Lemonade Mouth Page 12

  “What’s going on?” I asked Lyle.

  “Don’t know. They’re taking away the lemonade machine.”

  “Yeah I can see that. But why?”

  Lyle shrugged. “Don’t know.”

  That’s when David Bickenracker and Vic Toules, a couple of juniors from the basketball team, happened to walk by. When he saw us David snickered and I heard him whisper to Vic. “Freaks.” I don’t know if anybody else heard him but I did. I pretended I didn’t.

  By then the freight elevator doors were already open and the 2 men were on either side of the machine getting ready to move it inside. After a moment’s hesitation Stella stepped in their direction and the rest of us followed behind.

  “Hey!” she called out. “What are you doing?”

  “What does it look like we’re doing we’re moving this out of here” the bigger of the 2 guys said. He had a barrel chest and a short black beard and kind of looked like that guy Bluto from Popeye.

  “Yes but why?”

  “No idea. Our job is just to bring it back to the warehouse.”

  “Is it . . . coming back again?” asked Lyle. “Or is this one getting replaced or something?”

  The guy shrugged. “No idea. But there’s no replacement in our truck.” With a nod to the other guy the 2 of them pressed their shoulders against the metal and guided the big machine onto the elevator. A moment later the doors closed and we were left gawking at each other.

  OK I know it was only a drink machine and this should of been no big deal. But for some reason it felt like a really crappy thing had just happened. I felt really bad. Betrayed almost. Only I didn’t understand why. But when I noticed all the other glum faces I suspected I wasn’t the only one.

  “I don’t get it” Wen said still staring at the elevator doors. “I liked having that machine around.”

  Olivia, Mo and the A.V. kids nodded but didn’t say anything. Stella looked kind of pissed off. “Why didn’t anybody let us know this was going to happen? Why didn’t anybody ask us?”

  There was a pause where everybody just kind of stared at her. “What do you mean?” Mo said finally. “Why would anyone ask us?”

  Stella didn’t answer because of course Mo was right. Who were we that anybody would need our approval? OK sure we spent loads of time in the basement and maybe we drank a lot of lemonade but that didn’t make it realistic that anybody would of let us know before taking it away. I thought of the basement clubs and the piles of empty cups I always saw in the trashcans. I knew that Mrs. Reznik wasn’t going to be thrilled about this either.

  “It’s not the end of the world it’s only a stupid lemonade machine” I said just to say something.

  Nobody answered. And even though I knew what I said was true I still couldn’t help feeling like we’d been somehow wronged.

  Without another word we all trudged downstairs. When we got there the guys were already moving the machine out of the elevator and into the hallway. Instead of going back to what we’d been doing, we followed a few paces behind as they rolled the big metal thing down the corridor and onto the Loading Dock and then we watched them load it into the back of a white truck. Even though I couldn’t explain it, the heavy feeling in my chest was still there.

  “It’s funny” Mo said as the truck pulled away “but it’s kind of weird to see it go.”

  Stella didn’t say anything but her face was all red and her hands were shoved firmly into her pockets.

  And then I remembered what Wen had said about the lemonade being like the official Underworld Membership Badge. At the time, he was joking but even so there was truth to it. The thing was, the lemonade machine had kind of been ours. Most other people got sodas from the dispensers by the Cafeteria. Even though I hadn’t thought much about it before, I now realized that in the past 3 weeks that frozen slush had become for my friends and me sort of a connection, almost part of our group identity. And not only for my band either. For the A.V. Club too, and the French Club, the math team and the Barking Clam. And even for Mrs. Reznik. In a strange way, the lemonade really felt like a membership pass to an underground society that I hadn’t truly realized I’d been part of.

  I know that probably sounds kind of ridiculous but it was true. At least that’s how it felt as I watched the truck pull around the street corner and out of sight.

  STELLA:

  The Craziest Explanation Ever

  Burning with indignation, I decided the next morning to go straight to the Powers That Be to demand an explanation about the purloined lemonade machine. Why was it taken away? Who made the decision without even so much as a hint ahead of time to the people who used it? We had a right to know.

