Monkey Business

by Leslie Margolis

  “Oh,” I said, my smile fading as I noticed the boys. Some were drinking Limonata. Some were drinking Capri Sun. Some had bottles of water or Gatorade. But all of them had something to drink.

  “Do you mind going away?” Rachel asked rudely, shooing Oliver.

  “Rachel, what is going on with you?” I asked.

  “What’s going on with you?” she replied. “How come you’re letting your boyfriend mess with our stand?”

  “How is he messing with the stand? He was our first customer. Do I need to remind you that he bought two lemonades?”

  Oliver looked back and forth between us, totally confused.

  Rachel angrily pointed at him. “You’re standing in front of our sign, drinking a huge sip of lemonade from somewhere else.”

  “Limonata is more like a soda,” said Oliver. “Plus, Annabelle just reminded you that I already bought yours.”

  “There’s no limit. You could totally buy more, which would be much healthier than that lemon-flavored soda,” said Rachel. “Ours is sweetened with agave nectar.”

  I couldn’t believe how she was acting. My other friends had backed away a bit. My guess was that they were surprised by her strong reaction.

  “Rachel,” I said gently.

  “What?” she snapped. “The whole point of the lemonade stand is to earn money, right? I know you don’t need it, but there are other people with a lot at stake.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked.

  “You know Ted is rich and he would buy your concert ticket if you asked him to.”

  “That’s not true,” I said. “We’re all in this together.”

  “Some of us are more in it than others,” she said.

  “You’re right,” I said. “And some of us are still contributing all our money!”

  “You guys, stop fighting!” said Emma.

  “We’re not fighting!” Rachel and I shouted at the same time.

  We hung out at the park for another hour and sold a few more cups of lemonade. But by two o’clock, the park was empty.

  “I think it’s too hot for lemonade,” said Emma. “If that’s possible. Maybe we should just pack our things up and go home.”

  “I agree,” said Claire. “But let’s count our profits first, so we at least know all our hard work was worth it.”

  This seemed like a good idea, so Emma opened up our cash box and began counting.

  There seemed to be a lot of dimes and nickels in the box, and not so many dollars. This was not a good sign, but I kept my hopes up. Claire crossed her fingers as we all stared at the money.

  Moments later Emma looked up, distressed. “We only made eleven dollars. That means we sold twenty-two cups of lemonade.”

  “After four hours of work? We made less than two dollars an hour and that’s among the five of us.”

  “So each of us made about thirty-six cents an hour,” said Claire. “We could make more money than that looking for change in our living room couch cushions.”

  “We can try again next weekend,” I said. “I’ve still got plenty of lemons on my tree.”

  We all looked to Emma, who was doing some calculations in her notebook. “Sorry, guys. Even if we double our sales next weekend we still won’t make enough money in time. We need a new plan.”

  Everyone snapped to attention and looked at Yumi, who was cradling her right hand, real tears streaming down her face.

  I tried reassuring her. “It’s not so bad,” I said. “We still have plenty of time to raise the money.”

  “It’s not that!” she yelled. “I got stung by a bee!”

  Chapter Nine

  Washed-up at the Car Wash—and not in a Good Way

  Yumi is not allergic to bees, which is pretty much the best thing that happened today. And when your best friend not being hospitalized for a life-threatening allergy is the highlight of your day, you know it was pretty rotten.

  We hurried back to her house, and her mom pulled out the stinger and gave us some Neosporin and a Band-Aid. Then we headed back outside and sat down on Yumi’s front lawn in the shade. None of us spoke for a while—we were all too hot and sticky and exhausted, not to mention seriously depressed.

  “So what’s the new plan?” asked Rachel.

  “Yeah, we need to figure something out,” said Claire.

  Yumi examined her Band-Aid, while Rachel picked a blade of grass, folded it, put it to her lips, and tried to whistle.

  Then, before any of us had the chance to speak, a red station wagon drove by. It was old and dirty and spewing smoke out of its tailpipe.

  “That car is so gross,” Claire whispered.

  “Shh,” said Rachel. “They’ll hear you.”

