雙語暢銷書·怦然心動(dòng) Chapter 06　雞蛋

Chapter 06

雞蛋

無花果樹被砍倒以后，似乎一切都分崩離析了?！肮谲姟彼懒?，然后我發(fā)現(xiàn)了關(guān)于雞蛋的真相?！肮谲姟钡搅嗽撾x開的時(shí)候，雖然我很想它，但是對(duì)我來說，接受“冠軍”的離去比接受雞蛋的真相還要來得更容易些，我仍然不敢相信雞蛋的事。

在這個(gè)事件當(dāng)中，雞蛋比雞來得更早，而狗要比它們兩個(gè)都早。我六歲的一天晚上，爸爸下班回來，卡車車廂里拴著一條已經(jīng)完全長大的狗。有人在十字路口中間打它，爸爸停下來查看它的傷勢(shì)。他發(fā)現(xiàn)這個(gè)可憐的小東西瘦得像根鐵軌，沒帶任何證明身份的東西?！八I極了，完全迷了路?！彼嬖V我媽媽，“你能想象有人這樣拋棄他們的狗嗎？”

全家人都聚在門廊上，我?guī)缀鯏D不進(jìn)去。一條小狗！

一條美妙的、快樂的、棒透了的狗狗！現(xiàn)在我明白了，“冠軍”長得一點(diǎn)兒也不漂亮，但在你六歲的時(shí)候，任何一條狗——不管它有多臟——都是漂亮的、討人喜歡的。

對(duì)哥哥們來說，它也非常好，不過從媽媽那糾結(jié)的表情來看，我知道她在思考。丟掉這條狗？哦，沒錯(cuò)。我肯定她是這樣想的。但是，她只是簡簡單單地說：“家里沒有地方養(yǎng)動(dòng)物?！?/p>

“特瑞納，”爸爸說，“這不是養(yǎng)不養(yǎng)的問題。這是同情心的問題?！?/p>

“你不是在對(duì)我說想養(yǎng)它當(dāng)……寵物吧？”

“絕對(duì)不是這個(gè)意思?！?/p>

“那你是什么意思？”

“給它好好地吃一頓飯，洗個(gè)澡……然后我們也許可以打個(gè)廣告，給它找個(gè)家?！?/p>

她隔著門檻注視著他：“沒有‘也許’?！?/p>

哥哥們說：“我們不能養(yǎng)它？”

“沒錯(cuò)?！?/p>

“可是，媽——媽。”他們抱怨著。

“沒什么可討論的?！彼f，“給它洗個(gè)澡，吃點(diǎn)東西，在報(bào)紙上登廣告?！?/p>

爸爸一只手摟著馬特，另一只手摟著麥克：“總有一天，孩子們，我們會(huì)養(yǎng)條小狗?！?/p>

媽媽已經(jīng)轉(zhuǎn)身向屋子里走去，聽到這里又回過頭：“除非你們先學(xué)會(huì)讓自己的房間保持整潔，孩子們！”

一周之內(nèi)，狗狗被起名為“冠軍”。第二個(gè)星期，它的領(lǐng)土從后院延伸到廚房。沒過多久，它就完全跑到屋子里活動(dòng)了?？磥頉]人想要一條已經(jīng)長大的、快樂地叫個(gè)不停的狗。嗯，除了貝克家五個(gè)人中的四個(gè)。

媽媽發(fā)現(xiàn)了一種味道。一種來源不明的神秘味道。我們也都承認(rèn)自己聞到了，但不同意媽媽說這是“冠軍”的味道。她要求我們那么頻繁地給它洗澡，所以這不可能是它身上的味道。我們每個(gè)人都認(rèn)真地聞過它，那是完美的玫瑰香味。

我私下里懷疑是馬特和麥克沒有好好洗澡，但我可不想靠近去聞他倆。由于無法確定“冠軍”是不是味道的來源，我們只好把這味道稱為“神秘的氣味”。整個(gè)晚餐時(shí)間，我們都在談?wù)撨@個(gè)“神秘的氣味”，哥哥們認(rèn)為這很好玩，而媽媽可不這么想。

有一天，媽媽解開了這個(gè)謎。要不是爸爸出手營救、把狗兒趕跑，媽媽沒準(zhǔn)兒會(huì)打破“冠軍”的頭。

媽媽氣得發(fā)瘋：“我說過一定是它。‘神秘的氣味’原來都是來自‘神秘小便’！你看見沒有？看見沒有？它剛才就尿在了茶幾上！”

爸爸拿著一卷手紙沖向剛才“冠軍”待過的地方：“在哪兒？在哪兒呢？”

三滴液體正順著桌子腿流下來。“那兒，”媽媽說，顫抖的手指對(duì)準(zhǔn)那片潮濕，“就在那兒！”

爸爸把它擦干凈，檢查著地毯：“這里一滴都沒有?！?/p>

“沒錯(cuò)！”媽媽叉著腰說，“這就是為什么我從來都找不到。從現(xiàn)在起，狗只能待在外面。聽見沒有？它再也不準(zhǔn)進(jìn)屋了！”

“車庫怎么樣？”我問，“它可以睡在里面嗎？”

“讓它給里面所有東西都尿上標(biāo)記？沒門！”

麥克和馬特相視而笑：“神秘小便！我們可以拿它當(dāng)成樂隊(duì)的名字！”

“是的！酷斃了！”

“樂隊(duì)？”媽媽問，“等等，什么樂隊(duì)？”但他們已經(jīng)飛身下樓，跑向自己的房間，嬉笑著討論Logo（徽標(biāo)或商標(biāo)）的設(shè)計(jì)去了。