  Charlie came with me. The front office was unusually crowded and chaotic. One of the busses had arrived late, so there was a line of kids waiting for passes. Ahead of us in line stood three Barbie dolls who kept glancing back at us and smirking at each other. Charlie didn’t seem to even notice, but I did. As it happened, I was already feeling like twice-fried crap that morning because of a rash of pimples I’d discovered on my forehead that morning. What’s more, with a sideways glance at Charlie I noticed that he was looking even more disheveled than usual. There was a troubling eggish stain near the pocket of his half-tucked shirt, and his chaotic hair jutted out at all kinds of improbable angles as if he’d combed it with a towel. As far as the Mattel triplets, even though I didn’t know any of these perfect specimens of rosy-cheeked girlhood, their obvious disdain made me want to shrivel into a ball.

  But I didn’t. Instead I gave them the iciest glare I could muster until all three of them turned white and looked away.

  Eventually, most of the crowd got sorted through and then it was our turn at the counter. Mrs. Flynn, the pretty secretary with the church lady hairdo, looked overwhelmed. “Can I help you?”

  I leaned on the counter. “Yes. We want to find out what happened with the lemonade machine.”

  “Lemonade machine?”

  “That’s right. The big yellow and green Mel’s Organic one that used to be at the top of the stairs near the A.V. room? Two guys hauled it away yesterday afternoon.”

  Mrs. Flynn frowned. “There was a lemonade machine over there? Hmmm. I never even knew that.” She didn’t seem to have anything else to say.

  I felt a wave of frustration. “Um . . . yeah,” I said with maybe a little more sarcasm in my voice than I meant. “Like I said, there was one. But now it’s gone and we’re trying to find out why. We deserve an explanation.”

  That’s when Charlie, perhaps the more tactful of us, stepped in. “We were wondering why it had to be taken away and whether it’s coming back. Is there a way to find that out? We’re just curious.” He grinned sheepishly and then added. “We, uh . . . we liked that machine.”

  Mrs. Flynn seemed to consider. She looked over her shoulder and spoke to the other secretary, Mrs. Silvestro, a big-haired middle-aged lady with permanent dark circles under her eyes, who was typing into a keyboard. “Faye, do you know anything about somebody taking away a lemonade machine?”

  Mrs. Silvestro didn’t look up from her screen. “Uhhuh,” she said. “It was part of the deal for the scoreboard.”

  “Scoreboard?” Charlie asked, his forehead wrinkling. “What do you mean? What deal?”

  “To finish the gym. A soda company agreed to donate the money and all we had to do was get rid of any competing machines.”

  “What?” I asked. “What does a soda company have to do with anything? And how does frozen lemonade compete with soda, anyway? That’s the craziest explanation I ever heard!”

  At this, Mrs. Silvestro finally stopped typing and turned in our direction, glowering over her glasses like I was an idiot. “I don’t like your tone, young lady,” she snipped. “The money had to come from somewhere. Now, if you have any other questions I think you’d best bring them directly to Mrs. Ledlow or Mr. Brenigan, who aren’t here at the moment. If you have a complaint, you can ask your parents to take it up with
the town finance committee. Anything else?”

  By then, my face was burning. “No,” I said more quietly. “I think that’s it.” There was no point in arguing further. I wasn’t going to get any more information from this woman.

  And so we left the office in silence, feeling no better than when we’d entered. I wasn’t sure why, but I felt more shaken now, even cheated. As we trudged down the corridor, my earlier indignation swelled. Charlie and I agreed—there was something wrong here, something that definitely didn’t sit right.

  And I, your Sista Stella, wasn’t about to let this mystery pass without further investigation.

  WEN:

  A Volcanic Eruption

  Thursday afternoon started off badly, then got worse.

  I was already in a foul mood as I pedaled up the steep hill toward my house. That afternoon had been our last practice before the Bash, but it was a complete disaster. Mo hadn’t shown up. No note, no explanation. Charlie tried to call her but she wasn’t home. It was weird.

