The One Tree of Luna Read Free

us all clothes and a bed just for Josh.
    We started school that fall in high spirits. Josh and I were not allowed to be together in
     class, the principal from our old school had said that we were “too boisterous” together. I
     did not like it, but we played together at recess and whenever we could.
    We were doodle painting one day when Mrs. Horrocks, Josh’s teacher, came rushing into our classroom, speaking hurriedly to Mr. Jackson. I knew something was wrong, I had felt it before the door opened. “Jimmy Ki?” Mr. Jackson called. I rushed up.
    â€œCome with me, dear.” Mrs. Horrocks said in the same sort of kindly voice my old teachers had used the day my father died. She took me to the nurses office.
    â€œJosh!” He was lying down, gasping and trembling like a leaf. I grabbed his arm and started chafing it. “Josh, what is it?”
    â€œWe’ve sent for your mother, Mrs. Tree wasn’t at home.” The nurse told me. The phone rang. The nurse answered it and passed it to me. It was my Mom.
    â€œIs Josh all right?” She asked calmly.
    â€œHe’s shaking!” I wailed.
    â€œDon’t worry, he’ll be all right soon.” She soothed me. “Tell him that his mother found the problem.” She sighed. “The lawn’s a mess.”
    â€œLawn?”
    â€œI’ll come and get you two anyway.” She answered and hung up.
    â€œShe’s coming for us.” I explained to the nurse. I went over to Josh and whispered: “It’s all
     right: your mom found the problem.” He unscrewed his eyes long enough to look at me. He was
     crying and he didn’t like crying, especially with me. I guess it was because the first time
     he cried at school everyone teased him. I had tried to tell him that it was okay to cry but
     Josh could be stubborn that way.
    Josh was better but still shaken when Mom got us. We were all silent on the way home until we turned into the driveway.
    â€œGosh!” I cried. Josh perked up and looked out: “Wow!”
    The whole front of the lawn was torn up, like an earthquake had split it or a spider had crawled up from the ground or —
    â€œShe pulled her roots!” I cried. The car came to a stop and I bundled out. Josh followed a bit later.
    Together we surveyed the mess. My tree was all right but the ground in the front lawn was all torn up where her roots had lashed to the surface. Josh trotted over to her and put a hand into her. It used to be that he could always talk to her but as time went on, he had to be inside to hear what she was saying.
    â€œShe says that something burned her.” He explained to us. With a look at Mom, I turned to the garage. I returned with a shovel. Mom looked at me and went for a shovel herself.
    We took turns digging: Mom, Josh and me. We got down ten feet before we found it: a discarded bag with a hole in one side where my tree had burrowed in. The bag was heavy and hard to haul up. I could barely read the label. It was a bag of pure lime.
    â€œMust have been left over by the builders.” Mom decided.
    Josh was still upset by bedtime: we slept in my bed. Next morning he had recovered his spirits — he woke me up by tickling me!
    Â 
    September faded into October and we forgot about the bag of lime we had long ago thrown out. The leaves on my tree were falling off as it got ready for its rest through Fall. Josh was nervous about it: he had never spent a Winter away from his mother while she slept. But my mother and his both did not think there would be any problem.
    It was recess, a group of us were playing soccer. I had just passed the ball on to Josh who was tearing up the field, barefoot as usual, grinning ear to ear as he zipped around frustrated defenders. Suddenly he stumbled, pitched to the ground.
    â€œJosh!” We cried, angry that the other team got the ball. I started running back to the defense, then I noticed that Josh was still