那天剩下的時(shí)間里，爸爸和我四處嗅著，搗毀一切犯罪證據(jù)。爸爸拿著一瓶氨水噴霧，我拿著消毒劑緊隨其后。我們本來想叫上哥哥們，但他們很快開始用噴霧瓶打起水仗，結(jié)果都被關(guān)了禁閉，當(dāng)然，對(duì)他們來說也沒什么不好。

從此，“冠軍”成了一條養(yǎng)在室外的狗，而且有可能成為我家唯一的寵物，直到五年級(jí)的科技展覽會(huì)為止。

我身邊人人都想出了好點(diǎn)子，可我還什么想法都沒有。這時(shí)候，我的老師布魯貝克夫人把我叫到一邊，說她的一個(gè)朋友有幾只小雞，還說她能給我拿到一個(gè)受精的雞蛋來做項(xiàng)目。

“可我對(duì)孵蛋一竅不通啊?！蔽腋嬖V她。

她笑了，把手放在我的肩膀上：“你不用對(duì)什么事情都那么精通，朱莉。學(xué)習(xí)新東西才是目的?！?/p>

“萬一我把它養(yǎng)死了呢？”

“沒關(guān)系。用科學(xué)的方法記錄你的工作，還是能得到一個(gè)A，如果你擔(dān)心的是這個(gè)?！?/p>

得到一個(gè)A？我問的是一只雛雞的死——而她以為這是我最關(guān)心的問題。突然間，我覺得自己還不如去做個(gè)人造火山、制造合成橡膠，或者演示幾個(gè)傳動(dòng)裝置算了。

可惜，對(duì)于布魯貝克夫人來說，一旦開始就停不下來了，她不再跟我討論，從書架上抽出《養(yǎng)雞初學(xué)者指南》遞給我。她說：“閱讀人工孵化的章節(jié)，今天晚上做好準(zhǔn)備。我明天就把雞蛋拿來?！?/p>

“可是……”

“別太擔(dān)心了，朱莉，”她說，“我們每年都這么做，它總是科技展上最好的作品之一?！?/p>

“可是……”我還想說些什么，但她已經(jīng)走了，去替其他學(xué)生解決猶豫不決的問題了。

那天晚上我比之前還要焦慮。我至少把人工孵化的章節(jié)讀了四遍，仍然不知道從何入手。我手邊根本就沒有恰好存著一個(gè)舊水族箱！我們也沒有一支孵化溫度計(jì)！不知道烤箱用的溫度計(jì)合適不合適？

我還得控制濕度，否則小雞就要遭殃了。太干了，小雞無法破殼而出；太濕了，小雞可能會(huì)死于蔫雛病。蔫雛??？

作為一個(gè)通情達(dá)理的人，媽媽對(duì)我說，只要簡單地告訴布魯貝克夫人，我沒辦法孵出小雞就行了?！澳阌袥]有考慮過種豆子？”她問我。

不過，另一方面，爸爸理解我為何不能拒絕老師的分派，而且答應(yīng)我一定幫忙?！胺趸洳浑y做。吃完晚飯，我們就去做一個(gè)?！?/p>

爸爸竟然能在我家車庫里準(zhǔn)確地找到每一件東西，這實(shí)在是個(gè)宇宙的奇跡?？吹剿谝粔K舊有機(jī)玻璃上鉆出一英寸的洞，我才知道，他真的會(huì)做孵化箱?！吧细咧械臅r(shí)候，我曾經(jīng)孵出過一只鴨子，”他咧嘴笑著，“也是科技展的項(xiàng)目?！?/p>

“鴨子？”

“是啊，不過家禽孵化的原理都一樣。保持穩(wěn)定的溫度和濕度，每天把蛋翻轉(zhuǎn)幾次，過幾個(gè)星期你就會(huì)孵出一只嘰嘰喳喳的鳥兒了?！?/p>

他遞給我一個(gè)燈泡，還有一個(gè)連在插座上的延長線?！鞍堰@個(gè)穿進(jìn)有機(jī)玻璃上的洞里。我來找?guī)字囟扔?jì)?！?/p>

“幾支？我們需要不止一支？”

“我們還需要做個(gè)濕度計(jì)?！?/p>

“濕度計(jì)？”

“為了檢查孵化箱里的濕度。就是在一支溫度計(jì)的球泡上纏上濕紗布?！?/p>

我笑了：“不會(huì)得蔫雛??？”

他也笑了：“絕對(duì)不會(huì)。”

第二天下午，我已經(jīng)拿到了不是一個(gè)，而是六個(gè)雞蛋，躺在舒適的38.9攝氏度的孵化箱里。“不是每個(gè)雞蛋都能孵出小雞，朱莉，”布魯貝克夫人告訴我，“希望能孵出一只。最好成績是三只，那個(gè)成績已被記錄在案了。做個(gè)小科學(xué)家。祝你好運(yùn)?！闭f完她就走了。

記錄在案？這跟我有什么關(guān)系？我必須每天翻動(dòng)雞蛋三次，調(diào)節(jié)溫度和濕度，但是除此之外還有什么要做的？

那天晚上，爸爸從車庫拿出一個(gè)硬紙管和一只手電筒。他把兩樣?xùn)|西捆在一起，讓光線從管子中間直射過去?！拔襾斫棠阍趺礄z查雞蛋。”他邊說邊關(guān)上車庫的燈。

我在布魯貝克夫人的書里看到有對(duì)光檢查雞蛋的內(nèi)容，但還沒來得及讀。

“為什么管這個(gè)叫‘燭光檢查’？”我問爸爸，“你為什么要檢查它們？”

“從前，在用上白熾燈之前，人們點(diǎn)燃蠟燭檢查雞蛋，”他撿起一只雞蛋，貼在管子上，“光線能幫助你透過蛋殼看到胚胎的發(fā)育，剔除那些發(fā)育不良的蛋，如果有必要的話?！?/p>

“殺了它們？”

“剔除掉。揀走那些發(fā)育不良的。”