  With no other choice, we decided to practice without her. But Stella and I kept forgetting the breaks and Olivia seemed to have a hard time remembering the words. In the end we’d cut the afternoon short. We didn’t want Olivia to strain her voice, and nothing was working out anyway. It wasn’t just Mo’s absence. I think the pressure was getting to us. It felt like there was a lot riding on this performance.

  “Don’t worry,” Stella had tried to assure us. “It’s just last minute nerves. We’ve gone over these songs so many times that we could play them in our sleep.”

  But judging by today, I wasn’t so sure anymore.

  I kept pedaling. It was a chilly, late October evening and even though it was only dinnertime, it was almost dark. At least I’d thought to pull on my winter jacket. Still, my fingers were cold. To make matters worse, before I reached the top of the hill it started to rain. I could already feel the drops splashing up to the bottom of my jeans.

  After I reached my house, I had to struggle to get into the little shed where George and I stored our bikes. Somebody had planted a table right smack in the doorway, blocking my space. It wasn’t a regular table; it was ancient-looking and heavy with a flat concrete disk at the top and a metal foot-pedal. A pottery wheel, maybe? In any case, I didn’t need to be a detective to guess whose it was.

  I could practically feel the heat rise in me, like a volcano about to erupt. What was Sydney doing storing her stuff in our shed? What right did she have?

  I managed to shove the contraption aside just enough to make a narrow space for my bike. Then I stormed toward the house, dripping, sure I’d find Sydney inside. The woman was practically a permanent fixture. Each of the last three nights I’d come home to find her parked at our kitchen table playing backgammon with George, a plate of munchies within arm’s reach. Now I’d had enough.

  But as I approached the front steps the screen door swung open and my dad stepped out, his keys in his hand. “There you are, kiddo. I thought you said you were practicing late tonight.”

  “We’re not,” I said through my teeth. “Where’s Sydney?”

  “In the shower.” He chuckled. “We went on a nature walk and she slipped in some mud. She’s fine, she’s just cleaning herself up.”

  For a second, that threw me off. A nature walk? Since when did my father go on nature walks? Even worse, for a second I couldn’t help picturing Sydney in our bathroom, slowly peeling the muddy clothes off her body.

  I quickly forced that image out of my head.

  Before I could say anything else my dad said, “We ordered Thai. I’m heading out to pick it up. Keep me company?”

  At first I was going to say no, but then I reconsidered. I probably wasn’t in the best state of mind to confront Sydney. In fact, I was liable to say or do something I might regret. A quick ride would give me a chance to cool down and collect my thoughts. She’d still be home when we got back. Besides, I couldn’t exactly have it out with her while she was in the shower.

  “Sure,” I said. “Let’s go.”

  For the first couple of minutes of our trip neither of us said much. Against the sound of country music and the windshield wipers sloshing back and forth I fumed, trying to decide the best way to point out to my dad how wrong Sydney was for him—and for our family. It wouldn’t be easy. He didn’t seem to see it at all. Still, somebody had to tell him.

  In the end, he was the first to speak. “Big day for you tomorrow.”

  I grunted. I didn’t want to talk about that.

  He turned down the radio a little. “I know you already said you don’t want any of us to come see you play, but if you change your mind I’d really like to stop by.”

  “It’s not that kind of event, Dad.”

  It was cool of him to want to go, and a part of me would have been happy to have him there. But I didn’t want to be the only kid who brought his dad to the Bash. As if he’d read my thoughts, he smiled and said, “We could hide in the back where nobody would see us.”

  I didn’t answer. I had a hard time imagining my dad and George crouching under the bleachers. But he was kidding. At least I was pretty sure he was.

  And then an uncomfortable question hit me. “When you say ‘we,’ who exactly do you mean? You’re not talking about bringing Sydney, too, are you?”

  “Of course. She wants to see your band. We’ve all been hearing about it for weeks.”

  I felt the lava rushing back into my chest. The idea that my dad would actually consider parading Sydney in front of my school, displaying his way-too-young-for-him girlfriend to everyone I knew—well, that was just infuriating. What was he thinking? Didn’t he have any idea about boundaries?

  “Okay, Wen. Out with it. What’s the matter this time?”

