7. Violet
Chapter 7
Violet
“What do you mean we can’t just use any chicken?” Dustin scratches his head, looking perplexed.
“Everyone is assigned a chicken at random. Ours is Helga. And we already have the biggest disadvantage out of all the teams.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“She’s the largest chicken weighing in at eight point five pounds. A Golden Buff Orpington.”
“How do you know all of that, are you a chicken whisperer or something? And how do you know its weight?”
“There's a chart, of course.”
“Of course!” he mocks me.
“It’s all in the email.”
“What email?”
“The one Constance sent us with the details we need for tomorrow’s competition.”
“What are you talking about?”
Is he kidding me?
I huff, “This is going to be a rough week and we’re definitely a fowl match.” Dustin stares at me, dumbfounded. The joke must have flown way over his head. “Get it! Fowl—match. Chickens are considered fowl. It has a ring to it.”
“I got it, it just wasn’t funny.” He shrugs, and I give him the side-eye.
It’s just four weeks, I tell myself. You can do this. After this month we can go back to being strangers. We can act like we never even met in the first place. It will all go back to normal, and I can go back to my daily routines that don’t involve anyone else. Like that certain someone who is partnered with me right now. I can’t seem to escape his presence.
Walking up and down the sidewalk we look for the chicken, with no luck whatsoever. After some time, Dustin breaks the silence. “Since we are partners and need to work together for the challenges’ sake, it’d be nice to know some more about you other than the fact that you own The Not So Secret Garden.”
“What do you want to know?”
“What’s your favorite movie and why? What’s your favorite food? What’s your middle name?”
“Those are super random things.” I continue walking along the sidewalk. “And I don’t think anyone has ever asked me what my middle name was before.” I look behind a trash can only to find an adorable Silkie. I pet her on the head and continue my search. “ Shrek is my favorite movie. When I’m sad it makes me forget about all my worries. The noise in my head dies down. My insecurities, doubts, and frustrations fade away. It never fails to put a smile on my face no matter how bad the day was.”
I didn’t mean to get so deep with him. But maybe it’s good that we get to know each other. We’re partners; we have to work together as a team. Teammates normally need to get along. “What was the next question again?”
“Favorite food.”
“Oh! That’s right. My favorite food is a tiebreaker between macaroni and cheese or pepperoni rolls. Don’t get me started on how amazing the pepperoni rolls from The String Cheese are. Joe can make any other meal dull in comparison. Its carb filled with cheesy, doughy, greasy pepperoni goodness. It’s what dreams are made of.” There’s no doubt about what I'm having for dinner tonight.
“And my middle name is Tarynn.”
“Interesting.”
Interesting. That’s all he has to say? After I just spilled everything about myself. “What about you?”
“My favorite movie is Grown Ups because it’s hilarious. Nothing can change my opinion on that. Especially when they play a game of arrow roulette. My favorite food is lasagna. And my middle name is Cole.”
“Interesting.” I chuckle. “Who knew you loved Grown Ups . I’m surprised you’ve seen that movie.”
He sighs, “Enough talking, let’s find this damn chicken already.”
I roll my eyes. “You were the one asking the questions.”
“And you were the one who went on and on. I didn’t ask for your whole life story.”
I mutter curse words under my breath and stride away.
Can he be any more infuriating?
We spend the next hour searching high and low looking for Miss Helga. She is one tough egg to crack. Everywhere we look there is always a different chicken and she is nowhere to be found. I’m starting to lose hope that we will be able to find her. And I’m getting ready to call it quits and go home. Dustin isn’t making this experience very pleasant anyways.
“Aha there she is! In a flowerpot!” I shout to Dustin as he jogs from Cat’s & Novels to me in front of Fix-Its.
By the time he reaches me he is out of breath. Beads of sweat trickle down his forehead. And for a miniscule moment I can’t help but get swept away, admiring how attractive he is. And I mean a microscopic moment, because then I remember who he is.
