Free One Day and One Amazing Morning on Orange Street by Joanne Rocklin Page A

“Buhhh.”
    â€œHe’s saying my name!” Bunny/Bonita whispered.
    â€œ
Your
name? He’s saying
my
name!” Ali whispered back. “
I’m
his sister!”
    â€œActually,” said Leandra, “he’s saying the back end of
my
name.”
    â€œHe is not!” said Ali and Bunny/Bonita at the same time.
    â€œEeeeh,” said Edgar.
    â€œSee?
My
name!” cried the three girls, forgetting about the infrangibility of friendship.
    â€œStop arguing!” cried Manny. “Edgar said
something.
That’s what’s important now.”
    The girls had never seen Manny angry. It was as if it had suddenly begun to rain, after one hundred days of L.A. sunshine. They were so surprised, for a few seconds none of them could think of anything to say.
    Manny grabbed the chains of the swing and looked into Edgar’s eyes. “Say it again, little guy.” He spoke in a soft, calm voice.
    â€œWhatever it was . . .” whispered Bunny/Bonita.
    â€œPlease,” said Ali. “
Please
.” She fingered the little stone heart in the pocket of her jeans.
    But Edgar just stared straight ahead. Then he put his thumb into his mouth, as if to block any more sounds from coming out. Ali could feel her eyes smarting. She didn’t want to cry in front of her brother.
    â€œLet’s have some oranges,” Ali said, rummaging in the bag from Ms. Snoops. “These are from the very, very top of our tree, a gift from Ms. Snoops.” Manny pierced the tops with his penknife, then gave them straws to draw up the golden juice. He even did the same for Edgar. When the fruit was sucked dry, the girls ate the pulp. The pulp got between their teeth, looking gross, and that was funny, but when they put the skins over their teeth, that was even funnier, even though they’d done it a zillion times before. And then they lay, infrangibly, under the tree.
    â€œThose oranges are refreshing on a day like today,” said a deep voice.
    Startled, the girls turned and saw a man standing at the entrance to the lot. He must have been standing there for a while, watching them. (He’d actually been watching them all day.)
    Ali and Bunny/Bonita sat up and looked anxiously at Manny. But Leandra said, “They’re from our tree. The sweetest ones are way on top.”
    â€œLeandra!” said Bunny/Bonita. She realized it was the same man she’d seen acting much too friendly with Ruff that morning. Of course, Leandra wasn’t afraid of anything, but still, you didn’t talk to strangers just like that. The man
looked
strange, too, with his thick beard and vest and clunky hiking boots, on a hot day meant for sandals. He was bald, but he seemed like a man who shaved off all his hair on purpose; a man who would never think of wearing a wig, for any reason. He had a thick drawing pad under his arm.
    â€œ
Your
tree?” said the man, with a smile.
    Ali felt nervous but she also felt like giggling. It occurred to her that it was upside-down to have a shiny bald head and a bushy beard. And then she wondered why the man had said
those oranges ARE refreshing
instead of
those oranges MUST BE refreshing
, as if he’d already been tasting them himself. She decided he must be a person who sleeps in his car and when he’s hungry, forages for food. “It’s OK,” Ali said kindly, “there are plenty of oranges to go around. You can pick some.”
    But Manny was frowning. “Can I help you?” he asked.
    The man came closer. He flipped open his drawing pad. “Iwas just sketching the Valencia over there,” he said, nodding toward the orange tree.
    He’d drawn the tree in pencil. Its oranges were small, white balls, like ornaments. Its leaves were a lacy, gray swirl. Bunny/Bonita wished she could draw like that! Leandra wondered why the man needed to draw the tree at all, when a digital camera could do a clearer and more colorful job. And Ali