering because he leaned down, got right in my face, and screamed, “You tell your father what you did, you terrible boy.”
    My father immediately chimed in. “Xao, if you did this, just tell me and everything will be fine.”
    He may have said everything would be fine, but I knew itwouldn’t be for me or my backside. I stood there, silent. Tears formed, but I refused to let them fall.
    Grandpa continued yelling and cursing, with his two sons chiming in.
    Word of what had happened spread through the village, and everyone rushed to see what the commotion was about. I guess the growing crowd made my father think he needed to end this as soon as possible, so he sent my older brother to round up the rest of the members of my gang.
    I can still picture the way they looked as they came walking in my house, their heads hung low, hands folded as if they’d been handcuffed.
    To me, they looked scared; to the gathering crowd, they looked guilty. People yelled, “All the culprits are finally here. We can tell you’re guilty.” People even yelled things about the chicken coop caper. Then someone yelled, “Teach them a lesson,” which we all knew meant a sound beating.
    Now that all the delinquents were together, my father reached into the rafters and took down the bamboo stick my brothers and I were all too familiar with. He slapped it against a hand, and my buddies’ eyes grew wide as saucers. “Okay, Xao, this has gone on long enough. Tell me the truth. Did you kill Grandpa’s bird?”
    My friends turned to look at me. They knew if I cracked and confessed to something I hadn’t done, they’d be punished right alongside me.
    I looked my father in the eye, thinking, He doesn’t believe me . That upset me more than anything else. By raiding thechicken coop, I had lost my father’s trust. “No, Father, I am telling you the truth. I did not do it.” I spoke with all the sincerity a seven-year-old could muster.
    I don’t know whether he believed me or not, but with eyes full of anger and frustration, my father turned and walked the line to each of my buddies. “Did you kill this bird?”
    My buddies were so frightened that they could barely speak. Their answers came out in weak whispers no one could hear. The pathetic sound made me want to laugh, but I stopped myself. It would’ve been very bad timing.
    â€œSpeak up. Give me an answer. Did you kill this bird?” my father yelled.
    Even more frightened now, they gave the same answer. “No.”
    With each denial, Grandpa and his sons became more upset. “Why are you wasting your time asking questions of liars? Do what you know you must.”
    â€œI am not going to waste any more time with you boys,” my father said. “Tell me right now what happened to that bird.”
    Even though we were innocent, the pressure to confess was overwhelming. My buddies could not move. I think if this had gone on much longer, they would have cracked.
    I spoke up for all of us. “Father, I swear to you, we didn’t have anything to do with killing that bird.”
    This sent Grandpa over the edge. He was determined to get a confession out of us, and he knew the way to do it. According to Hmong tradition, two simple tests will determine the guilt or innocence of a person accused of a crime. In the first test,