Free Because of Winn-Dixie by Kate DiCamillo

when I turned around, I saw Otis was following me, too.

O tis followed me all the way into the backyard, where the party was. Before he could run away, I introduced him to the preacher.
    “Daddy,” I said, “this is Otis. He’s the one who runs Gertrude’s Pets. He’s the one who plays the guitar so good.”
    “How do you do?” said the preacher. He stuck his hand out to Otis. And Otis stood there and shuffled his big jar of pickles back and forth, trying to free up a hand to offer back to the preacher. Finally, he ended up bending over and setting the jar down on the ground. But when he did that, his guitar slid forward and hit him in the head with a little boing sound; Sweetie Pie laughed and pointed at him like he was doing the whole thing on purpose just to amuse her.
    “Ouch,” said Otis. He stood back up and took the guitar off his shoulder and put it down on the ground next to the jar of pickles, and then he wiped his hand on his pants and stuck it out to the preacher, who took it and said, “It sure is a pleasure to shake your hand.”
    “Thank you,” said Otis. “I brought pickles.”
    “I noticed,” said the preacher.
    After the preacher and Otis were done shaking hands, I introduced Otis to Miss Franny Block and to Amanda.
    And then I introduced him to Gloria Dump. Gloria took his hand and smiled at him. And Otis looked right in her eyes and smiled back. He smiled big.
    “I brought pickles for your party,” Otis told her.
    “And I am so glad,” she said. “It just ain’t a party without pickles.”
    Otis looked down at his big jar of pickles. His face was all red.
    “Opal,” said Gloria, “when are them boys getting here?”
    “I don’t know,” I said. I shrugged. “I told them what time we were starting.” What I didn’t tell her was that they probably weren’t coming, because they were afraid to go to a party at a witch’s house.
    “Well,” said Gloria. “We got egg-salad sandwiches. We got Dump Punch. We got pickles. We got dog pictures. We got Littmus Lozenges. And we got a preacher, who can bless this party for us.”
    Gloria Dump looked over at the preacher.
    He nodded his head at Gloria and cleared his throat and said, “Dear God, thank you for warm summer nights and candlelight and good food. But thank you most of all for friends. We appreciate the complicated and wonderful gifts you give us in each other. And we appreciate the task you put down before us, of loving each other the best we can, even as you love us. We pray in Christ’s name. Amen.”
    “Amen,” said Gloria Dump.
    “Amen,” I whispered.
    “Gertrude,” croaked Gertrude.
    “Are we fixing to eat now?” Sweetie Pie asked.
    “Shhhh,” said Amanda.
    Winn-Dixie sneezed.
    There was a far-off rumble of thunder. I thought at first that it was Winn-Dixie’s stomach growling.
    “It ain’t supposed to rain,” said Gloria Dump. “They didn’t predict no rain.”
    “This dress is silk,” said Miss Franny Block. “I cannot get it wet.”
    “Maybe we should go inside,” said Amanda.
    The preacher looked up at the sky.
    And just then, the rain came pouring down.

S ave the sandwiches,” Gloria Dump yelled to me. “Save the punch.”
    “I got my dog pictures,” screamed Sweetie Pie. She went running around, tearing them off the trees and the chairs. “Don’t worry,” she kept shouting. “I got ’em.”
    I grabbed the platter of egg-salad sandwiches and the preacher grabbed the punch, and we ran into the kitchen with them; and when I ran back outside, I saw that Amanda had hold of Miss Franny Block and was helping her into the house. Miss Franny was so teetery in her high heels that the rain would have knocked her right over if Amanda hadn’t held on to her.
    I grabbed Gloria Dump’s arm.
    “I’m all right,” she said. But she put her hand on my arm and held on to me tight.
    I looked around the garden before we left. All the crepe paper was melted and the candles were out, and then I saw