Lemonade Mouth Puckers Up (32 page)

Al was surprised but he was really nice about it. “I’m sorry this is going on for you guys, but no worries at this end. We squeezed the schedule to fit you in, so now we’ll just have to
unsqueeze a little and adjust. Hey, this isn’t the first change of the day and it won’t be the last. When I explain it to Sista, I’m sure she’ll understand.”

Unfortunately, things were a little harder when we asked him if we could get Olivia a ride to the hospital.

“Look, guys,” he said, suddenly uncomfortable. “I’m sorry, but we’re moving a lot of bands today. I can spare one of the limos long enough to get you back to your own cars at your hotel, but I can’t send it all the way to Pittsfield and back. I feel bad about that, but Sista Slash has a lot on the line here and we need all the transportation we have.”

I realized this meant we had a big problem. Going all the way back to the hotel meant heading in the opposite direction from where Olivia needed to be. Plus, it meant we’d have to face the crawling traffic coming back toward the concert again. We didn’t have that kind of time. Olivia needed to get to the hospital as soon as possible. But without another option, what could we do?

I looked across the field and saw Penelope. All at once I realized we did have another option, one that could get Olivia out of there fast. Long lines of customers were already forming at most of the other food vendors, but at Wieners on Wheels there was barely anyone. It felt like fate. That eyesore of a van might not have been much of a money maker, but this wouldn’t be the first time she would come in handy.

So that’s how it happened.

Minutes later we were strapping ourselves into the seats at the back of the wiener van—Olivia, Mo, Wen, Charlie and me (it wasn’t like we were going to stick around at the festival and perform
without
her, right?), plus Mrs. Reznik, who happened to be nearby when we rushed over. Wen’s dad
was great. As soon as we told him the situation he closed up shop in a flash. Scott insisted on coming with us too. He was in the copilot seat. Out in the field, Al had a bullhorn and was calling for the crowd to clear a path for us. It was like the parting of the Red Sea. People stood on either side of the little grass boulevard they’d created, each of them staring in wonder at the curious VIP van with the giant wiener on top as we each said our silent, sad goodbyes to the Take Charge Festival. It was the last we’d see of the crowd that day.

That was a long afternoon I’ll never forget.

So, we left the festival behind us and headed to the hospital where Olivia’s mom was being rushed for emergency treatment. We arrived just in time. Olivia’s mother was already there and hooked up to a bunch of tubes and the doctors were about to transfer her into the intensive care ward. I saw her, but not for long. She was behind a curtain, so I got only a quick glimpse of a dark-haired lady on a hospital bed with machines all around her. But that was okay—it wasn’t why we’d come. The point was that Olivia got a couple of minutes with her.

Olivia described to us afterward that her mother was short of breath and maybe a little confused, but she recognized Olivia and told her she was surprised to see her and grateful that she’d come. Olivia said she could tell that her mother meant it too—she truly was glad to see her. Which obviously was a big deal. Seeing the look on Olivia’s face
when she came back to the waiting area and told us all this, well, I think that one thing alone would have been enough to make it all worthwhile.

After that, we waited.

Olivia sat hunched beside me. Other than when she texted her grandmother with updates, she mostly stared at her feet. The rest of us did what we could to keep a conversation going, if only to distract Olivia from worrying too much. But really there wasn’t anything anybody could do to help except be there with her. Overhead, the televisions were showing reruns of stupid old sitcoms. Their laugh tracks felt out of place against the harsh reality of sick people and anxious families all around us. The hospital was busy that day. Maybe it’s like that every day. I don’t know.

It seemed to take forever for the doctors to come out with more news and I kept glancing at Olivia. All this waiting seemed agonizing for her. Like I’d done so many times before, I tried to imagine what it must feel like to be her, to have lived her life and to have had the kinds of sad experiences and disappointments that I could barely conceive of.

“Thanks for … you know, doing this,” she said to me quietly, reaching for my hand. “I’m grateful to all of you guys for being okay with this.”

“Of course,” I said. “You’re our friend. I think it’s great that you wanted to come, that you’re here for her.”

She shrugged. “She’s my mom.”

She went quiet again, but for a while I couldn’t help mulling over what she’d just said and what it meant. It was finally hitting me, something I hadn’t fully appreciated until that moment. This whole situation with her mom’s reappearance had been so difficult for Olivia, a real struggle, and yet even though her mother had serious problems, even though
Olivia had plenty of reasons to be furious at her, she’d still wanted to come here to the hospital to be with her. Was that acceptance? Forgiveness?

I didn’t know, but whatever it was, it struck me as amazing.

I looked around the room at all the other people who’d come to help support Olivia and my eyes lingered on Scott. He’d been quiet, sitting in a chair along with the rest of us, waiting for news. A few months ago I would never have imagined that Scott Pickett of Mudslide Crush would give a crap about anybody but himself. And yet there he was. It wasn’t the first time either, although I’d been refusing to see it. I’d been simmering in my resentment about the past for so long, but now I had a new idea, an idea about forgiveness. It occurred to me that even though it isn’t always easy, maybe it was better than letting bitterness and anger slowly eat me up from the inside.

It’s funny how everything happens at once. Just as Olivia was finishing her zillionth update to her grandmother, I noticed through the big window that Sydney was walking across the parking lot to the main entrance. There was no mistaking her long stride and that cascade of black hair. Following behind her was a whole crowd of people, our families. They’d all left the Take Charge Festival to pick up the cars from the hotel and had finally made it through the traffic to join us here. I was happy to see them. I knew Olivia would be too. I was just about to point them out to everyone when, from the opposite end of the waiting area, the double doors opened and the doctor in charge of Olivia’s mother appeared. She was looking right at Olivia.

All of us stood up.

It was clear she had news.

It’s a beautiful, lazy morning and I’m sitting at the kitchen table finishing a late breakfast with my family. Maa is sipping the last of her chai. Baba is lost in his newspaper. Madhu is chatting endlessly about a new pink blouse she saw in a store, a not-so-subtle attempt to convince my parents to rush out and buy it for her. The Take Charge Festival, only a few days in the past, is starting to feel like a fading dream.

At least, that’s what I’m trying to tell myself.

Absently taking a bite of a crispy luchi (my mother makes the best), I look for the hundredth time toward the front window.

“Are you okay, Monu?” Maa asks. “You seem distracted.”

“Just waiting for my friends to arrive. I’m fine.”

And it’s true, I
am
fine. More or less. Sure, my thoughts still drift every now and then to how things might have turned out if we hadn’t missed our big chance at Take Charge, but as Charlie keeps pointing out, playing at that concert wasn’t what destiny had in mind for us. I have no regrets. If the five of us were to somehow travel back in time to face that same morning by the Take Charge stage again, I’m positive we would all make the same decision.

The good news is that Olivia’s mother is doing okay. The hospital kept her overnight, but she was much better the next day and they were able to release her. Now she has a nurse who watches her closely, double-checking on her dialysis routine and working with her to take better care of herself. “There’s only so much anybody can do, though,” Olivia told us. “Everyone wants the best for her, but in the end it’s her own life and she’s the only one who can really be in charge of it.”

There was one good thing, at least, that came out of that experience: Olivia and her mom are now planning to stay in touch. Olivia says she’ll go back out there next month for another visit.

So considering everything, things could have ended up a whole lot worse. I have many things to be thankful for. My friends and family are okay. I just got my schedule for the new school year and I made it into all the advanced classes I’d wanted, and I still have three whole weeks until the semester starts. Things are good. It’s a warm summer morning and my life is pretty much back to the same old way it’s always been. Normal. Comfortable. Low-key.