by Kelly Jones
Tech class is cool. I already have some ideas for my first project. I never knew I could learn to code and make games and stuff. I thought that was something you only learned in college or at a computer job. Maybe when I grow up I’ll be a coder and a poultry farmer.
The arts teacher figured out right away that singing in tune isn’t my strong point, though. He was really surprised, since he says I’m from such a musical culture. Maybe he doesn’t know that not all Latinas sing like J.Lo? (He should hear Mom sing—you know she’s worse than I am!) He’s trying me on finger cymbals instead. I like the finger cymbals, but I don’t like being the only one with them. He kept saying that I just need to Listen to the Music and Sing What I Hear! If I could do that, singing would be my strong point, wouldn’t it? But there’s only a few more weeks of music, and then it’s dance and watercolor and theater and maybe ceramics, if they can find someone who can fix the kiln in time.
Today I saw Xochi at lunch. She waved at me, and I went over to join her. When Chris and Sam came in, I waved at them—but they didn’t come over and sit with us. They went and sat together by themselves. What’s that about?
I was so happy to make friends here. I forgot that sometimes friends are kind of complicated too.
At least Lupe is having a good week. Well, except for statistics. Today she came home in tears, and after some hugs and tissues and talking to Mom for a while, she’s decided she’s going to take statistics next quarter, and instead she’s going to switch to a business class, with some math but also some business stuff.
But, other than that, college is going really well for her. She says it’s not too hard, and no one else has yelled anything mean, and that when I’m ready I can totally do it, even statistics. She found the college’s Latinx Student Union club that Violet told her about too. They’re having a party this weekend, and she’s going. When Mom asked her with who, Lupe smiled and didn’t really answer. And she talked for almost an hour on the phone to a girl she met called Yoon, who wants to be a teacher too. I think they’re going to do a project together. (Although mostly they talked about Yoon’s roller-derby league, which sounds awesome, but probably isn’t for college.)
I know just what you’d say if you were here: “My goodness, Soficita, ¡cómo has crecido!” And you’d be right: I really have grown, inside and out. After all, I’m in middle school now.
Te extraño mucho,
Soficita
PS It’s really hard to keep the humidity in my incubator right. I have to add more water almost every day, but when I open the lid to add the water, the humidity gets even lower. I hope my eggs will be okay.
Wednesday, August 20
Mariposa García González
Heaven
Querida Abuelita,
Xochi waits for me at the lunchroom door now, and then we go find Sam and Chris. I wish they all were friends with each other the way they are with me. But you can’t make people be friends. I talked to Lupe about it the other day, and she said sometimes people make friends right away, and sometimes it takes longer. Sometimes old friends get jealous of new friends, like when Aquí and Allí came to live with my chickens. And sometimes people aren’t used to being friends with someone whose life was kind of different from theirs. But Lupe also reminded me that I don’t have to give up being friends with anyone to make someone else happy. Anyone who tells me who I can and can’t be friends with isn’t a real friend.
I don’t have a lot of friends here, so I’m glad they’re all real friends so far.
I’m glad I have study hall with Xochi. We get so much homework done! Some days Xochi says she wants to speak English, but other times she wants a break, so we speak Spanish. I told her my dad says Spanish still makes his brain tired, even though he’s pretty fluent, because he didn’t grow up speaking it, like me and Mom, and he still has to think about what the words mean all the time. But, he says it’s absolutely worth all that work.
It’s nice to spend some time just with Xochi. We have things in common that Chris and Sam don’t always understand. Like cousins that are almost like siblings, and that frutas con chile y limón are great and not gross. (Xochi likes watermelon best; I can’t decide whether orange or pineapple is my favorite.) It’s not like I’d hang out with her if she was mean, just because she’s Xicana too. But she isn’t mean—she’s really nice, and I like having a friend to share that stuff with again.
I bet you’d like her, and Chris and Sam too. I wish you could meet them.
Te extraño,
Soficita
PS I think Xochi’s superpower is that she’s really brave. If she has a question, she just raises her hand and asks it, in front of everyone. Today she asked the teacher-librarian if we could kick a fútbol on the grass in front of the library. And the teacher-librarian said sure! I’m so glad she’s my friend now too.
PPS I told Xochi about my chickens’ superpowers. She can’t wait to meet them!
Wednesday, August 20
Agnes Taylor
Unearthly Poultry Farm
Dear Agnes,
When you were alive, did your brain ever get tired from learning a lot of new things at once? Mine did this week. Maybe it’s a good thing my middle school is small, since I had to learn everyone’s names, and where all my classes were, and remember to do all my homework as well as all my chicken chores and egg chores. But it’s the weekend now, and Lupe says next week will be way easier, now that we know what we’re doing.
