The Great Peach Experiment 1 by Erin Downing (top 10 books to read TXT) 📗

huge sculpture of a giant cherry sitting on a spoon. Dad had pulled the food truck over to the side of a busy road and idled in a loading zone so Freddy could hop out quick to sketch it.

Now, after several full days of fun adventures (but crummy pie sales), Herb skipped along beside Dad as they made their way toward the coffee shop toilet. Dad wrapped his arm around Herb’s shoulder. Herb nuzzled in close, letting his dad squeeze him tighter than felt comfortable. Dad didn’t pull him close like this very often, and it felt good to walk down a strange street in an unfamiliar city under his father’s arm. Herb’s siblings traipsed along behind them, and Freddy was chatting his sister’s ear off, which meant Herb and his dad could enjoy a few special, one-on-one minutes. He gazed up at Dad, and said, “I love you, Dad. Thanks for taking us on this trip and letting me collect all these fun new memories. And for letting me swim every day.”

His dad blinked, then a huge smile took over his face. “I love you, too, Herbie.”

“Dad?” Herb asked a few moments later, when he noticed Dad had tears on his cheeks. “Are you crying because we didn’t sell very many pies in Minneapolis? We still have lots of time to make more money before the Ohio Food Truck Festival.”

His dad laughed. “I’m not too worried about that yet. I’m actually feeling happy. I don’t know why I’m crying. It doesn’t make much sense, does it?”

“Lucy says you’re allowed to cry for lots of reasons,” Herb told him. “Sometimes I cry when I’m scared at night, but then she gives me her duck to sleep with and that helps. And one time I saw a dead squirrel mashed up in the road—that made me cry, especially when the crows started pecking at it and then there were brains and guts and stuff smeared all over. And last week, Andrew said we couldn’t be friends when third grade starts because I decided to play tag with Ruby and Zubair during recess, instead of four square with him. But Lucy told me he would get over it, and she was right, because now we’re friends again.”

His dad nodded. “Lucy is a very good sister, isn’t she?”

“She’s the best,” Herb agreed. “Don’t tell anyone else, but she’s my favorite family.”

The Peaches drove out of downtown Minneapolis in the middle of rush hour traffic. The rain made it impossible for them to open windows, which meant it felt like an oven inside the cab. But Herb didn’t care. His dad had given each of the kids fifty dollars to spend on souvenirs during the trip, and Herb had already spent five of his on a little handheld fan he’d spotted at a gas station (and immediately knew he needed). After relaxing in the fan’s breeze for a few moments, he turned it on his mice, knowing they would probably appreciate a little fresh air, too. But when the blast from the fan hit the little critters, all three of them dove for cover under their T-shirt bed, so Herb turned the fan back on himself. He smirked at Freddy, then kicked up his feet and luxuriated in the cool air. Herb knew his brother was probably jealous of his very smart purchase.

At every gas station they stopped at (and they had to stop often!), Herb shopped around for more treasures like the fan. There were so many things he’d seen that he desperately wanted to add to his collection. But he was trying to save some of his money, feeling certain he’d feel it when he spotted the exact right thing to buy.

Every time they stopped for gas, he also begged his dad to buy one of those scratch-off lottery tickets. But no matter how many times he asked, Dad firmly refused. “A waste of money,” he said. “No one ever wins those things. You’d be better off throwing a bunch of coins from a bridge and wishing for a million bucks to land in your lap.”

Herb pointed out that they definitely wouldn’t ever win the lottery if they didn’t ever buy a scratch-off card, but this logic never changed Dad’s mind. Lucy grumbled that it was insane that Dad believed opening a food truck (without any experience running a business like that) was a sensible use of money, but he thought buying lottery tickets was wasteful. “From what I can tell, both the lottery and this food truck require a huge amount of luck,” she muttered, just loud enough for Herb to hear. Then even more quietly, she added, “And luck is something this family definitely doesn’t have a lot of.”

Shortly after they got out of the worst of the Minneapolis traffic, the food truck rumbled over a long bridge out of Minnesota and into Wisconsin, then headed north. They were taking the long route to Chicago, because Freddy had begged to stop and see some sort of giant fish he’d read about. Freddy was convincing enough that Dad had reluctantly agreed to the detour.

They were in the truck for a little more than two hours before it was time to stop at the fish statue for dinner. Lucy had gone to a grocery store that afternoon and packed a picnic of BLT sandwiches and chopped salad. Herb was relieved to discover there was no pie in her dinner basket. Pie still made him feel icky, and just looking at it and smelling it every day was enough for him.

“Welcome to Hayward, Wisconsin,” Freddy said, as they all tumbled out of the huge vehicle. “This fiberglass muskie is also the home of the Fresh Water Fishing Hall of Fame. It’s four and a half stories tall, and as long as a Boeing 757. Pretty cool, huh?” He pulled out his sketchbook and began drawing a mutated version of the fish. Herb giggled as his brother drew huge teeth and