clicked as I ran. My heart pounded. I ran all the way home without
slowing down once. Luckily, I didn’t run into anyone I knew on the street.
Mom and Dad’s car was gone. I ran up the driveway and into the house through
the kitchen door.
Cole turned shakily from the sink. “Crystal—!” he cried. I could tell
instantly that something was wrong.
I turned my face away. I didn’t want him to see my ugly bird mouth.
But he rushed forward, grabbed my arm, and turned me around. “Mom and Dad
aren’t home,” he murmured. “I—I have to show you something.”
“Cole—what is it?” I demanded, my lips clicking. “Why are you— click click —wearing that bath towel around your neck?”
“I… need help,” he replied, lowering his eyes.
He slowly unwrapped the blue bath towel. Then he slid it off his neck.
“Look,” he insisted.
I gasped.
Feathers!
He had white feathers poking out from his neck and shoulders.
14
“Cole—when did this happen?” I shrieked.
“BLUCCCK BLUUUCK BUCCCCK,” he clucked, his eyes wide with horror.
“Stop it!” I cried angrily. “This is no time for your stupid clucking!”
And then I realized that he had tricked me again. The feathers weren’t really
growing from his body. He had glued them on or something.
“BLUUUCK. I… can’t… stop the clucking!” he choked out, rubbing his
throat.
“Yeah. Sure,” I replied, rolling my eyes. I reached out and plucked a white
feather from the back of his neck.
I expected the fake feather to slide off easily.
But my brother’s hands shot up. “OUCH!” he screamed.
The tip of the feather left a small hole in his skin. I grabbed a big feather
on his shoulder—and pulled it.
“Hey—careful!” Cole cried, moving away from me. “BLUUUCK CLUUUCK. That really hurts!”
“Oh, no!” I gasped. “They’re real! You… you’re really growing— click click —feathers!”
“Uh… uh… uh…” Cole started to whimper. His feathery shoulders shook
up and down.
“Take it easy,” I told him. I guided him gently into his room. “I’ll pull
them off. I’ll be really careful. You’ll be okay.”
I made him sit down on the edge of the bed. I leaned over him and started to
pluck out the white feathers. I tried to be as gentle as I could. But he jumped
each time I tugged one out.
“We’ve got to tell Mom and Dad,” he said softly, his eyes lowered to the
floor. “Ouch.”
“They’re almost all out,” I told him. I plucked a long one off the back of
his neck. He jumped. “No problem. You will look perfectly normal.”
“But we’ve still got to tell Mom and Dad,” he insisted.
“Do you think they’ll believe us?” I asked. My hard lips clicked with each
word.
Cole gazed up at me. “Hey—what’s up with your lips?”
“Oh—I—uh…” I covered them with one hand. “Just chapped,” I said. “Very
chapped.”
I don’t know why. I didn’t want to let him know that weird things were
happening to me, too.
“You look disgusting!” Cole exclaimed. “Yuck!”
It seemed to cheer him up a lot.
I tugged the last two feathers out as hard as I could.
“Hey—!” he cried out angrily. He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck.
I stepped back. White feathers covered the bed and floor. “You’d better pick
them up,” I clicked.
He clucked in reply.
I still had one hand over my mouth. I didn’t need any more comments from him
about how disgusting my lips looked. I hurried to the bathroom to find some
cream for them.
Mom and Dad stayed out very late. Cole and I tried to stay awake because we
wanted to talk to them. But finally, we gave up and went to bed.
Sunday morning I woke up late. The sun was already high in the sky. Orange
sunlight washed over my room from the open window. A soft breeze ruffled my
feathers.
Huh? Feathers?
“Ohhhh.” I sat up with a groan. My neck itched like crazy. My arms itched,
too.
I blinked myself awake. And stared at the white
slowing down once. Luckily, I didn’t run into anyone I knew on the street.
Mom and Dad’s car was gone. I ran up the driveway and into the house through
the kitchen door.
Cole turned shakily from the sink. “Crystal—!” he cried. I could tell
instantly that something was wrong.
I turned my face away. I didn’t want him to see my ugly bird mouth.
But he rushed forward, grabbed my arm, and turned me around. “Mom and Dad
aren’t home,” he murmured. “I—I have to show you something.”
“Cole—what is it?” I demanded, my lips clicking. “Why are you— click click —wearing that bath towel around your neck?”
“I… need help,” he replied, lowering his eyes.
He slowly unwrapped the blue bath towel. Then he slid it off his neck.
“Look,” he insisted.
I gasped.
Feathers!
He had white feathers poking out from his neck and shoulders.
14
“Cole—when did this happen?” I shrieked.
“BLUCCCK BLUUUCK BUCCCCK,” he clucked, his eyes wide with horror.
“Stop it!” I cried angrily. “This is no time for your stupid clucking!”
And then I realized that he had tricked me again. The feathers weren’t really
growing from his body. He had glued them on or something.
“BLUUUCK. I… can’t… stop the clucking!” he choked out, rubbing his
throat.
“Yeah. Sure,” I replied, rolling my eyes. I reached out and plucked a white
feather from the back of his neck.
I expected the fake feather to slide off easily.
But my brother’s hands shot up. “OUCH!” he screamed.
The tip of the feather left a small hole in his skin. I grabbed a big feather
on his shoulder—and pulled it.
“Hey—careful!” Cole cried, moving away from me. “BLUUUCK CLUUUCK. That really hurts!”
“Oh, no!” I gasped. “They’re real! You… you’re really growing— click click —feathers!”
“Uh… uh… uh…” Cole started to whimper. His feathery shoulders shook
up and down.
“Take it easy,” I told him. I guided him gently into his room. “I’ll pull
them off. I’ll be really careful. You’ll be okay.”
I made him sit down on the edge of the bed. I leaned over him and started to
pluck out the white feathers. I tried to be as gentle as I could. But he jumped
each time I tugged one out.
“We’ve got to tell Mom and Dad,” he said softly, his eyes lowered to the
floor. “Ouch.”
“They’re almost all out,” I told him. I plucked a long one off the back of
his neck. He jumped. “No problem. You will look perfectly normal.”
“But we’ve still got to tell Mom and Dad,” he insisted.
“Do you think they’ll believe us?” I asked. My hard lips clicked with each
word.
Cole gazed up at me. “Hey—what’s up with your lips?”
“Oh—I—uh…” I covered them with one hand. “Just chapped,” I said. “Very
chapped.”
I don’t know why. I didn’t want to let him know that weird things were
happening to me, too.
“You look disgusting!” Cole exclaimed. “Yuck!”
It seemed to cheer him up a lot.
I tugged the last two feathers out as hard as I could.
“Hey—!” he cried out angrily. He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck.
I stepped back. White feathers covered the bed and floor. “You’d better pick
them up,” I clicked.
He clucked in reply.
I still had one hand over my mouth. I didn’t need any more comments from him
about how disgusting my lips looked. I hurried to the bathroom to find some
cream for them.
Mom and Dad stayed out very late. Cole and I tried to stay awake because we
wanted to talk to them. But finally, we gave up and went to bed.
Sunday morning I woke up late. The sun was already high in the sky. Orange
sunlight washed over my room from the open window. A soft breeze ruffled my
feathers.
Huh? Feathers?
“Ohhhh.” I sat up with a groan. My neck itched like crazy. My arms itched,
too.
I blinked myself awake. And stared at the white