The Year Money Grew on Trees Read Online Free Page A
Author: Aaron Hawkins
friendly back."
"That's not what you said..." Dad began, but was abruptly cut off when Mom gave him a scowl and motioned her head toward my sisters and me. He gave a little eye roll and shook his head.
I lay in bed that night thinking about what might be ahead of me. Now that the deal with Mrs. Nelson was "maybe" legal, I needed to figure out how to raise apples. But what made apples grow and how did you get them off the trees? Maybe you didn't have to do much. An apple tree naturally wants to make apples. I just had to let them come.
***
Since I had mentally committed myself to the orchard, when I got to school the next day, I began telling a few
friends how I was taking over the old Nelson place. No one seemed to care until I started bragging about how much money I was going to make.
"Oh, I'm sure you will 'cause there are tons of Mexicans who come up here to get rich picking fruits and vegetables," Chad Heslop said sarcastically while copying my math homework. That got things rolling, and before I knew it, variations of "Jackson Appleseed" were being invented all around me. There was no use fighting back, so I put my head on my desk, wishing I had kept my big mouth shut.
I decided that afternoon that I was going to be the greatest apple farmer there ever was just to show those idiots. I also decided I should keep the details of Mrs. Nelson's agreement to myself. There had been enough laughing without telling everyone that I might be doing it all for nothing if I wasn't the "true heir." That provision would have to remain a secret between Violet Nelson, the encyclopedia, and me.
When I got off the bus after school, instead of following my sisters and cousins down the road that led around the orchard and to our houses, I turned left and walked through the orchard itself. This had always seemed like forbidden territory before, but now I felt like I belonged. I ran my fingers up and down the reddish-brown trunk of the nearest tree, feeling the rough bark and all the knotholes. The branches looked naked
and wild in their winter state, with hundreds, maybe thousands of little shoots going off in all directions.
I first walked south, counting ten trees in that direction. Then I walked east, counting trees as I went. The middle of the orchard looked much more overgrown with weeds than the outside. The little ditches next to the trees were caved in and barely recognizable. The trees seemed taller too. When I had counted to ten, I found a plow abandoned between two trees. A couple of rows farther, there was a funny-looking machine that was flat on top and looked like it was supposed to be pulled by a tractor. Instead of wheels, though, it had lots of round metal discs attached inside it that looked like they would spin around as it moved.
By the time I counted twenty rows, I didn't feel as welcome anymore. By thirty, I felt the same way I had when I was looking at Mrs. Nelson's signature compared to mine. There were three hundred trees all right, all of them more than twice as tall as I was.
Mrs. Nelson was waving at me from the dirt road when I came out of the orchard. I was sure she had been watching me through a window the whole time. "I see you're walking through the orchard, inspecting all the trees," she said excitedly as I walked up to her.
"Uh-huh. Three hundred seems like a lot when you count them up close."
"My husband always thought that three hundred was a lucky number, at least for trees, I guess."
"Mrs. Nelson, do you know what that machine is in the orchard next to the plow?"
"No, not really."
"I've kind of been thinking that if I'm going to raise $8,000 worth of apples, maybe I should be working on the orchard already. You know, getting it ready for apple growing. What's the first thing I should do? Can you even do anything while it's still winter?"
From the look on Mrs. Nelson's face, I could tell that she had no idea what to tell me. I thought of asking her if she had actually ever been in the
"That's not what you said..." Dad began, but was abruptly cut off when Mom gave him a scowl and motioned her head toward my sisters and me. He gave a little eye roll and shook his head.
I lay in bed that night thinking about what might be ahead of me. Now that the deal with Mrs. Nelson was "maybe" legal, I needed to figure out how to raise apples. But what made apples grow and how did you get them off the trees? Maybe you didn't have to do much. An apple tree naturally wants to make apples. I just had to let them come.
***
Since I had mentally committed myself to the orchard, when I got to school the next day, I began telling a few
friends how I was taking over the old Nelson place. No one seemed to care until I started bragging about how much money I was going to make.
"Oh, I'm sure you will 'cause there are tons of Mexicans who come up here to get rich picking fruits and vegetables," Chad Heslop said sarcastically while copying my math homework. That got things rolling, and before I knew it, variations of "Jackson Appleseed" were being invented all around me. There was no use fighting back, so I put my head on my desk, wishing I had kept my big mouth shut.
I decided that afternoon that I was going to be the greatest apple farmer there ever was just to show those idiots. I also decided I should keep the details of Mrs. Nelson's agreement to myself. There had been enough laughing without telling everyone that I might be doing it all for nothing if I wasn't the "true heir." That provision would have to remain a secret between Violet Nelson, the encyclopedia, and me.
When I got off the bus after school, instead of following my sisters and cousins down the road that led around the orchard and to our houses, I turned left and walked through the orchard itself. This had always seemed like forbidden territory before, but now I felt like I belonged. I ran my fingers up and down the reddish-brown trunk of the nearest tree, feeling the rough bark and all the knotholes. The branches looked naked
and wild in their winter state, with hundreds, maybe thousands of little shoots going off in all directions.
I first walked south, counting ten trees in that direction. Then I walked east, counting trees as I went. The middle of the orchard looked much more overgrown with weeds than the outside. The little ditches next to the trees were caved in and barely recognizable. The trees seemed taller too. When I had counted to ten, I found a plow abandoned between two trees. A couple of rows farther, there was a funny-looking machine that was flat on top and looked like it was supposed to be pulled by a tractor. Instead of wheels, though, it had lots of round metal discs attached inside it that looked like they would spin around as it moved.
By the time I counted twenty rows, I didn't feel as welcome anymore. By thirty, I felt the same way I had when I was looking at Mrs. Nelson's signature compared to mine. There were three hundred trees all right, all of them more than twice as tall as I was.
Mrs. Nelson was waving at me from the dirt road when I came out of the orchard. I was sure she had been watching me through a window the whole time. "I see you're walking through the orchard, inspecting all the trees," she said excitedly as I walked up to her.
"Uh-huh. Three hundred seems like a lot when you count them up close."
"My husband always thought that three hundred was a lucky number, at least for trees, I guess."
"Mrs. Nelson, do you know what that machine is in the orchard next to the plow?"
"No, not really."
"I've kind of been thinking that if I'm going to raise $8,000 worth of apples, maybe I should be working on the orchard already. You know, getting it ready for apple growing. What's the first thing I should do? Can you even do anything while it's still winter?"
From the look on Mrs. Nelson's face, I could tell that she had no idea what to tell me. I thought of asking her if she had actually ever been in the
Readers choose
Paul M. Angle
T. Styles
Karen White-Owens
Michael Stark
Wendy S. Marcus
Allison Amend
Robert J. Rubel
Arisa Baumann
John le Carré
Wendell Berry