Free Seeing Orange by Sara Cassidy Page B

yard of Yellow House is filled with bird baths. The woman who lives there always calls out, “Thanks!” Today, she’s in the yard, watering a small tree. She’s wearing a big gray sweater, and her jeans are tucked into rubber boots. When she sees us, her face crinkles into a smile. She waves.
    My mind goes click . She has one hand on the hose and her other hand is waving. It’s as if she’s pumping the air for the water that is running through the hose.
    After supper, I ask Liza to pour paints from the big plastic jugs into the muffin tin. Then I paint a picture of the woman with her arms out, one waving, one watering. I like my painting. I look at it over and over.

    At breakfast, Mom looks worried. “Pumpkin didn’t come home last night,” she says.
    â€œMaybe she got lost,” Silas says. “Or hurt.”
    â€œI hope she’s just on a walkabout,” Mom says.
    â€œYeah, cats do that,” Liza says. “They wander off for a few days.”
    â€œNot Pumpkin,” I say.
    I’m so worried about Pumpkin, I forget about Mr. Carling and walk right into the school without Delilah’s help.

Chapter Four
    â€œBoys!” Our neighbor Mikel waves a shiny can at me and Silas. “Engine oil,” he pants. “Your wheels squeak. Puts my teeth on edge.”
    He gets down on a knee and squeezes oil into the wagon’s wheels. “There.” He stands. “Might as well take my paper now.” He reaches for a newspaper.
    â€œNot that one!” I cry.
    Silas laughs. “Why not that one, Leland?”
    I put on a baby voice. “That one’s special,” I say, and pout.
    It works. Silas rolls his eyes. “Whatever. Here, Mikel, take this one.”
    Outside Gloomy Rooms, while Silas delivers the newspaper, I feel like I’m sinking. The sky is the color of tin foil, and the clouds are like steel wool. The wind blows. Leaves scatter. They scratch along the sidewalk and street.
    Hurry, Silas.
    Finally, Silas is back. “I heard the old man,” he says. “Whistling in there. It sounded happy and lonely at the same time.”
    Moments later, we’re at Yellow House. “I want to deliver the paper today,” I say.
    Silas raises his eyebrows. “That isn’t our deal.”
    â€œJust this house,” I say.
    â€œI’m not paying you any more than usual,”
    Silas says.
    â€œI don’t want more money!” I tell him.
    I grab the newspaper that Mikel nearly took, unlatch the maroon gate and hurry up the walk. Birds chatter in the bushes. A water fountain gurgles and chimes. I smell sap, wet dirt and flowers. It feels like I’m in another world, where the air is thicker.
    Hidden inside the newspaper is my drawing of the woman watering her tree and waving. I slide it out and tuck it into the woman’s colorful mailbox. I leave the newspaper on her doormat, which says Welcome!
    I walk back through the chattering yard and step onto the gray sidewalk. The world goes plain again: houses, grass, brown telephone poles.

Chapter Five
    After supper on Thursday, Mom calls a family meeting.
    â€œPumpkin hasn’t been home in three days,” she says. “I called the SPCA. They haven’t seen an orange tabby.”
    â€œWe need a poster,” Silas says. “You know: Lost Cat. Reward. ”
    â€œGood idea,” Mom says. “We need a good photo. One that shows her swirly markings, and the bald patch by her back hip, and her nibbled ear.”
    â€œAnd her different colored eyes,” Silas says. “One green, the other blue.”
    â€œAnd her cracked red collar,” Liza says. “With the little tarnished bell.”
    â€œNo photo will show all that stuff,” Silas says.
    â€œI could draw a picture,” I say.
    â€œYes!” Mom says. “Excellent idea. I’ll scan it into the computer and print copies.”
    â€œAnd the reward can be my old