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

thought the tree was prettier in real life, although, until that very moment, she hadn’t realized how lovely the tree actually was. It was as if the drawing itself was whispering,
Take another look
.
    Manny stepped in front of the children. “I’m not sure I like it that you’re drawing us, man,” he said.
    You had to look closely but, sure enough, around the drawing’s tree trunk were the shaded outlines of four people. And a tiny, blurry person in the tree’s swing.
    â€œHere, it’s yours,” said the man, ripping the page from his pad. He handed the drawing to Manny.
    While all this had been going on, Ruff had been digging furiously in the same spot Ali had found the heart-shaped stone.
    The man took in a sharp breath, and said, “Your dog has found something.”
    He strode to the far end of the lot where Ruff had dug his hole. Ali, Leandra, and Bunny/Bonita followed. The man bent down to pull up an old half-buried glass jar. Ali could see that it had a rusty disk on the top, just like the disk she’d shown Ms. Snoops, which meant it was from an old preserve jar. The man put down his drawing pad and unscrewed the jar’s rusted cap, twisting it hard with his hand.
    â€œWell...” the man said, looking inside. He whistled a soft melody to himself, a melody the kids didn’t recognize. Then he reached in and pulled something from the jar. They saw that it was some folded-up paper, which the man carefully unfolded and separated into two pieces. The pieces tore as he did this, but he read them anyway. That took him a long time. When he was done, tucking the jar under his arm, he folded the papers together again, creasing the edges gently with his thumb and finger. He put the paper into the jar, screwed the cap on tightly, and dropped the jar back into Ruff’s hole. Then he bent down and raked the earth around the jar with his hands.
    â€œThere was something else in this hole,” he said, looking at the kids, “buried on top of the jar. Did any of you kids find it?”
    Ali was looking down at her sneakers. She had her hand in her pocket. The heart-shaped stone felt warm and smooth. She really wanted to keep it.
    â€œMaybe the dog—” the man began. Ali looked up at him, but didn’t say anything. The man gave a little shrug and walked slowly from the lot. Ali grabbed an orange and ran after him.
    â€œWait,” she said, handing him the fruit. “An orange
is
refreshing on a day like today.”
    â€œThanks,” said the man. He put the orange into the big side pocket of his vest. He was smiling, but Ali thought she saw tears in his eyes.
    â€œThe lady across the street told me about you,” Ali said. “You used to collect stones when you were a boy, right?” She reached into her pocket and showed him the heart-shaped stone. “Then this is yours. I was pretending it was my wishing stone.”
    The man took the stone, turning it over and over in his palm. He glanced quickly at Ms. Snoops’s house, and shook his head. “Nope. Not mine,” he said. He didn’t look as if he wanted to say more. Then he gave back the stone, holding Ali’s hand for a second in both of his. “But keep wishing.”
    â€œThank you. I will,” said Ali, and she ran back into the lot.
    Leandra was already opening the jar. The others crowded around her as she pulled out the scraps of paper.
    Was it someone’s last will and testament?
    Someone dead and buried, but very, very rich?
    Was it a map to buried treasure? (Buried
right there in the lot
!) Would the man be back to dig for it in the dead of night?
    Was it a note from someone in danger? Was it a love letter from long ago?
    Nobody asked these questions out loud, but it was as if they’d floated right out of that old jar, along with the pieces of paper.
    What was actually on that paper was something none of them expected:
    Nothing at all.
    The scraps