“可是……這還是會(huì)殺了它們呀？”

他看著我說：“留下發(fā)育不良的蛋，可能對(duì)其他健康的蛋造成毀滅性的打擊?！?/p>

“為什么？它們只是孵不出來而已啊？”

他繼續(xù)用光線照射著雞蛋：“它們可能會(huì)爆開，把細(xì)菌沾染到其他雞蛋上。”

爆開！蔫雛病、雞蛋爆炸、剔除壞蛋，現(xiàn)在這個(gè)項(xiàng)目變成了最差的選擇！然后爸爸說道：“看這兒，朱莉安娜。你能看到里面的胚胎?！彼咽蛛娡埠碗u蛋拿出來，讓我也能看到。

我向雞蛋里面看去，爸爸說：“看到那個(gè)小黑點(diǎn)了嗎？在中間，所有脈絡(luò)匯集的地方?！?/p>

“那個(gè)像豆子似的東西？”

“就是它！”

忽然間，我體會(huì)到一種真實(shí)感。這個(gè)雞蛋是有生命的。我迅速地檢查了剩余的蛋。它們?nèi)慷加幸粋€(gè)小小的豆子似的寶寶在里面！它們當(dāng)然都要活下來。它們當(dāng)然都能做到！

“爸爸，我能把孵化箱拿進(jìn)屋子嗎？你覺得晚上外面會(huì)不會(huì)太冷？”

“我正想這么說。你可以去把門打開嗎？我?guī)湍惆岢鋈??！?/p>

接下來的兩個(gè)星期，我把時(shí)間全用在孵小雞上面。我給雞蛋標(biāo)上A、B、C、D、E和F，可是沒過多久它們就有了自己的名字：艾比、邦妮、克萊德、德克斯特、尤尼斯和佛羅倫斯。我每天給它們稱重，透光檢查，給它們翻身。我甚至認(rèn)為它們應(yīng)該聽聽雞叫聲，有一段時(shí)間我真的這樣做了，但是雞叫聲太煩人了！還不如給我的安靜的小小鳥群哼歌呢，于是我用唱歌取代了雞叫。很快，我就會(huì)不假思索地對(duì)著它們唱起歌來，因?yàn)樵谶@些蛋周圍，我很開心。

我把《養(yǎng)雞初學(xué)者指南》從頭到尾讀了兩遍。為了我的項(xiàng)目，我用圖表的形式畫出胚胎發(fā)育的不同階段，做了一張巨大的小雞海報(bào)，記錄下每天溫度和濕度的波動(dòng)，用一張曲線圖表示每只雞蛋失去重量的情況。雞蛋們從外面看來很乏味，但我知道里面正在發(fā)生什么！

科技展前兩天，我對(duì)光檢查那只叫邦妮的雞蛋時(shí)，發(fā)現(xiàn)了某種情況。我把爸爸叫到我房間：“看，爸爸！看看這個(gè)！這是不是心跳？”

研究了一會(huì)兒，他笑了，說：“叫你媽媽過來。”

我們?nèi)齻€(gè)人擠在一起，觀察著邦妮的心跳，連媽媽也不得不承認(rèn)，這實(shí)在太神奇了。

克萊德是第一個(gè)出殼的。當(dāng)然，它選擇在我馬上要去上學(xué)的時(shí)候。它小小的喙啄穿了蛋殼，當(dāng)我屏住呼吸等待下文的時(shí)候，它開始休息了，休息了很久。終于，它的喙又戳了出來，但是它幾乎同時(shí)又縮回去休息了。我怎么能扔下它去學(xué)校呢？如果它需要我?guī)兔υ趺崔k？這是個(gè)多么正當(dāng)?shù)拇诩依锏睦碛桑辽倏梢远啻粫?huì)兒！

爸爸試圖向我保證，出殼的過程可能會(huì)持續(xù)一整天，我放學(xué)以后還能看到很多東西，但我完全不想聽。哦，不——不——不！我想親眼看著艾比、邦妮、克萊德、德克斯特、尤尼斯和佛羅倫斯它們中的每一只來到這個(gè)世界。“我絕不能錯(cuò)過出殼！”我對(duì)他說，“一秒鐘都不能！”

“那你把它們帶到學(xué)校去吧，”媽媽說，“布魯貝克夫人不會(huì)介意的。不管怎么說，這是她的主意。”

有時(shí)候，有個(gè)通情達(dá)理的媽媽還是值得的。我只當(dāng)是早點(diǎn)為科技展做準(zhǔn)備就行了，我能做到！我收拾起所有的設(shè)備、海報(bào)、圖表什么的，然后坐上媽媽的車直奔學(xué)校。

布魯貝克夫人一點(diǎn)兒也不介意。她正忙著幫別的孩子準(zhǔn)備他們的項(xiàng)目，所以我?guī)缀跤幸徽鞎r(shí)間來觀察小雞孵化的過程。

克萊德和邦妮是最早出殼的。一開始，我有點(diǎn)失望，因?yàn)樗鼈冎皇菨皲蹁?、亂糟糟地躺在那里，樣子又累又丑。

但是等到艾比和德克斯特破殼的時(shí)候，邦妮和克萊德的羽毛已經(jīng)蓬松起來，蠢蠢欲動(dòng)了。

最后兩只小雞等了很久都沒有動(dòng)靜，但布魯貝克夫人堅(jiān)持不準(zhǔn)我?guī)兔?，最后收到了很好的效果，因?yàn)樗鼈冋窃诳萍颊沟漠?dāng)天晚上才孵出來的。全家人都出席了，雖然馬特和麥克只看了兩分鐘就跑去了別的展位，但爸爸媽媽留下來看完了全過程。媽媽甚至把邦妮捧在手里，拿臉去蹭了蹭它。

