Chapter Seven:
Two for Tuesday
I slipped my dollar-store water guns out of my pockets as if they were six-shooters, spun them around my fingers, and squirted one right into my mouth. Mmm … refreshing.
Chance had let me fill up my little water guns with clear Kool-Aid at his house. I didn’t even know there was such a thing as clear Kool-Aid. Of course, I’d also been in 1st grade when I discovered that most moms didn’t pack spinach leaves on peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.
Chance took a few practice swings with his baseball bat as I set up my business booth.
Grant, Austin, and Baby Clairmont joined us. They all had baseball mitts on their hands.
Chance pretended he was stepping up to the plate. “Pitch me one, Grant.”
Grant looked around. “Where’s the ball?”
Chance set the tip of his bat on the ground and leaned against it. “I thought you were bringing one.”
I laughed. “I can pitch you a water balloon.”
All heads swiveled my direction.
“Ah, yeah.” Austin cheered.
“All right.” Chance swung the bat up over his shoulder.
“It costs seventy-five cents.” I was a businessman, after all.
Chance dropped his bat to the ground. “You’ve got to be kidding. That’s more than two dollars for three pitches.”
I thought back to Mrs. Lyons suggestion. I should make it sound as if I were giving them a bargain. “Actually, today is Tuesday, so if you buy two balloons, you get one free.”
Grant dug into his pocket. “I’ll do it.” He handed me one dollar and two quarters.
Chance handed him the bat.
“Batter up,” I said and picked up one of my balloons.
Grant stepped wide and raised the bat in the air.
“Here’s the wind up,” I commentated like a sports announcer. “And the pitch.” I tossed the balloon right in front of him. I never could have done that well with an actual baseball, but I’d had a lot of practice with water balloons.
Grant leaned into his swing.
The bat made contact and the balloon exploded.
Water rained down on all of us.
“Woohoo,” I hollered.
Grant got back into position.
More boys came running over. “Hey batter, batter,” they chanted.
Grant sliced the air again, blasting another busted balloon high overhead.
This time younger kids came running.
“One more.” I wound up like a professional pitcher, then sent the balloon sailing through the air.
Grant made contact and the balloon came flying directly back to me.
Before I had a chance to react, the balloon slammed into my stomach and blew up like dynamite. I fell backward, landing on my bum.
The crowd cheered.
“Hey,” yelled Austin. “This is better than a dunk tank. I wanna try.” Austin begged his brother for money and Grant gave in.
Other boys ran off, I assumed, to either go home and empty piggy banks or look for their parents to borrow cash. Yes, I could stand a little pain and wetness if it meant winning the bet with Chance.
Austin grabbed the bat from his brother.
A line of kids formed next to a weeping willow tree.
I counted five kids. At a dollar fifty a piece, including the Clairmonts, I would make over ten dollars an hour.
Chance slumped down at the picnic table. “You know you have to average the money you make today with all your other hours of water fighting,” he reminded me. I don’t think he was too worried about the bet. He just wanted his bat back.
“I know.” I sounded like my bratty sister. I mentally calculated my earnings. Including the two previous hours, I had averaged seven dollars and fifty cents an hour. I was going to have to do better than that.
“Come on, guys.” Chance groaned. “We’re supposed to play ball. That’s why I called you.”
I frowned. “You didn’t invite me to play baseball,” I said over my shoulder as I pitched to Austin.
“Oh, yeah.” Chance looked down. “Well, I thought you would be busy with your business.”
I was busy with my business. Chance was the one sitting by himself. So why did I feel left out?
Austin’s hit would have been considered a foul if we were on a baseball diamond.
The kids behind him screamed as they got soaked.
Chance shrugged. “You can take turns playing right field with Baby Clairmont if you want.”
That hurt worse than the balloon hitting my gut. Chance invited Baby Clairmont to play and not me? I pitched again.
It whizzed over Austin’s head and landed in a bush. An umpire would have called it a ball.
“No fair,” Austin shouted. “I shouldn’t have to pay for that.”
“O-kaaay.” You gotta satisfy your customers. I grabbed two more balloons to toss. “I don’t want to play baseball,” I said to Chance. “It’s almost as boring as golf.”
“You’re boring.”
I dropped a balloon. It splattered on my shoes. How could Chance call me boring? I had kids lining up to play with me.
No … I had kids lining up to pay me.
“Hurry up, Joey.” Baby Clairmont bounced up and down.
I shook away bad feelings and pitched again.
The balloon burst on contact.
I didn’t laugh along with everyone else. I just focused on Austin’s last pitch. It was good.
A familiar-looking kid in a visor jogged over. Tristan Lyons.
Chance stood. “Did you bring a ball?”
Tristan held up a bat and ball. “Let’s go.”
Both boys strolled away. Grant and Austin took off as well, since their turns were over.
I studied the remaining kids in line.
They were all about Baby Clairmont’s age.
I shrugged. What did it matter? I was making money.
After everyone had their turn, I finished collecting the cash and packed up for the day. I would return Chance’s bat to him later. Trudging across the park, I counted out the money I needed to pay back my dad for most of the trip to Roaring Springs. It’s not as if I would be using the money anytime soon, since nobody wanted to hang out with me. I paused when I reached the curb.
It wasn’t a busy street, but Parker did tend to zip by awfully fast. His little white jeep rounded the corner toward me on two wheels.
At least I would have somebody to talk to.
The jeep pulled into the Lancaster’s driveway and backed out facing the other direction. Parker raced away.
Or nobody to talk to.
I stepped out slowly into the street.
Parker was just being a crazy mailman. He probably needed a bathroom break.
But deep down it felt as if he didn’t want to hang out with me either.
The Water Fight Professional Page 11
