Read Online After Peaches by Michelle Mulder - Free Book Online

fridge stood in one corner. Our campsite by the Fraser River had been nicer. This side of the farm didn’t even have much of a view because right behind the outhouse was a barbed wire fence, separating this orchard from the neighbors’.
    Trees everywhere and not a moment of privacy to climb them!
    â€œ Sí, señora ,” Marcos said, folding his arms across his chest.“This is where we live.”
    Mamá shook her head.
    â€œYou can pitch your tent anywhere you like,” said Marcos.“Anywhere except at the back, that is. That’s where the showers are. I’d show you now, but someone is probably using them, and one of the doors fell off last week.”
    Papá frowned.“It can’t be fixed?”
    â€œWe’ve tried,” Marcos said.“I mean, we tried to ask the patrón for something to fix it with, but none of us knew the right English words. He got frustrated and shouted something and stomped off. We kind of gave up after that.”
    So much for the patrón reminding me of Santa Claus, I thought.
    â€œI bet Rosario could help with her English,” Papá said.
    I pretended to be fascinated by a stone at my feet, but Papá didn’t seem to notice. “You should see this kid’s marks! She could make her fortune translating for the rest of us.”
    My face was fiery hot, and I prayed no one would ask me to practice my English.
    â€œI would steer clear of the patrón , if I were you,” Marcos warned, “no matter how good your English. He flies into a rage at the littlest thing. You should have seen him yelling at Oscar last week. He’s got a temper, that man.”
    No one said anything for a second, and I turned back to look at the trees. That’s when I saw José. He wasn’t wearing his precious ballcap, and he was walking funny. I called to him and waved, but he didn’t wave back; he just sort of staggered in our direction.
    I grabbed Mamá’s hand, and we ran.
    â€œSick,” he wheezed when we arrived at his side. “Can’t breathe.” The black parts of his eyes were tiny dots. I looked wide-eyed at Mamá, and she pulled me close, as though it were me, not José, who needed help.
    Then Papá and Marcos were there, pulling José’s arms around their shoulders to help him walk. They’d hardly taken three steps when José threw up, fell to his knees and threw up again.
    Papá beckoned Mamá and me closer. “Guadalupe, you help José,” he told her. “Rosario, you come with me. We’ll get the car and tell the patrón we’re going to the hospital.”
    Cold fear twisted in my stomach. I couldn’t argue now, not with José lying on the ground, shaking, while Mamá and Marcos tried to hoist him up. But how could I talk to the patrón ? A man who yelled at his workers about any little thing would never listen to a kid, especially a kid whose English was sure to come out all wrong. It always did when I was nervous or upset. And yelling the names of vegetables in Spanish wasn’t going to help me one bit this time.
    José moaned and put his hands to his head, and I knew I didn’t have a choice. I put my hand in Papá’s, and we flew.

CHAPTER 11
Speak
    José didn’t want to get into the car.
    â€œThe patrón will fire me for sure,” he said. “And I can’t go back to Mexico now, not without my summer’s wages. How will my family eat?”
    â€œHow will they eat if you return to Mexico dead in a wooden box?” Mamá snapped. “We’re not going to sit by and let you die.”
    My stomach flipped over, and instantly I was back in Mexico, huddled in a corner, trying to understand what had happened to my brother. The people who killed Ricardo hurt him so badly that I wasn’t allowed to see the body. Everything changed after that day. Everything.
    We had to help José. We couldn’t let