"What do we do now?" I asked, still perched on that damp pillow like it was the most normal thing in the world.

Ms. Gibson blinked at me, then shrugged. "We eat. I'm starving. You must be too."

I opened my mouth to argue, but my stomach growled so loudly it answered for me. I hadn't eaten a single thing this morning. The hunger had been gnawing at me for hours, hiding somewhere beneath all the panic and feathers.

Ms. Gibson moved to her desk, opened a cabinet, and pulled out bread, salad, and a paper bag that rustled ominously. She set the bread and salad down in front of me like it was a perfectly ordinary breakfast. Then she tipped the bag over, and a pile of chicken feed spilled across the desk.

I stared at it. "I'm not eating that."

"It's not bad, actually." She picked up a piece and popped it in her mouth. "I tried some yesterday. Crunchy. A little dusty."

"Ms. Gibson. I am not a hen."

She just laughed. "Haley, you laid an egg yesterday. You have feathers. You're closer to a hen than you think."

My face burned, but I didn't have a counterargument. So I started with the bread, and then the salad, and somehow, absurdly, it felt normal. Two naked chicken-women sharing breakfast. Okay, one naked chicken-woman and one naked rooster-woman. Whatever.

Then I looked at the chicken feed again.

It smelled... not bad. Actually, it smelled kind of good. Like grain and earth and something my body suddenly wanted very badly.

"Just try it," Ms. Gibson said, watching me with an annoying little smile.

I grabbed a pinch and shoved it in my mouth, determined to get it over with.

It was... surprisingly good. Crunchy. A little sweet. I swallowed and looked at her. "Okay. That's not bad."

"See?"

"I really am a hen now," I muttered, and she laughed again, but not meanly. It was almost warm. We fell into small talk after that, campus gossip, the FFA competition, whether the chickens were still sick. For one weird, fragile moment, it felt like a normal breakfast between two people.

Then Ms. Gibson shifted her weight, lowered her rear, and without any warning at all, a thick white paste shot out and splattered onto the floor. She didn't even flinch. She just kept eating, like she'd sneezed or something.

I …