Monkey Business (10 page)

“That's okay,” Emma replied stiffly.

“What, you don't trust me?” asked Claire.

“Fine. Get it,” said Emma, letting go and taking a few steps back.

Claire placed her muffin container on top of the fold-up table, which was balanced on top of the beach chairs, which were hovering over the two pitchers of lemonade and the stack of red plastic cups. Then she pulled the wagon along. I dragged the cooler on wheels behind me.

When we were halfway to the park she told us she was ready for a break so Rachel took over. Except Rachel pulled the wagon too fast, and some of the
lemonade sloshed out of the pitcher. So Yumi took the wagon instead.

By the time we finally got there, we were all a little sweaty from the heat and a little sticky from the spilled lemonade. Oliver's game didn't start until ten, but I could see his team warming up. He was on the Dodgers, so the uniforms were blue. They were playing the Cardinals, who were in red.

“Let's set up under this tree,” said Emma.

“But it's so far from the action,” said Yumi, staring at the baseball diamond in the distance.

“I know,” said Emma. “But it's right by the parking lot, so every single person who comes to the park will have to pass us at least twice. Plus, we should stick to the shade because it's so hot out today.”

“It's going to be eighty-seven degrees, my mom told me,” said Emma.

“That's good news for us!” said Claire as she finished setting up the sign.

Yumi and Emma unfolded the two chairs and we all set up the table.

After Claire arranged her mini-muffins, she frowned and said, “Most of the chocolate chips have already melted.”

“Oh, that's too bad,” said Emma, giving them a quick glance. Except I could tell she didn't mean it.

“That's okay. They still taste delicious,” said Claire, popping one in her mouth.

“Don't eat too much of the inventory,” Yumi warned.

Claire let out a laugh. “What do you care? You didn't want to sell them in the first place. Remember?”

Rachel reached for one and took a bite. “Delicious!” she said.

“Um, could I try one?” I asked.

“Of course.” Claire offered me the container, and I took the smallest-looking muffin.

As soon as I took a bite, the banana-and-chocolate gooey deliciousness practically melted in my mouth. “That's amazing!” I said, polishing off the rest.

“I know. You guys should try one,” Claire said to Yumi and Emma.

Yumi went for it, but Emma refused. “No, thanks. I'm not hungry,” she said in the primmest voice I've ever heard.

“Come on, Emma. These are some seriously delicious muffins,” said Rachel.

Emma sealed her lips tightly and reorganized the table.

Then we got our first customer. Oliver showed up in his baseball uniform—a blue shirt and gray pants with blue kneesocks, and black cleats. He wore his baseball cap low over his forehead and his ears stuck out in the cutest way.

“Good morning,” I said brightly. Too brightly? I hoped not.

“Hey, everyone. Cool sign!” he said.

“Thanks,” Claire and I said at the same time.
“Claire did most of the work,” I admitted, pointing to my friend.

“Well, everyone helped,” Claire said shyly.

“I'll take one large lemonade please,” he said.

“There's only one size,” said Emma, holding up a red cup.

“Okay. Then I guess I'll take it,” said Oliver.

“That'll be fifty cents,” I said.

He patted the sides of his pants, where his pockets would have been if he actually had pockets on his uniform. “Uh-oh, I don't have any cash on me. Do you take IOUs?”

“Of course,” I said at the exact same time that Rachel said, “No way.”

I elbowed her.

“Come on, we know Oliver is good for it,” I said.

“This is not the way to run a business,” said Rachel, pointing to the baseball diamond. “Oliver, surely you could get some money from your mom. Isn't she right over there on the bleachers?”

Oliver raised his eyebrows. He looked not totally offended, but pretty confused. “Um, okay. Be right back.”

I turned to Rachel after he jogged off and asked, “Did you really have to do that?”

“Do what?” asked Rachel.

“Treat my boyfriend like a stranger who's out to steal fifty cents' worth of lemonade. You know Oliver will pay us back.”

“I know he's not going to steal from our stand intentionally, but he could forget to give us the money. And then where would we be?” asked Rachel. “This is a business. Not a free-lemonade stand. And he's not upset. Look—he's getting the money.”

She had a point. Oliver came back less than two minutes later with a dollar. “I'll take two cups now,” he said. “My mom wants to try some too.”

Rachel glanced at me with raised eyebrows.

“Do not say I told you so,” I said as I got Oliver his lemonade. “Seriously. I can't really take the stress right now.”

After I handed Oliver his drinks, he took a sip of one and told me it was delicious.

“Thanks!” I said.

“Be sure to tell your friends,” Emma called.

“I will,” said Oliver. “Good luck, you guys. I've gotta go play ball.”

“Knock 'em dead!” I said.

As soon as Oliver left, a bunch of sweaty moms who'd finished their stroller-cizing class came over. Their babies were too young for lemonade, it looked like. But we managed to sell five cups—one to each of them.

Things were going great. The park was plenty busy—there were games being played on all three baseball fields.

We saw some friends from school—Hannah and Tobias came by, separately, and they each bought
lemonade. And Sanjay and his little brothers bought three cups. A Girl Scouts troop was having a picnic in the park, so we easily sold ten cups of lemonade to them.

Then Rachel's five-year-old neighbor, Sienna, came by with her mom and they bought two cups. Sienna was smallish and blond, with chunky red-framed glasses.

“This is my friend Annabelle who used to live in your house,” Rachel said to them.

Sienna was more interested in the lemonade, but her mom smiled at me and said, “We really love your old place!”

“I'm glad!” I said. “I miss it. I mean, I didn't live there for even a year, but I miss the street and everything.”

“It's a lovely street,” said Sienna's mom. “And we're so lucky we've got a built-in babysitter.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, tilting my head to one side.

