Read Online Under the Same Sky by Cynthia DeFelice - Free Book Online Page A

along with Meg. LuAnn was way too cool to ooh and aah, but I could tell she was impressed and even a little envious.
    There was another envelope on the counter with my name on the front. I recognized Aunt Kay’s thin, backslanted handwriting. Inside the card was a twenty-dollar bill.
    Meg exclaimed, “Joe, you’re rich!”
    It almost felt true. But not rich enough for the Streaker, I reminded myself.
    â€œI helped the crew to open up bank accounts, Joe, so they can save their money to take back to Mexico,” Mom said. “Would you like me to do the same for you?”
    I thought about it. I hated the idea of giving up the check and letting it disappear into a bank. What if they lost it or something? That was stupid, probably; everybody used banks. It was most likely the safest thing to do.
    â€œOkay, Mom,” I said. “Thanks.”
    She showed me how to endorse the check—sign my name—on the back, and write “for deposit only” so nobody could cash it before it went into my account. My account. I liked the sound of it.
    Uncle Arnie must have shown up at the barn after I left, because he and Uncle Bud and Dad all came through the door then. They stood around in the kitchen, talking and drinking beer, while Mom was fixing dinner.
    Uncle Arnie was married to Dad’s other sister, Mary. Mary and Kay looked so much alike they might have been twins, but Bud and Arnie were total opposites in the looks department. Where Bud was tall and red-faced and red-haired and kind of chubby, Arnie was small and wiry, with dark hair and deeply tanned skin. He was mostly a dairy farmer, instead of having crops, the way Dad and Bud did. He was quieter than Bud, but when he let loose with one of his loud, raucous laughs, you couldn’t help but laugh along with him.
    He wasn’t laughing right then, though. Everybody looked pretty serious. I listened to find out why.
    â€œI ran into Tom Matthews today,” Arnie was saying. Mr. Matthews was another farmer, who lived maybe a mile or so down the road. “He needs more workers now that he bought up the old Dey farm, and he’s applied to build some new housing.”
    Uncle Bud and Dad nodded, as if they knew about it, and Dad said, “I heard he’s running into opposition from some of the neighbors.”
    Mom looked up. “I hope we don’t have the kind of trouble we had after the Williamson incident,” she said. “I’d hate for all that to get stirred up again.”
    â€œMe, too,” Uncle Arnie agreed, “but Tom said the zoning board meeting got kind of ugly.”
    â€œWhat do you mean, ugly?” I asked.
    Uncle Arnie hesitated, looking from me to Mom, as if he wasn’t sure whether or not to continue.
    Mom sighed and said, “Joe’s working with the crew now. He might as well be aware of the kinds of things that go on.”
    â€œWell, Joe,” said Uncle Arnie, “you know how people can be. Some of the neighbors showed up at the meeting to say they didn’t want more housing for Mexicans—or any other migrants, for that matter—built around here.”
    â€œHow come?”
    Uncle Arnie shrugged and made a face. “They say it would bring down their property values.”
    I thought about that. It sounded stupid to me. Where were the workers supposed to live, in town somewhere? That didn’t make any sense.
    â€œIt’s pure nonsense,” said Uncle Bud. “What they really mean is they just plain don’t like having Mexicans around, but they can’t stand up in a public meeting and say that.”
    â€œWhat happened in Williamson?” I asked. “I don’t remember anything.”
    â€œSome drunken fool took a blind shot through the wall at a migrant camp and killed one of the workers in his sleep,” Mom answered. “After that, for a couple weeks, there were incidents of harassment all over this area—fights, nasty