The Great Peach Experiment 1

by Erin Soderberg Downing

  “Welcome to Hayward, Wisconsin,” Freddy said, as they all tumbled out of the huge vehicle. “This fiberglass muskie is also the home of the Fresh Water Fishing Hall of Fame. It’s four and a half stories tall, and as long as a Boeing 757. Pretty cool, huh?” He pulled out his sketchbook and began drawing a mutated version of the fish. Herb giggled as his brother drew huge teeth and horns, making the giant muskie look much more terrifying than it did in real life. At least, he hoped muskies didn’t look like that in real life, or he’d have to remove lakes from his swimming goal. No way would he put his feet anywhere near a fish like that!

  The rain had finally let up—for good, it seemed—so the family found a grassy space to set up their picnic. After just a few bites of her sandwich, Lucy lay back in the grass and disappeared inside her book. She had already finished both A Night Divided and Amina’s Voice, and was now reading Fish in a Tree.

  Seeing his sister with her book gave Herb an idea. He raced back to the food truck and grabbed his copy of The Penderwicks. This was the novel he and Lucy had been reading together, chapter by chapter, each night before bedtime. When he was lucky, she’d read him a chapter during the day, too. Now, he dropped it on his sister’s belly and said, “Read?”

  She muttered, “I’m reading my own book.”

  Herb pleaded, “Please? Then everyone can listen to the story. We just got to an exciting part, remember?”

  Lucy reluctantly sat up and cradled The Penderwicks in her hands. Herb knew it was one of the books on Lucy’s summer reading list, but he also knew she’d already read it three times before. One of the reasons Herb loved the story so much is that it was about a family of fun siblings and their really nice dad who have an exciting summer adventure together. Now that his family was on a similar adventure, Herb was enjoying the book even more.

  “Are you two reading a book together?” Dad asked, holding out his hand for a look.

  “Lucy reads me a chapter every night,” Herb announced. “Sometimes I read a page to her, too, but Lucy has to help me with some of the hard words.”

  “You’re reading novels already?” Dad asked, looking shocked.

  Herb stuck out his chin proudly. “Yep. I’m a good reader.”

  “I see.” Dad nodded. “How wonderful.”

  “Well?” Herb said, turning to Lucy. “Are you going to read to us or not?”

  Dad clutched the book tighter in his hands. “Would it be okay if I read the next chapter? To everyone? Maybe we could do a family read-aloud this summer?”

  Lucy and Herb exchanged a surprised look. Then Lucy shrugged her approval, while Herb flopped down on his belly and perched his chin on his hands. “I like the character Skye best,” he told his dad. “I think you will, too.”

  “I see,” Dad said again, opening the book to their folded-down page. Freddy continued to draw, while Lucy pulled out one of the LEGO three-in-one sets she’d packed for the trip. Dad stretched his legs out in front of him and cleared his throat. “Skye, huh? If she’s your favorite, I can’t wait to meet her.”

  From the Sketchbook of Freddy Peach:

  KILLER MUSKIE

  The giant muskie in Hayward, Wisconsin, was insane!

  13

  WORLD’S SMALLEST POOL

  After their picnic, eaten in the shadow of Hayward’s giant fiberglass fish (which, even Lucy had to admit, was pretty awe-inspiring), the Peaches got back on the road.

  Dad suggested they push on through and drive all the way to Chicago that night, so they could get up and try to sell more pies the very next day. “We’ve got a lot of hard work ahead of us if we want to have any chance of winning the Food Truck Festival!” he explained. But there was a lot of cheering when, a few hours into the evening’s drive, Dad yawned loudly and announced that he was too tired to drive any farther.

  So the family stopped for the night between Minneapolis and Chicago, at a rural campground somewhere in the middle of Wisconsin. Though it was dark when they arrived, there was a sign at the campground entrance that promised an outdoor pool and a game room. Since it was long past bedtime, Lucy told Herb she would take him to the pool first thing in the morning.

