Chapter Fourteen:
Top Secret
I stuck the stamp to the corner of the envelope. Inside was the apology I wrote to Coach Carpenter and a check from Dad for fifty dollars. I wished that were the end of it, but no, I still owed Dad twenty-two dollars more for the repair. There went a couple of good days of water fighting.
“Joey,” Mom called from the kitchen. “Parker is coming. Get that letter out to the mailbox now. Tomorrow is the Fourth of July so there won’t be any mail.”
I’m sure Mom expected me to start running, but her words caused me to freeze. The next day was the Fourth of July? That meant it was my last chance to win the bet. I looked up toward the ceiling, trying to figure out how much I had to make to average over ten dollars an hour.
Mom stuck her head around the corner. “Now, Joey.”
I shook away my thoughts and rushed outside. It was a waste of energy, though.
Parker sat idly parked by our curb.
I moseyed the rest of the way to our mailbox.
The bottom half of Parker’s body was all that could be seen. He leaned into the back of the jeep and tossed envelopes about. It kind of reminded me of that crazy chef on “The Muppets.”
“I’ve got something for you,” I said.
Parker jerked and hit the back of his head on the steering wheel. “Hang on, little dude,” he said before diving back into his mess.
I just stood there looking around. Where was Christine? She rarely missed a chance to make goo-goo eyes at Parker.
“So how did golf camp go?” Parker’s voice echoed back to me.
“Uh … I got to drive a golf cart.”
“Groovy.” Parker sat on his heels and took my letter. “See, I told you it wouldn’t be so bad.”
“Actually …” I leaned against the mailbox. “I’m thinking about taking gymnastics.”
Parker nodded, reminding me of a bobble head. “That’s a tough sport.”
I wrinkled my eyebrows together. I’d never thought of gymnastics as a sport before. Hey, that meant I was good at a sport. “There’s just one problem though. This girl that I hate takes gymnastics, too.”
Parker narrowed his eyes. “Do you really hate her? Or do you hate the fact that you like her?”
I sighed. “She’s different than other girls. I started to think that maybe we could be friends, but then she dumped a bucket of water on my head.”
Parker didn’t laugh at me like I thought he would. “Whoa, dude. It sounds as if she’s a girl you should have on your side.”
I considered his idea. “Maybe. She might be fun. But I don’t want her to be my girlfriend.”
Parker shifted back into his seat to share his wisdom with me. “I hear ya. Girlfriends are a lot of work.”
I wondered if Parker had a girlfriend. That was information Christine would pay me for. “Do you have one?”
“No way.” Parker grinned.
I grinned back. “My little sister, Christine, thinks you’re cute.”
Parker opened his mouth to say something, but all the entire neighborhood heard at that moment was a scream from behind me.
I turned in time to see Christine’s horrified face.
“Jo-ey!” she yelled, threw an ice cream cone at me, and ran toward the house, slamming the door behind her.
The ice cream stuck to my shirt. The cone fell to the ground.
I looked down at the blob then back up at Parker. “Oops. I guess I shouldn’t have told you that.”
Parker shrugged. “No worries.”
I wanted to follow Parker’s lead and shrug off my mistake. I mean, Christine threw her ice cream cone at me. How funny was that? But for some reason my stomach turned over like Mom in a dive roll.
“See ya, dude.” With a wave, Parker sped away.
I jogged back to the house.
Mom stood in the entryway with arms folded across her chest. She frowned at me before turning toward the empty stairway. Then, doing a double take, her gaze swiveled back to my T-shirt. “Where did you get ice cream?” The way she said it, you’d think she caught me hijacking another golf cart. She disappeared into the kitchen and returned with a paper towel to clean me up.
“Um …” I looked down. “It’s Christine’s. She threw it at me when I told Parker she thinks he’s cute.”
“Oh, Joey.” Mom sighed. “So that’s why she stormed up the stairs. Go up and apologize to her. I’ll talk to her about the ice cream later.”
I shivered at Mom’s plan. Yes, I needed to apologize. It was the other part that worried me. I could imagine her buying a lie detector just to quiz us about our snacks. Goodbye, ice cream man. There went my will to work. As I climbed the stairs, my thoughts refocused on my job. The Fourth of July was huge for picnics. If I worked two hours and averaged twelve dollars an hour, I would win the bet. If not—
“You jerk.” A bottle of nail polish ricocheted off the wall by my head. “I can’t believe you told Parker I like him. I can never go outside again.”
And I thought my mom was the dramatic one. I ducked as a stuffed cat sailed through the air. I dropped to the floor and did an army crawl into Christine’s bedroom to avoid the pink hailstorm accosting me.
Christine jumped on top of her bed and whacked me with a heart-shaped pillow.
“Stop it.” I grabbed the pillow and ripped it out of her hands. “I’m sorry I told your secret, all right?”
“No. It’s not all right. My secret was …” She mellowed down. “My secret.” She spoke quietly and climbed off the bed. It scared me even more than Cannonball Christine.
“What?” I asked suspiciously.
Christine stood and headed for the door. “You told my secret, so I’m telling yours.” She ran.
I dove after her and tackled her in the hallway. “Isabelle told you my secret?” That blabbermouth.
“Yeah.” Christine kicked at me and clawed toward the stairs. “And I’m going to tell Mom.”
“Don’t you dare.” I clung to her ankle. “Mom already knows you were eating ice cream today. If she finds out about the bet and that we buy ice cream all the time, she’ll lock us in our bedrooms for the rest of the summer.”
Christine paused. “You told her I bought ice cream?”
“I didn’t have to. It was all over my shirt when I came in the house, thank you very much.” I pulled Christine away from the stairway.
“That’s your fault, too.” She twisted around to poke me in the chest. “You owe me an ice cream cone.”
Ridiculous.
She couldn’t blame me.
I didn’t make her toss her treat. I would never buy her another cone, but I might … “Look, tomorrow is the last day of the bet. If I beat Chance, I’ll share the out-of-this-world triple dip with you. As long as you don’t tell Mom and Dad.”
Christine narrowed her eyes. “You think you’ll win?”
I nodded as much to convince myself as her. “I only have to make twenty-four dollars in two hours. With the park as crowded as it’s going to be, that should be a snap. Maybe you could help me.”
Christine pulled away and sat with legs crossed. “Maybe.” She gave me an evil smile.
I didn’t trust her. “You’re not going to rat me out?”
“Don’t worry about that.” She stood up. “I’ve got other plans.”
That didn’t make me feel any better. “So we’ve got a deal?”
Christine skipped back to her room. “I’ll be ready to water fight in the morning.”
The Water Fight Professional Page 18