by Megan Atwood
To my parents, who are the most amazing parents a person could hope for. I love you both to the moon and back (and I miss you, Mom).
CHAPTER 1
Bubble Gum, Cotton Candy, and Birthday Cake Swirl with a Cherry on Top (But No Whipped Cream Because That’s Too Sweet and We’re [Mostly] Not Maniacs Here)
Sarah sprinted out of the house, barely slowing down enough to yell, “GOING TO THE GARRISONS’!” at her mom. Her mom always knew anyway. Sarah practically lived at the orchard down the road—after all, her best friend lived there. She hopped on her bike and pedaled hard.
She rode past the long fence that traveled the property. Past the little ice cream stand that ran in the summers. She rode past rows and rows of apple trees, a big red barn, and a big gravel parking lot. As she rode she took a deep breath of the summer air. She loved the smell of the orchard, especially in the summer. But today the ride to Lizzie’s house was taking forever. Because today Lizzie and Sarah were going to find out if they would get to run the ice cream stand for the summer. Alone. For the first time.
Sarah rode up the long gravel driveway and then hopped off while her bike was still going. She dropped the bike on the ground, one wheel still spinning, and ran to the wraparound porch, stomping up the wood steps. Lizzie stood just outside the door, bouncing on her toes, her blondish-brown hair bouncing with her. “You’re here!” she said. Sarah would have snorted at anyone else. Because, duh. But she’d known Lizzie for so long that she knew that translated to: “You’re late.” And “You took forever.” And “I’ve been waiting.” Lizzie couldn’t seem to say words that made other people feel bad.
Sarah held her side and took a deep breath. “Had to . . . shelve . . . books.” As the only child of the only librarian in town, she often had to fill in for any missing volunteers. That meant shelving a LOT of books. She didn’t even like to read that much. Plus, her mom always had her do the books for babies. The last one she’d shelved was called I Pottied, Too.
The screen door opened and Lizzie’s mom, Ms. G, breezed out, something sticky on her cheeks and fudge smeared around her mouth. She licked the fudge off and said, “Here you are, Sarah!” in her booming voice. Around Lizzie’s mom, Sarah always felt like she was caught in a whirlwind.
She grinned. “Ms. G, you have marshmallow on your face.”
Ms. G grinned back. “One must fully immerse oneself in an experience to truly understand it.” She wiped her face with her hand and winked at Sarah.
Lizzie’s teenage sister, Gloria, suddenly popped out of the screen door. “ACTING!” she yelled. Then popped back inside. She had probably been walking down the huge staircase inside and heard the word “immerse.” Sarah had learned that words like “immerse,” or “method,” or “feelings,” always seemed to make Gloria pop out of nowhere and yell “ACTING!” Evidently, they were words famous actors used. Gloria said they were part of the “craft,” whatever that meant. Ever since she had decided to be an actress two years ago, she’d taken the whole thing very seriously.
Most of the time, Sarah had no idea what Gloria was talking about. All she knew was that Gloria had gotten a scholarship to acting camp for a whole month of the summer. Leaving Lizzie and Sarah the most likely candidates to run the stand—the youngest Garrison-and-best-friend duo ever. IF Lizzie’s parents agreed. Gloria was three whole years older than Lizzie and Sarah and heading into high school next year. Lizzie and Sarah had to prove to the Garrisons they were just as mature as Gloria. They thought that was a no-brainer.
Ms. G said, “Well, come in, you two! I just have to find that spacey husband of mine and we can give you the g—” She stopped herself and then put on a serious face. “The news, that is. We’ll see if it’s good or bad.”
Sarah shared a look with Lizzie. This was DEFINITELY promising. A zing of excitement shot through Sarah, making her whole body vibrate. Lizzie bounced on her toes again and squeaked.
“Have you seen your father, darling?” Ms. G’s hair was now stuck in the marshmallow on her cheek.
Lizzie furrowed her brow. “Last I saw him he was in the backyard, I think. He was kind of just staring up at the gazebo.”
Sarah couldn’t blame Mr. G. The gazebo was one of Sarah’s favorite places in the whole orchard. She and Lizzie had had their best talks in there.
“Ah,” Ms. G said. “All right then. I’ll go scare him up and you two go sit in the kitchen, yes? We’ll talk about your summer fate.” She winked at them and then whirled down the porch steps.
