Earthquake in the Early Morning - Mary Pope Osborne [6]
A woman in a blue bathrobe was sitting on a crumbling stone wall. She was sobbing into her handkerchief.
Two boys with dark hair sat next to the woman. The boys wore dusty, torn pajamas. They were both barefoot. The younger one was watching the older boy write on a rectangular piece of wood with a chunk of coal.
Annie pulled Jack over to the family.
“Hi, I’m Annie,” she said.
The two boys looked up.
“I’m Peter,” said the youngest. “He’s my brother, Andrew. And she’s our aunt Mary.” He pointed to his brother, then to the woman, as he spoke.
Aunt Mary tried to smile through her tears.
“Forgive me,” she said. “I’m a bit shaken up.”
“We are, too,” said Annie sympathetically.
“The house caught fire,” Peter said.
“We escaped,” said Andrew. “But we lost most of our things.”
“We’ve lost our shoes,” said Peter.
Jack and Annie looked at the boys’ bare feet. They were cut and bleeding.
“Hey, my boots are just like boys’ boots,” Annie said. “One of you can wear them.”
“Take mine, too,” said Jack. He and Annie started unlacing their boots.
“We can’t just take your boots,” said Andrew.
“Then we’ll lend them to you,” said Jack.
He and Annie handed their boots to the two boys.
“Thank you, thank you,” said Aunt Mary. She started crying again.
The two boys put their new boots on. Then Peter whispered something to Andrew.
Andrew held out the piece of wood to Jack and Annie.
“Here’s something we can lend you,” he said.
Jack and Annie read a poem the brothers had written on the piece of wood:
“Thanks,” said Annie.
“It’s a great gift,” said Jack. “We needed some hope.”
“It’s the only thing we can lend you,” said Andrew.
“Lend?” said Annie. She looked at Jack. “Oh, wow. They just gave us the special writing—something to lend!”
Jack smiled. They could go home now.
“You should go to Golden Gate Park—that’s what a reporter told us,” he said to the boys and their aunt.
“Is that where you’re going?” asked Aunt Mary. She had stopped crying at last and looked stronger.
“We have to go home to our parents,” said Annie.
“Will you be safe?” asked the aunt.
“Yes. Once we’re home, we’ll be safe,” said Jack.
“Thanks for lending us your boots!” said Peter. “You’re good friends!”
“You’re good friends!” said Annie.
“You’ve helped us more than you know,” said Jack.
“Be careful,” said Aunt Mary.
“We will!” said Jack and Annie.
They waved as their new friends headed off to the park.
Jack sighed.
“Ready?” he said.
“Yeah,” said Annie. “I guess we just go back the way we came.”
Jack looked down the street. Smoke billowed up from the bottom of the hill.
“That might not be as easy as it sounds,” he said.
“We’d better be careful,” said Annie.
They stepped in their sock feet over the broken cobblestones, trying not to cut themselves.
They headed down the hillside. On their way, they passed policemen carrying stretchers with injured people on them.
They passed soldiers directing all those trying to escape the fires.
One man was trying to push a piano down the street. Another man was wearing a bunch of hats, all piled on top of one another. A woman carried her three little dogs in a bag.
“Everyone’s trying to save what’s important to them,” said Annie.
“Like the librarian,” said Jack. “And us—we’re trying to save this sign.” He clutched the piece of wood.
When they were halfway down the hill, a soldier on a horse galloped in front of them.
“Get off the street! We’re setting off dynamite!” he shouted.
“Dynamite?” said Jack.
“Yikes,” said Annie.
People started running in all directions. Jack and Annie looked around wildly for a safe place to go. Jack saw an alley.
“There!” he said.
They ran into the alley and crouched on the ground.
Jack reached into his bag for their research book. He looked in the index for the word “dynamite.” He found it. Then he turned to the right page number and read:
After the fires started, the mayor had an idea. He thought that if some buildings were destroyed, the sparks would not fly from one wooden roof to the next. He ordered some buildings