The Year Money Grew on Trees - Aaron Hawkins [19]
"You know what this reminds me of?" I said. "That time last year when Bobby Cluff was running for student council and we were hanging up signs."
"What?" Amy called back sharply.
"You know, when you were his campaign manager and I helped you hang up signs in the middle of the night so the whole school would be surprised the next day."
"Yeah, I know. I was there. But why would that remind you of anything?"
"It's just that my fingers were really cold then, too, and it got pretty dark. And there was a lot of reaching up to try and hang the signs so no one could pull them down. You know, kind of like reaching up for these branches."
Amy gave me a dismissive look that let me know she could see right through my weak attempt at psychology. She shook her head silently for a minute and then said, "I think we need a radio out here. Michael, go get the radio that Dad keeps in the washroom."
Michael trudged off and returned with the radio and began flipping through the stations. Michael Jackson's "Billie Jean" came on.
"Oh, I love this song! Leave it right there!" Amy yelled. We didn't dare argue, and she began to sing along softly to most of the songs on the station.
Counting the tree we had started on the night before, we finished three trees that Friday—and I really did think we were getting better with each one. As we were walking back home in the twilight, I asked very timidly, "So when do you want to get started tomorrow?"
"When is all this pruning supposed to be finished?" Amy asked in a frustrated voice.
"The end of March, I figure," I replied weakly.
"Oh man," she moaned, and paused while thinking. "Probably should start by eight, then," she said bitterly.
Michael whimpered, but Sam said, "I'd much rather do this than go to school."
"Great! And I'll have my sisters out here, too, so we can go really fast," I said as we separated.
I told Lisa and Jennifer about the eight o'clock start time. Before Lisa could speak, I added, "No complaining, remember?" Her mouth closed and she nodded reluctantly.
***
The next morning was very bright, and the orchard looked different than it did in the evenings. It seemed more alive. We all got to the ladders right around eight. Michael said sarcastically to my sisters, "Nice of you to join us." We decided that it would be best for them to haul the cut branches that were scattered below the finished trees into big piles in the middle of the rows. What we would do with the piles we would worry about later. For now we just had to get them out from underneath the trees. We could barely walk around because of the tangle of branches at our feet.
The two girls began dragging and pulling and forming huge spindly masses while the rest of us continued pruning. By ten it began to get so warm that I removed my top layer of coats and was beginning to feel thirsty.
"Jennifer, can you go get us some water from the house?" I called out to her.
"Why do I have to do it?" she yelled back.
"Because you're the only one we can trust."
She came back with a half-gallon pitcher and some cups. We drank quickly and didn't stop again until lunch. We all went home to eat something and then returned to the trees, the whole time eyeing one another, wondering who would quit first.
Soon I removed everything but my long-sleeved shirt, although it couldn't have been more than fifty degrees. My mom showed up with more water in the afternoon. She looked down the row of trees we had finished.
"Wow! Did you really do all of this?" she asked, staring in