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additional two bucks. A big tub of ice cream cost only five dollars, and they could get at least twenty scoops out of each tub. Herb had done the math and realized this meant they would make thirty-five bucks per tub, give or take.

They didn’t have a ton of freezer space in the food truck, so they could only keep three tubs of ice cream on hand. But Lucy had located the nearest grocery store, just two blocks from where their truck was stationed, and Herb had happily volunteered to be the designated ice cream runner whenever they needed to buy more. He was excited about his important new job.

After a long brainstorming session, they had also come up with a fun idea for how to offload any leftover pie in the afternoon. Dad had been the one to suggest that, starting at 3:14 every afternoon, they could offer a special deal: Pie for Pi. Before closing up shop, they would sell any remaining slices of pie for $3.14.

But with hours to go before closing time, Herb wanted to sell as much pie for full price as they possibly could. So while his family hung out in the hot and stuffy food truck, Herb trotted up and down the sidewalks, waving at possible customers and sneakily peeking into shops. He was very tempted to poke his head into the little antique shop to have a look around at all the treasures hidden inside, and there was a diner that looked super yummy. But he had a job to do, and Herb was committed. Finally, his family trusted him with something big, and he wasn’t going to let them down.

He chatted with anyone who stopped to say hello, and carefully scoped out the competition. There were more than forty food trucks participating in the festival. Every truck had paid five hundred dollars to participate, and they were all gunning for the same ten-thousand-dollar prize. The food trucks were lined up from one end of the town all the way down to the Ohio Wesleyan University campus on the other end. Herb tried hard to remember everything he saw so he could report to his family. He wondered if anyone else wanted to earn that prize money as much as they did. Probably.

A few colorful trucks were selling tacos; one had a line, and Herb noticed that the people in that truck were all dancing and wearing fun hats. Another had fancy burgers, and the smells coming out of the truck were wonderful. Another truck had a sign advertising “Not Your Mama’s Mac & Cheese,” which Herb didn’t understand, since his Mama had never made macaroni and cheese (his mom had made solar clings!). Several pastel-colored trucks had cakes and baked goods. One tall truck was painted to look like a giant ear of corn. There were Hawaiian meat-and-fruit skewers, massive turkey legs, smoothies, Italian street food, and even a cotton candy truck.

Lucy had packed a lunch for the family, so they wouldn’t have to spend money at any of the competing trucks—but Herb was so very tempted. The corn truck had a dancing ear of corn that spun around on top of their truck that made him instantly hungry. But he resisted! Instead, he wandered up to some of the people in the corn truck line, and said, “Hello, I’m Herb Peach and my family makes the yummiest pies! Right this way.” He hopped from foot to foot, trying to get people’s attention.

Sometimes, it worked. Other times, it did not.

But Herb liked to think the Peach Pie Truck had a long line of customers waiting for pie almost all day because of his efforts. Freddy seemed happy, which meant business was going well. And Herb had been asked to hustle off to the store several times to refill the food truck freezer with ice cream.

By the time three o’clock rolled around, they only had a few pies left to sell. As planned, they discounted their remaining treats to $3.14 per slice, and sold out of the remaining inventory just before four o’clock. As soon as they closed up shop, the Peaches celebrated. It had been a great day.

“I don’t even need Herb to do his calculations to know we made a lot of money today,” Freddy said. “We were busy! I’m pretty sure we made back all the money we spent on ingredients and our entry fee already.”

“Can I get a whoop whoop?” Dad cheered.

Freddy made a funny face. “Um, no.”

“One whoop?” Dad said.

“Whoop!” Herb hollered, running into Dad’s arms. Dad wrapped him in a hug, and Herb immediately heard a loud pop! Then something began to hiss. Herb glanced down and noticed that his inflatable peach costume suddenly looked less like a piece of ripe fruit and more like a piece of wilted, dried fruit.

“That was a whoop oops,” Dad said, sheepishly holding up a pointy pie server. “It seems I accidentally popped our mascot.”

26

  THE FINAL SLICE

“Pie!” Freddy shouted from his perch at the food truck’s service window the next morning. “Tasty pie! Who wants fresh-baked Peach family pie?”

The second day of the Food Truck Festival started out slow. Freddy could tell that some of the energy and excitement of the first day had dwindled, and there were much smaller crowds roaming up and down Delaware’s main street. Still, he knew it was important that they keep up their energy and enthusiasm, since today, the judges would be going from truck to truck to do their scoring. They would be interviewing customers about each food truck’s customer service, and secretly posing as customers to taste everyone’s offerings. They would then combine that score with each truck’s total profit for the festival in order to determine a winner.

So today, it was more important than ever to be at their very best and try to bring in even more sales. A few people wandered by, smiling politely, but very few people stopped to buy

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