Lemonade Mouth Puckers Up by Mark Peter Hughes

Author:Mark Peter Hughes [Hughes, Mark Peter]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: General Fiction, (¯`'•.¸//(*_*)\\¸.•'´¯)
ISBN: 9780307974396
Publisher: Ember
Published: 2012-11-01T06:00:00+00:00

We worked all morning, and then a little after midday, I noticed something odd: we were being watched. At the top of the sloping road behind the high school field sat a rusty old red Ford Focus with hand-painted racing stripes—Ray Beech’s car. Ray used to be in Scott’s old band, Mudslide Crush, but they’d broken up after he and Scott had a blowout and now they weren’t talking. And yet there he was. Even from so far away I could make out Ray’s big head. He was just sitting there alone, staring out the window, looking at all the activity from a distance. After a while Scott must have seen him too, because he started up the hill toward him, probably to ask him what he was doing. As soon as Ray saw him coming, though, he drove off.

The whole thing was weird. Why was Ray watching us? Was he up to something?

I had no idea and I didn’t have long to think about it. All of us were crazy busy, and then around one o’clock a limo pulled into the parking lot to take the band down to New York. That set off a panic. I guess we’d lost track of time somehow, and now everybody started rushing around packing stuff up. Sydney said we had to stop working even though some of the costumes still needed finishing touches.

“We’re out of time!” she called over her shoulder as she crammed a sewing machine into the trunk of her Ford Fiesta. “If we don’t leave now, we risk being late! Anything left to do, we’ll just have to do at the studio!”

All around us people were snatching up equipment and stuffing things into boxes. The plan was to take all the key volunteers down to New York in five separate cars, each driven by a volunteer parent. But there was a problem. Even though not everybody was traveling with us, it soon became clear that we hadn’t arranged for enough vehicles to hold all the extra people and equipment we needed. There wasn’t any time to make a bunch of new phone calls either. This sudden realization set off yet another panic, and I could see in the anxious faces of the band and their parents, who stood staring at the final unpacked load of giant props, that they weren’t sure what to do.

That was when Scott stepped in.

“Um … I have an idea,” he offered. “What about Penelope? The passenger seats are removable, so we could take them out and pack the stuff in there.”

“In the wiener van?” Sydney asked, her forehead wrinkling as she fiddled with a loose lock of her hair. “But it’d have to go all the way down to New York, and besides, we don’t have a driver.”

Scott shrugged. “Her exterior is old but her engine is solid. She can make it. And if you need a driver, how about me?”

Everybody stared at that yellow monstrosity with its patches of rust and that humongous plastic hot dog mounted across on top.

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