Monkey Business Read online

  “Done!” said Claire. “This is going to be awesome!”

  “Is everyone else in?” I asked.

  My friends nodded. Even Rachel.

  The bell rang. We all high-fived and then cleaned up our lunches and went to class.

  I had science with Tobias and Oliver.

  As soon as I sat down, Oliver smiled at me and said, “You’re in a good mood. Fun lunch?”

  “It’s got nothing to do with lunch,” I said. “I’m just excited because my friends and I figured out how to get to the Panda Parade.”

  “The what?” asked Tobias.

  “The Panda Parade. It’s this big concert that’s happening in Indio in July.”

  “My grandparents live in Indio,” said Tobias, brushing his greasy black hair out of his eyes. “It’s so boring there. It’s all flat and hot, and there’s nothing but desert and mini-malls as far as the eye can see.”

  “Well, it won’t be boring when I’m there for Fourth of July weekend, because the Panda Parade is going to be amazing.”

  “Again, the what?” asked Tobias.

  I told them all about the concert.

  “I’m allergic to pandas,” said Tobias.

  “There aren’t actually going to be pandas there,” I told him. “That’s the problem. The pandas are endangered, meaning they’re not enough of them in the world. So all my favorite bands are getting together to throw a benefit concert in Indio.”

  “Sounds fun,” said Oliver, tossing his pen in the air and catching it again. “I should go.”

  “You should!” I said.

  “Except I don’t know what my plans are for the summer,” said Oliver. “I need to check with my mom. We may not be around.”

  “Wait, what do you mean?” I asked. “Where are you going?”

  “We usually go to Europe so I can visit my grandparents.”

  Oliver’s mom is from Jamaica and his dad is from England. It made sense that he had family in other countries. It just never occurred to me that he’d be leaving mine!

  “No way! For how long?”

  “The summer,” said Oliver.

  “The entire summer?”

  Oliver shrugged. “I think so. A month or so, anyway.”

  “That’s so long!” I said without thinking about the fact that Tobias was listening to every single word we said.

  “Aw, poor Oliver and Annabelle,” he teased. “The lovebirds are going to be torn apart. … How will you two survive?”

  I was about to tell Tobias to shut his mouth, but Oliver did before I had the chance to.

  “We mean it!” I said, socking him on the shoulder for good measure.

  “Ouch! You two are the worst lab partners ever,” said Tobias, slumping in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest. His dark hair hung over his eyes, but this time he didn’t bother pushing it back. “I’m totally outnumbered.”

  I had to laugh because I had felt the exact same way at the beginning of the school year when Tobias and Oliver were all buddy-buddy and I was the new kid. I suppose my experience could have given me some extra sympathy for Tobias. Except I couldn’t forget the way he had tortured me earlier this school year—kicking my chair and calling me Spazabelle and even stealing my homework once. So it was hard to feel bad for the dude.

  “Deal with it,” I said.

  “You are harsh,” he replied.

  I simply smiled at him and said, “I kind of have to be to deal with you.”

  “Nice one,” Oliver whispered.

  I grinned and nodded and said, “Yeah, I try.”

  Chapter Five

  The Perfect Plan

  Some days I wish I had a gigantic fast-forward button for my life, because whenever I’m excited about doing something after school, classes seem to move super-slowly. It’s like the universe knew I had big plans and it was making my teachers even more boring than usual. And this particular afternoon seemed worse than ever.

  When the dismissal bell finally rang, I scrambled to my locker to meet up with my four best friends. We gathered all our things and made sure we had the right books for our homework (because we’re nerdy like that), and then we walked to my place.

  My mom and Ted were still at work, so I let everyone inside with my key, which I kept clipped to a special hook inside my backpack so it didn’t get lost.

  Pepper barked and jumped on me right away, as usual. I led him to the backyard so Rachel wouldn’t start sneezing.

  “Anyone want a snack?” I asked after making sure the back door was firmly closed. “We have carrots and cheese sticks and oatmeal-chocolate-chip cookies. …”

  “Cookies!” Claire and Emma said at the same time, and the rest of us laughed.