You know what isn’t easy? Trying to guess how much to turn the temperature dial on your incubator. It would be a lot easier if it had a dial like an oven, where you tell it what temperature you want it to be, instead of only “Increase” and “Decrease.” This morning it was cold out. I read the thermometer inside the incubator through the window in the lid, and it said 98.5 degrees F. I kind of panicked, and turned the dial toward “Increase.” Nothing happened, but it never really does right away—it takes hours to heat up and cool down.
I checked it as soon as I got home from school, and it said it was 100.5 degrees F in there! So I turned it to “Decrease,” just a tiny, tiny bit. Now it’s cooled off outside, and my incubator thermometer says 98.5 degrees F again. Argh!
Maybe I’ll never hatch enough chickens to fill all your coops back up.
I’m sorry. I’m trying really hard to get it right.
Your friend,
Sophie
Thursday, August 21
Agnes Taylor
Your version of heaven
Dear Agnes,
Today Chris and Sam and Xochi came over after school so we could work on our science projects. Middle school is a lot of work, but it isn’t so bad when you can read your library books and take notes and hang out with your chickens and your friends on a beautiful not-too-hot day, while you eat leftover apple crisp.
Sam is researching why llamas spit, how it works (biologically speaking), and what to do if you get llama spit on you. (Llama spit isn’t really just spit—it’s more like projectile vomit, Sam says. It sounds SO GROSS! I hope I get to see Ella do it someday. Sam says you shouldn’t go around trying to make llamas spit, though, because it upsets them and leaves a horrible taste in their mouths.)
Chris is researching the different kinds of sounds chickens make to communicate and learning how to do them so well the chickens pay attention. (He could already do the “Look out! There’s a hawk!” noise, but now he can do the “Treats! Excellent!!” noise too. We had to bring out some sunflower seeds from Agnes’s barn so my chickens weren’t so disappointed every time they rushed over to see what he’d found.) He’s teaching me the sounds too, because after all, exceptional poultry farmers need to know everything they can learn about their chickens. Chris says just because you aren’t born with any superpowers doesn’t mean you can’t learn how to do amazing things. Like Batman. Only, not rich. (I ha
ve to admit, talking to chickens is a pretty great superpower.)
Xochi is researching garrobos (a kind of iguana), where they live, what they eat, and how to take care of them. She wants to be a zookeeper when she grows up, so she learns about different kinds of animals every year. This year, it’s iguanas and lizards and chameleons and Komodo dragons, so she figured she might as well get school credit for the stuff she wanted to learn about anyway.
And I’m researching chicken embryos and how they develop in eggs. I don’t care that Clara said it was a little-kid project. I’m a poultry farmer, like you, and I’m hatching eggs from your chickens, so I need to know what’s going on in there. My dad says he’s never going to be too old to want to learn new things, and my mom says the stuff you learn is your greatest treasure, plus it’s impossible to steal. I can’t share my chicken-observation notes with the class, since Ms. Low doesn’t know about unusual chickens. But I can share what I learn about regular chicken eggs.
After we worked on our science projects, Chris and Xochi and Sam helped me think up experiments we could do with my chickens. Not evil-scientist ones, of course—just stuff that would be good to know, like what are the heaviest things Henrietta can lift, and how fast Roadrunner can go. Xochi said zookeepers have to know all about their animals, to keep the animals and the people safe. I guess it’s probably the same with unusual chickens.
I’ll let you know what we learn.
Your friend,
Sophie
PS Tomorrow, I start Part Two of your checklist. Wish me luck.
PPS Xochi told me she asked her parents if she could have iguanas, or maybe chickens. And they said no iguanas, but maybe chickens! I think she’d be great with chickens.
Friday, August 22
Agnes Taylor
Heaven’s Best Unusual Poultry Farm
Dear Agnes,
Did you know the farm you left me is kind of famous?
Lupe came home from college today all excited because when she told her business class about our work-party picnic, her professor recognized Redwood Farm and said she had a former student who had done a project on it. She said she’d get in touch with him and see if he’d like to come talk to us.
I’d like to talk to someone about what it was like when people used to order chickens and eggs from you, and when you had chickens living in all those coops. I have some questions, and I guess you can’t answer them now.
Your friend,
Sophie
PS My eggs are supposed to hatch tomorrow. I really hope they’re on time, because Mom is not going to let me stay home from school to take care of them.
Date: Saturday, August 23
To: Hortensia James
From: Sophie Brown
Subject: Eggs aren’t hatching
Dear Hortensia,
Are you sure those eggs you sent me are really going to hatch? They were supposed to hatch today, so I’ve been waiting in the barn all day with them. What am I supposed to do if they don’t hatch this weekend? Are the chicks going to starve or die of thirst or overheating if they hatch when I’m not there to move them out of the incubator?
I’m sorry I don’t already know all this stuff. I’m following Agnes’s instructions, but they aren’t always that clear. So I’m going to keep asking questions until I know what to do.
