Chapter 1: Lemonade Stand

Chapter 1: Lemonade Stand

“Sugar: Check. Water: Check. Lemons: Check.” Holding her hand held notepad, Lilly crosses off the tiny square box next to each crayoned word.

“The recipe is on the counter, hun,” Grandma calls from the living room. Lilly stands on the whicker chair, hugging close enough to the counter to let her lean over. Humming one of her favorite non-tunes, the kind that springs up as naturally as dandelions in spring, she begins scooping sugar in to the orb-like glass pitcher. Grandma told her last month that during her next visit, she could have a lemonade stand. She always wanted to have a lemonade stand. For the whole month, Lilly kept adding tasks to her list to prepare for her next visit: buy cups, make sure Grandma has a pitcher, lemons, sugar, water, make sign, table, chair, bring piggy bank. After stirring in the sugar, she holds the pre-sliced lemon over the gaping mouth of the pitcher. Her hum comes to a sudden halt and is replaced by a tight mouthed grimace. Squeezing harder than she holds Mr. Teddy when she’s scared, Lilly’s tiny hands only juice three measly drops into the sugar filled pool below. She asks Grandma to help her squeeze the lemons.

“One dollar for lemonade?” Grandma asks, looking at the carefully printed sign. She helps Lilly carry the items to the corner where her table sits waiting like a throne for her noble arrival.

“It’s the best lemonade,” Lilly replies, in her matter-of-fact way, causing Grandma to laugh under her breath, “It said so on the box.”

In the humid July sun, Lilly’s blond pig tails shine like the reflection of a flashlight in a mirror. She hums the fifth movement of her invented concerto and waves to each car that drives by. Lilly picked out her favorite candy last week with mom at Mr. Benson’s store downtown. Bubble gum, Swedish Fish and the little dots that you can pick off the paper. Mom said that she could buy five whole dollars worth of candy after she had her lemonade stand. Patting her piggy bank in the middle of his pointy ceramic ears,

“We will be rich!” She exclaims.

The glimmer of pink ceramic shows a moving reflection, causing Lilly to look up. Expecting a car, her soft little hand rises automatically to greet the prospective passerby. A whiz of bike spokes threads by, so close to her table the flimsy legs shake. Nailed to her seat in fear, Lilly tries to take in the quick mischief, unsuccessfully. The short haired illusion kicks his sandaled foot straight in to the fragile glass pitcher, sending it straight in to the lap of the defenseless vendor. Standing up suddenly Lilly fumbles to save the golden liquid, but in her hast knocks over her pale pig friend. His silver and gold insides roll embarrassingly in to the middle of the road. Wet and sticky with sugar, Lilly’s drenched skirt clings to her skinny legs and her tears hug her reddened cheeks. Running inside, Lilly leaves her ruined throne and seeks the comfort of her Grandma’s embrace.