展覽結(jié)束之后，我收拾東西準(zhǔn)備回家，這時(shí)媽媽問我：“這些是不是要送回給布魯貝克夫人？”

“把什么送回給布魯貝克夫人？”我問她。

“這些小雞，朱莉。你不是想自己養(yǎng)著它們吧？”

說實(shí)話，我還從來沒想過孵化以后的事情。我的注意力一直集中在怎么把它們帶到這個(gè)世界上。但媽媽說得對(duì)——現(xiàn)在它們出生了。

六只毛茸茸的可愛小雞，每只都有自己的名字，以及——我?guī)缀蹩梢灶A(yù)見到——自己獨(dú)特的個(gè)性。

“我……我不知道，”我結(jié)結(jié)巴巴地說，“我去問問布魯貝克夫人?！?/p>

我去找布魯貝克夫人，可我打心眼里希望她不需要把小雞還給她的朋友。不管怎么說，是我孵化了它們，是我給它們起了名字。是我保護(hù)它們遠(yuǎn)離蔫雛??！這些小雞是屬于我的！

布魯貝克夫人說，它們當(dāng)然是屬于我的，全都是我的。這讓我松了口氣，卻成了媽媽的噩夢(mèng)。

“祝你養(yǎng)得開心?！闭f完，她就急匆匆地跑去幫海蒂拆除她的伯努利定律實(shí)驗(yàn)裝置了。

回家的路上，媽媽一直很沉默，我能看得出來——她不想要這些小雞，就像她不想要一臺(tái)拖拉機(jī)和一只山羊?！皨寢?，求你了，”當(dāng)車停下來的時(shí)候，我小聲央求道，“好不好嘛？”

她撫著額頭：“我們?cè)谀膬吼B(yǎng)雞，朱莉？養(yǎng)在哪里？”

“后院？”我不知道還有什么地方。

“那‘冠軍’怎么辦？”

“它們能和平相處，媽媽。我會(huì)教它的，我保證?！?/p>

爸爸輕聲說：“它們都是些獨(dú)立的動(dòng)物，特瑞納。”

可是哥哥們又跳出來搗亂：“‘冠軍’會(huì)在它們身上撒尿，媽媽?！彼麄兒鋈恢g得到了靈感，“沒錯(cuò)！可是你根本不會(huì)發(fā)現(xiàn)，因?yàn)樗鼈儽緛砭褪屈S色的！”“哇！黃毛——好名字。”“真的！但是，等等——?jiǎng)e人會(huì)以為這是說我們的肚子上長出了黃毛！”“哦，好吧——忘了它吧！”“是啊，讓狗殺掉小雞吧?！?/p>

我的哥哥們瞪大了眼睛瞧著對(duì)方，突然又喊了起來：“殺死小雞！就用這個(gè)名字吧！怎么樣？”“你是說我們成了小雞殺手？或者是我們殺了小雞？”

爸爸扭過頭：“出去。你們兩個(gè)，下車。去別的地方想名字去吧?！?/p>

他們走了，只剩下我們?nèi)齻€(gè)坐在車?yán)?，小雞們發(fā)出細(xì)小的吱吱聲不時(shí)打破平靜。終于，媽媽重重地嘆了口氣，說：“養(yǎng)它們花不了多少錢，對(duì)吧？”

爸爸搖搖頭：“它們吃蟲子，特瑞納。還要添一點(diǎn)兒飼料。它們很省錢。”

“蟲子？真的嗎？什么蟲子？”

“地蜈蚣、毛毛蟲、牛屎蟲……也許還有蜘蛛，如果它們能抓到的話。我想它們也吃蝸牛?！?/p>

“你確定？”媽媽笑了，“好吧，如果是這樣的話……”

“哦，謝謝，媽媽。謝謝你！”

就這樣，我們開始養(yǎng)雞了。我們沒有想到的是，六只小雞捉起蟲來不僅清除了家里的害蟲，也順帶毀掉了草坪。半年之內(nèi)，我家院子里就什么也不剩了。

我們也沒有想到，雞飼料不僅招來了老鼠，還招來了貓、野貓?！肮谲姟焙苌瞄L把貓趕出院子，可是它們就在前院和側(cè)院附近徘徊，等“冠軍”一打盹，就悄悄潛入院子，撲向軟軟的鼠灰色小點(diǎn)心。

哥哥們開始捉老鼠了，一開始我以為他們是在幫忙。直到有一天，我聽見媽媽在房間里撕心裂肺地尖叫。謎底揭曉，原來他們養(yǎng)了一條大蟒蛇。媽媽瘋狂地跺著腳，我猜她想把我們，連帶蟒蛇，一股腦兒地全扔出去，但是后來我有了一個(gè)驚人的發(fā)現(xiàn)——雞開始下蛋了！美麗、晶瑩、奶白色的蛋！一開始，我在邦妮身下發(fā)現(xiàn)了一個(gè)，然后是克萊德——我當(dāng)即把它的名字改成了克萊蒂特——佛羅倫斯的窩里還有一個(gè)。它們下蛋了！

我奔回屋里拿給媽媽看，她驚愕地看了一會(huì)兒，癱倒在椅子上。“不，”她輕聲說，“不要更多的雞了！”

“它們不是雞，媽媽……這是雞蛋！”

她仍然蒼白著臉，不說話，我在她旁邊的椅子上坐下。她說：“我們沒養(yǎng)公雞啊……”

“嗯?！?/p>

她的臉上又有了血色：“確實(shí)沒養(yǎng)？”

“我從來沒聽見打鳴的聲音，你聽到過嗎？”

她笑了，“上帝保佑，我忘了數(shù)數(shù)了，”她直起身，從我手里接過一個(gè)雞蛋，“雞蛋，哈，你猜它們能下多少蛋？”

