One Day and One Amazing Morning on Orange Street by Joanne Rocklin Read Free Book Online Page B

stature, but muscular and strong. Even so, Leandra was worried about him. That’s because Little Pop had once had a heart attack. He had a tiny pacemaker (which Little Pop called his “battery”) deep inside his chest. Seventy-five early morning push-ups helped keep that battery running, Little Pop said. And while he exercised, he and Nelson could sing “Dem Bones” straight through, without missing a single beat. Leandra sometimesdid push-ups with Little Pop. After a while she could sing “Dem Bones” straight through, too.
    The foot bone connected to the leg-bone,
The leg bone connected to the knee bone,
The knee bone connected to the thigh bone,
The thigh bone connected to the back bone,
The back bone connected to the neck bone
The neck bone connected to the head bone
Now hear the word of the Lord
!
    â€œWhee-hoo!” said Little Pop when he got to the end of the whole song.
    â€œWhee-hoo!” squawked Nelson.
    The best part about being at 301½ was that Big Mom and Little Pop listened to every word Leandra said, even when they were all in the middle of an exciting card game.
    â€œIt’s funny that our girl lives on Orange Street,” said Big Mom to Little Pop.
    â€œI know what you mean,” said Little Pop. They often knew what the other meant when no one else did. “Go fish.”
    â€œWhee-hoo! Game over!” Nelson squawked again. Everyone ignored him.
    Leandra had been talking about that morning’s argument with Ali, as well as complaining about the usual things such as her parents, her brothers, and the Blessed Event.
    â€œLeandra herself is like an orange isn’t she?” Big Mama gave her husband a poke in the ribs and reached for a card. “Tough on the outside, but inside—”
    â€œShe’s sweet,” said Little Pop. “And tart. But still sweet.” And he winked.
    â€œDo you have any queens?” asked Leandra.
    â€œGo fish,” said Big Mom.
    â€œFish! Game over!” squawked Nelson.
    True, Leandra felt sweet when she was in 301½. But everywhere else, lately, she mostly thought of herself in lemony terms, like
sour
.
    That’s because Leandra’s mother was going to have a baby. (The Blessed Event, in her grandparents’ words.) Leandra thought that was one of the most embarrassing things ever to happen to their family. It was fine for a mom to be pregnant when her other children were infants, all hanging out together cluelessly in double- or triple-wide strollers, but it was a different story entirely when one of those children was nine, and the nine-year-old’s twin brothers, P.J. and A.J., were eleven. And all of them totally understood
    (1) how it happened and
    (2) what their family was in for.
    â€œMaybe you should have consulted us . . . before,” Leandra had said to her parents, the day they had announced the news, months ago. A big ruckus erupted and P.J. and A.J. rolled around on the kitchen floor, giggling wildly. Because of what that “before” implied.
    â€œWe thought you’d be as thrilled as we are,” said Mrs. Jackson. Their father stood grinning by her side. They were holding hands, which was also embarrassing.
    â€œThrilled? Uh, no-o,” said Leandra. “Here’s why: Babies poop in their diapers. They also spit up.”
    The giggling from the kitchen floor increased in volume as Leandra continued to describe the serious truth of the situation. “And because of all that, babies stink. They yell, day in and day out. Slimy drool hangs down from their chins. They take over all the rooms with their stuff. They sit in their car seats throwing Cheerios. And all they have to do is take one teeny-weeny step, or smear junk in their hair, or pick their little wet noses, and out comes the camera. Big deal.”
    Mr. and Mrs. Jackson laughed annoyingly, as if Leandra were exaggerating.
    Leandra thought she knew a thing or two about babies.She’d