  “They can’t hear with the windows up,” Claire said.

  “You never know,” I said. “Plus, it’s rude to say that. Maybe they can’t afford a better car.”

  “The car is fine. My point is, it’s filthy, and anyone who has a car can afford to keep it clean,” said Claire.

  Suddenly my ears perked up and my brain began to whir as a new plan unfolded—a plan with an extra dose of awesome-sauce.

  Most cars needed a serious washing at some point. And every single kid I knew had a parent with a car. Some people I knew even had extra cars. And all those cars had to get clean, which meant one thing. …

  I stood up and raised my fists above my head in a cheer for victory. “Hey, I know. We can have our own car wash!”

  And that’s how we ended up in the parking lot of Home Depot the following Sunday. Yumi’s neighbor was the manager of the store, and he gave us permission to set up in front of it.

  Home Depot was the best place to be because everyone went there on the weekend. At least that was what Ted told me.

  And it did seem perfect—I had a really good feeling about things. We’d spent Saturday afternoon getting ready and everything had been a snap. All we needed were five giant buckets, a bunch of sponges, rags, and carwash soap, and a hose. Oh, and a uniform—that was Emma’s idea. She thought we’d look more professional if our clothes matched. And luckily we all had jean shorts and green T-shirts. Claire managed to recycle our lemonade stand sign. Now the gigantic tie-dye sheet read, CAR WASH FOR PANDAS. TEN BUCKS! With the five of us lined up in front, we looked like old pros.

  “This is going to be awesome!” I said a few minutes before the Home Depot officially opened.

  “I know—the profit ratio is much higher,” said Emma. “We can charge ten dollars per wash. That means we only have to wash seventy-five cars to reach our goal.”

  “Seventy-five cars is a lot,” said Claire. “Me and Olivia washed our moms’ two cars a few weeks ago, and it took us all morning.”

  “Maybe you should sell some muffins, too,” said Emma. “People can eat them while they wait!”

  Claire thought about this for a moment. “I suppose it could work,” she said.

  “I’m kidding!” said Emma.

  “Oh,” said Claire. “Sorry!” She glanced at her watch. “What time does the store open?”

  “In five minutes,” said Yumi, blinking as she looked out at the sea of asphalt. The parking lot was empty except for us.

  Rachel had brought along an old boom box so at least we had music. The radio was tuned to our favorite station, and after a bunch of commercials, we finally got to hear a familiar song: “When You Left” by Kylie Granger. It was sort of half country and half rock and all great.

  Also? It was the kind of song that was so catchy, I couldn’t help dancing—even on a Sunday morning in the middle of a parking lot.

  Luckily, my friends seemed to feel the same way. None of us could keep still, so we basically became a five-person, parking-lot dance party.

  After the song, the DJ came on and said, “Kylie Granger is kicking off her summer tour and she’ll be appearing at the Panda Parade in Indio in six short weeks. Tickets are on sale now!”

  “Kylie Granger is going to be in Indio too?” asked Claire. “
It keeps getting better and better. I so wish we could buy tickets now.”

  Emma frowned at the radio. “Me too. And I just had a terrible thought. What if they sell out before we raise the money?”

  “Ugh, the pressure,” Rachel said, holding her head in her hands.

  “I know. He had to remind us that we only have six weeks left,” I agreed.

  “I’m sure the cars will arrive any minute now,” said Claire. “And we’ll be on our way!”

  All five of us stared in anxious anticipation at the entrance to the parking lot. It’d been almost an hour since we’d gotten set up. Sure, we were having fun, but it would’ve been nice if we could have fun while washing cars and making some ticket money.

  After a few moments of nothing, Emma asked, “Have you guys ever heard that old saying, ‘A watched pot never boils’?”

  “Are you implying that if we keep staring at the parking lot entrance, no one’s gonna come?” asked Yumi.

  Emma shrugged. “Sort of.”

  “You’re right,” Yumi said with a nod as she readjusted her baseball cap. “We’ve gotta find something else to do. I should’ve brought a ball so we could play catch or something.”

