The Year Money Grew on Trees - Aaron Hawkins [55]
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The next morning, I was about to check the box next to APPLE and write 1,000 next to it when my mom called to me.
"Jackson, do you think you can use the tractor and haul off some stuff to the dump for me?"
"You can't take the car?" I asked.
"Some of the stuff is too big to fit in the trunk, like that old chair in the corner. I also want to get rid of some of your father's 'treasures' he's been collecting the last few years."
"But I don't think there's enough gas for the tractor."
"I'll give you $5 to do it, and you can buy some gas."
I considered her offer. "Okay, I'll go get Sam to help. He always likes riding on the tractor."
I took her $5, and Sam and I loaded up the wagon. Sam had to sit in back with the junk to keep it from falling out.
The Fruitland dump was a couple of miles off the main highway. The road to the dump was paved at the beginning but quickly turned to dirt and remained that way until it reached its destination, which was a huge pit dug into the ground. The dump was surrounded by brown desolate land that looked very dull compared to the many-colored garbage of the dump. We hit the first flies a few hundred feet away, and they kept getting thicker the closer we got.
"Do you see what I see?" I yelled excitedly to Sam as we got a clear view of the pit.
"That motorcycle? Yeah, that'd be cool to have!" he yelled back, and pointed at a motorcycle frame without an engine or handlebars.
"No, look there!" I yelled, and pointed.
Piled on top of each other in the pit was a mountain of cardboard boxes. I turned off the tractor and ran over to take a look. They were mostly fruit boxes that said things like Arizona ORANGES, California PEARS, and California PEACHES. There were even a few Washington APPLES.
"I can't believe this!" I shouted. "Why would anyone be throwing away all these good boxes?"
Sam didn't share my enthusiasm, but he helped me look through them. You could tell they had been used, but their insides were mostly clean. They still smelled like fruit, which was a welcome difference from the rest of the dump.
"Quick, let's unload the wagon and see how many of these we can stack up on it," I said to Sam.
"But most of them don't say apples. What are we going to do with them, try to trade them or something?"
"I'm hoping people don't care what kind of box the apples come in. Especially people who buy them on the side of the road."
In an hour we had the wagon stacked high with towers of boxes. Sam found an old roll of twine someone had thrown away, and we tied down the stack. It leaned to one side, but I thought it would probably last until we got home.
"I'll bet we can be back here in less than an hour for another load," I said as we both jumped back on the tractor. Right then I could see two cars making their way toward the dump. I looked back at the remaining boxes in the pit.
"Hey, Sam," I whispered loudly, "how about staying here and guarding the rest of the boxes so no one gets them?"
He looked around the dump, then back at me. "Do you really think we need to guard them?" he asked with a painful look on his face.
"Do you realize how much these are worth? Please just stay, and if anyone looks interested in them, say they're ours. I'll be back as fast as I can and bring Michael to help."
"Okay," he said, and reluctantly dragged himself toward the pile. I waved goodbye, and he waved back halfheartedly. I put the tractor in third gear and drove as fast as I could back home.
I parked the wagon and tractor between our houses and ran inside both of them to find Michael and the girls. In a few minutes, we were throwing boxes on the ground and pushing them out the back of the wagon. Hardly stopping to catch my breath, I explained to the girls that they should start stacking up the boxes while Michael and I went for more.
As we got to the dump, my heart raced when we didn't