Gloria popped out. “ACTING!” she yelled. Then popped back inside, slamming the screen door.
“How was that . . . ?” Sarah started.
Lizzie shrugged. “I have no idea how that had anything to do with acting. She’s just, you know. Creative.” Lizzie grabbed Sarah’s hand. Her eyes twinkled. “Come on, let’s go sit down. Mom has an ice cream bar set up.”
Sarah didn’t have to be told twice. She followed Lizzie into the sprawling house with the creaky wood doors and the huge staircase. Lizzie patted the banister three times and Sarah followed suit—they always did that when they came in together. Sarah couldn’t remember when they’d started doing it. It was just what you did when you came into the house.
Now Sarah and Lizzie sprinted past the banister and through the sunroom. They rounded the corner to the huge dining room that sat outside the kitchen cutout. The gigantic wood table didn’t have its usual centerpiece with wildflowers and a bowl of apples. Instead, at least six types of ice cream from MOO—the ice cream store the Garrisons bought the orchard stand’s supply from—sat on the table. Next to the tubs sat sprinkles and caramel, fudge and strawberries, maraschino cherries and whipped cream. Even things like cookie crumbs and candy bar pieces sat there. Sarah’s eyes went wide.
Best. Summer. Ever.
Lizzie and Sarah slowed down and circled the table. Sarah knew exactly what Lizzie would want. She’d go for a plain base—vanilla—and then pile different kinds of chocolate on it. After being friends basically since they were babies, Sarah knew everything about Lizzie. She watched and smiled as Lizzie picked up a spoon and headed toward the vanilla.
Sarah grabbed a spoon and was about to scoop some ice cream too—peanut butter swirl, of course—when Mr. and Ms. G walked in, holding hands. They giggled at each other. Sarah thought it was kind of cute but also really gross how much they seemed to love each other. In moments like these, she was glad her mom wasn’t with anyone.
Mr. G cleared his throat and pushed up his glasses and said, “Sorry, girls! Just envisioning a glorious new gazebo! Maybe we could turn it into a dance floor—”
Ms. G interrupted. “Maybe next year, dear.” Mr. G always had a jazillion ideas for the orchard. But, unfortunately, hardly any of them were realistic. Even Sarah knew that. One time, Mr. G had tried to get her and Lizzie behind the idea of buying a bunch of white horses and gluing unicorn horns to them. Sarah and Lizzie had barely talked him out of it. Ms. G always said, “My honey has million-dollar ideas with zero-dollar follow-through.”
Unlike Sarah and Lizzie. Their ideas made sense. Their ideas could even make money. Like their favorite idea of all time: a zombie hayride during the fall harvest! But there was never enough money to put one on.
Ms. G said, “Well, girls, why don’t you take a seat.”
Lizzie and Sarah looked at each other, wide-eyed.
This was it.
They both sat down. Lizzie grabbed Sarah’s hand and Sarah squeezed. Her mouth watered at the mingled smells of chocolate, vanilla, and strawberry.
Mr. G grabbed some bowls and set them down, and then he and Ms. G sat across from Lizzie and Sarah. Sarah could hardly breathe.
Mr. G looked at Ms. G and she nodded. They both smiled wide. He said,
“I love zombies!” and sat back triumphantly.
Sarah looked at Lizzie. Lizzie looked at her mom. Her mom cleared her throat.
“What your father means, honey”—she patted Mr. G’s hand, and he still beamed, but now looked dreamily out the window—“is that we want to offer you and Sarah the positions of ice cream stand operators for the whole summer.”
Sarah whooped and Lizzie smiled hugely and clapped her hands. Sarah’s mind went wild, thinking of all the things this meant.
First, they could have all the ice cream they wanted.
Second, they had all the power they wanted. Well, that Sarah wanted, anyway. She could give only a few toppings to people she didn’t like. Or heap toppings on for people she did. How good an ice cream sundae was depended on the mix of the ingredients—everyone knew that. The wrong amount of an ingredient could ruin a sundae. She had the power to make or break a person’s sundae enjoyment. An awesome power.
Third, this meant they would make money all summer. Sarah loved having money. She’d be able to go to all the movies she wanted with Lizzie. Especially the scary ones—her and Lizzie’s favorite kind. New Amity didn’t have a movie theater, but the bigger town of Hanoverville did.
