The Last Stand

Across the street, Jenna had been mean-mugging me for the better part of an hour.

Ten minutes. That’s all it took. Ten minutes from the moment I hammered my sign into the lawn until her dad was dragging a folding table to the end of their driveway like he was building a forward operating base. Three minutes later, her mom dropped off a pitcher. Pink lemonade. No pulp. The good stuff. Of course it was pink. Jenna wouldn’t have it any other way.

This was the third Saturday of summer holidays, and the third Saturday she tried to steal my thunder. I hated her.

I can’t even remember when our rivalry actually started. It’s been going on for so long now that it feels like maybe we were recruited from birth into a war that’s been raging since before time began. I told Mom once that I’m pretty sure my first words were I hate you, Jenna. Mom laughed and said that’s ridiculous, you two used to be friends…

I refuse to believe that. I would never.

How could I ever be friends with someone who spent most of middle school making fun of my thrift store clothes and food bank lunches? Who was she to judge us while Dad was overseas protecting her right to be a spoiled brat?

Mom always did the best she could to make ends meet, and I was so proud of her. What kind of person would throw that in someone’s face while their own dad had a good union job and their mom was some fancy banker? Jenna always had everything.

Before Johnny left for college, he used to tease me. He said I was in a not-so-secret cold war with Jenna. I didn’t fully understand, but I liked the sound of it. It sounded serious and made everything feel important. He even gave her a nickname: Nina.

I thought it was perfect. The double-dealing backstabber who turned on Jack Bauer. That’s exactly who Jenna was. All smiles and sunshine on the surface, but under that phony mask, an evil spy.

#

It was just past noon when the first of my three regulars stopped by.

Uncle Frank lived in the basement. He wasn’t really my uncle, just an old war buddy of Dad’s who’d fallen on hard times. Guess some people weren’t able to come home. Not completely. Dad said a part of Frank would always be over there.

After grabbing his lemonade, he walked out into the middle of the street like he always did. No man’s land, he called it. Housecoat and all, he stood right there and mean-mugged Jenna right back. It made everyone uncomfortable, even me. But it usually got Jenna to stop, so I didn’t complain.

He finished his drink, crumpled the paper cup, and pulled an imaginary pin. “Fire in the hole!” he shouted, lobbing it at Jenna’s stand.

She crossed her arms, shaking her head. “Grow up, dude. What are you, like, fifty?”

Frank was a bit special, but he always made me smile. He spun around, his housecoat whipping behind him as he strolled back toward the basement. As he passed by, he patted me on the shoulder.

“Keep fighting the good fight, sister.”

And with that, he was gone.

Next up was our neighbor, Mrs. Johnson. Although she’d smack me with her cane if I ever called her that. She made me call her Nancy, claiming Mrs. Johnson made her feel old. She was seventy-two.

Nancy hated Jenna’s mom like I hated Jenna. I wasn’t sure what happened between them, and I wasn’t sure Nancy could be trusted to tell the truth. She was a bit of a confabulator, as Mom would say. She seemed to think Mrs. Kilpatrick had poisoned her oak tree years ago. Now it was just an old gray stump turned garden table.

That’s where she sat all day playing with the neighborhood watch’s radar gun and sipping on what she called iced teas. She was supposed to write down the license plate numbers of all the speeders, but she just shook her fist at them and shouted stuff that even made Uncle Frank blush.

She wandered over, huffing and puffing more than usual. Even with sunglasses, she was shielding her eyes from the sun.

“Are you going to be alright?”

She strained to smile. “Oh, don’t you worry about me, dear. I’ll be fine after an iced tea.”

“Why do they call them Long Islands?” I asked.

She chuckled, swatting the air. “You cheeky girl, you.”

An hour later, Benji wandered over. He lived right next door to Jenna and made a point of walking straight to her stand as if he were going to buy something. Every time she went into her sales pitch, he’d turn his back to her, walk straight across the street, and slam fifty cents on my table.

I had told him it was seventy-five cents the first time, but he just stood there staring at me awkwardly, so I gave him the lemonade to make him stop. Now I don’t even bother telling him. I just hand it over.

I asked him why he never bought Jenna’s lemonade.

“Two reasons,” he explained. “First, it’s pink, which is enough of a reason already. And second, Jenna has a crush on me, so I have to play hard to get.”

He was a weird kid. But I was thankful for his patronage, especially since every time he turned his back on her, I could see the steam coming out of her ears.

“You’re so rude!” she’d yell.

Before he left, he looked puzzled. “I wonder where Jenna’s going to get her lemonade from next weekend?” he mumbled.