  As soon as they had their tents set up, Lucy stretched out inside her sleeping bag and tried to read, but she fell asleep with her book open almost as soon as her head hit the pillow. She slept soundly until morning, waking from a deep sleep when her little brother zipped open her tent and begged her to take him to the pool. Lucy consulted her watch and decided that eight o’clock was late enough. Herb had gone almost one whole week of summer break without stepping foot in a real pool, and if they’d been home, she would have taken him to the community center pool at least four times by now.

  The three Peach kids changed into their swimsuits, stuffed Herb into a life jacket for extra safety, and followed a trail of rickety wooden signs to the campground’s outdoor pool. They left their Dad to drink his morning coffee and read his articles in peace. As they headed off, Dad called out, “Hustle back—we can’t afford to waste time!” Lucy groaned inwardly, but flashed him a thumbs-up.

  There was a big, thick iron fence around the pool, but the gate wasn’t locked. Lucy pushed it open, and the Peaches got their first glimpse of the campground’s “pool.”

  “Do you think we’ll all fit into this puddle at the same time?” Freddy asked, laughing. “Or maybe we should take turns? I bet I could jump from one side of the pool to the other without actually landing in the water!” Then he added, “I think I saw a picture of this exact pool in Guinness World Records, under the category ’World’s Smallest Pool.’ ”

  Lucy giggled. “It’s totally possible all the water in this pool will overflow if all three of us get in at the same time.” Nevertheless, she tossed their towels onto the only chair that fit on the pool deck and dragged her big toe through the water. The pool was chilly, but the air was warm enough that she knew it wouldn’t matter. “But I’m willing to risk it.”

  Herb was the only one who didn’t seem at all fazed by the size of the pool. It was wider and deeper than a bathtub, and he didn’t have to wash his hair while he played. Lucy knew that was all that mattered to him. “Incoming!” he howled, cannonballing in. Water sprayed in all directions, soaking his siblings. Herb bounced to the surface of the water, then bobbed up and down in the middle of the pool. If he reached his arms out as wide as they would go, he could almost touch both sides.

  But a pool was a pool, and within just a few minutes, all three kids were floating and splashing and had made up a game involving a found Ping-Pong ball and one of Herb’s life jacket straps. They could have played for hours, but not long after they got in, Dad appeared at the gate and told them it was time to hit the road.

  “Just a few more minutes?” Herb begged. “Come in with us! It’s fun.”

  Dad shook his head. “Time to go. There are people in Chicago who are waiting for pie, and we can’t afford to dillydally!”

  Freddy hopped out and shook the water out of his hair. A few seconds later, the other two dragged themselves out of the water and wrapped up in towels. Herb shuffled his feet as they followed their dad back to the campsite, his toes growing dustier and dirtier with each step.

  “We’ll swim again soon,” Lucy whispered to him.

  “Tomorrow for sure,” Herb whispered back. “Dad promised we could swim every day. And a promise is a promise.”

  Lucy wrapped his little hand in hers. Dad’s promises didn’t always mean much. “I hope so.” What she didn’t want to tell her brother is that they would be driving right by Wisconsin Dells that very morning. Wisconsin Dells was, according to its website, “The Waterpark Capital of the World”—and it was also Herb’s dream vacation destination.

  The previous afternoon, when she and her dad were out of her brothers’ earshot, Lucy had suggested that perhaps they could stop at the Dells as a special treat. “We’re reall
y not in any rush,” she reminded him. “It would be a bonus adventure. Something fun for us to do along the way. Isn’t that an important part of this family experiment?”

  “Nonsense,” Dad had said, adjusting the brim of his big, dorky hat. “We have a schedule, and a game plan, and there simply isn’t time to make day-long stops just on a whim. For an experiment to succeed, Lucy, you can’t just drop everything willy-nilly when something better comes along. You’ve got to focus.” He nodded resolutely. “We’re trying to make a go of this food truck business, and we need to keep our eyes on the prize. We have a lot of work to do to prepare and perfect our business model if we’re going to be ready for the Food Truck Festival in Ohio.”

  So Lucy dropped it. Though there had been a few moments during the past few days when Lucy had begun to wonder if maybe her dad could change and help figure out a new way to be as a family, conversations like this always reminded her of why she’d stopped trusting him several years ago. He could never be the parent her brothers so desperately wanted him to be, and it was her job to manage their expectations.

