Nine

NINE

After dropping the blueberries off at home (and telling myself over and over that Mr. Trung hadn’t seen me hiding in his bushes) I pedaled to Bobby Drake’s farm to bale hay. Bobby’s dad ran a dairy farm just outside town. That’s where most of us earned our cash. It was pretty much an all-summer occupation. With Kevin still most likely chopping firewood it was just me and Bobby and Bobby’s younger brother Matt . . . and, well, the last person I expected to see: Jake. Of course, Jake’s family needed the money—his dad out of work again—and Mr. Drake always welcomed the extra help.

We all arrived in front of the Drake barn around ten. Mr. Drake pulled his tractor out, hitched up one of his wagons. We clambered on and trundled off. We usually worked until we filled that wagon, then afterward we’d hitch up an empty wagon, work straight until noon and break for lunch, which Mrs. Drake always packed into a cooler for us.

Then we’d get back to work. Once we filled the wagons, we’d retur