“That. Chicken. Is. Mine.” His breathy voice strains, gasping for air. His arms stretch to reach and grab her.
“Slow—down, it kind of looks like she is about to lay an egg.”
“No way, she’s not. I got you Miss Helga. I won’t let Violet upset you,” he says way nicer than he’s ever spoken to me.
“No!” Dustin shouts. Everything is in slow motion. The brown egg slowly drops out of the chicken as he lifts her into the air. And the best possible thing happens. Well, for me at least. The karma I manifested only yesterday. But so much better.
The egg flops to the ground and crunches as it falls hard onto his work boots. The shell shatters into a million pieces. Dark yellow and clear liquid sprays everywhere, painting his clothes in the sticky mess. It continues to drip down the fabric. He stands as still as a statue, holding the chicken midair. A look of pure horror is edged in the frown lines next to his lips. I try to suppress my emotions. But I can’t contain an outburst of the loudest laugh that has ever left my mouth. It’s ugly, boisterous, and I snort. I just about drop down on the ground and roll. This is comedy gold.
A few moments pass and he's still frozen in space holding the chicken midair. “Shit,” he mutters.
“Not shit, actually yolk!” I say between bits of laughter.
Dustin’s lip curls up in the corner. I think that maybe I’m imagining it. Although, I’m not, it's clear as day. One of my jokes finally landed. He can’t deny that I made that grin appear. But I know he will, the man doesn’t know how to laugh. I wish he’d let out a little chuckle. Because I’m starting to think I’m not as funny as I am in my head.
Helga sits in his arms looking the least bit impressed with our shenanigans.
“Let’s clean you up. Hand me the chicken please.” Dustin places the chicken in my arms, and I smooth my hand down her feathers. “You’re safe now, the mean man won’t hurt you anymore.”
He rolls his eyes and grumbles, “I wasn’t mean.”
“Just one more trial run and then I think we’re ready for the big day tomorrow.” I hold Helga in my arms, waiting for the go-ahead.
“Three—two—one—go!” Dustin shouts from across the field. I place Helga on the grass. “Come on Helga, do you want some mealworms? You are beautiful! Strong! Independent! Fluffy!” He shouts a bunch of compliments at the chicken.
And you may be wondering, why is he yelling positive affirmations to a chicken, also known as Helga? Well, that may be my fault. No. It is my fault. I may have told him if he says positive affirmations and speaks encouraging phrases to Helga she’ll run faster. I told him that every team does it. He believed me.
I lied.
Honestly it kind of seems like it’s working. At first it was a joke. I just wanted to see how far he would take it. Now we’re getting somewhere. And maybe, we have a shot at placing in the top three. At first, I thought there wasn’t much hope for even placing in the top seven.
She starts trotting along the grass, bee-lining it straight to Dustin. When she is about five feet from him, she decides to stop in place. She lifts one of her legs and stands still as stone. It’s as if she can read my thoughts.
Everything we’ve practiced flew right out the window. Helga is ready for a nap. She had enough for the day. I don’t blame her, we’ve been at it for hours.
“Helga, come here. Remember what we’ve practiced.” He motions with his hands full of treats, “You can get mealworms. I’m your favorite person, come here.” Helga doesn’t move a muscle.
I scoff. “As if. She can tell a bad egg when she sees one.”
He sizes me up, “Your jokes aren’t funny.”
“Gee thanks. Like I need your validation. I’m perfectly confident in my ability to make people laugh. You are the exception,” I point my finger at him, “You don’t have a silly bone in your body.”
He shrugs and throws a handful of mealworms on the ground. “Well, me and this body ,” he stabs a finger to his chest, “are leaving.”
“Good riddance,” I wave aggressively.
Helga decides now is the perfect time to move. She runs to the treats and pecks them off the ground. Dustin rolls his eyes and walks across the field in large strides. Once he reaches the trail back to town I sit on the ground and pick strands of grass. I look heavenward and say a silent prayer. Please for the love of God, let these competitions go by faster.