Escape to the World's Fair by Wendy McClure Page B

grinning at Frances. “We never said she was prettier than Queenie over here.”
    Frances choked back a laugh and swatted Dutch’s arm. “Quit calling me
Queenie
!” she said, though Jack suspected she didn’t much mind at all.
    â€œYeah, quit calling her that, all of you!” Alexander sputtered at the older boys. “Leave her alone!”
    Uh-oh,
Jack thought.
    â€œThey’re not bothering me,
Alexander,
” Frances said pointedly.
    â€œWell, you shouldn’t talk to them!” he snapped, his face getting redder. “How do you know they’re really on our side and not Miss DeHaven’s? That they’re not just telling us some story?”
    Owney’s eyes flashed. “We ain’t lying, if that’s what you mean!”
    â€œAlexander
,
you’re being
ridiculous
!” Frances fired back. “And don’t you
dare
tell me who I should or shouldn’t talk to!”
    She turned around abruptly, her back to Alexander.
    Jack stepped in between them. “Alex,” he said, his voice low. “Just calm down.”
    But Alexander just stomped off in the opposite direction. He turned a corner and disappeared.
    Finn nodded. “Looks like someone needs to cool his stew.”
    Frances glanced at Jack. “Should we go after him?”
    Jack shook his head. “We ought to leave him alone for now. Let him think.”
    But,
Jack thought,
he’s not the only one with a lot on his mind.

10
    A LITTLE TASTE OF CALIFORNIA
    W
hat kind of a name is “Chicks”?
Alexander thought to himself.
Or “Owney”?
He paced back and forth on the deck.
    He’d come all the way over to the other side of the
Addie Dauphin
to clear his head, but it was no use: His head was still too full of annoying questions, like,
What kind of fool would name a kid “Dutch?”
and,
Is Dutch even Dutch?
Alexander also wondered what country the Dutch came from. He wondered if he was supposed to have learned that in school. He wondered if Frances knew.
    He paced back and forth some more, then he stood and watched the great big paddle wheel that churned up water in back of the boat. It went around and around like the thoughts in his head.
    The thing he wondered the most was:
What if Frances likes them better than me?
That was the worst question of all. He couldn’t believe she didn’t mind when those older boys called her “Queenie” and “Your Majesty.” Once, back at the Careys’ farm, he’d called her “Fancy,” just as a joke, and she’d kicked him in the shin. What did those boys have that he didn’t have? At least
he
had all his teeth, he thought, unlike that Finn kid. . . .
    A steady breeze was blowing across the deck. His face had been too angry-hot to notice it at first, but now it felt cool and gentle. Alexander unclenched his hands and stretched his arms. He was beginning to feel better, in a mood to explore, even, so when he saw a short ladder leading up to another cargo hold, he climbed it and peered in at the rows of barrels and boxes.
    He caught glimpses of bright yellow between the slats of some of the crates. No, not yellow—a deeper color
.
He went to get a closer look.
Could they be?
He could smell them—a perfumey scent that was sweet and sharp. He tugged at the crate slats until he found a loose one and pulled it forward, and then he could see for sure.
    Oranges!
One of them rolled out and fell right into his hand. It was fresh and peeled easily. Alexander broke off a section of the delicious fruit and popped it into his mouth.
    â€œIt has to be a sign,” he said under his breath. A sign, he thought, that they would make it out west. Hadn’t he’d been promising oranges in California to the citizens of Wanderville?
    He pulled two more oranges free from the crates and stuffed them in the sleeves of his jacket.
Wait till everyone sees these,
he thought.
Especially