0PPONENTS

THE STAND  

 

It's a normal July day, really hot in Loosiana. May Beth begs her momma to let her sell lemonade under the tree near the curb. Her momma tells her for the hundredth time to say ' Louise-iana correctly. She adds on, 'No, you can't sell lemonade without a license.' Not to be stopped, May Beth whines, 'Violet's momma let her sell lemonade yesterday and she didn't have no license.' 'May Beth, speak correctly, Violet didn't have 'A' license, not 'no license.' 'But Momma, Violet gave the men in the police car each a glass of free lemonade and they thanked her a lot, drove away.'

 

Mrs. Wilkens thinks over her daughter's wish and agrees to let May Beth sell orangeade, not lemonade. May Beth can't even argue. She knows too well that there are three very large orange trees in her back yard and they are loaded with big juicy oranges. Neighbors take what they want and new oranges grow. 'May Beth, why should we buy those itsy, bitsy, already drying up lemons when we have healthy, fresh oranges coming out of our ears? What do you say, Daughter, orange ade or no ade?'

 

Without really answering, May Beth gets a large black plastic bag off the kitchen roller. In the garden she leans the ladder against the biggest orange tree, climbs up three steps and drops the biggest oranges she can reach into the bag. She counts to twelve and knows the bag is as heavy as she can handle, climbs down, takes them into the kitchen where her momma already has two orange squeezers ready for her. On the kitchen cabinet an old tin pitcher that was her grand- mother's, waits for the makings of the orangeade. There is also a big crockery one with a Santa Claus sticker on it and the biggest of all, a green glass one that she knows she won't be able to pour from. 'Momma, do you have another pitcher instead of the green one? I can hardly hold that when it is empty.' 'No, May Beth, if you do sell your lemonade, bring the empty one to me and I'll fill it for you and bring it to the table.' May Beth knows which side of her bread is buttered and gives her mamma a big, wet kiss on the back of her neck.

 

'Ma, help, help. My customer says the orangeade isn't sweet enough. She wants sugar. Will you bring out a bowl for me? I can't leave my place.' 'Sorry, Little Manager. Come in for it. I'll let you use the box of straws I bought for you when you had a sore throat. Leave them in the box in case somebody wants one. If they want two, charge them a penny. 'May Beth sells one mother 4 straws and gets two pennies. Business is good.

 

'Again you're calling me, May Beth?' Beth runs into the kitchen. 'Momma, Momma, hide me quick. A police car is coming down the street. They may take me to jail!' 'Behave yourself, little baby. You won't go to jail. Smile to the policemen, hand them cups of your fresh orangeade with a straw in each.' The police car goes right past May Beth. Her mother comes out to find out what happened and indeed, sees tears in her daughter's eyes.

 

'Ma, the officer on my side opened his window and told me they just had great lemonade down the street. It was ice cold and was bitter like lemonade should be. Then he warned me to tell you I had better get a license soon or I might go to jail. He laughed but I didn't see anything funny at all.

 

Will you help me close my store, Ma? We can put some orangeade in the ice box for later. Will you be angry if I use twenty cents I made and get myself an ice cold lemonade from Violet?'