  So I turned to him with a hard stare. “Sydney,” I said. “That’s what the matter is. She’s taking over our lives.”

  He glanced over at me but then looked back at the street, his face darkening. “Now don’t start that again. You’re being unreasonable.”

  But I wasn’t about to stop. “Unreasonable? She’s always hanging around, even when you’re not there. She uses our house like her own personal art studio. And now she’s even storing her furniture in our shed! Did you know that, Dad?”

  “Yes,” he said quietly, his eyes still glued to the road. “I knew that. I suggested it.”

  It took me a moment to soak that in. “You did? Oh. Well, then. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. And I guess that makes it all right for her to shove everybody else’s stuff into a corner, doesn’t it?” I glared at him.

  He didn’t answer. Even in the evening shadows I could see his white-knuckled fingers gripping the wheel. His jaw was stiff too—stiff in the way that meant he was about to blow up.

  But I didn’t care. I was on a roll.

  “I gotta be honest with you, Dad. Sydney has you wrapped around her little finger and you don’t even see it. I don’t think you realize how oblivious you’ve been.”

  Finally, he spoke. “If anybody’s being oblivious around here it’s you.”

  But that was crazy. “Me? What are you talking about?”

  That’s when, out of the blue, he suddenly spun the wheel, pulled the truck over to the side of the road and slammed on the brakes. There was nobody else on the street so it didn’t matter, but we came to a sudden halt and it made my heart practically stop in my chest.

  “Dad, what are you doing!”

  He stopped the engine. Without the sound of the radio and the wipers it seemed as if the rain tapping on the roof got louder. For a few moments my dad just sat there staring at the dashboard. I expected him to shout at me but he didn’t. After a moment his grip on the wheel seemed to relax a little. When he spoke his voice was cool and level.

  “What am I talking about? Well, I guess I’ll have to spell it out for you. The reason I say it’s you who’s being oblivious is that you don’t seem to see how wonderful Sydney is. Or what effect your attitude is having.” He took
a deep breath and then turned to me. “Do you have any idea that she’s scared of you? Well, she is. She tiptoes around you. You’ve made it perfectly clear how you feel about her. In fact, you’ve been such a cold fish that I’m amazed she sticks around at all.”

  I crossed my arms on my chest. “That’s ridiculous.”

  “No, it’s not, Wen. It’s the truth. Look, whatever issue you have with Sydney I really need you to figure it out, kiddo, because in case you haven’t noticed, I’m crazy about her. And she’s crazy about me. That’s the way it is. And if for some reason that makes you unhappy right now then I’m sorry, I really am, especially since—” But then he stopped.

  I waited, but he looked away.

  “Since what, Dad?”

  He leaned back on the seat and closed his eyes. Obviously there was something else he’d stopped himself from telling me. My mind reeled to think what it might be. One thing was sure, I wasn’t about to let him hold back now that he’d started.

  “Come on, tell me. What were you about to say?”

  He took in a deep breath and then blew it out again. “Okay. I wanted to wait until you came around a little, but I guess now’s the time.” He turned to me again. Hard as my heart was already beating, it suddenly sped up a notch. “Wen, the thing is, Sydney and I have decided to get married.”

  I wasn’t sure I’d heard him right. I think I just blinked at him for a couple of seconds. Finally I said, “You’re kidding.”

  “No, I’m not kidding. I asked her and she said yes. I’m in love with her, Wen. And she’s in love with me. I know she’s a little younger than I am, but she’s an amazing person. The kindest, most generous I’ve ever met. She makes me happy. Besides, I’m not exactly an old man and it’s not like you boys are little children anymore.” He studied my face. “Come on. Tell me you’re glad for me.”

  I couldn’t speak. In love? Married? The news was hitting me in waves. This couldn’t be true, could it? If so, then Sydney would never move back to her apartment. She’d live with us for real. Whenever I came home, she’d be there. Whenever I got up in the morning, whenever I came back from school, whenever I did anything at all around my family, I’d see her relaxing on the sofa, or bending over to pick up a magazine, or maybe arching up to grab a cereal box.