“Rachel didn't tell you she's been helping out with Sienna?” asked Sienna's mom.

“This is the best lemonade I've had in ages, isn't it, Mummy?” asked Sienna, holding up the cup.

“It's delicious,” said her mom. “Thanks, Rachel. We'll see you tonight, eh?”

“Yup,” said Rachel. “I'll be there at five thirty.”

Once they left, I asked, “What's that all about?”

“I'm a mother's helper,” said Rachel. “I'm taking care of Sienna for two hours tonight.”

“That's awesome!” said Yumi. “How much are you getting paid?”

“Five dollars an hour,” said Rachel.

“That's great! We'll have ten more dollars for our Panda Parade fund,” said Claire.

“Oh, I wasn't going to contribute that money toward the tickets,” said Rachel. “I need it for something else.”

“But we all pooled our money last week,” said Emma. “Remember?”

“I thought that was just to get started,” said Rachel. “Anyway, the lemonade stand will earn enough money for the trip. Right, Emma?”

No one really said anything—probably because we didn't know what to say. This was kind of awkward. As I recalled, Rachel hadn't contributed anything last week. This wasn't a big deal, because she hadn't had money at the time. But now she had her allowance plus the money for taking care of Sienna. It only seemed fair that she put it toward the Panda Parade fund. We'd all forked over all our savings, and Yumi was continuing to give us her babysitting earnings. Why wasn't Rachel doing the same?

I didn't ask, though, because I didn't want to get into another fight with Rachel about money. Probably she'd say something like I didn't really need my savings because my mom bought me whatever it was that I wanted. It wasn't true, but I didn't want to open myself up to another attack.

A bunch more people came over to buy lemonade, and it seemed as if our stand was a big success, but thinking about Rachel put me in a rotten mood, so I couldn't enjoy it. Even though we didn't actually have this fight in real life, our pretend fight in my head was pretty bad, and I couldn't help but be annoyed with her all over again.

An hour later, when Oliver's game ended, both teams cheered and then gave each other high fives.

The other baseball games seemed to be breaking up too.

Claire said, “Everyone, get ready!”

We sat up straighter, ready for the onslaught. Thirty boys in baseball uniforms were walking straight toward us. They all looked thirsty.

“It's rush hour!” I exclaimed.

“This is what we've been waiting for!” said Rachel.

“I wish we had more muffins,” said Claire.

“I have to agree,” said Emma. “They were good.”

“When did you have one?” asked Claire.

“I snuck it when no one was looking. Sorry!” Emma flashed Claire a guilty smile.

“Told you they were great,” said Claire, throwing her arm around Emma's shoulders and giving her a squeeze.

Oliver was leading the pack, bringing the entire team over and not just that—parents, too.

“Hey, do you want some more lemonade?” I asked, all ready to pour him a cup.

“No, thanks.” Oliver held up a big can of Limonata and said, “We all got these after the game.”

“Oh,” I said, my smile fading as I noticed the boys. Some were drinking Limonata. Some were drinking Capri Sun. Some had bottles of water or Gatorade. But all of them had something to drink.

“Do you mind going away?” Rachel asked rudely, shooing Oliver.

“Rachel, what is going on with you?” I asked.

“What's going on with
you
?” she replied. “How come you're letting your boyfriend mess with our stand?”

“How is he messing with the stand? He was our first customer. Do I need to remind you that he bought two lemonades?”

Oliver looked back and forth between us, totally confused.

Rachel angrily pointed at him. “You're standing in front of our sign, drinking a huge sip of lemonade from somewhere else.”

“Limonata is more like a soda,” said Oliver. “Plus, Annabelle just reminded you that I already bought yours.”

“There's no limit. You could totally buy more, which would be much healthier than that lemon-flavored soda,” said Rachel. “Ours is sweetened with agave nectar.”

I couldn't believe how she was acting. My other friends had backed away a bit. My guess was that they were surprised by her strong reaction.

“Rachel,” I said gently.

“What?” she snapped. “The whole point of the lemonade stand is to earn money, right? I know you don't need it, but there are other people with a lot at stake.”

“What's that supposed to mean?” I asked.

“You know Ted is rich and he would buy your concert ticket if you asked him to.”

“That's not true,” I said. “We're all in this together.”

“Some of us are more in it than others,” she said.

“You're right,” I said. “And some of us are still contributing all our money!”

“You guys, stop fighting!” said Emma.

“We're not fighting!” Rachel and I shouted at the same time.

We hung out at the park for another hour and sold a few more cups of lemonade. But by two o'clock, the park was empty.

“I think it's too hot for lemonade,” said Emma. “If that's possible. Maybe we should just pack our things up and go home.”

“I agree,” said Claire. “But let's count our profits first, so we at least know all our hard work was worth it.”

This seemed like a good idea, so Emma opened up our cash box and began counting.

There seemed to be a lot of dimes and nickels in the box, and not so many dollars. This was not a good
sign, but I kept my hopes up. Claire crossed her fingers as we all stared at the money.

Moments later Emma looked up, distressed. “We only made eleven dollars. That means we sold twenty-two cups of lemonade.”

“After four hours of work? We made less than two dollars an hour and that's among the five of us.”

“So each of us made about thirty-six cents an hour,” said Claire. “We could make more money than that looking for change in our living room couch cushions.”

“We can try again next weekend,” I said. “I've still got plenty of lemons on my tree.”

We all looked to Emma, who was doing some calculations in her notebook. “Sorry, guys. Even if we double our sales next weekend we still won't make enough money in time. We need a new plan.”

Everyone snapped to attention and looked at Yumi, who was cradling her right hand, real tears streaming down her face.

I tried reassuring her. “It's not so bad,” I said. “We still have plenty of time to raise the money.”

“It's not that!” she yelled. “I got stung by a bee!”