“Chicken chicken.” I gasped as if I’d been slapped. The street tilted in front of me. Then it started to spin. What on earth did she mean? Why did she say that? Cole and I didn’t wait to ask her. Our sneakers thudded the pavement as we took off, running at full speed. I glimpsed the old hound dog, still lapping up egg yolk from the street. And I glimpsed Vanessa’s angry face for one more brief second. And then Cole and I whipped around the corner, sped past the post office and the dry cleaner, and ran all the way home. I didn’t glance back once. And I didn’t say a word until we were safely in the kitchen. I collapsed onto a kitchen stool. Cole ran the cold water in the sink and splashed it over his face and hair. We were both panting and wheezing, too breathless to speak. I wiped the sweat off my forehead with my arm. Then I crossed to the fridge and pulled out a small bottle of water. Twisting off the cap, I tilted it to my mouth and drank it down. “We should have stayed,”
