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

Pie Truck might actually kill me! Don’t you guys ever just want to do nothing?”

“We can’t give up now,” Freddy said seriously. Then he shook his head and plucked a perfect stick out of the wooded area at the edge of the campground. Just as Herb was jealously admiring his brother’s glorious find, Freddy broke the stick in half and handed Herb the longer piece, so they could have a stick battle. “But yeah, I hear you—a break would be nice. I’d love to have a little more time to draw and explore and stuff.”

Herb slapped his stick against his brother’s. “I forgot. How do they decide the winner of the Food Truck Festival, Freddy?” Maybe, Herb thought, they could just take the next few weeks off to swim and play and relax here at Happy Campground, and then they could head straight to Delaware, Ohio, for Dad’s big competition.

“People vote for their favorite truck, based on taste and customer service,” Freddy explained. “Then they combine customer votes with how much money each truck earns during the Festival, and that’s how they figure out each truck’s total score.”

“So basically, we’re a shoo-in,” Lucy giggled. “We’ve made…how much so far? Negative dollars on this trip?”

“We’re not exactly running like a well-oiled machine,” Freddy muttered, kicking his stick high with the toe of his sneaker.

Herb swung his and Lucy’s linked hands through the air. “Well, hopefully they have some oil for the truck at the service station. Then we’ll be well-oiled, right?”

“Oh, Herbie,” Lucy said, laughing. “If only it were that simple.”

Dear Great Aunt Lucinda,

Dad told me about some of the road trips he used to take with you and Uncle Martin. They must have been so much fun! I hope someday our family can have adventures like that. Without Mom, we haven’t really had much fun as a family the past couple years—but I think things are finally getting better? This Experiment is helping us figure out how to work together, at least a little bit. But what happens if we fail? We CAN’T fail. We just can’t.

Miss you!

Lucy

20

  DAD’S PLAN

Freddy had just finished eating a monster-sized breakfast at the campground’s buffet on Sunday morning when Dad traipsed into the dining area with a big smile on his face.

“Really good news,” Dad said.

All the kids looked up hopefully. “We’re staying here in Michigan?” Herb asked.

“They canceled the art fair in Columbus?” Freddy guessed. Because of their truck’s mechanical trouble, they had been forced to skip their next planned stop in Ann Arbor, Michigan, and were heading straight down to Ohio instead. Dad had paid for a permit to sell pie at some kind of art fair in the city of Columbus. Freddy wiggled his eyebrows, and said, “So you’re thinking we should stop in Sandusky and go on roller coasters at Cedar Point instead? Did you know that’s the Roller Coaster Capital of the World?”

Dad gave him a strange look. “A different kind of good news,” he clarified. “They have a Laundromat right here on-site at the campground!”

“That’s the really good news?” Lucy asked.

“We can finally catch up on some of the important stuff that’s fallen by the wayside while we’ve been dealing with other things,” Dad explained.

“And the ’important stuff’ in this equation is laundry?” Lucy guessed.

Dad went on, “That’s right. Lucy. I’d like you to gather up all our dirty rags, clothes, and blankets and spend the day handling laundry duty.”

“Why do I have to go to the creepy Laundromat?” Lucy huffed.

“We all need to do our piece,” Dad barked. “You’ve got to step up and do your fair share or this whole experiment will fall apart.”

Freddy watched his sister’s eyes widen. What did Dad think Lucy had been doing this whole trip? And what did he think she’d been doing for the past two years? Lucy always did her fair share. More than her fair share.

After their mom died, Lucy had been the one to comfort Freddy and Herb during the scary months that followed. She helped them get breakfast every morning, she took them to the park and built forts and read them stories when their dad was working, she created fun scavenger hunts for them when Dad brought them along to his science conventions, and she had even taught Freddy how to make French toast and scrambled eggs all by himself, so he didn’t always need to rely on her to feed him. In many ways, the past few years had been one big, fat experiment (and not the fun kind). But Lucy always—always—stepped up to do her part and more.

“That’s not fair,” Freddy blurted out after a split-second’s hesitation. “Lucy shouldn’t be the only one stuck doing laundry.”

“I can do it,” Herb offered.

“You’re too little,” Dad told him.

Herb squeezed his lips into a thin line. “I could try.”

Freddy had witnessed his little brother trying—over and over throughout this trip—to contribute and help out in his own special way: by creating Herb’s Cinnaballs; by caring for and entertaining his (terrifying) mice; by keeping tally of their truck profits with his Tiny Genius math skills; by offering Lucy hugs, even when their sister wouldn’t admit she needed one. But mostly, Herb never gave up hope that their broken family was capable of succeeding at something together, despite all their failures of the past.

Sometimes Herb wasn’t much help. But sometimes no one would even give him a chance to try. “Herb can help,” Freddy insisted. “We all can. But, Dad, couldn’t we wait and do some of this stuff tomorrow? The truck is still getting fixed, and there’s a ton of other—funner—things we could do today instead. It is Sunday. Don’t we deserve a day off?”

“There’s the lake, and the pool,” Herb chimed in. “I can show you some of my best cannonball moves, and Dad, if you came swimming with us, we’d have even teams for noodle wars.” Herb squirmed and bounced on his toes. “Ooh! And the front desk