“我不知道?！?/p>

結(jié)果，我的母雞們下的蛋，我們根本吃不完。一開始我們?cè)囍训按嫦聛?，可是沒過多久，大家就吃膩了各種煮蛋、腌蛋和炒蛋，媽媽抱怨說這些免費(fèi)的雞蛋反而成本更高。

一天下午，我去撿雞蛋的時(shí)候，鄰居斯杜比太太靠在圍欄上對(duì)我說：“如果你有多余的蛋，我很愿意買一點(diǎn)兒。”

“真的？”我問。

“當(dāng)然。散養(yǎng)的雞蛋是最好的。你覺得兩美元一打怎么樣？”

兩美元一打！我笑了：“沒問題！”

“好，那就說定了。什么時(shí)候有多余的蛋，就給我送過來。昨天晚上我和赫爾姆斯太太在電話上討論過，不過我想先來問問你，這樣就能保證你優(yōu)先把蛋給我了，好嗎，朱莉？”

“當(dāng)然可以，斯杜比太太！”

多虧斯杜比太太和隔著三座房子的赫爾姆斯太太，我家的雞蛋過剩問題得以圓滿解決。我本來應(yīng)該把錢交給媽媽，作為毀掉后院的賠償，但她只是說：“沒用的，朱莉安娜，錢你留下吧?！庇谑俏揖屠硭?dāng)然地開始偷偷存私房錢了。

有一天我在去赫爾姆斯太太家的路上，羅斯基太太剛好開車經(jīng)過。她沖我微笑揮手，我懷著負(fù)疚意識(shí)到，也許在雞蛋的問題上，我表現(xiàn)得不像個(gè)好鄰居。她還不知道赫爾姆斯太太和斯杜比太太向我買雞蛋的事。也許她以為我只是出于好心才把雞蛋送給她們。

也許我根本就不應(yīng)該賣掉雞蛋，可我還從來沒有過一筆穩(wěn)定的收入呢。

零花錢在我家從來都是隨意發(fā)放的。爸爸媽媽通常會(huì)忘記這事。賣雞蛋掙錢讓我有種隱秘的快感，我可不想讓良心破壞掉這種感覺。

但是，我越想越覺得，羅斯基夫人理應(yīng)得到一些免費(fèi)的雞蛋。

她是個(gè)好鄰居，在我家沒錢的時(shí)候借我們生活費(fèi)，在媽媽需要開車出門而車子發(fā)動(dòng)不起來的時(shí)候，寧愿自己上班遲到也要送媽媽一程。送她一點(diǎn)兒雞蛋……雖然微不足道，但這是我力所能及的報(bào)答。

毫無疑問，這還給我提供了一個(gè)遇到布萊斯的絕好機(jī)會(huì)。在清晨寒冷的陽光下，他的眼睛一定比平時(shí)更藍(lán)。他看著我的樣子——臉上的微笑和害羞——那是和我在學(xué)校里遇到的完全不同的布萊斯。學(xué)校里的布萊斯看上去把自己隱藏得更深。

第三次去羅斯基家送雞蛋，我發(fā)現(xiàn)布萊斯在等我。

他會(huì)等在門口為我開門，然后說：“謝謝，朱莉，”再加一句，“學(xué)校見?！?/p>

一切都是值得的。即使赫爾姆斯太太和斯杜比太太后來提高了購買雞蛋的價(jià)格，我仍然覺得值得。因此，六年級(jí)、七年級(jí)和幾乎整個(gè)八年級(jí)，我都給羅斯基家送雞蛋。那些最好、最晶瑩的雞蛋被直接送到他家，作為回報(bào)，我有機(jī)會(huì)和全世界最閃亮的眼睛獨(dú)處幾分鐘。

這真劃算。

后來，無花果樹被砍倒了。兩個(gè)星期之后，“冠軍”死了。它大部分的時(shí)間都在睡覺，雖然我們不知道它具體的年齡，但是當(dāng)某天晚上爸爸出去喂它，卻發(fā)現(xiàn)它已經(jīng)死了的時(shí)候，沒有人感到驚訝。我們把它埋在后院，哥哥們?yōu)樗Q了一個(gè)十字架，上面寫著：

這里安葬著“神秘小便”

愿它安息

有一段時(shí)間我心情低落，頭暈?zāi)垦?。那時(shí)候經(jīng)常下雨，因?yàn)椴辉敢獬诵＼?，我騎自行車上學(xué)，每天放學(xué)回到家里，我就躲進(jìn)房間，躲進(jìn)小說的世界，基本上忘記了撿雞蛋。

是斯杜比太太讓我重新回到正常生活。她打來電話，說在報(bào)紙上看到無花果樹的新聞，她對(duì)此感到遺憾，但是過了這么久，她開始懷念那些雞蛋，并且擔(dān)心我的雞是不是不再生蛋了?！氨瘋麜?huì)使鳥類褪毛，我們不愿意看到這個(gè)景象！到處都是羽毛，卻看不到一個(gè)雞蛋。要不是對(duì)羽毛過敏，我也想養(yǎng)一群雞呢，不過這沒有關(guān)系。等你好一些了再把蛋送來吧。我打電話過來只是想告訴你，對(duì)于那棵樹，我感到很遺憾。還有你的狗。你媽媽說它去世了?！?/p>

于是，我回到工作狀態(tài)。我清理了之前被忽視的雞蛋，恢復(fù)每天撿蛋和清理雞窩的工作。收集到一定數(shù)量，我又開始挨家挨戶送雞蛋了。先是斯杜比太太，然后是赫爾姆斯太太，最后是羅斯基家。站在羅斯基家門口，我意識(shí)到自己已經(jīng)很久沒見過布萊斯了。當(dāng)然，我們每天都在同一所學(xué)校里，但我沉浸在其他事物當(dāng)中，幾乎可以算作沒看見他。

