Page 112 of Run Away Home: Tempered

“I’m awake. Can’t you see I’m awake?”

“You overslept. Why were you outside last night?”

“Huh?”

“I saw you from my window walking out toward the chicken coop with the gun.”

“You were awake?”

“Yes.”

“Someone was out there bothering the chickens—”

“A girl?”

“No. No, not a girl.”

“She looked like a girl to me.”

“It was the people from the farm over.”

“Oh. Why were they bothering our chickens?”

“You know what, Adair? I really don’t know.” I sit up and rub my eyes.

“Did you shoot them?”

“No. I didn’t shoot anybody.”

“I would have shot them!”

“That’s why you’re the man of the house, right?”

He laughs. “Ma’s making breakfast.”

“Yeah, but she’s not going to have me sit down and eat. It’s already past eight o’clock.” I stand. Adair sits comfortably on my bed.

“You got work to do?”

“Yup.”

“Are you going to do it?”

I take a deep breath. “Yes. Stop asking me questions, okay?”

“You’re cranky today.” He throws himself backwards, laying across my bed.

“Sure.” I dress in my cleanest jeans and my nicest button-up flannel.

“ADAIR! BREAKFAST IS READY!” Ma calls from the kitchen.

“Okay!” he shouts back, then springs up. “I’m going to go eat now.”

“Yes. Great.” I tie up my work boots and look at myself in the mirror hanging on my closet door. I let my hair out of the messy bun, pulling it tighter to redo it.

“Why are you looking so nice to clean the chicken coop? You look like you’re ready for church!”

“I’m not looking so nice.”

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