The Chicken Dance

  KC sat on the ground in front of me and closed her eyes, so I closed mine and imagined Stanley sitting next to me.

  “Hey, Stanley,” I said. “Can you help me come up with a way to fall in front of Mother so she thinks I really hurt my ankle?”

  “Don,” he told me. “You know she’s going to be mad if you can’t dance, and she’s going to stop being nice to you.”

  “I know,” I said. “But I don’t want to dance, and even if I did want to, I don’t remember the steps.”

  Someone in my house turned on the radio, and the song “Rockin’ Robin” by Michael Jackson started playing, and Stanley told me, “That’s one of your favorite songs, Don. Why don’t you try dancing to it? You knew all the steps before and you used to like dancing.”

  I told him, “Yeah, a little, but I don’t like doing it in front of people, and what about Leon?”

  “Well,” he told me, “act like there’s nobody watching you. Leon’s not going to the recital anyway, so he won’t see you.”

  Stanley had a good point, and since I liked “Rockin’ Robin,” I thought I’d try. I started tapping my foot and Stanley told me, “Get up now, Don. Get up now and dance while no one is around.”

  “Dance with me, Stanley,” I told him.

  We both stood up from the stump and tapped our feet in the dirt to the beat of the song and then we moved our hips from side to side. I closed my eyes and swung my arms, and then I imagined all the chickens lining up behind Stanley and me. They made a box and the mixed colors of their white and red feathers looked kind of like pictures I’d seen of snow on fall leaves.

  We walked sideways and kicked, stepped, stepped, and kicked. I was turning, walking backward, and tapping. I didn’t even feel like I was trying, but like something had taken over my body and was doing it for me. I imagined my chickens flying on my shoulders and lifting me up in the air like I was the one flying, and then Stanley disappeared, and it was just me.

  Then I heard my mother yell, “Oh my god! Don, you’re doing it! Oh my god!”

  I opened my eyes, and I wasn’t flying anymore and the chickens weren’t lined up behind me. I saw my mother running toward me and I thought that she was going to open up the gate and come into the chicken yard, but she stopped right before the chain-link fence and said, “That was great, Don.”

  She started crying and then said, “I am so proud of you. I don’t think a mom could be any happier than I am now.”

  I couldn’t believe that she’d said she was proud of me and that she didn’t think a mom could be any happier than she was. That’s when I knew that I couldn’t pretend to hurt my ankle and that I had to dance in the recital.

  Sixteen

  My recital was in the auditorium at Horse Island High and right before my dance started, our teacher, Ms. Mary, lined all the kids up onstage behind the curtain. I had to wear this white suit and black shirt like John Travolta wore in Saturday Night Fever because my mother liked the movie. The girls didn’t have to wear suits, though. They wore these red sequined dresses that Ms. Mary picked out and said would look good for the song we were dancing to. It was the Pointer Sisters’ song “He’s So Shy,” and since I was the only boy, I had to dance in the middle of the girls, and they would turn and point at me and sing, “He’s So shy.”

  I was going over all the steps in my head when the curtain went up and Ms. Mary walked onstage and said, “Ladies and Gentlemen, may I have your attention? Tonight we have a special surprise for all of you. Janice Schmidt will sing the song for this last number. I don’t think I need to tell you that the handsome young man in the middle of the stage is her son. So without further ado, Janice Schmidt.”

  My mother walked out onstage and I was kind of shocked because she hadn’t told me that she was going to sing. She had changed from the pantsuit she’d worn to the recital into a red sequined dress like the one the girl dancers had on. When she took the microphone from my teacher, a ray of light shot off of her dress and blinded me a little.

  “Hello, everyone,” my mother said. “It’s so good to have everyone here tonight, and I’m so glad to be able to perform for you. Please join me in thanking Ms. Mary for giving us this great opportunity.”

  Everybody clapped and then the music started and my mother started singing. Her mouth was really close to the microphone and you couldn’t really understand what she was saying, but the girls on the sides of me started dancing. I didn’t move, though, because I’d forgotten all the steps. I could see my teacher on the side of the stage waving her arms at me, but that still didn’t help me remember them.

  I didn’t know what to do so I closed my eyes and breathed deeply, and then I pretended that everyone was a chicken. The girls on each side of me were chickens, and the people in the audience were chickens, and my mother was KC the chicken, not the singer. I was the only one who wasn’t a chicken, but I wasn’t Don. I pretended I was Stanley, and then I started to remember the steps to the song. I tapped my foot and then took three steps forward and three steps back. I kicked my left leg in the air, and then my right, and then I danced just like my mother and Ms. Mary had taught me.

  I wanted to see the people in the audience looking and smiling at me while I danced, so I opened my eyes to look at them, but all I saw was my mother’s finger pointing at me. She was moving her shoulders side to side and singing and I could see her teeth and there was red lipstick on them. It was kind of scary, so I closed my eyes again and kept them closed until I heard my mother start the last verse.

