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both read in the paper。 My father was saying； “But
what he's proposing otion machine； so it's not possible。”
Chet replied； “Maybe in the context of what scientists know now； but do you rule it out
pletely？”
At that moment I was feeling absolutely no scientific curiosity。 But in a desperate attempt to
block Bryce Loski from my mind； I asked； “What's a
perpetual…motion machine？”
My father and Chet glanced at each other； chuckled； then shrugged； giving me the sense
that they'd just agreed to let me into a secret club。 My
father explained； “It's a machine that runs without any external power source。”
“No electricity； no fuel； no water propulsion； nothing。” Chet glanced over my shoulder and
asked rather absently； “You think that's a doable thing？”
What had distracted him？ Was Bryce still in the foyer？ Why didn't he just go away？
I forced myself to focus on the conversation。 “Do I think that's a doable thing？ Well； I don't
really know。 All machines use energy； right？ Even real
efficient ones。 And that energy has to e from somewhere…。”
“What if the machine generated it itself？” Chet asked； but one eye was still on the foyer。
“How could it do that？”
Neither of them answered me。 Instead； my father stuck out his hand and said； “Good evening；
Rick。 Nice of you to have us over。”
Mr。 Loski pumped my dad's hand and joined our group； making little ments about the
weather。 When that topic was all dried up； he said；
“And wow； that yard of yours has really e along。 I told Chet here that we ought to hire
him out。 He really knows his pickets； doesn't he？”
He was joking。 I think。 But my father didn't take it that way； and neither did Chet。 I was afraid
of what might happen next； but then Mrs。 Loski
tinkled a little dinner bell and called； “Hors d'oeuvres； everybody！”
The hors d'oeuvres were delicious。 But when my father whispered that the teeny…tiny black
berries on top of the crackers weren't berries at all； but
……… Page 71………
caviar； I stopped midbite。 Fish eggs？ Repulsive！
Then my father pointed out that I ate chicken eggs all the time； so ish over
fish eggs？ He had a point。 I hesitantly finished the
cracker； and before long I was having another。
Bryce was standing all by himself across the room； and every time I happened to look his
way； he was staring at me。
Finally I pletely turned my back on him and said to my father； “So who's trying to invent a
perpetual…motion machine； anyway？”
My father laughed。 “Mad scientists all over the world。”
“Really？”
“Yes。 For hundreds of years。”
“Well； what do they do？ What's one look like？”
It wasn't long before Chet was in on the discussion。 And just as I was finally starting to catch
on to magism； gyroscopic particles； and zeropoint
energy； I felt someone standing behind me。
It was Bryce。
I could feel my cheeks flush with anger。 Couldn't he see I wanted to be left alone？ I took a
step away from him； but what that did was open up the
group and allow him to move forward。 Now he was standing in our circle listening to our
discussion！
Well！ Surely he was not interested in perpetual motion。 I barely was myself！ So； I reasoned；
continuing our discussion would drive him away。 I
dove back in； and when the conversation started to peter out； I came up with my own ideas
on perpetual…motion machines。 I was like a perpetualidea
machine； spinning ridiculous suggestions right out of the air。
And still he wouldn't leave。 He didn't say anything； he just stood there； listening。 Then when
Mrs。 Loski announced that dinner was ready； Bryce
held my arm and whispered； “Juli； I'm sorry。 I've never been so sorry about anything in my
whole life。 You're right； I was a jerk； and I'm sorry。”
I yanked my arm free from his grasp and said； “It seems to me you've been sorry about a
whole lot of things lately！” and left him there with his
apology hanging wounded in the air。
It didn't take me long to realize that I'd made a mistake。 I should have let him say he was
sorry and then simply continued to ignore him。 But I'd
snapped at him in the middle of an apology； which somehow made me the rude one。
I sneaked a peek at him across the table； but he was watching his dad； who was asking my
brothers about graduating and their plans for college。
I had； of course； seen Mr。 Loski many times； but usually from a distance。 Still； it seemed
impossible that I'd never noticed his eyes before。 They
were blue。 Brilliant blue。 And although Mr。 Loski's were set farther back and were hidden
somewhat by his eyebrows and cheekbones； there was
no mistaking where Bryce had gotten his eyes。 His hair was black； too； like Bryce's； and his
teeth were white and straight。
Even though Chet had called Bryce the spitting image of his father； I'd never really thought of
them as looking alike。 But now I saw that they did
look alike； though where his dad seemed kind of smug； Bryce seemed… well； right now he
seemed angry。
Then from the other side of the table； I heard； “Your sarcasm is not appreciated； Dad。”
Mrs。 Loski gave a small gasp； and everyone looked at Lyta。 “Well； it's not；” she said。
In all the years we've lived across the street from the Loskis； I've said about ten words to
Lyta； and she's said fewer back。 To me she's scary。
So it wasn't a surprise to see her glaring at her father； but it was unfortable。 Mrs。 Loski
was keeping a smile perched on her face； but she was
blinking a lot； glancing nervously around the table。 I looked from one person to the next； too；
wondering if dinner at the Loskis' was always this
……… Page 72………
tense。
Suddenly Lyta got up and dashed down the hall； but she was back in a flash with a CD in
her hand。 And when she put it in the player； I
recognized one of my brothers' songs blaring through the speakers。
We'd heard this song； “Candle Ice；” pouring out of my brothers' bedroom at least a million
times； so we were used to it。 But I looked over at my
mom； worried that she might be embarrassed by the distorting guitars and the gritty lyrics。
This was definitely not caviar music。
She seemed a little uncertain； but in a happy way。 She was sharing secret smiles with my
father； and honestly； I think she even giggled。 My dad