  “Yeah, why’d I even ask about the healthy stuff?” I wondered out loud as I headed for the kitchen.

  Everyone else filed into the living room and sat down on our new white sofa. That made me realize something. I wasn’t sure if we were allowed to eat in the living room. My mom and Ted had never said not to, but then again, I’d never seen them take food in there before.

  I figured it would be okay, but I still felt like I should be responsible and say something. So when I brought the plate of cookies over and set them down on the coffee table, I said, “Careful with the food in the living room, okay, guys? Everything is new.”

  Most of my friends nodded. Claire said, “Of course.”

  But Rachel rolled her eyes and said, “Don’t worry, Annabelle. We’ll be careful in your fancy living room.”

  “That’s not what I meant,” I said, arranging the napkins next to the plate. “It’s just, I know my mom and Ted would get upset if the couch got stained. There’s nothing wrong with that. Right? I mean, Emma we’re not allowed to eat in your living room.”

  “True,” said Emma.

  “Mine, either,” said Yumi. “My parents don’t even let people wear shoes in the house.”

  “See,” I said to Rachel. I know I sounded defensive, but I guess that made sense since I was defending myself. The thing was, I didn’t know why I had to. I didn’t want to have to.

  “Whatever,” said Rachel, acting all pouty. “You don’t have to jump down my throat.”

  “You’re the one who started this,” I said.

  “No, you’re the one who can’t stop talking about her fabulous new life in Canyon Ranch,” Rachel said.

  Claire gasped, and Emma’s and Yumi’s eyes got wide. As for me? I felt as if I’d been punched in the stomach. My eyes got teary, and I blinked hard and took a deep breath, trying to figure out what to say.

  “I don’t know where these comments are coming from, Rachel. But my life is exactly the same as it ever was. We simply moved to a new house.”

  “Which you can’t stop talking about,” said Rachel.

  Claire looked back and forth between us nervously. “Let’s just agree to disagree. Okay, guys?” she said.

  “What are we even disagreeing about?” asked Rachel. “I am always careful when I eat. And who’s the one who spilled orange juice all over the dining room table at my place last month?”

  “That’s because your brother threw a basketball at my head!” I said. “And you promised me it wasn’t a big deal.”

  “It wasn’t,” said Rachel. “Spills happen everywhere. But stop making Jackson out to be some monster. It was a Nerf basketball, and he yelled ‘catch’ before he threw it.”

  “Technically, he yelled catch after it bounced off my face,” I said. “But more important—I can’t believe you’re taking your brother’s side on this one.”

  “I’m not. I’m simply stating some facts,” said Rachel, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning back on the couch.

  “Know what? Let’s go eat in the kitchen,” said Emma, grabbing the plate of cookies as she stood up. “It’ll be much easier.”

  Everyone else followed her, and we sat down at the table. Then Emma pulled her notebook out of her backpack. “Let’s get started. First let’s make a lis
t of supplies.”

  “For a lemonade stand?” asked Rachel. “We should probably start with some lemonade. Right, guys?”

  She looked at all of us around the table, probably expecting some laughs, but no one gave her any and I refused to meet her gaze. I was still so annoyed about her comments. They totally ruined what was supposed to be a fun afternoon.

  “Sure, that’s obvious,” said Claire. “But do we make our own or buy it from the store or buy a mix and make it from that?”

  “Let’s make our own from scratch,” said Emma. “Freshly squeezed lemonade always tastes better than the store-bought kind.”

  “It’s cheaper, too,” said Claire.

  “Right.” Emma nodded and wrote down ‘lemonade from scratch’ in her notebook. “It sounds more special that way too. Like anyone can go out and buy lemonade, but to actually make it by hand?”

  “Yeah, so we need lemons, water, and sugar. Unless we want to make strawberry lemonade or something,” said Claire.

  “Or mint lemonade,” I added. “I had that last week when I went out to dinner with my mom, and it was delicious.”

  “Oh, that sounds fancy,” Rachel said.

