The Year Money Grew on Trees Read Online Free PDF

with my reading and questions, so I was wondering if I could get a hall pass to go somewhere."
    "Sure, if you're all done. Where do you want to go?" he asked, reaching for a stack of hall passes inside his desk.
    "I was hoping to get a book from the library."
    His feet fell from the desk, and his smile turned into a squinty-eyed stare. "Well, Mrs. Vance, the librarian, doesn't like kids leaving class to go there."
    "When are we supposed to go, then? During lunch?"
    "No, she's closed during lunch."
    "Before school?"
    "No, and she closes after school too. If you want something to read, why don't you go check my shelves? I've got some cool books and magazines."
    "But I wanted to get something specific. Maybe some
thing about history." I thought throwing in that last line might appeal to him as a teacher. I could see the struggle going on inside Mr. Clafton's head. His face was a mixture of fear and recklessness. After staring me down for a few seconds, he finally responded.
    "Okay, but don't tell her whose class you're from."
    His anxiety was contagious, and I second-guessed my plan as I took the hall pass from his hands. "So where exactly is the library?"
    He explained quickly and then looked away from me. I walked through the maze of hallways that led to the secret location. It was well hidden, near the end of what I thought was an unfinished part of school.
    I paused after grabbing the door handle, trying to imagine what was inside that had Mr. Clafton so spooked. I thought of turning back, but then remembered the scrap yard and pulled hard.
    The door opened into a huge, brightly lit room with rows and rows of books along every wall stacked up to the ceiling. There were no posters or signs anywhere. Every book seemed to be filed on a shelf. In the middle of the room, a woman with large, gray and black hair looked up from a book. She narrowed her eyes over her small glasses and demanded, "What do you want?"
    I walked toward her and said feebly, "I have a hall pass."
    "From whom?" she almost shouted.
    "Umm, from my history teacher. Could you help me find a book on apples or apple farming?"
    "What? Of course not! Don't you know what a card catalog is for?" She glanced over at a wooden box with lots of wooden drawers, and I quickly moved toward it.
    With nervous fingers, I thumbed my way through the drawer that started with AP until I reached a section that seemed to have books about apples. Out jumped a card for the perfect book:
The Growth and Care of Apple Trees,
by Jeffrey Haslam. Nonfiction, 348 pages, illustrated, 634 H64.
    What did those numbers mean? I knew they must somehow tell me where the book was. I looked up at Mrs. Vance. She had one eye on me, her expression cold. I memorized the number and moved over to the nearest stack of books. I had fifteen minutes until the class period was over. My eyes darted back and forth. I realized I might never get another chance at this. The numbers on the sides of the books were all in the 400s. I changed rows, moving toward the far wall, and realized the numbers were getting smaller. I moved in the other direction, skipping a few rows. The whole time I felt Mrs. Vance's icy stare. I ended up in a 600 row and scanned down the shelves until I saw 634. I moved my fingers over the books until I had the exact call number and pulled the book from the shelf. It looked like it had
never been opened. I thumbed through it, looking at some of the pictures. There were diagrams and charts, even illustrations on how to do things. I couldn't believe my luck!
    Clutching the book to my chest, sweat pouring down my back, I walked toward the desk in front of Mrs. Vance. The clock behind her said there were five minutes left in the class period.
    "I would like to check out this book, please ... ma'am," I squeaked, holding the book out in front of me. She snatched it from my hands and inspected it carefully. She looked up at me, thinking of a reason to say no. Finally, she opened a drawer and pulled