“A little. What about Benny?” I licked crackled sugar off my finger. “Did Lulu tell him she saw us in the hammock?”
“Oh, she did,” he said, tugging his cap down more tightly. “I told Benny she must’ve been wasted because we were just goofing around.”
“He believed you?”
“Everything is hunky-wunky,” he said, making an okay sign with his thumb and index finger.
“It’s hunky-dory, dumbass.”
“Hunky-wunky sounds best,” he said, giving me a little wink. “Anyway, guess the hammock is still our little secret.”
Jazmine returned from the trunk as Benny’s car drove up and parked next to us.
Lulu waved from the open window, sunglasses up. “Hey, everyone!”
“Hey,” Jaz and I said flatly.
“Yo, I got it,” Benny told Seb as he closed the driver’s door.
“Yes! Excellent!”
“What did you get?” I asked.
Benny waved us behind his Land Rover, where he lifted the back to reveal three shovels, a pry bar, chain, and a long metal tool with a handlebar with the words “Big Red.”
“Perfect,” Seb said.
“What is that thing?” Jazmine asked. “Some kind of mutant car jack?”
“Hi-Lift jack,” Seb said. “This is the extra muscle we need. You can use them off-road, like, if you’re stuck in the mud. Or you can use it like a winch to lift heavy objects.” He showed us how you could attach a chain to it and pump its handle to lift. “See? A Hi-Lift can pull concrete posts out of the ground, so I figure it can pull out a little, ol’ time capsule that’s been buried in concrete.”
“My dad calls it a farm jack,” Lulu said.
We all looked at her. “Is your dad a farmer?” I asked.
“Oh, God no. He’s a bookie.”
All righty, then. Next time I needed to place a bet on a horse race, I’d know who to call.
“I scoped things out, early this morning on foot,” Seb said. “Where they’re setting up the festival, and everything.”
“How was the time capsule spot looking?” I asked. “Are we still good to go?”
“Exactly as we anticipated.” Seb checked the time on his phone screen. “Speaking of, live music starts in an hour. We should probably sugar up and get a move on.”
Benny pulled out a small cardboard box from behind the Big Red jack. Inside were five intensely red T-shirts printed with the festival’s double-cherry graphic and, in big white letters,STAFF.
“Compliments of Brad,” he said.
Guess we were really doing this. I blew out a long breath to calm my jangly nerves as Benny handed out shirts. Jazmine and I just put ours on top of our own clothes, but Lulu insisted on running into the doughnut shop bathroom to change. Once we were all decked out like actual festival staff, we loaded the shovels and jack into an old wheelbarrow that Seb had broughtin the back of his Bronco, and we covered them with a painter’s drop cloth.
“Remember, Wags,” he said, taking the handles of the wheelbarrow. “If we’re approached by any real staff who ask what we’re doing, we—”
“Offer them a glazed doughnut,” I said, gesturing toward the box.
Jaz crossed her arms. “Then we change the subject to politics and start spewing conspiracy theories.”
Benny waved his hand mystically. “No, we just say, ‘These aren’t the droids you’re looking for.’”