我的心跳開始加速，當(dāng)門咯吱一聲開了，他的藍(lán)眼睛望向我的時(shí)候，我準(zhǔn)備好的話全都不見了。我只好說：“拿去?！?/p>

他接過半箱雞蛋，說：“你知道，你其實(shí)不用送給我們……”

“我知道?！蔽业拖骂^。

我們沉默地站在那兒，時(shí)間是破紀(jì)錄的長。最后，他說：“那么，你會(huì)回來坐校車上學(xué)嗎？”

我抬頭看著他，聳聳肩：“不知道。我從那之后就沒有到過那里……你知道的。”

“那里現(xiàn)在看上去沒那么糟了。全清理干凈了。可能很快就會(huì)開始打地基。”

對(duì)我來說，實(shí)在是太可怕了。

“呃，”他說，“我得準(zhǔn)備去學(xué)校了，一會(huì)兒見。”他笑著把門關(guān)上。

不知道為什么，我又在那里站了一會(huì)兒。感覺很奇怪，心情莫名地低落。我覺得自己和周圍的一切都失去聯(lián)系了。我是不是應(yīng)該回到克里爾街等車？我最后還是得去，至少媽媽是這么說的。我是不是在把事情弄得越來越復(fù)雜？

門突然打開了，布萊斯匆匆地從屋里出來，手里拿著一個(gè)裝得滿滿的廚房垃圾桶。“朱莉！”他說，“你還在這兒干什么？”

他也把我嚇了一跳。我也不知道自己在這兒干什么。我慌張得恨不得馬上跑回家去，要不是他開始翻弄垃圾，把里面的東西使勁塞進(jìn)去的話。

我走近了一點(diǎn)兒，“需要幫忙嗎？”他看起來都快把垃圾弄得溢出來了。這時(shí)，我看到了裝雞蛋的盒子從中露出一角。

那不是隨便什么盒子。那是我拿來的盛雞蛋的盒子。是我剛剛拿給他的。透過小小的藍(lán)色紙板的縫隙，我看到了雞蛋。

我看看他，又看看雞蛋，然后說：“怎么了？你把它們?nèi)拥袅?？?/p>

“是的，”他迅速答道，“是的，我很抱歉。”

他想阻止我把盒子從垃圾里拿出來，卻沒有攔住。我問：“全都扔了？”我打開盒子，喘著氣。六個(gè)完整的、完美的雞蛋，“你為什么要扔掉它們？”

他推開我，繞過屋子走到垃圾箱旁邊，我一路跟著他，希望找到一個(gè)答案。

他把垃圾倒掉，然后轉(zhuǎn)身面對(duì)我：“你對(duì)‘沙門氏菌’這個(gè)詞沒有概念嗎？”

“沙門氏菌？可是……”

“我媽媽認(rèn)為我們不能冒這個(gè)險(xiǎn)?！?/p>

我跟著他回到門廊上：“你是說，她不吃這些雞蛋是因?yàn)椤?/p>

“因?yàn)樗幌胫卸??！?/p>

“中毒！為什么？”

“因?yàn)槟慵业暮笤壕拖瘛?，到處都是雞屎！我是說，看看你住的地方，朱莉！”他指著我家的房子說，“看看吧。那里就像個(gè)垃圾場(chǎng)！”

“它不是垃圾場(chǎng)！”我叫道，但是街對(duì)面的房子清清楚楚地?cái)[在那兒，讓人無法抵賴。我的嗓子忽然堵住了，哪怕說一句話都讓我痛苦不已，“你……一直都把它們?nèi)拥魡幔俊?/p>

他聳聳肩，眼睛看著地上：“朱莉，聽著。我們不想傷害你的感情?！?/p>

“我的感情？你知不知道斯杜比太太和赫爾姆斯太太付錢從我這里買雞蛋？”

“你在開玩笑?！?/p>

“沒有！她們付我兩美元買一打雞蛋！”

“不可能?！?/p>

“這是真的！我給你的這些雞蛋，完全可以拿去賣給斯杜比太太和赫爾姆斯太太！”

“哦?！彼麆e開目光，然后，他瞪著我說，“好吧，那你為什么白送給我們？”

我強(qiáng)忍著淚水，但是這很難。我哽咽著說：“我只想對(duì)鄰居友好一些……”

他放下垃圾桶，然后發(fā)生的事讓我大腦停止了運(yùn)轉(zhuǎn)。他摟著我的肩膀，看著我的眼睛，說：“斯杜比太太也是你的鄰居，對(duì)不對(duì)？還有赫爾姆斯太太也是。為什么只對(duì)我們友好呢？”

他想說什么？我對(duì)他的感覺還不夠明顯嗎？如果他知道，為什么又對(duì)我這么狠心，周復(fù)一周、年復(fù)一年地扔掉我送的雞蛋？

我不知道該說些什么，一句話也說不出來。我只是望著他，望著他清澈湛藍(lán)的眼睛。

“對(duì)不起，朱莉?！彼p聲說。

我跌跌撞撞地跑回家，滿心尷尬與困惑。我的心已經(jīng)碎成了片。

Chapter 06

The Eggs

JULIANNA

After they cut down the sycamore tree, it seemed like everything else fell apart, too. Champ died. And then I found out about the eggs. It was Champ's time to go, and even though I still miss him, I think it's been easier for me to deal with his death than it has been for me to deal with the truth about the eggs. I still cannot believe it about the eggs.

The eggs came before the chickens in our case, but the dog came before them both. One night when I was about six years old, Dad came home from work with a full-grown dog tied down in the back of his truck. Someone had hit it in the middle of an intersection, and Dad had stopped to see how badly it was hurt. Then he noticed that the poor thing was skinny as a rail and didn't have any tags. "Starving and completely disoriented,"he told my mother. "Can you imagine someone abandoning their dog like that?"

