The Water Fight Professional

by Angela Ruth Strong

  Chapter Sixteen:

  Signed, Sealed, Delivered

  “So Chance has to kiss me, huh?”

  I didn’t say anything.

  Isabelle tried to slide down the slide, but her wet clothing clung to the plastic. Screech, screech. She scooted forward a couple of times, then stood up. Squeezing drops of water out of her ponytail, she found a scrap of rubbery balloon in her hair.

  That tended to happen when I cornered someone in the playground and completely drenched him or her.

  “That was awesome. Maybe we should become business partners.”

  All I could do was smile.

  “Come on. Let’s go find Chance.”

  I followed behind her. I should have been elated about winning the bet, but instead my stomach tightened as if I were a water gun and somebody had pumped air pressure into me.

  Isabelle shivered. “I should probably dry off before Chance buys us the out-of-this-world triple dip. I’m freezing.”

  “It’s hot out here.” I blabbed the first thing that came to my head. “You’ll dry off fast.” I looked down, feeling too weird to make eye contact.

  Isabelle giggled and pranced through the grass. “There he is.”

  Chance crossed the street from the park toward our block.

  Isabelle darted through the growing number of bodies crowding the park.

  I jogged to keep up, leaping over a blanket with a toddler on it. Either she was really excited about ice cream or she wanted Chance to kiss her.

  “He’s never going to believe you beat him, Joe,” Isabelle called back to me.

  I don’t know which part of Isabelle’s statement made me more nervous—her elation that I beat Chance or the fact that she called me Joe. Joe. As if we were best friends or something.

  “Chance, wait,” she yelled.

  Chance glanced over his shoulder and grinned once he saw me. He stuck his thumbs through his belt loops and waited for us on the corner between my house and his.

  When we caught up with him, I bent over with my hands on my knees and gulped air.

  “Hi, Isabelle. Hey, Joey, you ready to pay up? I see Dan, Dan, the Ice Cream Man’s truck parked over by the picnic shelters.”

  “Um …” I sucked in another breath.

  Isabelle took over. “Joey didn’t lose, Chance. You did.”

  Chance gave an unsure half smile. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

  I opened my mouth but didn’t get a word out.

  Isabelle put her hand on my shoulder.

  Goosebumps popped up on my arm as if I were the one soaking wet.

  “It’s true. I helped him, and he made twenty-four dollars in one hour. That’s more than you’ve ever made mowing lawns.”

  Chance stood there speechless. Finally.

  My turn to talk. I rubbed my shaky arms, feeling the way I had the first time I ever stood on top of the high dive at the swimming pool. And just like that time, I dove in. “I didn’t win, Isabelle,” I said.

  Both heads spun and looked at me.

  Isabelle blinked. “But you shot five water balloons at me. That costs five dollars exactly. And that’s all you needed to win.”

  I grinned sheepishly. “I didn’t take the money from Mr. Clairmont.” Those five water balloons had been the highlight of my summer. There was no way I could charge a customer for that.

  “What?” she squeaked.

  “What?” Chance squeaked too. “That means you have to kiss Isabelle.” His eyes widened. “You lost on purpose. You like Isabelle.”

  “Joe.” Isabelle choked on the word in disbelief.

  I stepped forward so that Isabelle and I were toe to toe. My heartbeat thumped in my ears.

  Isabelle just stared at me.

  I took a deep breath that could be felt through my entire body, then I smooshed my lips together, ready for my first kiss.

  Isabelle ran. She shot off down the sidewalk.

  Chance and I stared after her retreating back.

  “Joey,” Christine called to me with her sing-song you’re-in-trouble voice. She glided up to us on her scooter, but I didn’t even look at her.

  I was too busy watching Isabelle run away. She was fast. I would never catch her.

  “Mommy wants to talk to you.”

  I looked down at my sweet, weirditating little sister. She’d actually helped me become friends with Isabelle. But I didn’t have the time to talk at the moment, so she just needed to take her scooter and—

  Take her scooter.

  “Christine, I need your scooter.” I grabbed her pink handlebars and stepped on the smiling face of a Barbie decal.

  Before she could argue, I’d already rolled away.

  I pushed off the pavement and the wind lifted my hair. Bumping over cracks in the sidewalk, I zoomed like a plane preparing for takeoff.

  But Isabelle had gotten quite a head start and was still too far away.

  Parker’s mail jeep glided next to me. “Nice wheels, dude,” he called.

  I glanced sideways, and the sight of the mail jeep gave me an idea. “Parker, I need you to cut off Isabelle.” I pointed.

  Parker peered down the sidewalk. “You want me to stop that girl running away from you and your cute little scooter?”

  I grinned. “Yes.”

  Parker shrugged. “Okay.” He zipped away.

  I pushed harder and watched as the mailman passed Isabelle and turned into a driveway.

  Isabelle slowed down since her escape route had been blocked. She stopped to catch her breath.

  That was all the time I needed. As she looked back to see how far she’d gotten, I rolled beside her and bumped into the jeep. Dropping the scooter, I leaped in front of her so she couldn’t circle around the vehicle and keep running.

  “Joe, you’re crazy.” She panted.

  “So are you,” I blurted. “That’s why I want to be your friend. You’re not the prissy princess I thought you were.” Then, before she could talk some sense into me, I leaned over and kissed her on the cheek.

  Fireworks exploded overhead—not because it was an amazing kiss, but because it was Independence Day. Though the kiss wasn’t as awkward as I thought it would be.