  I stole a quick glance at Rachel and tried to figure out if she was being positive or critical about my suggestion. I hated that it was so hard to tell these days. But I decided to give her the benefit of the doubt. “It was fancy!” I said brightly.

  Luckily, she didn’t make a rude remark—this time!

  “I love mint lemonade,” said Claire. “Have you guys been to the restaurant called Lemonade? They always have six different flavors on hand.”

  “Six?” asked Rachel.

  “Yup,” said Claire. “Last week they had blueberry lemonade, and strawberry, mint, and even kale lemonade.”

  “Kale lemonade sounds disgusting!” Rachel said.

  “It kind of is,” said Claire. “But people must buy it or they wouldn’t sell it, right?”

  “Can we sell sparkling lemonade?” asked Yumi. “That’s my favorite kind and it’s so easy to make. All you do is add seltzer to it.”

  Emma thought about this for a few moments and frowned. “Having a bunch of different kinds of lemonade is a good idea in theory, but I think it’ll be too complicated in the execution.”

  “What if we only make two or three kinds?” asked Claire.

  “That makes sense,” said Emma. “But let’s get the basics down first. Like, for the first week is it okay if we focus on straight-up, old-fashioned plain lemonade?”

  “Sounds good to me,” I said.

  “Good. Does anyone here have a lemon tree in their backyard?” Emma asked, looking around.

  “I do,” I said, raising my hand.

  “So do I,” Emma and Rachel said at the same time.

  “We have two lemon trees, but they’re in our front yard,” said Yumi.

  “That’ll work too!” said Claire. “Everyone can pick their own lemons. Our parents can’t object to that since we’re picking them for a good cause.”

  “This is all for the pandas!” Yumi yelled, pumping one fist in the air.

  “And our own enjoyment!” Rachel added.

  “You mean our musical education,” Emma said.

  “Yes, that sounds so much better,” I said.

  “We need cups, too,” said Emma. “And pitchers to put the lemonade in, and sugar, unless we want to go with another sweetener.”

  “Like honey,” said Claire. “Or agave. My moms are way into agave these days.”

  “I’ve never even heard of agave,” said Rachel, wrinkling her nose.

  “It’s sweeter than refined sugar and way better for you,” said Claire. “I’ll bring some. We probably don’t even need to buy it because we have a huge bottle from Costco and a little bit goes a long way.”

  “If I’d mentioned agave, you probably would have said it was too fancy,” I mumbled under my breath.

  “What?” asked Rachel.

  “Nothing,” I said.

  Claire, who was sitting right next to me, definitely heard what I said but decided not to comment on it. “We’ll also need ice,” she said instead, shooting me a glance as if to warn me not to pick a fight. “It’s going to be hot out.”

  “Can everyone bring ice from their freezers?” asked Rachel.

  Everyone nodded and Emma checked ice off her list. “We are in amazing shape.” She looked up from her notebook. “Now, does anyone have a wagon so we can transport all our supplies?”

  “Oh, my baby sister does,” said Yumi. “And she can’t object to us borrowing it because she doesn’t know how to talk yet.”

  “Perfect!” said Rachel, clapping her hands.

  “And Ted has a giant cooler. It’s even on wheels,” I said.

  “Good. Now what we need is a cool name for the stand. Oh, and the actual stand. I can design that,” said Claire. “My parents won’t mind if I use their poker table and I was thinking about tie-dyeing a sheet and then writing on it with some puffy paint. Then we just need something to frame it with. I have an old puppet-show stand that’ll probably work.”

  “Why tie-dye?” asked Rachel.

  “So it’ll stand out,” said Claire. “I say the brighter colors, the better.”

  “That’s kind of your motto in life,” I said.

  Claire looked down at herself—she happened to be wearing a red-purple-and-turquoise shirt that was half striped and half polka dots. Her faded blue jeans had yellow bandanna patches on the knees. Also, she had on red flip-flops, and each of her toenails was painted a different color of the rainbow. It all sounded kind of scrappy, I realized, but on Claire it totally worked. And she knew it!