The whole family had converged on the front porch, and I could hardly contain myself. A dog! Awonderful, happy, panty dog! I realize now that Champ was never much of a looker, but when you're six, any dog — no matter how mangy — is a glorious, huggable creature.

He looked pretty good to my brothers, too, but from the way my mother's face was pinched, I could tell she was thinking. Abandon this dog? Oh, I can see it. I can definitely see it. What she said, though, was simply, "There is no room for that animal in this house."

Trina, my dad said, "it's not a matter of ownership. It's a matter of compassion."

You're not springing it on me as a ... a pet, then?

That is definitely not my intention.

Well, then what do you intend to do?

Give him a decent meal, a bath ... then maybe we'll place an ad and find him a home.

She eyed him from across the threshold. "There'll be no 'maybe' about it."

My brothers said, "We don't get to keep him?"

That's right.

But Mo-om, they moaned.

It's not open to discussion, she said. "He gets a bath, he gets a meal, he gets an ad in the paper."

My father put one arm around Matt's shoulder and the other around Mike's. "Someday, boys, we'll get a puppy."

My mother was already heading back inside, but over her shoulder came, "Not until you learn to keep your room neat, boys!"

By the end of the week, the dog was named Champ. By the end of the next week, he'd made it from the backyard into the kitchen area. And not too long after that, he was all moved in. It seemed nobody wanted a full-grown dog with a happy bark. Nobody but four-fifths of the Baker family, anyway.

Then my mother started noticing an odor. A mysterious odor of indeterminate origin. We all admitted we smelled it, too, but where my mother was convinced it was Eau de Champ, we disagreed. She had us bathing him so often that it couldn't possibly be him. We each sniffed him out pretty good and he smelled perfectly rosy.

My personal suspicion was that Matt and Mike were the ones not bathing enough, but I didn't want to get close enough to sniff them. And since our camp was divided on just who the culprit or culprits were, the odor was dubbed the Mystery Smell. Whole dinner time discussions revolved around the Mystery Smell, which my brothers found amusing and my mother did not.

Then one day my mother cracked the case. And she might have cracked Champ's skull as well if my dad hadn't come to the rescue and shooed him outside.

Mom was fuming. "I told you it was him. The Mystery Smell comes from the Mystery Pisser! Did you see that? Did you see that? He just squirted on the end table!"

My father raced with a roll of paper towels to where Champ had been, and said, "Where? Where is it?"

All of three drops were dripping down the table leg. "There," my mother said, pointing a shaky finger at the wetness. "There!"

Dad wiped it up, then checked the carpet and said, "It was barely a drop."

Exactly! my mother said with her hands on her hips. "Which is why I've never been able to find anything. That dog stays outside from now on. Do you hear me? He is no longer allowed in this house!"

How about the garage? I asked. "Can he sleep in there?"

And have him tag everything that's out there? No!

Mike and Matt were grinning at each other. "Mystery Pisser! That could be the name for our band!"

Yeah! Cool!

Band? my mother asked. "Wait a minute, what band?" But they were already flying down to their room, laughing about the possibilities for a logo.

My father and I spent the rest of the day sniffing out and destroying criminal evidence. My dad used a spray bottle of ammonia; I followed up with Lysol. We did try to recruit my brothers, but they wound up getting into a spray-bottle fight, which got them locked in their room, which, of course, was fine with them.

So Champ became an outside dog, and he might have been our only pet ever if it hadn't been for my fifth-grade science fair.

Everyone around me had great project ideas, but I couldn't seem to come up with one. Then our teacher, Mrs. Brubeck, took me aside and told me about a friend of hers who had chickens, and how she could get me a fertilized egg for my project.

But I don't know anything about hatching an egg, I told her.

She smiled and put her arm around my shoulders. "You don't have to be an immediate expert at everything, Juli. The idea here is to learn something new."

But what if it dies?

Then it dies. Document your work scientifically and you'll still get an A, if that's what you're worried about.

An A? Being responsible for the death of a baby chick — that's what I was worried about. Suddenly there was real appeal in building a volcano or making my own neoprene or demonstrating the various scientific applications of gear ratios.

But the ball was in motion, and Mrs. Brubeck would have no more discussion about it. She pulled The Beginner's Guide to Raising Chickens from her bookshelf and said, "Read the section on artificial incubation and set yourself up tonight. I'll get you an egg tomorrow."

But ...

Don't worry so much, Juli,she said. "We do this every year, and it's always one of the best projects at the fair."

I said, "But... ," but she was gone. Off to put an end to some other student's battle with indecision.

That night I was more worried than ever. I'd read the chapter on incubation at least four times and was still confused about where to start. I didn't happen to have an old aquarium lying around! We didn't happen to have an incubation thermometer! Would a deep-fry model work?

I was supposed to control humidity, too, or horrible things would happen to the chick. Too dry and the chick couldn't peck out; too wet and it would die of mushy chick disease. Mushy chick disease? !

My mother, being the sensible person that she is, told me to tell Mrs. Brubeck that I simply wouldn't be hatching a chick. "Have you considered growing beans?"she asked me.

My father, however, understood that you can't refuse to do your teacher's assignment, and he promised to help. "An incubator's not difficult to build. We'll make one after dinner."

How my father knows exactly where things are in our garage is one of the wonders of the universe. How he knew about incubators, however, was revealed to me while he was drilling a one-inch hole in an old scrap of Plexiglas. "I raised a duck from an egg when I was in high school."He grinned at me. "Science fair project."

A duck?

Yes, but the principle is the same for all poultry. Keep the temperature constant and the humidity right, turn the egg several times a day, and in a few weeks you'll have yourself a little peeper.

He handed me a lightbulb and an extension cord with a socket attached. "Fasten this through the hole in the Plexiglas. I'll find some thermometers."

Some? We need more than one?

We have to make you a hygrometer.