And with that, he walked straight across the street toward Jenna and blew her a kiss. “Sorry, babe. You’re not my type.”

“Ewww!” she groaned.

Benji turned back to me and winked. He’s eight. Like I said, weird kid.

#

The next weekend, Jenna had a new chalkboard sign with hand-lettered bubble letters that said Jenna’s Precious Pink Lemonade, like she was setting up a franchise.

But this time, her mom didn’t bring out the lemonade. Jenna brought it out herself. She looked so ridiculous, walking one step an hour, trying to keep it steady. Obviously, she filled it too high. Her mom must have gotten tired of her barking orders.

Even Uncle Frank noticed. He reached up high and arched his back, his mouth overtaking his face with a long, drawn-out yawn that sounded like an air raid siren. Then he scratched his butt crack and I just about gagged. I made sure to move his lemonade to the edge of the table in a desperate attempt to avert the next pandemic. If my stand ended up being ground zero for the next global lockdown, Jenna would never let me hear the end of it.

This time, when he was done, he didn’t walk out into the street. He didn’t mean-mug her or throw any imaginary grenades. He just turned and said, “All quiet on the Western Front.”

“Frank, are you okay?” I asked as he turned to walk away.

“Yeah. Why, what’s up?”

“Nothing. I’m just shocked you didn’t go all John Q. Rambo.”

He laughed. “John Q. Public or John Rambo? They’re not the same things. Never mind. Listen, I’ll march through the gates of hell to stand at your side, but I don’t like kicking someone when they’re already down. If you know what I mean?”

I nodded. “Yeah, I guess.”

As he walked away, I thought, Wow, he sure went soft just watching her carry that pitcher.

Nancy strolled over, and I could already tell she’d had one too many of her “iced teas.” She was almost giddy, slurring her words. “Good riddance, if you ask me.”

“Ask you what?” I asked.

“Oh, sorry, dear. Never you mind me today.”

“Too many iced teas, Nancy?”

“Hmph,” she grunted, grabbing her lemonade and wandering off.

“Nancy, I’m sorry,” I called after her, but she just waved me off.

Clearly, she was done with me today. Probably for the best. She needed a nap.

Then out bounced Benji. Finally, someone willing to scuttle the enemy destroyer.

Wait, what’s happening? He stopped at her stand like usual. But then they started talking. I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but he gave her a dollar bill, not quarters. Are you kidding me? He drank her pink lemonade. Am I dreaming? Is this my nightmare? Everyone had lost their damn minds.

Oh, now look at him. He just lifted up his fancy red Solo cup and tipped it at me like he was cheersing me.

Traitor.

I’d had enough of this day. Time to pack it in.

#

When next Saturday rolled around, I wasn’t sure what to expect. I was hoping everything would go back to the regularly scheduled programming. I was feeling pretty good after I got my stand set up. Just one more thing. Today was the day I was going to really outdo her.

I retrofitted an old Christmas banner Dad hadn’t hung in years. He used to tie it around the lamp post and nail the other end into Nancy’s old tree. Ever since she cut it down, though, he never hung it again. But I was determined. I tied off one end on the lamp post and then climbed up the metal foot posts on the old telephone pole at the far side of the driveway to tie off the other end. Not sure why Dad hadn’t thought of this. It would have been so much easier than climbing that old oak tree every Christmas.

Thinking back on it now, Dad always did hate that tree. Wait, was Dad the oak tree assassin? Maybe Nancy wasn’t so crazy after all. She was just looking at the wrong neighbor.

I probably shouldn’t tell her.

Before climbing back down, I decided to survey the enemy line.

And that’s when I noticed the enemy line was unmanned. No lemonade. No table. No Jenna. But worst of all, no white flag either.

I did see Mr. Kilpatrick, though. He was in the garage, aggressively jamming stuff into boxes and crying. I didn’t mean to stare, but when he saw me, he looked rattled. He hit the button and the overhead door rolled closed.

That was so weird. And uncomfortable.

Uncle Frank was already waiting for me at the lemonade stand when I got back down. “Kid, if your old man sees you up there, he’s going to declare this a demilitarized zone, and then you’ll be sorry.”

“Nah, he’ll be fine.”

“Well, if he sees me out here, he’s going to think I had something to do with it, and then I’ll catch hell.”

“Never, Uncle Frank,” I said. “I’ll jump on that landmine for you. I’ll never let you get in trouble for something I did.”

“Thanks, Lucy.” He smiled, then pumped his fist into the air and struck the pose, letting out another air-raid siren of a yawn.

“Good stretch?” I asked.

“Yeah, it really was, smart-ass,” he chuckled, downing his lemonade.

“Frank?”

“Yeah, kiddo.”

