The Super Secret. Melissa Perry Moraja

      Madison stepped in the family room with Max snuggled close and said, “Hi, Mom.”

      Mom’s eyes opened wide, zooming in on Max. Then she tilted her head, puckered her lips, closed her eyes part way, and asked, “Where did you find a parrot?”

      We all grinned, knowing that Max had no parrot in him. But none of us were eager to break the news to her right away.

      Jake, Madison, and I started to talk at the same time. Mom raised her hands in the air and said, “Whoa! One at a time, please. Jake first.”

      She listened to Jake first, and then Madison got to share her side of the story, then me. None of us told her about the mammoth-sized mommy bird chasing us and then crashing to the ground. Instead, we skipped right to the most important part, when Max peeped his head out of the nest, his little body trembling as he stared at his mom, lying lifeless nearby.

      “Mom, he was all alone,” my sister said. Madison’s face looked like a basset hounds. Her eyes were opened really big and wide, her eyebrows were raised, and the sides of her mouth were lowered.

      Mom got up and walked over to Madison to get a closer look at Max. Then she petted his feathery head. That was it. He had become her eighth child. Jake, Madison, Isabella, and I were her biological kids. Although, you would think Isabella was adopted because she’s the only one with blonde hair in our family. But she’s not. Mom also considered our two cats and enormous dog her children. Max would make eight.

      “Mom, can we keep him?” we begged. “Please!”

      Mom sighed and said, “I have to talk to Dad first.”

      Dad wasn’t a big fan of having indoor pets. He grew up on a farm in Kentucky and believed that all animals should live outside. Mom thought the opposite. She told Dad once that pets raised indoors teach kids responsibility and provide nurturing.

      “Mom, we all will pitch in to take care of Max,” I said.

      “Yeah, we promise,” said Jake.

      Grinning, Mom said, “Let me see what I can do.”

      I knew she would try her best to persuade Dad.

      “Why don’t you take Max upstairs?” she suggested, looking at me.

      I smiled—and just as I was about to say okay, my ears started to tingle. Then I heard this static sound, as if a radio were lodged in it. Within seconds, my ears picked up on the sound of a car rounding the corner of our street. “Dad’s home,” I said.

      Mom looked at me, confused. Then she glanced at the clock above our oven. It was six o’clock, which was the time that Dad usually came home.

      Madison carefully handed Max to me and then ran to the side door leading out to the garage. She opened the door.

      “Huh?” she said, giving me a weird look. “Dad’s not here.”

      “Duh. It’s because he just pulled into our driveway,” I said.

      The garage door opened.

      Madison’s face turned pale.

      “How did you know Dad was home before he was really home?” asked Madison.

      Everyone turned and looked at me.

      How did I hear Dad’s car? I thought.

      Then Mom said, “Josh, stop teasing your sister and take Max upstairs so Dad doesn’t get an unexpected surprise before I get a chance to talk with him.”

      Not giving it another thought, I bolted upstairs with the bird. Jake and Madison followed.

      The three of us stayed in my bedroom the rest of the evening, hanging with Max. Every now and then, we tiptoed out to the stairs, trying to eavesdrop on our parents’ conversation. But none of us were able to hear a word they said.