A hygrometer?

To check the humidity inside the incubator. It's just a thermometer with wet gauze around the bulb.

I smiled. "No mushy chick disease?"

He smiled back. "Precisely."

By the next afternoon I had not one, but six chicken eggs incubating at a cozy 102 degrees Fahrenheit. "They don't all make it, Juli," Mrs. Brubeck told me. "Hope for one. The record's three. The grade's in the documentation. Be a scientist. Good luck." And with that, she was off.

Documentation? Of what? I had to turn the eggs three times a day and regulate the temperature and humidity, but aside from that what was there to do?

That night my father came out to the garage with a cardboard tube and a flashlight. He taped the two together so that the light beam was forced straight out the tube. "Let me show you how to candle an egg,"he said, then switched off the garage light.

I'd seen a section on candling eggs in Mrs. Brubeck's book, but I hadn't really read it yet. "Why do they call it that?" I asked him. "And why do you do it?"

People used candles to do this before they had incandescent lighting. He held an egg up to the cardboard tube. "The light lets you see through the shell so you can watch the embryo develop. Then you can cull the weak ones, if necessary."

Kill them?

Cull them. Remove the ones that don't develop properly.

But ... wouldn't that also kill them?

He looked at me. "Leaving an egg you should cull might have disastrous results on the healthy ones."

Why? Wouldn't it just not hatch?

He went back to lighting up the egg. "It might explode and contaminate the other eggs with bacteria."

Explode! Between mushy chick disease, exploding eggs, and culling, this project was turning out to be the worst! Then myfather said, "Look here, Julianna. You can see the embryo." He held the flashlight and egg out so I could see.

I looked inside and he said, "See the dark spot there? In the middle? With all the veins leading to it?"

The thing that looks like a bean?

That's it!

Suddenly it felt real. This egg was alive. I quickly checked the rest of the group. There were little bean babies in all of them! Surely they had to live. Surely they would all make it!

Dad? Can I take the incubator inside? It might get too cold out here at night, don't you think?

I was going to suggest the same thing. Why don't you prop open the door? I'll carry it for you.

For the next two weeks I was completely consumed with the growing of chicks. I labeled the eggs A, B, C, D, E, and F, but before long they had names, too: Abby, Bonnie, Clyde, Dexter, Eunice, and Florence. Every day I weighed them, candled them, and turned them. I even thought it might be good for them to hear some clucking, so for a while I did that, too, but clucking is tiring! It was much easier to hum around my quiet little flock, so I did that, instead. Soon I was humming without even thinking about it, because when I was around my eggs, I was happy.

I read The Beginner's Guide to Raising Chickens cover to cover twice. For my project I drew diagrams of the various stages of an embryo's development, I made a giant chicken poster, I graphed the daily fluctuations in temperature and humidity, and I made a line chart documenting the weight loss of each egg. On the outside eggs were boring, but I knew what was happening on the inside!

Then two days before the science fair I was candling Bonnie when I noticed something. I called my dad into my room and said, "Look, Dad! Look at this! Is that the heart beating?"

He studied it for a moment, then smiled and said, "Let me get your mother."

So the three of us crowded around and watched Bonnie's heart beat, and even my mother had to admit that it was absolutely amazing.

Clyde was the first to pip. And of course he did it right before I had to leave for school. His little beak cracked through, and while I held my breath and waited, he rested. And rested. Finally his beak poked through again, but almost right away, he rested again. How could I go to school and just leave him this way? What if he needed my help? Surely this was a valid reason to stay home, at least for a little while!

My father tried to assure me that hatching out could take all day and that there'd be plenty of action left after school, but I'd have none of that. Oh, no-no-no! I wanted to see Abby and Bonnie and Clyde and Dexter and Eunice and Florence come into the world. Every single one of them. "I can't miss the hatch!" I told him. "Not even a second of it!"

So take it to school with you, my mother said. "Mrs. Brubeck shouldn't mind. After all, this was her idea."

Sometimes it pays to have a sensible mother. I'd just set up for the science fair early, that's what I'd do! I packed up my entire operation, posters, charts, and all, and got a ride to school from my mom.

Mrs. Brubeck didn't mind a bit. She was so busy helping kids with their projects that I got to spend nearly the entire day watching the hatch.

Clyde and Bonnie were the first ones out. It was disappointing at first because they just lay there all wet and matted, looking exhausted and ugly. But by the time Abby and Dexter broke out, Bonnie and Clyde were fluffing up, looking for action.

The last two took forever, but Mrs. Brubeck insisted that I leave them alone, and that worked out pretty great because they hatched out during the fair that night. My whole family came, and even though Matt and Mike only watched for about two minutes before they took off to look at some other demonstration, my mom and dad stuck around for the whole thing. Mom even picked Bonnie up and nuzzled her.

That night after it was all over and I was packing up to go home, Mom asked, "So do these go back to Mrs. Brubeck now?"

Do what go back to Mrs. Brubeck? I asked her.

The chicks, Juli. You're not planning to raise chickens, are you?

To be honest, I hadn't thought beyond the hatch. My focus had been strictly on bringing them into the world. But she was right — here they were. Six fluffy little adorable chicks, each of which had a name and, I could already tell, its own unique personality.

I... I don't know, I stammered. "I'll ask Mrs. Brubeck."

I tracked down Mrs. Brubeck, but I was praying that she didn't want me to give them back to her friend. After all, I'd hatched them. I'd named them. I'd saved them from mushy chick disease! These little peepers were mine!

To my relief and my mother's horror, Mrs. Brubeck said they were indeed mine. All mine. "Have fun," she said, then zipped off to help Heidi dismantle her exhibit on Bernoulli's law.

Mom was quiet the whole way home, and I could tell — she wanted chickens like she wanted a tractor and a goat. "Please, Mom?"I whispered as we parked at th