Sorry,
Sophie
PS If I did something wrong and they won’t ever hatch, I’m really sorry. I tried my best.
Date: Saturday, August 23
To: Sophie Brown
From: Hortensia James
Subject: RE: Eggs aren’t hatching
Dear Sophie,
Of course you should ask questions. How else will you learn everything you need to know to take care of unusual poultry?
Remember that these are chicks, not robots. They won’t all hatch right on time, or even on the same day. And you shouldn’t open the incubator until all the eggs have hatched in high humidity, and all the chicks have dried off in the nice, warm incubator. Do you know what humidity is? It’s the amount of water in the air. You are monitoring yours, right?
You don’t need to worry about the chicks starving or dying of thirst, even if they’re in there for a couple of days. After all, they’ve just absorbed an egg yolk that’s as big as they are! That’s plenty of food. They’re fine for up to 72 hours after hatching.
MOST IMPORTANT PART: Whatever happens, don’t try to help chicks hatch. The chick’s body is still adapting to its final, outside form, and if it comes out before it’s ready, it could bleed to death. The chicks know what they’re doing, even if they need to stop and take breaks occasionally. That’s fine—they’ll still hatch when they’re ready—so let them get out of their shells by themselves. If you’re really worried about one, ask a local poultry person to consult with you before you do anything.
Best of luck,
Hort
PS How old are you, Sophie?
PPS You do know some other poultry people, right?
Date: Saturday, August 23
To: Hortensia James
From: Sophie Brown
Subject: RE: RE: Eggs aren’t hatching
Dear Hort,
Yes, I know what humidity is. If I didn’t, I know how to look up a word, and then if I don’t know the words in the definition, I look those words up too. I’m almost thirteen. I know how to use a dictionary. And yes, I’m monitoring my humidity.
But I didn’t know the part about not helping the chicks, so thank you. I bet people who try to help and kill their chicks by accident feel awful. I know that waiting can be hard, but I can handle it.
Thank you for answering my questions,
Sophie
PS Yes, I know some poultry people who can help. I will call them if I need to. I just thought I’d ask you first, since they were your eggs. Sorry to bother you.
PPS I like your nickname. Thanks for telling it to me. I know that people who work together aren’t always friends, but I still appreciate your help. Sophie is my usual nickname, or Soficita, but you can call me Soph if you want to.
Date: Saturday, August 23
To: Sophie Brown
From: Hortensia James
Subject: RE: RE: RE: Eggs aren’t hatching
Dear Soph,
You can ask me whatever you need to. It’s no bother. I’m glad you have people there who can see your eggs in person. Sometimes it’s easier to tell what to do when you can see them for yourself. But I will still try to help you.
Your friend, I hope,
Hort
Date: Sunday, August 24
To: Hortensia James
From: Sophie Brown
Subject: Eggs ARE hatching!!!
Dear Hort,
One of the eggs has started to hatch!!! You were right. I just had to wait longer than I thought. The chick inside made a tiny hole in the shell by itself. Chris says it’s called a pip, and it’s so the chick can breathe. It’s a good thing you already told me not to help them at all, or I might have wondered if I should help the rest make their air holes, so they don’t suffocate in there. Now I know they’ll do it on their own when they’re ready. (I asked my friend Chris to come help me watch them and make sure I didn’t help by accident. He is a poultry person and has raised his own chicks.)
I hope the chick finishes hatching soon, and the rest of them too. I don’t want to miss it while I’m at school.
Your friend,
Soph
Sunday, August 24
Agnes Taylor
Heavenly Hatchery
Dear Agnes,
Chris came over to hang out in the barn and help me wait for my eggs to hatch. (Sam had to do llama chores, and Xochi was doing errands with her grandmother.) We waited and waited and waited and then one of them started to pip. It was so weird to see this egg start moving on its own!
We think it took a nap after it made a tiny hole, because it didn’t do anything for forever. But Chris just kept telling me this was normal, and not to open the lid to check on it, and not to help it. You’d have been proud of Chris. He paid attention to all the instructions we had and made sure I followed them.
We were quiet and listened hard, and we could hear the chick peeping! It didn’t sound like a chicken at all—more like one of those little brown birds that lives in bushes. A wild bird. It sounded kind of mad and kind of sad, but I still didn’t help it.
Then another chick started to pip! And it peeped too! I wondered what they were telling each other. Were they doing “We can do it!” speeches, like before a soccer game? Or were they competing to see who could be the first out of the shell, like my little cousins would?
The first chick pipped all the way around the whole shell. It took forever! But we didn’t help it. We saw the chick inside, but it didn’t look like a chicken at all. It looked like it had long wet hair, like a bedraggled tiny fluffy dog that was going bald, so you could see the pink skin underneath. It wasn’t gross and bloody or anything, though, just wet. (I didn’t know what to expect, so I was kind of nervous about that.)