The Great Peach Experiment 1 Erin Downing (spicy books to read .TXT) 📖

What do you say? Good adventure, or great adventure? I think it’s exactly how your mother would have wanted us to spend the money.”

Herb clapped and gave Dad a big hug. “That does sound like a great adventure!”

“What about your wor—” Lucy began.

But before she could finish her sentence, a man stepped out of the food truck and thrust a clipboard at their dad. “I checked everything over and it all looks good. Sign here to confirm delivery,” the guy said, “then I can be on my way.”

While the adults took care of business, Herb crept over to the massive vehicle and popped open the big door at the back. It creaked and groaned as it swung wide. He longed to climb up into the back of the truck to see what treasures were hidden inside, but he couldn’t get his knee high enough to slide in. He hopped back down and covered his nose. “Pee-yew,” he announced. The truck smelled a lot like their big plastic trash bin next to the garage on the day before the garbage collectors came.

“Mom sold a million-dollar invention and Dad bought a used food truck?” Lucy muttered. Herb thought his sister sounded annoyed. But then she gently wrapped her hands under Herb’s armpits and boosted him up into the truck. He giggled and rolled aboard.

As soon as Herb was in, Freddy and Lucy hopped up. Standing in tallest-to-shortest order (and longest-to-shortest hair order)—Lucy, Freddy, then Herb—the Peach kids looked very much like an age progression of the same person: All had almost matching greenish brown speckled eyes that they’d gotten from their dad, and thick, messy brownish hair that they’d gotten from their mom. Except Herb, who had almost no hair at all (Freddy had helped him shave it all off after head lice took over his second-grade classroom for the fourth time that school year). Though the three kids looked alike, they could not have been more different. But Lucy always said their differences in personality helped make it easier for the three of them to get along.

Together, the Peach kids began to explore. The inside of the truck was grimy, and the air stale. It smelled awful, and Herb noticed some shriveled-up pieces of old, brown lettuce tucked into a few of the corners. There was also a mound of something orange-green and mysteriously smooshy-looking in the middle of one of the countertops. There were rags tossed about, and a half-full trash can inside a cabinet. How did this “look good,” Herb wondered, remembering what the deliveryman had said.

The space was smaller than Herb would have expected. There was just a long, narrow passageway to walk through, and the rest of the truck’s insides were filled with equipment. One side of the interior had a long metal counter, and underneath was a row of shiny cabinets that slid and swung open. Up above that counter were more shelves and storage areas. Toward the front of the truck was something that looked like a large, shiny oven with a whole bunch of different chambers. There were also several short refrigerators and freezers, a small stove and griddle thing, and even a sink. Herb quickly scanned the space, searching for the beds. Dad had said they would be traveling around the country in the food truck, and he couldn’t figure out where they were going to sleep.

“I call this counter for my bed!” Herb cried out, eager to claim dibs on a prime spot before it was too late.

“We’re not going to be sleeping in here, you neener,” Freddy said, bonking him on the head with his hand.

“Then where are we sleeping?” Herb asked.

“Hotels, I assume,” Lucy said. This announcement made Herb excited. Hotels had pools!

Just as Herb clambered up onto one of the counters to explore the shelves and cubbies higher up, Dad poked his head around the back door of the truck. “Well?” he prompted. Herb thought his dad looked a little nervous. “What do you think?”

“It needs a good scrubbing,” Freddy said, his head buried deep inside one of the fridges. He pulled out a bag with a chunk of something that looked like moldy cheese.

“I think it’s beautiful,” Herb chimed in.

“The oven is almost new,” Dad said proudly, pointing. “Isn’t it great? I knew it must be a sign that I was on the right track when I found the perfect used truck for sale. This one was originally a custom-built truck for a family like ours—it has a special cab with two rows and four seatbelts up front, so we can all ride together, plus room underneath the cab for luggage. And everything is apparently in great working order. It’s a pretty basic kitchen, but we’ll make do.”

“Wait…,” Lucy said. “You didn’t spend a whole million bucks on this piece of junk, did you?” She was the most sensible of the Peach kids. In a very adult-sounding tone, she continued, “I seriously hope you set aside some of the money for other things, like charity and college and paying off debts and retirement savings.”

“Y-yes,” Dad said, stuttering slightly. “That’s exactly right, Lucy. In fact, I donated a large portion of Mom’s earnings to a cancer-research charity—that’s certainly one thing she would have done if she were still alive. I also set a chunk aside to help with college for you kids, and our house payments.” He sighed. “But I also thought Mom would like to see me use a small portion of the profits for fun. She was always encouraging me to take more risks and let loose a little. So, I put some of the money aside for us to use as a family—ten percent of what remained after taxes.”

“Ten percent of $1.3 million is $130,000,” Herb announced. They had been working on percentages in his special advanced math program that spring.

Lucy added, “So, assuming we need to save about forty percent of that for taxes, that means we have about seventy-five thousand bucks left over to