Lemonade Mouth Puckers Up (10 page)

It was the worst Fourth of July ever.

My parents and I always go to this big barbecue at my uncle Kyle’s place in Wickford, and usually I love it, but not this time. I spent the afternoon with my stomach in knots. I was surrounded by relatives and other smiling people who kept asking about Lemonade Mouth and telling me how proud of me they were. I know they meant well and that the problem was me, not them. Everybody was just excited about all the stuff going on, and that was great, of course. But I just didn’t feel like talking or celebrating. Ever have to pretend to be in a good mood when all you really want to do is crawl off somewhere and hide? That was me.

I wanted to press my face into a pillow.

I wanted to scream.

I’ll admit it—there were even moments when I was close to crying.

But I couldn’t. And since I couldn’t bring myself to talk
about the Mo stuff with anybody, I had to walk around with a fake smile as if everything was great. As if the whole world hadn’t just fallen to pieces in one giant mambo explosion named Rajeev.

The next day wasn’t much better. I stayed home and watched TV. Mo called a couple of times, but I didn’t pick up. What would be the point? I saw what I saw, so what more was there to say?

By Tuesday, though, after a James Bond marathon, I started to cool down. Something about the nonstop action and over-the-top crazy bad guys calmed my nerves. The world wasn’t really like that, and I guess a part of me wanted to believe I was overreacting about Mo, as if some green-skinned Jealousy Monster that fed on my insecurities had been whispering in my ear and making me nuts. Maybe I’d misinterpreted what I’d seen. Maybe if Mo and I talked this over she could clear everything up and we’d laugh about my stupid mistake.
Falling for Rajeev?
she’d ask.
Me? Ha-ha! Is that what you thought? Of course not, Charlie! That’s ridiculous!

I didn’t know what the explanation might be, but there had to be one, right? Her parents had told her she needed to be nice to him, so maybe she had to pretend to have a great time dancing with him. Her arms around him. His around her.

Yeah, that was probably it.

Okay, so it was a long shot, but it was all I had.

Anyway, it was time to bite the bullet and pay her a visit. My first step was to phone Stella, who was finally back from Philadelphia, and ask if she wanted to swing by Mo’s family’s store to say hi with me. I didn’t mention the dancing stuff or
anything, I just figured that if Stella came too then it would make everything seem more casual.

Fortunately, convincing Stella wasn’t hard.

“Oh man, yes!” she said. “You have no idea what it was like road-tripping with my two little monkey stepbrothers—five hours each way, trapped in a car with Thing One and Thing Two. I gotta get away or I’ll explode. See you in ten minutes.”

As Stella and I walked to the Banerjees’ store together, I secretly kept coaching myself on how I should act when I saw Mo. I told myself I wouldn’t get emotional. I was going to stay calm and we were going to talk, that was all. It was going to be okay.

Problem was, it never occurred to me that Rajeev would be there with her.

First thing I saw when we stepped into the store was the two of them sitting cross-legged on the floor together, all chummy and comfortable as they unpacked two big boxes of white rice onto the shelves. They looked like best buddies, like they belonged together. Right away my stomach turned to jelly. There weren’t any other customers at the time, and at the sound of the bell jingling Mo and Rajeev both looked up. They seemed surprised to see us, and for the briefest moment I felt weird vibes again, as if we’d caught them in the middle of something. I figured maybe they’d been having some hushed conversation, maybe sharing their deepest secrets with each other. I didn’t know.

All I knew was that even after all the coaching I’d given myself, the Jealousy Monster was back. Only now instead of whispering it was screaming at the top of its lungs.

“Oh, what a nice surprise!” Mo said, standing up. “How
was your Fourth, Stella?” Stella and Rajeev hadn’t met yet so she introduced them, and then Mo said, all casual, “So, what’s going on, Charlie? I called you a bunch of times and you never called back. What have you been up to?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” I said, still gripping my half-empty lemonade.

There was another weird pause. I caught Rajeev and Mo giving each other a strange look, and all of a sudden I wanted to shrink into the floor. Something was definitely going on here. My neck was warm and my head felt like it was spinning.

“Charlie, is everything okay?”

“No. As matter of fact it isn’t. Can we talk? Alone?”

Her eyebrows pulled together, but she nodded. She led me back to the storage room where her parents keep their office. For some reason neither of them was around just then—they must have stepped out. And for a while I just stood there trying to get my emotions under control. It was the weirdest feeling. Mo was my best friend in the world, my first-ever girlfriend, and I was nuts about her—and up until only a couple days earlier I’d honestly thought she felt the same way about me. And yet here we were about to break up. I was feeling so hurt and confused that I wasn’t even thinking straight.

That’s right, cherished compatriots. Your Sista Stella, your embattled warrior of justice, rock-and-roll rebel and one time loner, found herself suddenly in love. Utterly smitten. Head over metal-spiked heels!

Rajeev and I went out for a broccoli noodle stir-fry and a walk along the water, and after that I started catching myself staring out windows and thinking of butterflies. Not only was Rajeev drop-dead gorgeous, but we had so much in common it was scary. He hated sugarless gum. He loved chili peppers and vampire stories. He owned every Sista Slash album, including a rare vinyl copy of her live benefit concert in Tibet, and he was as excited about her upcoming Take Charge concert as I was.

He was even a vegetarian!

Without warning, sappy love songs that would normally have set off my delicate musical gag reflex were drifting through my head, and I didn’t mind it at all. Every now and then I’d notice my mother or my older sister, Clea, staring at me with worried expressions.