by Martha Hynson
Runaway Chicken
The next Saturday was the Spring Fling at school. Mama was going to work there. Her job was to run the art table. Macy was going to be her assistant. Maybe Mama would let Flappy help, too. Macy went to ask. She found Mama putting bags of art stuff in her car.
Macy climbed up beside her. “Can I ask you something?”
Mama held up a hand. That meant wait. “I have a couple more bags to get.” She started back to the house.
Macy followed her. “Can I?” she began.
“I can’t talk now, Macy.”
“But I need to ask…”
Mama ran up the porch steps two at a time.
Macy hopped behind her like a kangaroo. “I just have one tiny little question.”
Mama grabbed the other bags. “Is it something you could possibly find the tiny little answer to yourself, Macy?”
“Sure!” Macy hopped back down the steps. “I can find the answer all by myself.”
The answer Macy found was yes. Flappy could go to the Spring Fling. She put the chicken in her crate. She squeezed the crate on the back seat between bags and boxes. Then she put a blanket over it to keep Flappy calm. She put a box on top to hold the blanket down.
Mama did not know a chicken was in the car until they got to school. When she found out, her face did not look glad. “Keep your chicken out of the way,” she said.
Bella and her mother came to work at the art table, too. Macy and Bella helped get jars of paint from the car. Mama and Bella’s mother hung two long curtains from a tree. They said to put the paint behind it. Yay! It was their own secret place.
Macy put Flappy behind the curtain, too. She got some paper for Bella and for her. Now they were all set. First, she poured some red paint on a plate. She sat the jar down very carefully. She did not spill a drop. Next, she picked up the jar of yellow paint and started to pour. It was heavy but she did her best and almost all the paint landed on the plate. She sat the jar in the grass. “There!”
Too bad, the ground was bumpy. The jar tipped over and hit the red paint. Both those colors splashed on Flappy and made her feel very not calm. She ran in circles and chicken footprints got all over Macy’s paper. Flappy tried to fly away from that mess but her feathers just flopped more in the paint. They were like brushes. When she flapped, her chicken wings painted red and yellow.
“Hey, Bella, look,” Macy pointed at the paper. “Flappy is an artist.”
Bella smiled. “Good job, Flappy,” she said. “You’ll be famous, one day!”
Flappy did not care about that. She wanted to fly away, but her leash and the paint held her down.
“It’s okay, Flappy.” Macy reached over to pet her chicken. Her arm bumped the purple paint. It poured onto the ground. Flappy kept running in circles. Her leash dragged through the paint and spread purple on the paper.
Macy looked around. Mama would not be happy to see this mess. Macy took the soggy leash off her chicken. “I’ll go get paper towels. Stay here with Bella, Flappy.” Macy tip-toed between the curtains.
Flappy did not obey. She flapped and squawked and ran away.
Bella held up the paper. “Come back, Flappy!” she said. “Look at the pretty picture you painted. Don’t you want to paint some more?”
Flappy did not feel like painting. She flapped her colored wings and tried to fly. When Macy got back, that chicken was flopping away. Macy dropped the paper towels and ran after her. Bella ran after Macy.
Flappy headed across the school yard. She passed a boy in a stroller eating cotton candy. “Chicky!” he said. He gave her a sticky pat. Pink fluff stuck to Flappy’s feathers, but that chicken kept on going.
A little girl pointed. “Look at that funny bird.”
“She must have come from the petting zoo,” said a lady. “Shoo, go back in there.” She opened a gate and Flappy went in.
Now how could Macy get her? The line for the petting zoo was long. “Come on, Bella,” said Macy. “We’ll have to climb over the fence.”
“Hey, you can’t do that,” said a girl teenager who worked there. “You have to wait your turn.”
Macy looked at Bella and did a shrug. They ran to get in line.
Right then somebody yelled, “Get that crazy bird out of here.”
Everybody in the petting zoo stopped petting and looked at the yellow, red and purple bird. A boy wearing a Batman cape pulled some cotton candy off her wing and ate it. His mother screamed.
The teenage girl opened the gate and shooed Flappy out. A goat and a pig went out, too.
Macy and Bella left the line and ran after Flappy, the goat, and the pig.
“Hey, there’s Jonah!” said Macy. “And, look what he’s eating— ice cream!”
Macy raced over to that boy. “Can I have your ice cream?” she asked. “It’s an emergency.”
“Sure,” said Jonah. He held out his cone. “Do you want me to call 911?”
“It’s a chicken emergency,” Macy said. “There’s probably a different number for that.” She took the ice cream and hurried after Flappy.
Jonah wrinkled his eyebrows. “I don’t know an emergency chicken number,” he said. Then he started chasing Flappy, too.
They ended up right where a race was about to start.
“Go!” yelled someone. The runners took off. Oh, no. Flappy took off, too. He landed on one of the racers.
“Help!” yelled the boy. “A crazy chicken is attacking me!”
Another boy tripped and landed on the pig.
The goat ate the paper number off one runner’s back.
Lots of people came to watch. They crowded around Flappy. That poor chicken was not calm at all.
“Here, Flappy,” Macy called. “Here, girl!” She held out the ice cream. Flappy flew over and landed on her head. Macy held the cone up so Flappy could reach it. The pig grunted and came toward Macy. The goat stopped eating paper and followed the pig. Those two probably wanted ice cream, too.
“We have to get these guys home,” Macy said. She started back the way they had come. Flappy rode on her head. The pig and goat ran after them. Next came Bella and Jonah. Then came all the other people.
When they got to the petting zoo, Flappy flew off Macy’s head and landed on the fence. The goat started munching Flappy’s feathers. He must have liked cotton candy.
Just then, something flew past Macy. It was fast. It was blue. It was Mr. Stretchy! That blob landed hard on the goat’s backside. He stopped chewing. Macy quick opened the gate and shooed him in. The pig went in, too. Macy slammed the gate. Right then, Mama ran up.
“Macy Joy Mills!” Mama put her hands on her hips. “Where have you been?” She looked at Flappy. “And why is your chicken covered in paint?”
“Flappy is an artist, Mama.” Macy stuck her tongue through the toothless space.
“See,” said Bella. She held up the picture. All the people clapped.