Fourth, and most important of all: this was a tradition. Gloria and her best friend, Jeff, had run the stand, and Ms. G and her best friend before that. And before that, Lizzie’s grandmother and her best friend. Normally, though, the best friends were fourteen years old—the age they for sure could be trusted with such an important task. So this meant Mr. and Ms. G trusted Sarah and Lizzie with the whole ice cream stand’s success, even though they were only eleven.
Ms. G smiled her gigantic smile and said, “But there’s more.”
Mr. G said, “Honey, have you seen my glasses?”
“They’re on your head, dear,” she said, then went on. “If you two can make five thousand dollars’ profit from the ice cream stand over the summer, we will have enough money to finally run a zombie hayride.” Mr. and Ms. G sat back and smiled at the same time.
“WHAT?!” Sarah yelled, jumping to her feet.
Lizzie squealed. “This is . . . ,” she started, but then just looked around with a huge smile on her face. Sarah knew she meant “FINALLY WE GET TO DO THIS! I’M SO EXCITED! THIS IS SO COOL!”
Sarah and Lizzie grabbed each other’s hands and jumped up and down, whooping, making their chairs squeak across the floor. Sarah felt a tide of relief wash over her, from a worry she didn’t ever admit to herself that she had.
The thing was . . . Sarah wasn’t exactly worried about her and Lizzie’s friendship. Not really. Except . . . she’d been noticing lately that they didn’t always like the same things anymore. Sarah liked running and sports and math—Lizzie didn’t. Lizzie liked reading and drawing and English—Sarah didn’t. But a zombie hayride was something they both loved. They’d been talking about it forever. A zombie hayride would just add that one more thing that would make their best-friendship even stronger. The ice cream stand and the zombie hayride together? She and Lizzie would be invincible. Sarah whooped even louder and nearly fell over.
Lizzie’s parents laughed at them, but then Ms. G got a serious look on her face. “This means you have to work long hours and have to make sure to get a lot of customers. Otherwise, this won’t work. Do you think you can do this? Five thousand dollars is a lot of money.”
Lizzie and Sarah looked at each other. Sarah stood up tall. Lizzie did too. They both said, “We can do this.”
Sarah set her jaw. Nothing would get in the way of them making that money and putting on a zombie hayride. Nothing.
Mr. G winked at them, and Ms. G said, “Well then, it’s settled.”
Sarah hugged Lizzie hard. Just her and her best friend, an ice cream stand, and then a zombie hayride, like they’d always planned.
Best. Summer. Ever.
CHAPTER 2
Double Fudge Whammy with Three Types of M&M’s and Two Mounds of Whipped Cream. Plus a Dollop of UGH.
Three more,” Sarah said. She looked at Lizzie, who was sticking her tongue out as she drew a cherry on one of the flyers. She had glitter in her eyebrows and on her nose. She gave a thumbs-up and Sarah grinned.
The wood floor she and Lizzie sat on looked like a glitter bomb had exploded. She uncapped the glitter glue pen and drew a heart over the “I” in “ice cream” on her fifteenth flyer. She and Lizzie had spent hours on these flyers. She was pretty sure they were the best flyers the town of New Amity, New Hampshire, would ever see. She blew on the glue to help it dry.
“So,” Sarah’s mom, Anahita Shirvani, said as she walked into the room, a warm smile on her face. She had glitter on the front of her glasses. Her shoes sparkled. A corner of her eyebrow glinted. When she leaned over to look at their masterpieces, her long black hair had glitter all through it. She hadn’t even been in the room since they started. “I do appreciate a good glittering. However, I am wondering when you might be cleaning up?”
Sarah translated this to “You’re glittering my library books.” Frankly, Sarah thought this made them look better. Maybe it would make people pick up more books.
She put the cap back on the glitter pen. “We have three more to do. Where do you think we can put them up in town?” She crossed her fingers. Her mom wasn’t always the best at giving advice.
Her mom’s face lit up. “I have just the thing!” She turned on her heel and disappeared.