  For the last part of the song, I was supposed to step backward and then kneel down on my left knee and throw my arms up in the air and shake my hands. I was so happy when I started to step backward because it meant the song was almost finished and I hadn’t really messed up that much. But when I tried to take the step, I couldn’t. Something was holding my legs together. I opened my eyes and looked down at this black ropelike thing around my legs. It took me a second to realize it was the cord from the microphone. I tried to step out of it, but then my mother took a step forward and the cord tightened and I tripped.

  My glasses flew off of my face and everything got blurry. I could still kind of see the people in the audience. Some of them were laughing and some of them were clapping. A lot of them weren’t doing anything. They were just looking up at me with weird faces like they’d just eaten something sour.

  Then the curtains went down and everything went black for a couple of seconds. The stage lights came on and I could see the girls standing around me in a circle and looking at me. One of them told me, “You’re stupid.”

  Then the other girls agreed with her and they all walked off the stage. My mother didn’t leave, though. She looked down at me and tilted her head to the side.

  “What happened?” she asked.

  I found my glasses and put them back on. Then I told her, “The cord from the microphone made me fall.”

  “Oh,” she said. “Wasn’t I great? Maybe I should join the church choir.”

  I didn’t really care if my mother joined the choir because I was too busy unwrapping the wire from around my legs. I was kind of mad at her because she’d made me fall. But then I realized that I wouldn’t have to dance anymore and I got happy. And I was happy until I stood up and stepped out of the pile of cord. That’s when my mother walked off the stage and I realized that because I wasn’t dancing anymore, we wouldn’t practice anymore. I didn’t want to stop dancing on her feet at night in the kitchen because I kind of liked that. So I decided I would ask her on the way home if we would keep practicing. But then my mother walked back onstage.

  “Don,” she said. “I’m sure a few people want to talk to me, so I’ll meet you outside by the car.”

  “Okay,” I said.

  She started to walk off the stage again and before I could even think about anything, I heard myself say, “Mother. Are we going to keep dancing in the kitchen at night?”

  My mother stopped and turned and looked at me. She shook her head
and said, “No. There’s no reason to start practicing until class begins again in September. Besides, I think I need to start practicing my singing if I want to be able to hit those high notes.”

  My mother walked off the stage and I whispered, “Can we practice anyway?”

  Seventeen

  The next morning when I went outside to go to school, Leon wasn’t there. I thought maybe he was running late, so I waited a little while for him. He still didn’t show up after around ten minutes and I figured I’d better go to school without him or I’d be late.

  Leon was sitting at his desk when I got to school. I thought about talking to him, but the bell rang and the teacher told us to settle down because we had to get started.

  All morning long I wondered if Leon was really mad at me. I decided to ask Stanley, “Why do you think Leon didn’t stop at our house this morning?”

  He told me, “I think he was just late to school and didn’t have time.”

  I liked that answer, so then I asked Stanley, “Do you think it’s because he saw me dancing in the grocery store?”

  “No, Don,” he said. “Leon would never do that to you.”

  I guess I must have stopped talking in my head and started talking out loud, because Mrs. Forest asked me, “Don, who are you speaking to?”

  Everybody turned and looked at me and I didn’t say anything until Mrs. Forest said, “Don, answer me.”

  That’s when I said, “I was talking to myself.”

  All the kids laughed and Leon said, “Geez, what a geek.”

  Then Mrs. Forest said, “Settle down, children. Don, stop talking to yourself; it’s very disruptive.”

  During recess and lunch, I sat by myself and thought about what to do. Stanley told me that I should try to talk to Leon after school. Since I didn’t know what else to do, I listened to him and right after school, I walked up to Leon and said, “Hi, Leon. Do you want to come look at my chickens?”

  He made a face and then told me, “No,” and so I asked, “Do you want to help me look for my kidnapped twin brother?”

  Leon got on his bike and then told me, “Let me explain something to you. You’re a dancing geek, and I’m not, so I can’t be hanging out with you.”

  Leon rode off on his bike and I stood alone in front of the school. I didn’t know what to say, and even if I did, it wouldn’t have mattered because I was alone so nobody would hear. I didn’t even feel like talking to Stanley. I don’t know why. I guess because I thought there was nothing he could have told me to make me feel better. My stomach hurt and felt like it did this one time when I ate an expired Beef Pie Surprise TV dinner. And my head felt like it did this one time a dodge ball hit me in the face in fourth grade recess. My mouth got really dry and sweat started dripping down into my eyes. I wiped the sweat away and then I got on my bike and started peddling home.

  I felt so tired. Like the most tired I’d ever been in my whole life and I didn’t know if I’d be able to make it all the way home. And then I got to a stop sign and I felt a little different. I don’t know why. Maybe it was the red color of the sign. But I suddenly wasn’t that tired anymore. I was mad.

  So I picked up a rock and threw it at the stop sign. I missed it and that made me even madder. So I picked up another rock and threw it and I missed again. Then the calico cat ran out from a field onto the road and looked at me. She hissed and ran toward me, so I picked up a rock and threw it at her. It didn’t hit her, but she stopped.

  I screamed, “I hate you, cat! I hate you because you’re so mean and I never did anything to you and all you ever do is chase me and try to scratch me and I’m tired of it!”