  “Sweet.” Parker leaned through the jeep’s doorway, watching the whole scene.

  I smiled like a goofball over at Parker. He was crazy, too, thank goodness. “You know you don’t have to deliver mail today, don’t you?” I asked.

  “Huh?” Parker frowned at me. “So that’s why I was the first one at work.”

  Isabelle laughed, and it sounded good.

  I joined her.

  She smiled at me.

  “Josiah Michaels.”

  Oh no. Mom was on the warpath.

  “Your name is Josiah?” Isabelle lifted an eyebrow.

  Most people didn’t know my real name. “Josiah is a king in the Bible.” I hoped that made me sound cooler.

  Isabelle jabbed her chest with a thumb. “My middle name is Esther.”

  A queen? Better than a princess. “I think you’re a lot of fun, but I don’t want to be boyfriend/girlfriend.”

  Isabelle crossed her arms. “Good. Boyfriends are a lot of work.”

  Mom marched down the sidewalk. “I can’t believe you attacked your little sister. You are grounded from the park for the rest of the summer, young man.”

  I guess I deserved that. “I’m sorry, Mom.”

  Chance joined us. “Maybe you can mow lawns now.”

  Never. That was ridiculous. I’d just purchased my water gun. My mind wandered back to the day the Turbo Drench came in the mail and Mom used it for watering her plants. I put my hands on my hips. “I won’t mow lawns. No, I’m now Joey Michaels—Flower Watering Specialist.”

  Isabelle mimicked my posture. “Me too. Joe and I are good business partners.”

  Normally I would have argued. What boy wants a girl for a business partner? But now I knew that I was lucky to have Isabelle on my side.

  Christine stomped past m
e and picked up her scooter. Glancing up at Parker, she purred like a kitten. Then turning to face us, she roared like a lion. “Mom,” she said through clenched teeth. “You can’t let him start a new business. He’s a troublemaker.”

  I thought about all the trouble I had made. Crashing golf carts, wrecking wheelchairs, swiping scooters. I held my breath, waiting for Mom’s judgment.

  Mom looked me over. “I think a business would help him stay out of trouble. And he’s good at it.”

  It was nice to feel as if I was good at something for a change. Even if others thought it was goofy.

  “No.” Christine sassed. “That’s just gazpacho.” As soon as the word came out, her eyes grew wide and her hands flew up to cover her mouth.

  Mom’s forehead wrinkled. “Gazpacho?”

  “I’m sorry.” Christine whimpered. “I know I’m not supposed to say bad words.”

  “Gazpacho isn’t a bad word. It’s the name of that soup I made for you guys. Remember? You loved it. You ate it all.”

  Actually, Dad had dumped it down the sink. I better tell him to inform Mom of how we really felt about her soup before she made it again.

  “Oh.” Christine looked down in embarrassment. She didn’t even turn around when Parker revved his engine.

  “I’m out of here,” our crazy mailman announced. “Have an awesome Independence Day.”

  Isabelle and I waved. I did feel pretty awesome. Christine, on the other hand, was still getting a lecture from Mom.

  “Why would you want to say a bad word? It’s offensive to others. And it’s sad. Words that didn’t used to be dirty are now used like curse words. It’s very childish behavior, Christine, and I will not allow my children to talk that way.”

  “Joey, wasn’t that your word?” whispered Chance.

  Oops. “I guess I won’t be saying it anymore.” Linking arms with Chance and Isabelle, I took a step off the sidewalk.

  “You’re not supposed to go in the park,” Isabelle reminded me as we crossed the street.

  “I’m not.” I headed down the sidewalk. “We’ll just walk around the park to the ice cream man.”

  “Yes.” Chance pulled his free elbow to his side in celebration. Now that the confusion was over, he could celebrate his victory.

  “I’ve got nineteen dollars in my pocket.” I mentally calculated my earnings the way Dad had taught me. “Two are for tithe, and two are for savings. But I’ll use the rest to buy us all out-of-this-world triple dips.”

  Isabelle smiled at me. I smiled back at my new business partner. Maybe I’d lost the bet, but I’d won a friend.

  The End

  Dear Reader,

  I was inspired to write this story when my son, Jordan, was in preschool. During a water fight at a church picnic, I could tell Jordan wanted to get involved but didn’t know how. I gave him a cup of water and told him to dump it on somebody. Then someone else offered him a dollar to dump that same cup on me. I got wet, Jordan got paid, and he fell asleep that night holding onto his dollar bill. I said, “He’s going to become a water fight professional,” and thus, my story was born.

  First, The Water Fight Professional came out in a book of short stories. Second, it got picked up to be used in English tests for students. Third, I’d written it into this novel and a publisher offered to buy it from me, but the publisher ended up going out of business. Now, as the book has finally made it into your hands, my Jordan is a high school student. And I just want you to know something: it was worth the wait.

  So whether you write stories like I do, or if you play sports like Chance does, or if you have ideas for your own business like Joey does, keep at it. Keep doing what you love. Keep being the unique person you are. And though you will probably get discouraged or distracted somewhere along the way, if you don’t give up, you too can create something so great that it’s worth the wait.

  I’d love to hear more about you and your dreams and what you learned from Joey. So come visit me at www.angelaruthstrong.com. I’ve also got some contests you can enter, games you can play, a book trailer you can watch, a series you won’t want to miss, and an opportunity for you to join me in breaking the world record for biggest water balloon fight ever!

  Keep fighting the good fight,

  Angela Ruth Strong

  Meet the Author