Sarah groaned. Her mom was definitely grabbing a book. This never ended well. For some reason, her mom could never find the right book for her. She could look at a stranger in the library parking lot and guess what they needed. But with Sarah, she always seemed to be a little off. Her last recommendation had been a book on garden gnomes. Which was fine—garden gnomes were cute. Except Sarah had asked her what she needed to do to get a basil plant to grow.
Lizzie and Sarah shared a look. Lizzie smiled and looked down, stifling a giggle. Sarah grinned.
Sure enough, her mom returned and put a book down in a puff of glitter.
“Here you go!” Ms. Shirvani flourished her arms, as if it was a gold crown. To her, Sarah thought, every book was a gold crown.
She looked at the title of the book. Boom or Bust? Early Marketing Techniques of the Frontier. Sarah raised an eyebrow and Lizzie giggled. “Uh, thanks, Mom,” Sarah said. “This is great.”
Her mom tried. She always tried. She wanted Sarah to like reading. And Sarah didn’t hate reading, really. But only as a last resort when she was bored. She just wasn’t bored a lot—who wanted to sit around all day when there were things to do?
Now Sarah’s mom leaned down and kissed her on the forehead. Sarah could feel the glitter poking her skin. “Of course!” her mom said. “That’s what I’m here for. I need to get back to work. Readers need things to read!” A flicker of doubt passed over her face. “Hmm. It occurs to me, in looking at this book I brought you, that this isn’t the frontier.” She sighed. “This might not be exactly what you were looking for. . . .”
Sarah got up and hugged her mom. “It’s great, Mom.”
Her mom squeezed her back. “My entrepreneur!” She let go of Sarah and said to herself, “Maybe a book on entrepreneurs? What about Lean In . . .” She walked out of the room, leaving eddies of glitter trailing after her. Sarah saw two handprints on the back of her mom’s sweater where she’d hugged her.
Oh, well. Glitter made everything better.
Lizzie said, “I love your mom.”
Sarah smiled. She knew what the rest of the sentence was: “I love your mom, but that didn’t help us at all. Still, she’s a really great mom and you’re lucky.” She thought there might have been a “And your flyers are the best” at the end of Lizzie’s thoughts too.
Sarah looked at the clock. The grand opening of the stand was in a week, on the following Saturday. They needed to get the flyers out today, since Saturday was when most people in New Amity visited the stores on Main Street. “Let’s get going. We need
to get these up so everyone can see them!”
She could practically smell the ice cream. Candy swirl, bubble gum, chocolate peanut butter . . . When she looked at Lizzie, she knew she was feeling the same thing.
Lizzie grabbed the flyers and the tape. “Let’s do some frontier marketing!”
Sarah burst out laughing.
“Where to first?” Lizzie asked, sweat already starting at her temples. Sarah knew she hated the summer. Not Sarah, though. The hotter the better. Still, she needed to get Lizzie to some air conditioning STAT.
“Okay, I have a plan,” Sarah said, making up a plan as she spoke. “Um, we just zigzag down Main Street. It’s better than hitting one side first.” She sniffed so she sounded like she knew what she was talking about. She’d seen it in a movie once, maybe.
It didn’t work. “Why?” Lizzie asked.
Sarah smiled. “I don’t know. But it sounded good, right?”
Lizzie giggled and then puffed up her chest. She put on a British accent, immediately making herself sound hoity-toity. “Because everyone knows, dearest Sarah, that zigzagging is the only civilized way to put up flyers. Tally ho!”
They burst out laughing. Lizzie could do any voice at the drop of a hat. But she only ever did voices around Sarah. Which was fine with Sarah. She knew how awesome Lizzie was—who cared what anyone else thought? That was what being a best friend was about.
Sarah tried to mimic a British voice too, but it just came out sounding like an alien new to Earth and to any kind of language. They doubled over laughing.
This was what the ice cream stand would be like every day. Best. Summer. Ever.
“Okay,” Lizzie finally said. “Let’s ask Sheriff Hadley first, since he’s right across the street.”
Sarah wrinkled her nose. She liked Sheriff Hadley, but he kept asking her mother out on dates. It was gross. Her mom and Sheriff Hadley on a date was almost as bad as Lizzie’s parents holding hands.
Lizzie winked at her and then put her clasped hands under her chin. “Oh, Sheriff Hadley,” she said, batting her eyelashes. “I’d love to go to a science fiction convention with you!”