Cynthia Kadohata - The Thing About Luck

Finny used to be, a great athelete, but now his leg is broken so bad from the fall that he cannot be an athelete anymore. Later in the book Finny falls down a set of stairs. Then, he dies during sugarysurgery on his leg. The problem is, I do not really understand if Gene could have possibly shook the branch on purpose. I mean, who would do that to their best friend? Gene was jealous of how good an athelete Finny is, so I guess Gene, shakes the branch on purpose to hurt Finny??

Before Finny dies, then Gene starts to dress like Finny. Finny trains Gene to be an athelete like Finny used to be. Gene becomes like Finny because Finny cannot be himself anymore. This is insane behavior in my opinion. Their relationship is so intense that it is insane.

Finny dies. Then Gene can start to act like himself again.

I stopped writing. We were supposed to write the theme or the lesson of the book at the end of the report. I didn’t understand what the theme or lesson of this book could be. I thought about it, and then I started writing again.

People are very complicated, and I do not think even a really smart psichyatrist psyciatristpsychiatrist can truly figure out what is in your brain and what is in your heart or stomach. You might not even realize it, but maybe you would shake a branch your best friend is on, although I personally do not think I would ever do that. YourMy brain and heart might be mixed up and tangled, and inside of youme there are both good and bad things. The lesson of A Separate Peace is that it takesmight take fifteen years to untangle all those things inside of me.

I must say I thought that was a pretty brilliant book report. Plus, the book really gave me insight into life. It made me realize that since I was twelve, I could be almost twenty-seven by the time I was untangled. That seemed like an awfully long time in the future, but maybe there was a way to shorten the time. I knew you would have to work hard at it, because if it was easy to untangle yourself, everybody would be untangled, which simply isn’t true.

Anyway, it was time to start adding carrots and potatoes to the stew. Jiichan had told me that while I was cooking, I should put love into what I was doing, and then the food would be healthier. I couldn’t find my apron, so I put on Obaachan’s. I picked up a knife to slice the potatoes. How did I put love into that? I thought, I love everyone, I love everyone, I love everyone. I kept thinking that while I sliced. I held my open palms over the potatoes and thought, Love, love, love. I really concentrated. But as hard as I concentrated, I just couldn’t feel love for these potatoes.

“What are you doing?” Jaz asked.

“Putting love into the potatoes,” I answered.

“Putting love into the potatoes,” he repeated.

“Jiichan said to put love into the food as I cook.”

Jaz laughed a delighted laugh. I don’t know why, but I laughed too.

For dinner we drove out to the combines and ate on the canvas chairs, the stew in a big pot on the pickup’s lowered gate. I decided to wait until the last minute to tell the Parkers about the dead chickens. If I told them sooner, it might ruin their digestion. On the other hand, I thought about how my grandfather had once told me that when I did something bad, I should try to hurry through it. Like, instead of sitting around worrying about it, just get the confession and punishment over with as quickly as I could. “Make time go faster,” he had said.

I kept my eyes on Mrs. Parker as she took her first sip. She didn’t change expressions. She took another sip and said, “Not bad,” and my heart leapt. I wondered if she could feel any love in the potatoes. Since the stew had turned out okay, maybe she wouldn’t be so upset when I told her about the chickens.

I swear I was just about to confess, but then right toward the end of dinner, Mr. Laskey came by with a pretty girl about my age and said, “Keep your eyes open for coyotes. One of them killed three of my prize chickens in broad daylight. Never saw that before.” He shook his head angrily. “And I’ve got the best free-range chickens in the county. People have paid a hundred dollars for one of my chickens.”

Holy moly. Since I had saved $461 in my whole life, that meant my money was only worth four and a half of his chickens.

“Dad,” the pretty girl said, “can I have some of their pie?”

But he wasn’t looking at her. He was looking at me. Mr. Laskey’s eyes had fallen on mine while he said “never saw that before,” and I could hardly breathe. It was as if he were talking directly to me, like somehow he knew who was responsible. It was time to confess. But I couldn’t get my mouth open. I shot a look at Obaachan to confess for me, but she just sat spooning her stew as if none of this had anything to do with her. Robbie and I met eyes.

Mr. Laskey’s daughter, who was standing right next to where I was sitting, was wearing her hair in two braids, just like mine. She had eyelashes so long, they seemed almost unreal. “Hi, I’m Summer,” I told her.

“Hi,” she said coldly, and I knew right then she didn’t want to be friends. I had on an apron, which I guess told her everything she needed to know about me. A part of me wanted to be friends with her, and a part of me wanted to bop her on the head.

“How many days do you think are left?” Mr. Laskey asked Mr. Parker.

There was an awkward silence. Then Mr. Parker said, “Don’t worry, we’ll get all your wheat cut before the rain. But, uh, up in Oklahoma we have a customer who’s expecting rain soon. So we’re going to have to split up the team. We’ll keep two combines here and send two up to Oklahoma.”

Mr. Laskey frowned. “I hired your whole team to cut this wheat, not half your team.”

“We’ll get it done before it rains here. I guarantee you that,” Mr. Parker said. “I’ve crunched all the numbers. We’re working sixteen hours today, and the way it’s going, by the end of Tuesday we should have more than four thousand acres cut.”

“But rain is expected here,” Mr. Laskey said.

“Right, and we’ll have already finished your farm. If we don’t get your grain in on time, I will personally pay for any wheat that gets wasted,” Mr. Parker replied.

Mr. Laskey didn’t answer, just drove off with his daughter.

Mr. Parker said impatiently, “All right, we’ve had enough to eat. Back to work.” So even though everybody still had food in their bowls, they all got back into their various machines.

We loaded up the bowls and canvas chairs. Obaachan didn’t say a word to me. But later when we had finished cleaning the dishes, and the bowls were stacked in the rack, she said, “I never been so ashamed of you.” Then she went to lie down facing south, while the rest of us would sleep north. Maybe I should have started sleeping south as well.

Then I plopped down on the front steps of the camper with Thunder at my feet. I was filled with shame that I hadn’t confessed, but now it just seemed impossible that I could. I pushed my hands against my head, hard. It was the sort of thing Jaz might do. I felt like my whole world was filled with nothing but responsibilities and consequences. I didn’t even know if I wanted to grow up. I would have even more responsibilities then, even more consequences.

I mean, I knew there were consequences, I knew I had to talk to the Parkers, but I just didn’t understand why my life was right here, in this particular place, and why I was the most unamazing person in the world. Why was I the girl wearing an apron?

I thought about going to talk to Mr. Laskey, but it might be that the Parkers would want to explain it themselves. I also thought very seriously about doing nothing at all. Mr. Laskey already thought a coyote was to blame. The only people who knew otherwise were me, Robbie, and Obaachan. Why had I told her? I knocked my hand against my skull and said, “Eejit!”