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A LITTLE ORANGE IN THE BIG APPLE

  by

  Valarie M. Vine

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  Valarie M. Vine

  A Little Orange in the Big Apple

  Copyright 2009 by Valarie M. Vine

  Cover credit: Katrina Joyner

  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

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  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Quote

  Dedication

  1: Waiting to Go Home

  2: Sweet Alison

  3: The River

  4: Christmas Eve with Family

  5: Chicken Heads and Walnut Shells

  6: Returning Soda Pop Bottles

  7: Germans in the Back Yard

  8: Dick and Jane vs Alice in Wonderland

  9: A Place Called New York City

  10: Grandma Agnes’ Warning

  11: Ali and Reynolds Get Their Wings

  12: First Look at the Big Apple

  13: Father and Son to the Theater/Mother and Daughter to the Park

  14: All Alone in New York City

  15: Little Apartment in the Big City

  16: A Hurricane Followed by a Walk in the Park

  17: No Trick or Treating Allowed

  18: First Snowfall

  19: The Rink and the Square

  20: The Drug Store

  21: Valentine’s Day Surprise

  22: A Parade, a Pinch, and a Goodbye

  23: An Eventful Year

  24: Reynolds Sings in the Choir

  25: A New Best Friend

  26: Dining Out with Ernie

  27: Keep Your Eye Upon the Donut

  28: Spring Prom, Graduation, and a Visit from Father

  29: Strange Dream–Ali in Wonderland

  About the Author

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  “California is a nice place to live, if you happen to be an orange.”

  —Fred Allen

  •

  For my mother, Virginia

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  1: “Waiting to Go Home”

  Ali’s heart was beating hard as she leaned back on her swing and with all her might pumped as high as she could into the air. It wasn’t just because she was trying to touch the gray sky with her brand new cowgirl boots (with little orange-colored rivets at the top). She was excited about going home for a entire week. It was Christmas week! Her mother would be able to stay home from work, and she wouldn’t have to stay at Mrs. Amity’s boarding home for a whole seven days.

  “You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, you make me happy when skies are gray-----”, sang Ali as she struggled to go higher on the swing while she waited for her mother’s car to appear in Mrs. Amity’s driveway. Her blonde ponytail almost scraped the ground as her legs pointed upward in a straight line toward the gray sky. She was excited and very ready to go home.

  Ali’s bag of oranges was on the ground near the swingset. She had picked them especially for her mother and the other relatives who would surely be coming for Christmas dinner. The leaves were flying through the air and whirling about the backyard reflecting Ali’s excitement at seeing her mother any second now. Ali was all alone on the swingset and the last kid still waiting to be picked up for Christmas vacation.

  “Ain’t you gone home yet?” yelled Mrs. Amity’s mother who lived in a little dilapidated cottage in the back yard. Ali ‘s heart sunk slightly. Mrs. Amity’s mother was so mean. Sometimes she came storming after Ali and the other kids with a tree switch as they picked oranges from the tree in the backyard. Boy, did it sting when the old lady switched at them and caught their arm or leg. “Stay away from my tree, you little street urchins,” the old lady would always yell. Ali wasn’t sure what a street urchin was, but she was sure it wasn’t good.

  “Your mother not here yet, dear?” said Mrs. Amity from the kitchen window of the main house. She was a nice lady who ran the boarding home. How could she be so nice and her mother so mean? Maybe the old lady didn’t like living in the little house in the back yard away from everyone. Maybe she just didn’t like kids. The only thing Ali would miss at her boarding home was Mrs. Amity’s breakfast waffles and the little ice cream cubes they had each night after dinner. Ali, still swinging high, and out of breath yelled, “She’s not here yet, Mrs. Amity.”

  Just then a big car rolled up in the driveway, immediately sounding three loud and long “HONK, HONK, HONK’s”. It wasn’t Ali’s mother, but her Grandma Agnes. “Watch me jump off, Grandma!” yelled Ali who was proud of how high she had reached into the overcast sky on the swing.

  “HONK, HONK, HONK”, Grandma Agnes returned by pressing on the car’s horn.

  “Watch-----watch me jump,” implored Ali.

  To Ali’s horror, Grandma Agnes was pulling back out of the driveway. She was leaving without her! Ali frantically let go of the chains on the swing and flew through the air, twisting and turning, and landing in the bushes next to the driveway. “Ouch!” Ali winced as she rubbed her scraped knees through her cut overalls. She was hurting, but at the same time quickly grabbing for her bag of oranges and running wildly down the driveway and then down the sidewalk trying to catch up with Grandma Agnes’ car.

  “Wait for me, wait for me,” wailed Ali, tears starting to roll down her cheeks, partly from the pain of her bleeding knees and partly from the fear of being left behind.

  The car stopped abruptly and Grandma Agnes reached over and shoved open the car door on Ali’s side.

  “You come when I honk the first time---do you understand, Ali?” said Grandma Agnes, sounding like her teacher and waving her finger at Ali.

  “Hurry up and get in,” added Ali’s Grandma impatiently.

  Ali climbed into the car and sat there with tears in her eyes, holding the bag of oranges with one hand and rubbing her bleeding knees as best she could with the other hand.

  “Such an inconvenience,” said Grandma Agnes who was chewing gum and looking back and forth at Ali and the cars ahead of her. “Your mother calls at the last minute and asks me to pick you up. I have presents to wrap! I’m not sitting around waiting to run errands and pick up kids,” she added indignantly. Ali’s Grandma suddenly demanded the windows be rolled down.

  “I’m hot, we need some air in here”.

  Ali thought that was odd, since it was December and actually kind of cold outside. Ali tried to roll down the window on her side, but her oranges began falling out of the brown bag and rolling around on the car floor. In an instant, Grandma Agnes pulled to the curb, stopped the car with a jerk, leaned down and started throwing all the oranges onto the street.

  “Those darn oranges will roll around and cause me to have an accident. Really, Ali,” huffed Grandma Agnes.

  The car pulled back into traffic. Ali turned around in the front seat and got up gingerly on her scraped knees in time to look through the rear window. Her oranges were rolling around in the street, getting squashed by traffic, one by one.