was looking amused； although he was very reserved about it； and it took me until the end of
the song to realize that he was proud。 Proud that this
noise came from his boys。
That surprised me。 Dad has never been real big on any rendition of my brothers' band；
although he's never really criticized it either。 But then Mr。
Loski started grilling Matt and Mike about how they'd afforded to record their own music； and
they explained about working and saving and
shopping for good deals on equipment； and that's when I realized why my father was proud。
My brothers were feeling pretty good； too； you could tell。 And it was no wonder； with the way
Lyta was carrying on about how great “Candle
Ice” was。 She was positively gushing； which seemed very odd； ing from Lyta。
As I looked around； it struck me that we were having dinner with a group of strangers。 We'd
lived across the street for years； but I didn't know
these people at all。 Lyta did know how to smile。 Mr。 Loski was clean and smooth on the
outside； but there was a distinct whiff of something rotten
buried just beneath the surface。 And the ever…efficient Mrs。 Loski seemed flustered； almost
hyper。 Was it having us over that was making her
nervous？
Then there was Bryce—the most disturbing of all because I had to admit that I didn't really
know him； either。 And based on what I'd discovered
lately； I didn't care to know any more。 Looking across the table at him； all I got was a strange；
detached； neutral feeling。 No fireworks； no leftover
anger or resurging flutters。
Nothing。
After we'd had dessert and it was time to go； I went up to Bryce and told him I was sorry for
having been so fierce when we'd first e in。 “I
should've let you apologize； and really； it was very nice of your family to have us over。 I know
it was a lot of work and； well； I think my mom had a
really good time and that's what matters to me。” We were looking right at each other； but it
was almost as though he didn't hear me。 “Bryce？ I said
I'm sorry。”
He nodded； and then our families were waving good…bye and saying good night。
I walked behind my mother； who was holding hands with my father； and beside my brothers；
who were carrying home what was left of our pies。
We all wound up in the kitchen； and Matt poured himself a glass of milk and said to Mike；
“That Mr。 Loski was sniffing us out pretty good tonight；
wasn't he？”
“No kidding。 Maybe he thinks we're hot for his daughter。”
“Not me； dude！ You？”
Mike got himself a glass of milk； too。 “That's Skyler's gig。 No way I'd go there。” He grinned。
“But she was really cool tonight。 Did she e down
on papa bear or what？”
My dad took a paper plate out of the cupboard and cut a slice of pie。 “You boys showed a lot
of restraint tonight。 I don't know if I could've kept my
cool that way。”
……… Page 73………
“Aw； he's just； you know… entrenched；” Matt said。 “Gotta adjust to the perspective and deal
from there。” Then he added； “Not that I'd want him as
my dad…。”
Mike practically sprayed his milk。 “Dude！ Can you imagine？” Then Matt gave my dad a slap
on the back and said； “No way。 I'm sticking with my
main man here。” My mom grinned from across the kitchen and said； “Me too。”
I'd never seen my father cry。 And he didn't exactly sit there bawling； but there were definitely
tears welling up in his eyes。 He blinked them back
the best he could and said； “Don't you boys want some pie to go with that milk？”
“Dude；” said Matt as he straddled a chair。 “I was just thinking that。”
“Yeah；” Mike added。 “I'm starved。”
“Get me a plate； too！” I called as Mike dug through the cupboard。
“But we just ate；” my mother cried。
“e on； Trina； have some pie。 It's delicious。”
I went to bed that night feeling very full and very happy。 And as I lay there in the dark； I
wondered at how much emotion can go into any given day；
and thought how nice it was to feel this way at the end of it。
And as I nestled in and drifted off to sleep； my heart felt wonderfully… free。
The next morning I still felt good。 I went outside and sprinkled the yard； enjoying the splish
and patter of water on soil； wondering when； when； that
first little blade of grass would spring up into the sunshine。
Then I went out back； cleaned the coop； raked the yard； and dug up some of the bigger
weeds growing along the edges。
Mrs。 Stueby leaned over the side fence as I was shoveling my rakings and weeds into a
trash can and said； “How's it going； Julianna？ Making
neat for a rooster？”
“A rooster？”
“Why； certainly。 Those hens need some motivation to start laying more！”
It was true。 Bonnie and Clydette and the others were only laying about half the eggs that they
used to； but a rooster？ “I don't think the
neighborhood would appreciate my getting a rooster； Mrs。 Stueby。 Besides； we'd get chicks
and I don't think we can handle any more poultry back
here。”
“Nonsense。 You've spoiled these birds； giving them the whole yard。 They can share the
space。 Easily！ How else are you going to maintain your
business？ Soon those birds won't be laying anything a…tall！”
“They won't？”
“Well； very little。”
I shook my head； then said； “They were just my chicks that grew into chickens and started
laying eggs。 I never really thought of it as a business。”
“Well； my runnin' a tab has probably contributed to that； and I'm sorry。 I'll be sure and get you
the whole sum this week； but consider buying
yourself a rooster with some of it。 I've got a friend down on Newb Street who is positively
green over my deviled eggs。 I gave her my recipe； but
she says hers just don't taste the same。” She winked at me。 “I'm certain she'd pay
handsomely for a supply of my secret ingredient if it became
available。” She turned to go； then said； “By…the…by； Julianna； you have done a mighty fine job
on that front yard。 Most impressive！”
“Thanks； Mrs。 Stueby；” I called as she slid open her patio door。 “Thanks very much。”
I finished scooping up the piles I'd made and thought about what Mrs。 Stueby had said。
Should I really get a rooster？ I'd heard that having one
around made chickens lay more； whether they were in contact with each other or not。 I could
even breed my chickens and get a whole new set of
layers。 But did I really want to go through all of that again？
…