ON THE LAST DAY of fifth grade, Ryan Ericksen clutched the one thing that he hoped would make his dad proud: the report card that reflected his improved grades for the semester.
If he could get home before his dad sat down in front of the television for the night, he had a good chance of achieving his goal.
He glanced at the clock above the gymnasium’s set of double doors. It was two fifteen, which meant he had fifteen minutes to rush home and catch his dad coming through the garage door.
Ryan tapped the heel of his foot on the bleachers as he waited for the right moment to make his mad dash home.
Come on, come on.
All he had to do was wait for the sixth graders to start performing their skits. Then all the teachers would be too distracted by the noise and the show to notice him sneaking out of school.
On the last day of school, at all of the four schools he had been to since he started kindergarten, final scores from the week prior were handed out after recess. Then there was an awards ceremony in the gymnasium, which was usually followed by some sort of performance. This year, it happened to be a series of skits that the sixth graders put together.
Finally, the first group of sixth graders thundered up the steps onto the stage and started their skit.
Before Ryan stood up from his seat, he snickered as he watched his brother Derek, a sixth grader, act like an imbecile on stage. Derek was performing just as badly as he had the night before in their shared bedroom.
Ryan glanced at the clock again. It was time to go.
He weaved his way through the crowd and down the bleachers, and then faked a trip to the bathroom. At the bathroom door, he glanced over his shoulder and then hurried the rest of the way to an exit located at the side of the building. A few seconds later, he was sneaking outside and running home.
But when he rounded the corner onto his street, his heart sank.
The garage door was already up and his dad’s gray beat-up, four-door sedan was parked inside.
Ryan pumped his legs harder, running as fast as he could. With any luck, he’d catch his dad before he had a chance to press the power button on the remote.
He dashed through the front door, with his report card in hand, and plopped down on the couch next to his dad who was sitting in his usual spot in front of the TV. His eyes were already affixed to his favorite reality show, and he gripped a bottle of beer in his hand.
“Hey, Dad, check this out,” Ryan said, waving the report card in the space between them. “Not a single C this semester.”
His dad rolled his head against the back couch cushion, raised his eyebrows, and gave him a simple head nod.
Ryan’s smile faded. He had arrived too late.
“Ryan, get in here,” his mom called from the kitchen.
He sighed and dragged himself off the couch. His mom stood in front of the open refrigerator door staring at the empty shelves.
“Go pack your bags.”
Ryan’s heart did a little flip-flop.
Pack for what? Were they going to Disneyland? Sea World? Antarctica?
He couldn’t remember the last time his parents had taken him and his siblings on a vacation. If ever.
“Don’t get too excited,” she continued, glancing his way. “You’re spending the summer with Tom and Gina.”
He groaned. “The whole summer?”
“Yes, the whole summer. What did you think I meant?” his mother snapped.
He blinked several times and then stared down at his white shoes. Any leftover excitement he felt from finishing another school year disappeared in a flash the moment he realized what he was in for…
Three whole miserable months on his aunt and uncle’s chicken farm meant his summer break would be ruined.
No more playing video games until two in the morning or having super-soaker fights with his brother when their parents left them home alone.
“I don’t want to go,” he stated as firmly as he could.
“Doesn’t matter. Go pack your bags.”
“Why do I have to go?” he asked, his voice sounding more and more desperate. “Why can’t you send someone else?”
“Don’t look at me,” his mom said, shrugging. Finally, she closed the refrigerator door and turned to the pantry, which was almost empty. “They picked you. They have five hundred chickens now and they need help. Guaranteed, you’ll earn some money, too.”
Ryan’s eyes bugged out at the large number of chickens.
“Besides, your father and I need a break. And everyone’s going to be gone anyway. Derek’s staying with my cousin Donna in Denver and both of your sisters are staying with Grandma Elsa in Granby.”
“Why can’t I go with one of them?” Tears welled up in his eyes.
