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continued. “She wondered where you
were. She was calling to make sure you two were okay.”
    “We’re not okay,” I said solemnly.
    “She’s such a nice woman. She’s bringing two barbecued chickens of her own
this afternoon. For people who don’t like them hot and spicy the way I make
them.”
    She turned to me. “Crystal, you can help me cut up the peppers.”
    “Mom—please!” Cole cried. “Stop talking about the chickens!”
    “We have something to tell you,” I said.
    “Your dad is out back, getting the barbecue grills ready,” Mom said, brushing
red sauce on a wing. “Oh! Ice! We have to remember to buy ice!”
    “Mom—Cole and I are turning into chickens,” I told her.
    She laughed. “Ice and paper plates,” she murmured. “I don’t want to use real
plates. Too much of a mess.”
    “No. Really!” I grabbed her arm. The brush fell into the chicken bowl.
    “Crystal—I really don’t have time,” Mom sighed. She blew a strand of hair
off her forehead and picked up the brush. “You and Cole should get yourself some
breakfast—or lunch. Then see if you can help your dad.”
    “BLUUUUCK!” Cole exclaimed.
    “Listen to me, Mom,” I begged. “Do you hear Cole clucking like that?”
    “Yes. Very nice clucking,” she murmured, tossing a leg into the bowl.
    “Do you see my lips?” I demanded. “Vanessa is doing this to us. We bumped
Vanessa and spilled her groceries. So she is turning us CLUUUUCK into chickens.”
    “Please, you two,” Mom groaned. “Can’t you see how frantic I am? I don’t have
time to—”
    She stopped when she glimpsed my lips. “Yuck! Those are really chapped.”
    “They’re not chapped!” I screamed. “I’m growing a beak!”
    “CLUUUCK BLUUUCK,” Cole added.
    Mom tossed up her hands. “Go put some cream on your lips, Crystal. And keep
out of my way, okay? I don’t have time for jokes today. If you’re not going to
help, just don’t make more trouble.”
    I turned to Cole. He shook his head unhappily.
    We both slumped out of the room. “Do you think Dad will listen to us?” Cole
asked weakly.
    I clicked my lips. “I don’t think so,” I muttered. “He’s as busy as Mom is.”
    “Then what can we do?” Cole asked. He scratched his neck. Were the feathers
growing back already?
    An idea popped into my head. “Anthony!” I cried.
    “Huh? What about him?” Cole demanded.
    “Anthony was with us!” I explained. “The same thing is probably happening to
him. He’s probably changing into a chicken like us.”
    Cole rubbed his chin hard. “Cluuuuck. Bluuuuck. Yeah. Probably.”
    “So if all three of us tell our story to Mom and Dad, then maybe
they’ll believe us!” I cried.
    “It’s worth a try,” Cole agreed excitedly. “Let’s hurry over to Anthony’s
house.”
    We each grabbed a glass of orange juice. And a Pop-Tart, which we ate raw.
    Then we ran out the front door and headed to Anthony’s house.
    We had run less than a block when we bumped into Vanessa.

 
 
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    Well. This time we didn’t really bump into her.
    I saw her before Cole did, hurrying toward us on the other side of the
street. Despite the heat, she was dressed all in black. She wore a black cotton
shawl over the shoulders of her black dress. It fluttered behind her as she
strode along the sidewalk.
    “Oh—it’s her! ” Cole whispered, poking me in the side.
    We both stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and stared open-mouthed as she
approached.
    Would she say something to us?
    Could I work up the nerve to say something to her?
    My heart pounded. My lips clicked nervously.
    Cole’s head started bobbing up and down on his neck. Just like a chicken. He
let out a frightened cluck.
    My poor brother.
    Seeing him like that made me forget my fear. “Vanessa—!” I shouted.
    She kept walking, taking those long, gliding strides of hers. Her shawl
fluttered behind her.
    “Vanessa—!” I repeated her name.
    She had a look of solemn concentration