  “Maybe we don’t need a ball,” I said, staring at the buckets lined up on the sidewalk. Each was filled to the brim with soapy water and a giant sponge. I took out one of the sponges, wrung out as much water as I could, and took a bunch of steps back. Then I tossed the sponge into the bucket, where it landed with a splash.

  “Yes!” I said, raising both hands above my head. “It’s car wash basketball!”

  “Nice one,” said Claire. “Let me try.” She took her own sponge out of the bucket and stepped backward about six paces.

  “I think it’s too easy from there,” I said. “Why not move back a few more steps?”

  “Okay.” Claire took five giant steps backward, aimed, and shot. Her sponge hit the side of the bucket but bounced off.

  “Close,” I said.

  “Let me try next,” said Rachel, grabbing the sponge off the ground and moving back to where we stood.

  She shot and made it in the bucket, and we all cheered. Then Emma said, “Guys, look. It’s a car!”

  An old truck pulled into the parking lot, and a man and a woman got out. They were both dressed up. He wore a suit and she was in a lavender dress.

  “Would you like us to wash your car while you shop?” asked Claire.

  “It’s only ten dollars,” I added.

  “We’re raising money for pandas,” said Yumi, coughing. “Well, indirectly. We’re trying to buy concert tickets for a show benefiting panda bears.”

  “They’re endangered,” Rachel said.

  The man smiled at us. “Oh, I wish I’d come here first, but I just got the car washed earlier this morning.” He wasn’t making things up: his truck gleamed in the sun. There wasn’t a spot on it.

  “Good luck to you all,” said the woman he was with.

  “Thanks,” I said with a wave.

  They strolled on into the store, hand in hand.

  “What a cute couple,” said Yumi. “I can see me and Nathan shopping for hardware together when we are grown up and living in the same time zone.”

  “I thought you guys broke up again,” said Rachel.

  “Yeah, that was yesterday,” said Yumi. “But as of this morning we’re back together again. He texted me at six a.m. to ask me out.”

  “That’s so early!” I said.

  “It was eight o’clock in Michigan,” said Yumi.

  Right then another car came into the lot—this one was a shiny silver Mercedes SUV. Shiny, as in clean and sparkly, so we didn’t even bother asking if the owner wanted it washed. Clearly, he didn’t need it.

  Six cars later, though, a dirty old Ford pickup pulled in. I think it was navy blue, but it was hard to tell underneath all the grime.

  “Finally!” said Claire. She pulled her hair up into a bun on top of her head and readjusted her headband.

  Then the five us ran toward the car, making it there before anyone even managed to climb out.

  “Can we wash your car?” asked Claire.

  The driver had long blond braids and bright blue eyes. She wore skinny jeans and a white tank top. “Oh, a car wash. Awesome, I totally need that, but I don’t have enough cash at the moment,” she said. “Do you take credit cards?”

  We sighed collectively. “Not exactly,” said Emma. “But do you have any cash? Because we can negotiate.”

  The lady dug in her purse and pulled out two quarters and a penny. “This is all I’ve got.”

  We stared at the fifty-one cents. A penny more than we’d sold a cup of lemonade for.

  “I don’t think we can wash your car for that,” said Emma. “I wish we could take credit cards. I didn’t even think about that.”

  “So sorry!” she called as she waltzed off with her hands in her pockets.

  We stared at her dirty car and then at the parking lot, which was not as busy as we’d expected it to be.

  “I don’t get it,” I said. “This plan seemed perfect, foolproof. Amazing.”

  “Wait,” said Emma. “I think we’re in business.”

  She pointed to the parking lot entrance as five—count ’em, five—cars pulled in at once. And none of them was exactly spotless.

  We decided to spread out, so we could each hit up one of the drivers.

  I walked over to a lady in a blue sundress and heels getting out of a black minivan. “We’re washing cars for ten dollars,” I said. “Are you interested?”

  “I wish I could,” she said, as she tucked her purse under her arm. “But my church is doing a car wash fundraiser today, and I need to get it done there.”

  “Your church is washing cars?” I asked.

