R My Name Is Rachel by Patricia Reilly Giff Read Free Book Online

the three of us say together. It’s a bitter disappointment; I feel like the girl of the Limberlost in that book I read last winter.
    Cassie looks as if she could burst into tears.
    “Don’t be so … orange,” I tell her, trying to act as if I don’t care.
    “You’re always talking like an idiot,” she says.
    Pop puts the crate on the table. “Not ordinary eggs,” he says.
    “Golden eggs,” I say, “laid in the land of King Midas.”
    “I told you,” Cassie tells the ceiling. “She’s lost her mind.”
    Pop throws up his hands. “Will you two stop so I can tell you—”
    Joey is taking the top off the crate carefully. “I bet I know,” he says. “Eggs that will become chickens.”
    “Exactly,” Pop says.
    We crowd around him now and look at the twelve eggs nestled in straw pockets. Pop smiles at us as he moves the crate close to the fireplace. “We’ll have to keep them warm and turn them five times every day. They’ll crack open in three weeks.”
    He runs his hands over them. “Later they’ll all go into the barn.”
    I reach out to touch one of the smooth white tops. Inside are the beginnings of tiny chicks.
    Pop looks really happy; I feel happy.
    He begins to cut the potatoes. “Water?”
    We’re supposed to take turns. We look at each other.It’s the worst job on the farm. Cold and wet, lugging the full pots back from the stream …
    Whose turn is it?
    “Not mine,” Joey says. He’s right; he’s done it all week to give Cassie and me a break.
    Cassie and I point at each other. She narrows her eyes. “I remember doing it last.”
    “So do I.”
    “You’re always trying to get away with things, Rachel. You don’t do the dishes, you don’t sweep up. You’re lazy.”
    I feel a little guilty, but I won’t let her know she’s right. “You’re a pain in the neck.”
    “Girls,” Pop says.
    I pull on my coat and grab the pots by the handles. “Just remember, Cassie,” I say over my shoulder, “you owe me.”
    “I owe you nothing,” she says.
    I slam the door behind me. Outside, there’s still some light. It’s not getting dark as early as it did even a week ago. Birds fly overhead in a V formation.
    I walk along the fence, breathing in air that smells like spring and remembering the snowy night with that mean boy. Where is he now? Halfway to the stream, I hear the door open behind me. It’s Pop.
    “Cassie said she’ll finish the potatoes,” he says. “I’ll walk with you.”
    He takes one of the pots and I put my free hand in his large pocket. Miss Mitzi comes into my head. “I think of her a lot.” I touch the locket around my neck.
    He knows who I’m talking about. “I do, too,” he says without asking.
    “I know she’d come in a minute.”
    We reach the stream. Fringes of green are beginning to show themselves along the muddy edges. I wait for Pop to answer as we dip the pots into the shallow freezing water so they’ll fill.
    “Pop?”
    “We’ll catch trout here soon,” he says.
    “We’ll have hens,” I remind him. “And I have enough money from my birthday for a goat. It’s the beginning of a real farm.”
    “You’re a nice girl,” he says out of the blue.
    Smiling, pleased to be a nice girl even though I’m a little lazy, I pull up the pot, the icy water sloshing onto my hands.
    “Someday …” His voice trails off. Is he thinking about Miss Mitzi? He begins again. “We’ll need more than eggs and hens and a goat.”
    “We’ll have a garden, right? We’ll grow our own potatoes. We’ll have vegetables … carrots and pole beans.” I try to think of something else. “Steak,” I say, and we both laugh.
    “I wish I could work at a bank. It’s work I know.” He spreads his hands. “But I have to do something, anything, so that money comes in. This grocery store job is a joke. I worked all day for a bag of potatoes and a dozen laying eggs.”
    We start back to the house. It’s almost dark now. Cassie has lighted the gas lamp in