Egg-Drop Blues

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Egg-Drop Blues Page 8

by Jacqueline Turner Banks


  Jury stepped up on a box and loaded the next to last container. It seemed like enough time hadn't passed by when I saw the disappointment on my mother's face.

  "It's up to you," Jury said.

  "No matter what, we've got third place," I said.

  "Hey, that's right." He gave me a high-five.

  I went through the drill and dropped the egg. I just wanted it over.

  This time I looked at our dad. He and my mother embraced. All three of us survived the drop. I didn't realize it was over until I heard the ding-ding-ding of the final bell.

  "Don't we have to drop it again?" I asked Jury.

  "No, this is where those essays that we wrote come in. They'll decide who's first and second by their essay scores."

  I wanted to say something else, but at that moment all of the kids up there from our school were crowding around us and patting us on the back and stuff.

  The announcer kept repeating that we were to "evacuate the roof." I guess he was afraid all those happy parents and friends were going to rush the roof.

  We went down. Mom, Dad, and Lilly rushed up to hug us. It was great. As far as I was concerned, I didn't need the awards ceremony to feel wonderful.

  "I guess I owe you this?" Randall said to Jury, stepping in between our parents. He handed the ten dollar bill to Jury.

  When Randall walked away, my dad asked, "What was that about?"

  Jury looked at me. For the first time in a while my brother was at a loss for words.

  "Would you believe it's part of an awards pot?" Jury asked.

  Me and Lilly were the only two who laughed.

 

 

 


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