  “It’s been working out well for me so far,” she said.

  “It’s an interesting advertising strategy,” said Emma, nodding thoughtfully. “Certainly, eye-catching is good.” She took some more notes.

  “What do you keep writing down?” asked Claire, looking over Emma’s shoulder. “A profit and loss statement? Are you putting together an entire business plan?”

  “Of course,” said Emma. She tucked her hair behind her ears and gave a closed-mouth grin.

  “Is that necessary?” asked Claire. “Kids have been making lemonade stands for centuries.”

  “And we want to make sure ours is the best,” said Emma. “That means we’ve got to think about branding. People need to know that our lemonade stands for something: quality and great taste, freshness, and general deliciousness.”

  “So what do we call the stand so it conveys all those messages?” Claire wondered.

  “ ‘Please buy some lemonade so we can go to a concert,’ ” said Yumi.

  “No, make it about the pandas,” said Emma. “If people think they’re contributing to a good cause—and they are, indirectly—they’ll be more likely to spend money.”

  “ ‘Lemonade for Pandas,’ ” said Claire.

  “Oh, I like it!” I said.

  “It’s simple and to the point,” Emma agreed.

  “Yeah—it’s perfect,” said Yumi.

  “Lemonade for Pandas it is,” Rachel agreed.

  “So where should we set up our storefront?” asked Emma. “Or our stand-front, I suppose I should call it.”

  “How about right here in Canyon Ranch?” asked Rachel. “This is where all the rich people live. They’ve got lots of extra money to spend for the pandas, I’ll bet.”

  “There are plenty of normal people in Canyon Ranch,” I argued.

  “Sorry, didn’t mean to offend you,” said Rachel.

  “I’m not offended because I’m not rich,” I said.

  “How come saying you’re rich is offensive?” asked Rachel. “I wish I were rich.”

  “Look, none of us is exactly starving,” Claire pointed out. “We all have nice places to live and cute clothes and plenty of food to eat.”

  “But some people have bigger houses than others,” Rachel said. “And more clothes, too.”

  “Why are yo
u so obsessed with pointing that out all of the sudden?” asked Claire.

  “I’m not obsessed,” said Rachel.

  “You kind of are,” said Yumi.

  “How come you’re all picking on me?” Rachel cried.

  “Can we please stop talking about money?” said Emma. “And start working on actually making some? Rachel, back to your point about having the lemonade stand in this neighborhood: I actually don’t think it’s the best idea because there’s hardly any foot traffic on these streets. We need to be somewhere more public.”

  “Like the mall,” said Claire. “Except we can’t sell anything at the mall without a permit. I know, because my brother tried to sell his old baseball cards there last year and someone called the police on him.”

  “Did he get arrested?” I asked.

  “No, some security guard came over and made him stop. But even though he got off with a warning, it was still plenty scary.”

  “Why don’t we set up near the playground?” I said. “It’s baseball season and there are tons of games on Saturday. Oliver’s team is playing. …”

  “Wait, are you trying to use our lemonade stand as an excuse to see your boyfriend?” asked Rachel.

  “I don’t need an excuse to see my boyfriend,” I reminded her. “He only lives eight houses away.”

  Rachel rolled her eyes. “As you keep reminding us. We all know you live in Canyon Ranch now, Annabelle. Don’t worry—we won’t forget.”

  “I didn’t even mention Canyon Ranch.”

  Emma held out her hands and said, “Stop fighting, guys.”

  “We’re not fighting,” I said. “I’m only stating some facts.”

  “As am I,” Rachel said in the prissiest tone I’d ever heard.

  I glanced at my watch, wishing all my friends would go home. It was a pretty lousy sentiment, I realized, but I couldn’t help myself. This whole day was turning out to be rotten, thanks to Rachel. Whenever she opened her mouth, I automatically felt defensive and on edge. I couldn’t help it. And it wasn’t just that Rachel was in a grumpy mood, because she was fine with everyone else. Rachel had been acting mad at me for days—ever since I moved to Canyon Ranch.

  “So are we set?” I asked.