  “Yes,” she said. “All Saints does it every Sunday for the months of May and June. It’s a tradition, not to mention one of our biggest fundraisers.”

  “Um, where is All Saints?” I asked.

  “Right down the block,” she said, pointing to the left. “You know the large brick building with the white cross on top? It’s the biggest church in town.”

  “Oh,” I said. “Well, thanks anyway. And good luck to you.”

  “You too!” she said. She raised her hand to shade her eyes from the sun as she squinted at our sign. “Oh, you’re raising money for pandas? I love pandas!”

  “Me too,” I said.

  She dug into her purse and came up with a dollar. “Please add this to your fund. And I’m sorry I can’t have you wash my car, but my nephews are waiting for me at All Saints.”

  “It’s no problem,” I said. “Um, thank you for your donation.”

  I jogged back to my friends, hoping they’d have better luck than I did.

  “So?” I asked Yumi, who was already there.

  “No dice,” she told me, shaking her head. “My dude said he didn’t have time, and I promised him we’d be fast, but he said maybe another time. So I told him we’d probably be back next weekend although I don’t know.” She glanced at her watch. “It’s already ten forty-five and we haven’t made a dime.”

  I pulled the crumpled dollar out of my shorts pocket and showed it to Yumi. “We’ve made ten dimes!”

  Yumi’s eyes got way wide as she looked back and forth between me and the minivan. “We’re washing that lady’s car for a dollar?” she asked.

  “No, she just gave me a donation. She’s going to All Saints to have her car washed.”

  Yumi’s shoulders slumped in disappointment, and I knew exactly how she felt.

  A few moments later Emma came over. “Don’t tell me,” she said, her voice flat with disappointment. “The people in your cars already have plans to get their cars washed by the high school cheerleaders at the grocery store.”

  “No, at All Saints,” I said. “Wait, the cheerleaders are having a car wash as well?”

  “Yup,” said Emma, wiping some sweat off her brow with the back of her hand. “It wou
ld’ve been great to know about that yesterday, before we sprung for supplies.”

  “What do we do?” I asked once the rest of us regrouped.

  “We need to stay here and stick it out,” said Rachel. “It hasn’t even been an hour.”

  “Hey, look,” I said. “It’s my mom.”

  My mom pulled up next to us and climbed out of her car. “You girls look fantastic!” she said.

  “That’s actually bad news, Mrs. Stevens,” said Emma. “We’re so clean because we haven’t washed any cars yet.”

  “Well, please wash mine—I’m in desperate need of a power drill and a car wash,” she said. “And I’m pretty excited I get to take care of both chores in one place.” Once she climbed out of her car, she fished around in her purse until she found a twenty.

  “Here you go,” she said.

  “Oh, we don’t have change yet,” I said. “Sorry!”

  “Want us to wash it twice?” Claire joked.

  My mom laughed. “No, why don’t you girls keep the change? I know the money is going toward a good cause.”

  “Okay!” Emma said, putting my mom’s twenty in the cash box.

  A little while later, Rachel’s and Yumi’s moms showed up.

  So in hour three we made forty-one dollars, although we hadn’t actually washed a car that belonged to someone who hadn’t given birth to one of us.

  Finally an actual stranger came up to us. “You’re washing cars?” he asked.

  “Yup. For ten dollars,” said Emma.

  “Okay,” said the man. He pointed out his truck, which was parked at the far end of the lot. It was caked in dirt and mud, and it was definitely the dirtiest car I’d ever seen in my whole entire life.

  “Good luck!” he said, handing us exact change.

  We carried our supplies over to his truck and got to work scrubbing and rinsing and scrubbing some more. Somehow, instead of merely cleaning the car, we came out looking as if we’d magically transferred all the filth from his car onto our bodies. And it turned out that his car had plenty of filth for the five of us! The car looked great and the dude was so thrilled, he gave us a two-dollar tip.

  We hung out at the Home Depot parking lot for another hour, and we managed to wash two more cars. By the end of the day all our ponytails had drooped. We were sunburned and exhausted and wet and tired.