The Golden Egg Decision

Every year, on the first Saturday of spring, Grandma Reeves turned her entire backyard into the most spectacular egg hunt anyone had ever seen.

She hid eggs behind the birdbath, under the rosebushes, inside the old tire swing, and even tucked into the branches of the apple tree if you were brave enough to climb. There were blue eggs and pink eggs and green eggs with polka dots. There were eggs filled with jelly beans, eggs filled with little bouncy balls, and eggs filled with chocolate coins wrapped in foil.

But there was one egg that everyone talked about for weeks before the hunt even started.

The Golden Egg.

Grandma Reeves painted it herself every year with real gold paint that sparkled like a tiny sun. And whoever found the Golden Egg got the Grand Prize — a giant basket stuffed with every kind of candy you could imagine, plus a brand-new toy right on top. Last year it had been a remote-control car. The year before that, a stuffed dragon that was so soft you could use it as a pillow.

Miles had been dreaming about the Golden Egg since January.

He was seven now. He was fast now. He'd been practicing his searching skills, peeking behind couch cushions at home and checking under every single rock in the driveway. His mom said he was being ridiculous. Miles said he was being prepared.

When the big day finally arrived, Miles tumbled out of the minivan and raced into Grandma's backyard, where the whole family was already gathering. His older cousins were tossing a football. His aunt was arranging paper plates on the picnic table. And right there by the back porch, holding a basket with a nervous grip, was his cousin Jade.

Jade was six. She was quiet and small and she laughed at every single one of Miles's jokes, even the bad ones. Especially the bad ones. She'd been living with Aunt Becca in a new apartment since the winter, and things had been different for her — Miles didn't understand all of it, but he knew that Jade had been sad more than usual. Today, though, her eyes were bright.

"Miles! I've been practicing too!" she whispered, bouncing on her toes. "I looked under every pillow in our whole apartment. I'm going to find the Golden Egg this year, I just know it."

"Ha! Not before me!" Miles said, grinning.

Jade grinned back. "We'll see about THAT."

Grandma Reeves blew her big silver whistle, and the hunt began.

Kids scattered in every direction like marbles spilling off a table. Miles shot straight for the garden shed because he had a theory — Grandma always hid the best eggs near things made of wood. He checked behind the shed, under the wheelbarrow, and inside an old clay pot that was missing its plant.

He found a blue egg with jelly beans. Good, but not golden.

He found a green polka-dot egg with a bouncy ball inside. Fun, but not golden.

He zigzagged across the yard, checking the fence posts, digging through the pile of raked leaves Grandma had suspiciously left near the garden. He found four more eggs. His basket was getting heavy.

Then he saw it.

A flash of gold, glinting in the afternoon sun, tucked right inside the knothole of the old oak tree at the very back of the yard.

Miles's heart nearly jumped out of his chest. He sprinted. His sneakers pounded the grass. He reached up on his tiptoes, stretched his fingers into the knothole, and pulled out —

The Golden Egg.

It was warm from the sun, and it sparkled in his hands like something magical. Miles held it up and let out a whoop so loud that three birds flew out of the apple tree.

"I FOUND IT! I FOUND THE GOLDEN EGG!"

Kids came running from every corner of the yard. His older cousins clapped. Uncle David hollered, "THAT'S MY NEPHEW!" Grandma Reeves smiled her big, crinkly smile and started walking over with the Grand Prize basket.

Miles could already see what was inside — a mountain of candy, chocolate bars poking out the sides, lollipops sticking up like a colorful fence, and right on top, a shiny new set of walkie-talkies in their package. Walkie-talkies. Miles had wanted walkie-talkies for so long he'd put them on every birthday list, every Christmas list, and once on a grocery list just to see if his mom would notice.

He was grinning so wide his cheeks hurt.

And then he saw Jade.

She was standing at the edge of the group, near the rosebushes. Her basket had only a few eggs in it. Her chin was wobbling, just slightly, the way it did when she was trying so hard not to cry that her whole face had gone tight and still.

She wasn't looking at Miles. She was looking at the ground.

Miles's grin faded.

He looked down at the Golden Egg in his hands. It was beautiful. It was everything he'd wanted.

He looked at the walkie-talkies. His stomach did a strange, twisty thing.

He looked back at Jade.

And then something occurred to him — something that landed softly in his chest like a little bird settling onto a branch. Walkie-talkies were only fun if you had someone to talk to on the other end.

Miles walked over to Grandma Reeves and took the Grand Prize basket. Everyone cheered. He smiled and said thank you.

Then he walked across the grass toward Jade.

She looked up. Her eyes were red at the edges.

"Hey," Miles said.

"Hey," Jade said quietly. "Congratulations."

Miles held out the basket. "Want to split it?"

Jade blinked. "What?"

"Split it. You and me. Fifty-fifty." He set the basket on the ground between them and started dividing the candy into two piles — one for him, one for her. Chocolate bars on the left, lollipops on the right. He made sure her pile was maybe a tiny bit bigger, but he'd never admit that.

Then he picked up the walkie-talkies. Two walkie-talkies. Two of them, right there in the package.

He tore open the box, pulled them out, handed one to Jade, and kept the other.

"Now we can talk every night," he said. "Even when you're at your apartment."

Jade stared at the walkie-talkie in her hands. Her chin wobbled again, but this time the rest of her face was doing something completely different — it was breaking into the biggest, widest smile Miles had ever seen from her. She laughed — that loud, surprised, hiccupy laugh — and threw her arms around him so hard he stumbled backward into the rosebush.

"OW — thorns, thorns, THORNS!" Miles yelped, and Jade laughed even harder, and then Miles was laughing too, and somehow they were both sitting on the ground surrounded by candy and walkie-talkies and rose petals.

Grandma Reeves watched from the porch. She didn't say anything. She just pressed her hand to her heart and smiled that big, crinkly smile.

That night, long after the egg hunt was over and all the chocolate had been eaten and everyone had driven home, Miles was lying in bed in his pajamas when he heard a crackling sound from his nightstand.

He grabbed the walkie-talkie.

"Miles? Are you there? Over," came Jade's voice, scratchy and small through the speaker.

Miles grinned in the dark.

"I'm here. Over."

"Thank you for today. Over."

"Anytime. Over."

There was a pause. Then: "Your jokes are still terrible. Over and out."

Miles laughed so hard his mom told him to go to sleep.

He put the walkie-talkie on his pillow, right next to his head, and closed his eyes. His candy pile was a little smaller than it could have been. His basket was a little lighter.

But somehow, lying there in the dark, everything felt exactly right.