“Right。”
He sighed； then took that bite of noodles and chewed it for the longest time。
It felt like I was sinking fast； but I couldn't figure out why。 So I tried to bail out with； “And you
guys can go ahead and eat those eggs； but there's no
way I'm going to touch them； so don't even ask。”
My mother's looking back and forth from my dad to me while she eats her salad； and I can
tell she's waiting for him to address my adventure as a
neighborhood operative。 But since he's not saying anything； she clears her throat and says；
“Why's that？”
“Because there's … well； there's …I don't know how to say this nicely。”
“Just say it；” my father snaps。
“Well； there's； you know； excrement everywhere。”
“Oh； gross！” my sister says； throwing down her fork。
“You mean chicken droppings？” my mother asks。
“Yeah。 There's not even a lawn。 It's all dirt and； uh； you know； chicken turds。 The chickens
walk in it and peck through it and…”
“Oh； gross！” Lyta wails。
“Well； it's true！”
Lyta stands up and says； “You expect me to eat after this？” and stalks out of the room。
“Lyta！ You have to eat something；” my mother calls after her。
“No； I don't！” she shouts back； then a second later she sticks her head back into the dining
room and says； “And don't expect me to eat any of
those eggs either； Mother。 Does the word salmonella mean anything to you？”