  But then, just as they were loading up the last of their stuff and climbing into the truck to hit the road, Dad informed them that their route had changed. “I have a fun surprise,” he said cheerily. Lucy felt a glimmer of hope. Dad went on, “We’re going to be making a bonus stop on our route.”

  Did Dad have a change of heart? she wondered. Is he actually making an effort to stop and do something fun as a family? Lucy glanced at Herb; she was excited to see his reaction when he found out they’d be stopping at Wisconsin Dells to swim and ride waterslides all day. Maybe there was hope for this trip after all!

  Dad went on, “I was able to pull some strings, and I have very good news. We are taking a detour, kids. Hold on to your hats, because we’re going to be stopping for a few nights to sell some of our delicious pies in exciting, fun-filled Madison, Wisconsin!”

  Herb—who’d been looking up at Dad like he was some kind of hero—cheered loudly at this news.

  “Wait a second. We have time to take an unplanned detour because you want to,” Lucy cried, lifting her eyebrows. “But not for us, for fun?” As far as she could tell, this detour did not sound exciting.

  “What’s so fun about Madison?” Herb asked hopefully, before Dad could answer Lucy’s question.

  Dad cleared his throat, and said proudly, “Good ol’ Madison just so happens to be the city where I finished my undergraduate degree in geochemistry!”

  Herb blinked. “Oh.”

  Lucy wanted to say, “See? Not exciting,” but she held her tongue.

  “It’s also the second-largest city in Wisconsin,” Freddy offered with a weak smile. “And I guess this is kind of an exciting fact: Madison’s official city bird is a plastic pink flamingo. So, um…yay?”

  Dad clapped him on the shoulder. “That’s the spirit, Freddy-boy. That’s. The. Spirit.”

  From the Sketchbook of Freddy Peach:

  HOW TO SPEND A MILLION DOLLARS

  When I sell some of my art to the Minneapolis Sculpture Garden, I’m going to buy a private island and fill it with roller coasters, waterslides, hidden tunnels, and a bunch of weird, random sculptures: messy piles of socks, empty food boxes stacked up so they look like a massive Yoda, statues made out of dirty cans. Stuff like that.

  Dear Aunt Lucinda,

  Today we drove past Wisconsin Dells and Dad didn’t stop. You can see EVERYTHING from the highway—waterslides, fountains, pools. It was torture. I tried to keep Herb distracted by doing card tricks while we went past, but it didn’t work. He didn’t miss a thing. Poor Herbie.

  Random Q: Have you ever thrown a pie in someone’s face? I’ve had to whip a lot of cream for pies lately, and I keep wondering what it would feel like to pie someone or get pied. I think it would feel kind of good—cold, smushy, and sweet. It’s been hot, and the truck is always like a thousand degrees hotter than the world around it, so ANYTHING cold sounds pretty good to me.

  Love,

  Lucy

  14

  MUSIC FESTIVAL FINDS & FRIENDS

  “This is it!” Freddy cheered early Saturday morning, as he whipped cream for the top of the turtle pies. “I can feel it. This is going to be the weekend we turn things around.”

  “Our pies do look pretty good,” Lucy said. She stood next to the countertop filled with baked treats—apple crumb pie, Aunt Lucinda’s peach pie, creamy turtle pie, and blueberry lattice pie. “This is the best batch yet.”

  Freddy agreed that their pies looked great. He also knew they tasted great. He had taken it upon himself to spoon out a little sample from each bowl of pie filling before it got wrapped up inside its crust that morning. Freddy felt this was a noble gesture and another important contribution to the family business. Someone had to taste the pies before they sold them to customers, and he was as good a candidate for that job as anyone. (Better than Herb, that was for sure. Herb actually cried when their dad threatened to make him eat more pie. Big wimp.)

  When all their pies were prepared and tucked into the truck’s coolers and cabinets for safe transport, the Peaches made their way to the giant, dusty vendor lot set up on the outskirts of the Midwest’s Premier Blues Music Festival. As soon as they arrived, Freddy quickly scanned the other food trucks getting ready for a weekend of big business.

