Page 10 of Lemon Crush

“The state is so huge, they have a little of everything. Which is good, because we’re going to be staying here for a while.”

“Longer than Studio City?”

In California, we’d lived in a tiny apartment—so small she’d slept on the pull-out couch so Morgan and I could each have our own rooms—for a year and a half while she worked on a television series. She’d had an office on the studio lot, where I got to hang out and help after school until my sister got home. I’d missed it since we moved to New York seven months ago.

Her blonde curls whipped around her face as the wind rushed through the open window and she laughed, pushing it out of hereyes. “That’s the plan, pumpkin. High school is very important, and Morgan wants to stay in one place so she can rule the school. That’s why I accepted the job with this casting company. They’re doing more films here, and I’ll be teaching commercial acting classes for them whenever there’s a lull. The best part about it is, I’ll have more time to spend with you. Because you are my sunshine, my only sunshine,” she ended with a song, her hand stretching out to tickle me, as if I were still a kid.

I almost laughed, but my stomach was twisted with worry at the thought of starting at another new school. I’d never ruled any of them. By the time I got there, most of the class had known each other for years and usually thought I was lame.

“Can I tell people you’re famous?” I asked hopefully, thinking of the kids in California who couldn’t stop talking about what their parents did for a living. If it was movie related, they had tons of friends. Mom worked on movie sets all the time, but she had rules about not “telling strangers our business.”

She eyed me reproachfully before turning back to the road. “I’m not famous, August. I sometimes work with people who are famous. And you know bragging isn’t an attractive quality. Actors might have interesting jobs, but who you are is more important than what you do or who you know.”

“I know. But your job is better than acting.”

She pinched my cheek gently. “Buttering me up won’t make me change my mind. Anyway, I don’t know why you’d waste time talking about me when you’re already so incredibly cool.”

I snorted in disbelief.

“You are! Those poems and short stories you write? How kind you are? This is going to be a fresh start for all of us, and this time everyone here is going to love you as much as I do.”

I eyed her cynically as we turned into the cracked driveway of a mud-brown house.

“We’re here,” she said.

Before I could take in our new home, movement in the driveway next door caught my eye.

There was a tall, cute boy around Morgan’s age standing next to a beat-up old car with the hood up. Beside him, tugging on his shirt, was a girl with two dark braids, wearing jeans, a tank top and, unexpectedly, a tutu.

She was pointing right at me.

“Look at that,” Mom exclaimed delightedly. “I think I already see a friend in your future, and she’s right next door. It’s Fate, August. This is the universe telling us we’re supposed to be here. Can you feel it?”

We could all feel it. After that first day, the Rettas and the Hudsons became inseparable. Wade and Morgan. Me and Bernie. Mom and their stepmom, Yvonne. Weirdly, we never met Bernie and Wade’s dad. In the entire time we lived next door, he’d never come home from his trucking job, though Mom said we weren’t allowed to talk about it.

Other than that, we’d all been happy.I’dbeen happy.

Then, at the not-quite-two-year mark, she’d gotten a job offer back in California that was more important to her than I understood at the time. I was only thirteen. Unions and pay scales meant nothing to me. All I knew was that we were all moving again. At least, I thought we were.

My world was knocked off its axis when Morgan decided to stay behind without us. She was still months away from turning eighteen, but she’d made her case with irrefutable logic and an unbending will that our mother couldn’t find a way to work around. After long discussions and some difficult goodbyes, Mom and I had left and she’d moved in with the Hudsons until she finished her senior year. Then she’d gone to college, gotten her degree and come back to stay.

Morgan had made a place for herself here. Put down roots. Bought a house and gotten married.

Now she literally ruled the school as its principal.

When I came back four years ago, my place in the pecking order hadn’t changed all that much. I’d gone from introvert who read a lot to introvert who talked to herself a lot and wrote story ideas on napkins at the dinner table.

But I didn’t feel the same welcome that I had the first time. I couldn’t seem to find my seat at their table, and I didn’t get any of their inside jokes.

I was pretty sure I was still lame.

I’d become so lost in my memories that I was surprised to notice Jiminy pulling back into my driveway as if on autopilot. However I’d gotten home, I was glad to be back. I’d had more than enough of this emotionally draining day.

Five minutes later, computer on my lap and drink in hand, I was snuggled up on the couch and ready for a much-needed distraction.

24 Hours of Lemons: Racing for Real People

The first page of the website had a picture of a car painted with rainbows, clouds and sparkles. It had a unicorn mane and horn on its roof, and there was an arrow pointing to it with the words “Serious racecar” that made me smile. This was what Gene and his friends had been up to for the last few years.

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