Chicken Chicken by R. L. Stine Read Free Book Online Page B

feel as if they were turning
inside out!
    The next morning, I needed Cole’s help in pulling all the feathers from my
neck and shoulders. Some big white feathers had poked out of my back, and I
couldn’t reach them.
    It took us each twenty minutes to pluck out all the feathers that had grown
during the night. We hid them in my sweater drawer. We didn’t want Mom or Dad to
see them before we had a chance to explain.
    The school day went so slowly. My neck and back kept itching. I prayed that
feathers wouldn’t grow while I was in school.
    And I prayed that none of my teachers would call on me in class. I was
clucking more and more. It was becoming a real struggle to talk.
    My team had a basketball game in the gym after school against a girls’ team
from the next county. I had looked forward to it all week. But now I just wanted
to hurry home before any kids saw me clucking or pecking seeds from the
playground.
    I dropped my books in my locker. And I was sneaking to the front door of the
school—when Coach Clay turned the corner. “Crystal, I was looking for
you!” she cried.
    “Cluck?” I replied.
    “Hilary has a bad cold. I’m going to let you start at forward today,” she
told me.
    “Cluck—” I started.
    But she didn’t give me a chance to reply. She placed her hands on my
shoulders, turned me around, and marched me to the locker room. “I know you’re
going to be great,” she said. “Go get changed.”
    “Cluck,” I told her. Normally, I’d be totally pumped! I was going to be the
starting forward. This is what I had dreamed about all year!
    As I changed into my uniform, the other girls all came over to slap me high
fives and wish me good luck.
    Maybe I can do it, I told myself. Maybe I will play really well. Maybe I can show them just how good a player I am.
    But as soon as the game started, I knew I was in trouble.
    Big trouble.

 
 
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    Our team won the opening jump. I turned and began running to the other team’s
basket.
    I leaned forward as I ran. My head bobbed up and down.
    Up and down. Up and down.
    Low clucks escaped my throat.
    I tried to straighten up. But I couldn’t.
    Our center took a shot. Missed. We all started to run back to the other
basket.
    “Nooooo,” I moaned.
    To my horror, I realized that I couldn’t run without bobbing my head.
    I glanced to the sideline—and saw Coach Clay staring at me. “Crystal—what
are you doing ?” she called.
    I heard some kids laughing at me.
    “Crystal—stop goofing,” Gina, the other forward, scolded me.
    The action moved to our opponents’ basket, and I ran down court. My head
bobbed up and down. I realized I was running stiff-legged. My knees no longer bent!
    The ball came sailing toward me.
    I couldn’t catch it. My hands were tucked under my armpits. My elbows were
poked out like wings.
    I let out a loud cluck as the ball bounced off my shoulder.
    My head bobbed up and down.
    My teammates were yelling angrily at me. On the sideline, I saw Coach Clay
shaking her head. Girls on the other team were laughing.
    Down the court. I tried to pry my hands from my armpits as I ran. My head
bobbed. My lips clicked.
    I glanced down—and stopped.
    No!
    My legs.
    White feathers were sprouting up and down my legs.
    And everyone could see them.
    I heard a whistle blow. The referee called a time out.
    My teammates ran toward our bench. I took off in the other direction. I ran
out of the gym and out of the school.
    I wanted to run and run and never stop.
     
    I hid in my room during dinner. I was so depressed—and frightened. I wanted
to tell Mom and Dad everything. But what if they didn’t believe me? What if they thought
it was all a joke?
    After dinner, Mom and Dad had to go to school for a Parents Association
meeting. Cole and I waited until we heard the car pull away. Then we waddled
downstairs to the living room.
    We were down on our knees, pecking crumbs in the rug.
    My body was covered with white and brown