  From where he stood, Freddy could see signs boasting hot dogs, cotton candy, Thai ice cream (which he would need to investigate further), barbecue, smoothies and salads, gyros, sushi (he wondered how they kept that fresh inside a metal truck on a hot day), Korean barbecue, Philly cheesesteaks, and the “World’s Largest Sandwiches” (Freddy was certain this claim could not be true, since he had seen photos of the World’s Largest Sandwich and it would not fit on any of the trucks in this lot). The air smelled like hot oil and french fries, and giant generators cooked up suffocating heat and unpleasant noises all around them.

  Freddy loved everything about it: the people, the heat, the smells, the noise, the dirt, the hustle and bustle. It was exciting!

  After helping his family get set up for their day of service and writing out their current menu on the chalkboard, Freddy wandered around getting to know a few of their food truck neighbors. Jim the cheesesteak guy was from Kenosha, Wisconsin, and he had recently become a vegetarian—which Freddy found fascinating for a guy who sold meat shavings on a roll. The Thai ice cream couple were apparently a bestselling vendor at the Minnesota State Fair—Freddy convinced them to do a product swap so he could try their delicious ice cream, which they made by pouring some ice-cream-batter-type stuff on a super-cold surface before scraping it into curly, creamy, frozen tubes. A burger truck—operated by a skinny lady named Aretha, who lived in Madison—sold big, stuffed burgers that made Freddy’s mouth water. The food selection was incredible, unlike anything he had ever seen before.

  But nothing—not even all that yummy food—could beat the people-watching. Every time Freddy got a break from working the counter in his family’s truck, he wandered around the festival grounds sketching rough illustrations of some of the people he saw. The beards and mustaches on some of the guys were varied and interesting enough to fill dozens of pages in his sketchbook.

  Freddy dared his brother to sneak up behind the very hairy guy they’d nicknamed the Yeti, touch his beard, and sneak away before the fellow noticed him. Freddy could tell Herb was tempted—he never liked to let dares go unanswered—but he took a pass and double-dared Freddy to do the same thing. Freddy got close but backed away at the last second. There were probably things living inside the Yeti’s beard—possibly even a family of mice, and Freddy wasn’t willing to risk it.

  With so much to see, and so many hungry people swarming the food truck lot, the day passed quickly. Shortly after three o’clock, Dad declared, “We are sold out!”

  “Everything?” Lucy asked, incredulous.

 
“We even sold three batches of Herb’s Cinnaballs to that guy with an Abe Lincoln beard,” Dad said.

  “Victory!” Herb cried, raising his fist high and proud. “Herb’s Cinnaballs for the win!”

  “Nice,” Lucy said, a huge smile on her face.

  “Nice indeed,” Dad agreed. He pulled his wide-brimmed hat off his head and mopped his brow with an orange bandanna.

  Freddy was relieved that they’d finally had a good day of sales. He so badly wanted the Great Peach Experiment to be successful, and he loved seeing his family celebrate together. Tomorrow, he was sure, would be even better. They were on an upswing; he could feel it. Money was rolling in! “For tomorrow, I think we should make double the number of pies we sold today,” he said eagerly. “In just four hours we sold every slice today—and it’s still early. I think we could easily sell twice as many tomorrow. With the right number of pies, we could make some serious moola.”

  Dad nodded his agreement. “If we’re going to do that, we’ll have to divide and conquer on some of tonight’s tasks. We need to stock up on supplies and ingredients, clean out the truck, and mix up a whole lot of fresh dough.”

  Freddy piped up. “Herb and I can work together to clean the truck and empty the tank.” The gray water tank held each day’s used water. Freddy found the process of emptying it fascinating, which was lucky, since both Dad and Lucy gagged when they had to handle that particular job. There was a surprising number of unappealing tasks that had to be done every day when you ran a food truck—cleaning, scrubbing, emptying disgusting things, picking up trash. Freddy liked all the weird, gross jobs. Unless it involved mice or mouse poop, he was willing to do any of the icky stuff (but he left all the mousy tasks to his little brother).