Page 135 of When Fences Fall
I freeze. The hammer in my hand feels heavier suddenly. My mouth is dry.
“She doesn’t ask,” I lie. She has asked, but I always avoid those questions and try changing the subject right away.
“Don’t wait for that then. Tell her yourself before someone else does.”
I nod silently, knowing he’s right. but the timing is not right. We just found this place where we are happy. Once I feel like she’s ready, I’ll tell her. I have to.
A rustle behind the wall makes Jethro stretch his neck to look to the side of the porch.
“Is thattherooster?”
“Yep.” I don’t even need to check to know it’s him.
“What the hell happened to that thing?”
Curious, I rise to my feet and walk to the window. The rooster stalks out from around the corner. Beady eyes. Aggressive strut. Head bobbing like a prizefighter in the ring. And a lot of missing feathers. Looks like he went a few rounds with a bear.
“I have no idea.” I almost feel bad for the little guy. Almost.
“Why is he marching over here like that?” If I didn’t know any better, I’d say Jethro sounds panicked.
“Probably smells your fear.” I can’t help myself.
The bird lets out a low, guttural crow—pure menace—and starts flapping his useless wings. I wonder if Jethro knows the bird can’t use them.
“Back off, feathered demon,” he mutters, taking another cautious step away. “You’ve got the wrong brother.”
The rooster explodes into motion.
“Shit!”
Jethro flings the rest of his coffee into the air at the rooster like it’s holy water and stumbles back, crashing into the wall. The rooster makes an unexpected jump onto the windowsill and then drops down next to Jethro, heading toward his feet.
“Go away!”
This squeamish outburst doesn’t sound like my brother at all. This dude used to beat up people twice his size on the ice, and now he’s shrieking when a tiny rooster pecks near his ankle.
I break down, leaning on my knees, shoulders shaking as laughter forces its way out of me.
“You all right?” I ask between gasps.
“Do I look all right?” he snaps, trying to shoo the rooster away who clearly has other plans and keeps charging at my brother. “Get this thing off me!”
“He’s territorial.”
“He’s insane!”
“That might be right.” I lean one shoulder on the wall.
“For real, Jericho.” He pushes the rooster with one foot. “Get this thing off me.”
I walk up to them and shoo the bird away. Not because I’m trying to save Jethro but because I don’t want him to hurt Nora’s pet with his sharp city boots.
The rooster gives his ankle one last peck before flying back through the window, making me wonder if his wings are actually useless after all.
Jethro huffs, slapping his hands against his thighs. “You should warn people before letting feral poultry run free in the neighborhood.”
“He is a part of the neighborhood.” I shrug, making him glare at me.
