“Shit—”
The chicken barrels towards the dunes.
I spin, phone out, calling Trent before I can talk myself down.
“Emergency,” I pant when he picks up. “She’s gone rogue.”
“What? Who?”
“Thechicken, who else?”
A pause. “You’re serious.”
“Do I sound unserious? Bring the truck. And maybe breadcrumbs.”
The chicken sprints around me in circles.
When I’m dizzy and she’s done with that, she darts past a couple of kiddos on a picnic rug, flapping her wings like she’s trying to take flight. Sand goes airborne, along with some chippies. The seagulls go feral.
The kids crack up laughing.
“Come back here. Honestly, McChicken nightmare!”
The leash trails behind like a streamer of my shame. I’m halfway across the sand when my phone buzzes. Trent. “Where are you?”
“Halfway to a heart attack!” I puff. “Dog-beach end, follow the kids’ squeals.”
Two barefoot boys shout, “Get her, get her!”
“I’mtrying!”
The chicken veers up into the dunes. An area that’s supposed to be left untouched. Great. Now I’m an environmental criminal too.
By the time Trent’s truck screeches into view, there’s a small cheering section forming.
He jumps out, takes one look at the situation, and decides to watch with the kiddos. Laughing. “To your left, Ika.”
I growl.
“Behind you, Ika.”
“You better watch out.” I’m not just talking to the chicken.
Trent finally kicks off his boots and joins the chaos.
“Divide and conquer,” he orders. “You go wide.”
“What does that even mean?” I shout, stumbling through soft sand.
We circle. The kids fan out, herding the chicken like sheepdogs. For a glorious second, it looks like it might work... and then she jukes between us with professional agility.
“I give up,” I gasp, but lunge again and puff up sand.
Trent, panting beside me, grins, then he lunges and gets a hand on her tailfeathers?—
She explodes in a spray of sand and feathers; he straightens slowly, empty handed and covered in sand.
A little boy passes him the leash she’s wrangled free of. “You’re being bested by a bird.”