“Donna could only take one of you,” she replied. She looked at him and raised an eyebrow. “Did you really want to spend the whole summer with Kristie and Erin? I’m doing you a favor.”
Somehow Ryan’s eyes got wider. “No, you’re not. You’re—”
“Hey, Ryan!” his dad yelled. “Stop being a baby. Good grief.”
“I hate you!” Ryan yelled back as he charged to his room. He slammed his bedroom door shut and blinked back tears that threatened to roll down his face.
He was always getting the shaft. He never got to invite his friends over for birthday parties or sleepovers. His mom always had some lame excuse for why he couldn’t do what he wanted.
It wasn’t fair.
And now he was supposed to spend his whole summer taking care of five hundred stupid, crummy chickens.
He never got to make his own decisions. It was “Ryan, do this” and “Ryan, you’re going to do that.” When was he ever going to get a say?
“Hey, what the heck happened to you at school? You didn’t wait for me.”
Slowly, Ryan looked up from his bed and saw Derek standing in the now-open doorway. Avoiding the question, he said, “That skit was terrible.”
His brother’s face turned red and his jaw clenched. “I didn’t write it, you jerk. Maybe I’ll show up next year to your skit so I can make fun of you while you’re on stage.” Derek picked up a dirty sock from the floor, balled it up, and threw it at him.
Ryan ducked and it sailed over his head.
“I doubt I’ll have to worry about a stupid skit next year. We’ll be moving again anyway.”
“Yeah, whatever,” Derek said. “What’s this about you going to Tom and Gina’s? Mom said they requested you.”
Ryan shrugged and looked away. Fresh tears started to well up again.
“I can’t believe they’re shipping us off for the summer,” his brother said, flopping down on his bed across from Ryan’s. He stretched his arms out and folded them behind his head, then looked up at the ceiling. “That’s so lame. Losers.”
Ryan agreed. But as usual, there was nothing he could do about it.
***
The next morning, as he stared out his bedroom window with fists clenched, a black truck pulled up to the curb in front of his house. With a groan, he stuffed the rest of his clothes from his single drawer into his duffel bag.
A knock came at the front door.
“Ryan!” his mom yelled. “Tom and Gina are here.”
Heavy footsteps pounded on the floor outside his room, growing louder and louder.
Quickly, he zipped his bag and lugged it into the hallway.
“Did you hear me?” his mom asked, grabbing him by the arm and hustling him down the hall. “You have to go. They’re waiting for you.”
“Okay, okay,” he said, wincing as his mom’s grip twisted the skin on his arm. He heard the piercing squeak of the front door.
“Did you get everything? Pajamas, toothbrush, toothpaste?”
“Yes, Mom, I got them,” he replied, rolling his eyes.
“Don’t you give me that,” she said, reaching across her chest and slapping his arm with her free hand.
She dragged him into the living room and let go as she gave him a slight nudge toward the door. The force was enough to make him stumble forward.
He kept his head bowed as he regained his footing, hoping no one would notice his burning red face. His aunt and uncle stood on the welcome mat outside with the door open, no doubt exchanging a look.
Tom hurried into the house and grabbed the bag. “Hi, Ryan. Are you ready to go?”
Ryan nodded and let his uncle usher him through the door.
“You be good to Tom and Gina,” his mom called after him.
When Ryan turned around and gave her a slight nod, she turned her attention to Tom. “If he gives you any trouble, call me.”
“Thanks, Kathy. I’m sure we’ll be fine,” Tom said. “We’ll see you again before the new school year starts.”
Ryan waved to his mom. She gave him a quick wave and then closed the front door in his face.
In that split second before the door closed, he could have sworn she looked like she was on the verge of tears. Her lips were pursed and her face was turning red.
He blinked back his own tears as he stared at that dingy white door lined with old cobwebs.
In the corner of his eye, he caught movement at his bedroom window. His brother and two sisters were waving to him from behind the dirty glass.
He swallowed a lump in his throat and waved back.
It was going to be a long summer.
