It was ridiculous and shameless and not at all what I asked Jace to put on the banner. But he was busy all day yesterday working on rebuilding the wall of the barn and then he apparently got stung by a bee, which he blames the Todds for because they have beehives. So Jace sent Raquel to go see Mikey—our banner guy who Jace goes to school with and who works out of his parents’ basement—and Raquel came home with this.
“This is an extension of Adler’s Apples booth today,” I say casually like it’s no big deal. I walk over and drop my barrel of apples beside it.
“You’re…” Maggie looks around and realizes she’s surrounded by hockey players. “You’re…cheating. This is cheating.”
“This, Firecracker, is winning,” I reply with a grin.
Daisy is now walking up, carrying a bunch of crap in her arms and her steps slow to a halt. Her dark eyes dart around furiously from me, to Maggie, to the dunk tank, to the rookies, to Paxton and Patrick. A roll of tape tumbles from her pile of stuff and Patrick bends and picks it up.
“No,” Daisy says in a dark, deep rumble.
Patrick smiles. “No? I haven’t even hit on you yet and you’re already saying no?”
Daisy glances at him, wrinkles her nose and then walks toward me. “You can’t run this stupid thing and the booth. That’s…that’s che—”
“Cheating. Boy you and your sister share more than just some flaming hair and attitude, you share a brain too, huh?” I joke. “Well I hate to break it to you both, but there was never a word uttered about how we made the money this Sunday. The bet is just whoever makes the most money.”
Daisy and Maggie glare at me and then each other. Bobby Todd, their uncle who used to be my hockey coach when I was little and was the last local guy to be drafted into the NHL, surveys the situation and shakes his head begrudgingly. “Shit, Adler, you got more brains than I thought.”
He continues on toward the booth. Daisy makes a sound in the back of her throat, like a cat cornered in an alley, and she storms off after her uncle. Maggie keeps glaring at me. “You… I… All of you…argh!”
She flips me her middle finger and stomps off after the rest of her family.
“Umm…what did you get us into?” Jonah asks nervously.
“Relax. She’ll only take it out on me.” I clap him on the shoulder reassuringly. “Now take off that shirt of yours and climb into the tank. You’re up first.”
“I am? Why me?” Jonah asks, but when I don’t answer he just sighs and tugs his T-shirt over his head.
* * *
It takes almost an hour after the market opens before we get our first customer, which almost sends me into a full-blown anxiety meltdown. It was bordering on pitiful watching Jace and Paxton calling out to people from the card table we’re using as a ticket stand, trying to lure people over to play. Finally two high school girls drinking kombucha buy three apples each. When neither of them manages to dunk Jonah, I throw them a free apple and the blonde one nails the target. When Jonah drops like a sack of potatoes and bounces up soaking wet, they squeal with delight. Jonah turns red but it draws a couple more customers.
Two hours after that, I am finally able to take a deep breath. We’ve got a line of people excited to dunk my teammates with our rejected apples. It’s working. “When you taking a turn, brother?”
I glance at Jace and shrug. “Eventually. Right now I’m just basking in my success.”
“The banner helped. I know marketing,” Raquel says with a confident smile as she flips her bleached blonde hair.
“I don’t know if it helps but it doesn’t seem to be hurting,” I say because I still think the banner is a bit much. When Paxton saw the cheesy slogan his face scrunched up like he’d smelled something foul.
“It’s a bit…over-the-top,” Jace says.
Raquel huffs, hurt. I would feel bad but my cousin has spent her life being hurt by everything. She’s always been a drama queen because it works for her. Aunt Louise, and even Grandpa and Grandma have always coddled her. “I need a coffee break,” she announces and gets up from the booth, stomping away before I can say anything.
Patrick walks toward us holding a towel as he dries off. “An eighty-one-year-old woman just nailed the target and sent me swimming on the very first try.”
I laugh. “The Sox should sign her.”
“Seriously.” Patrick nods chuckling as he rubs the towel over his wet hair. “Also, I said I would help and I helped. Now I’m going home to dry off. Your turn to get your butt wet, Adler.”
“Yeah, yeah.” I know I should do it.
“I’ll pay double for the apples if I get to dunk you,” someone says and I look over and see a girl I vaguely recognize from campus standing two back in the line with a friend. The friend starts nodding profusely. “Me too.”
“If you’re paying double you get VIP access,” Jace says motioning them forward. “Front of the line for you two.”
They giggle and walk over to him. I am about to talk them out of it, tell them they don’t have to pay more, but a flicker of red in the corner of my eye catches my attention. Maggie is watching—intently—from the corner of the booth. So instead I grin, wink at the girls and walk toward the tank.