  The cat ran away and I watched it for a couple of seconds until it disappeared. Then I felt tired again and started riding my bike back home. I thought about how Leon wasn’t going to ride his bike with me anymore and how I’d have to sit alone for lunch again and how I wouldn’t get to chase the stray dog and pig anymore. I started crying and thought that it was my mother’s fault. And I got so mad that I screamed, “I hate my mother and I wish she’d leave!”

  I was peddling up the driveway in our front yard when it came out of my mouth. And that’s when I stopped my bike and stopped screaming. I just stood there holding on to my bike and breathing really hard. I couldn’t even believe I’d said it. It just came out. My stomach started to hurt again, but I didn’t feel like screaming. I just felt like dancing.

  So I walked my bike up to the house and then went inside. No one was there, so I put my backpack in my room and went into the kitchen. Then I closed my eyes and imagined dancing on my mother’s feet.

  Eighteen

  For the next couple of weeks, Leon and all the other kids pretty much stopped talking to me, so I went back to sitting alone for recess the way I had before the chicken-judging contest. I watched them play kick ball and chase the stray dog and pig. I kind of wanted to play with them, but none of them asked, so I just sat and watched and talked to Stanley.

  One day, I think it was a Tuesday, when I was talking to him, he gave me an idea. We were talking about the Easter break that was coming up the next week and how it was going to be fun because we wouldn’t have to go to school for nine days in a row. We decided that we were going to try and build some new nests for the chickens.

  That’s when Stanley told me, “You know what, Don? That sounds cool, but you know what would be even cooler?”

  “What’s that?” I asked him.

  “If you found me.”

  I hadn’t looked for the metal box with Stanley’s birth certificate since the day I’d found the note from R. B. I don’t know why. I guess I just got busy dancing for my mother and I kind of forgot about it. Or I just never had the chance to look for it. But I really liked Stanley’s idea and so I decided that I would look for the metal box with the birth certificate and the bills from that detective, Mr. Munson. I just had to wait until my parents weren’t home.

  That Saturday, I had my chance. My father had to go into work and my mother told me that she had to run some errands. I stood in the foyer and watched her drive off and as soon as I couldn’t see the car anymore, I started to look for the metal box.

  I figured my parents’ bedroom would be the best place to start and so I headed toward it. But when I was passing through the living room, I saw the music box on the bookcase and I stopped.

  My mother hadn’t wound it up and watched the ballerina dance since before I’d won the chicken-judging contest, almost six months before. I mean, unless she was doing it while I was in school, but I don’t think so because there was dust on the music box and a spider web connecting it to Dawn’s dance trophy. I don’t know why, but I still kind of wanted to wind it up all the way and whisper, “Fly,” and see if the ballerina would fly away.

  I knew I wasn’t supposed to touch it, but I really wanted to and so I asked Stanley, “Do you think it would be okay if I wound up the music box?”

  He said, “Sure. What’s the worst that could happen?”

  Since Stanley said it was okay, I pushed a chair up to the bookcase, stood on top of it, and reached for the music box.

  My hand was shaking when I picked it up because it was something that I’d wanted to do for so long and I guess I couldn’t believe that I was doing it. The box felt like it weighed a couple of pounds and the wood was soft and smooth. I turned and looked out of our front window just to make sure that my mother wasn’t driving up. Since I didn’t see her, I decided I was going to do it. I was going to wind the box up as much as I could and watch the ballerina dance and then whisper, “Fly.”

  But then, when I was about to step off of the chair with it, the telephone rang. It scared me so much that my arms jerked up and the box slipped from my hands and flew and flipped through the air like it was dancing. Right when it hit the floor, I yelled, “No!” and then I stepped back and fell off the chair.

  I laid on the ground and stared at the music box while the phone rang. I didn’t want to leave it on the ground, but
I didn’t want to know if it was broken. So instead, I got up off the floor and picked up the phone and said, “Hello?”

  Some man said, “Hello, yes, is Mr. or Mrs. Schmidt in?”

  I said, “No, sir, they’re not here. Can I take a message?”

  “Yes,” he said. “Can you tell them that Mr. Munson called?”

  I couldn’t believe that the man who was looking for my brother was talking to me. I wanted to ask him questions like “Where is Stanley?” and “Are you looking for him or just keeping my parents’ money like Leon said?”

  The only thing I could say though was “Yes, sir.”

  After he gave me his number and I hung up, I heard a car drive up to our house. I looked out of the window and saw my mother and remembered the music box. I picked it up and turned it over and over to make sure that it wasn’t chipped. It was okay, and so I jumped on the chair to put it back, but my hands were shaking and I dropped it again. My heart was pounding so hard, I swear I thought it would pop out of my chest. I got the music box back on the bookcase, though, right before my mother opened the front door.

  She walked into the kitchen and yelled, “You know, I went all the way to Cloris Callahan’s house to give her some eggs, and she wasn’t there! I spoke to her this morning and told her I was coming. Some people in this town need to be careful or I might not do business with them.”

  She walked into the living room wearing a white shirt and purple pants and asked, “Do these purple pants look good on me? I ran into our neighbor Patricia Picard and she couldn’t stop talking about how much she loved them.”