I motioned toward Jenna’s driveway, and Frank’s eyes widened.

“Um, yeah… sorry, but that’s a landmine I’m not jumping on. Ask your dad,” he said.

He spun around and practically sprinted back to the basement.

Ha. Band of brothers my ass, I thought.

When Nancy came out of her house, she looked up at the banner and it stopped her dead in her tracks. She looked at it, then at her stump, then back to the banner, then at me.

I wasn’t sure what I was expecting, but when she glared at me with narrowed eyes, spun around, and stormed back inside slamming the door, that definitely wasn’t it.

Uncle Frank might have been right. Dad’s going to be so pissed.

I was already feeling like this day wasn’t going to get any better when Benji cut across his lawn, ducked through the hedges, and walked straight to Jenna’s front door. He had flowers in his hand.

He knocked, waited a few minutes, and knocked again. Finally, Mr. Kilpatrick opened the door. They spoke for a bit before Benji handed him the envelope and the flowers. Mr. Kilpatrick put his hand on Benji’s shoulder, looking like he was about to cry. Benji lifted his arms, and Mr. Kilpatrick broke down into a blubbering mess, pulling him into a hug.

What in the holy hell is going on?

Then Benji wandered back home, hands in his pockets, head hung low. He didn’t even look at me.

Everyone was abandoning me today. No one even noticed my banner except Nancy, the one person I wished hadn’t. Forget this day. This summer sucks.

#

The next Saturday, I sat at the window watching and waiting. It felt so weird not manning the ramparts. But I wasn’t going to let Jenna make me look like a dummy again. I tried to talk to Mom and Dad about it, but they told me it wasn’t their story to tell.

I saw Frank wander out of the basement and down the driveway until he noticed the stand wasn’t there. He paused and scratched his butt crack again. He looked around, and then he sniffed his fingers.

Gag me with a spoon!

I was mid-blech-face when he turned and saw me watching from the window. We both froze. I’m not sure who was more embarrassed, but he just shrugged, laughed, and waved as he slouched back into the basement.

Nancy never even came out of her house. I think she was still mad at Mom and Dad about the oak tree, and Dad wasn’t too happy about it either, though he said it wasn’t my fault.

I expected him to say he felt bad, but instead he mumbled something to Mom about burning the evidence next time.

She slapped him over the head. “There won’t ever be a next time. You promised.”

He laughed and gave her a big, face-smooshing kiss. They were so cute sometimes.

Then there was a knock at the door. I waited for Mom to get it, but she was in the kitchen and didn’t hear it.

“Mom, someone’s at the door!” I shouted.

“Lucy, you’re right there. Just see who it is.”

Ugh, fine. I abandoned my post.

When I opened it, it was Benji. He didn’t have flowers for me. Traitor. He looked at me funny.

“Did I say that out loud?” I asked.

“Umm, yeah.”

“Sorry,” I said. “But dude, you totally abandoned me. And then I watched you drink the pink lemonade, and you even gave her flowers. Little Casanova, what happened to playing hard to get?”

He stood there, eyes wide, and didn’t say anything. He just blinked. I didn’t say anything either and just stared back, blinking.

After a long pause, he sighed and turned around. “I can’t believe how lost in your own world you are. Some people have real problems, you know. Who cares about your stupid lemonade?”

“It’s not stupid!” I yelled back.

“Fine, whatever,” he grumbled, hustling back home.

That was the last straw. I’d had enough of this.

#

I stormed out the front door, bare feet slapping the concrete, and headed down the driveway. My heart skipped a beat as I stepped off the curb into the street. It’s weird thinking back now, but for almost two months, this was no man’s land. I hadn’t realized I hadn’t left my yard all summer. I really had built this into the front line of some terrible war.

Whatever.

I marched right up to Jenna’s front door and banged on it like a woman possessed.

Mr. Kilpatrick swung the door open, breathing frantically. I don’t know what he was expecting, but when he saw me, he shouted, “What the hell, Lucy? You almost gave me a heart attack!”

I scrunched my face. What a drama king.

“Sorry,” I said. “Is Jenna home?”

“Yeah, Luce, but I don’t think she’s in the mood to—”

“It’s okay, Dad,” Jenna called from inside.

He looked unsure, but he stepped back and opened the door.

I shoved past him, ready for the battle that had been brewing all summer. But when I marched into the living room, I stopped dead in my tracks.

My bottom lip started to quiver and tears blurred my vision. I tried to talk, but the words wouldn’t come out. What could I even say?

She was sitting on the floor with her back against the couch, knees pulled up, wrists resting in her lap. The gauze wrapped around them was so white.

She looked up when I came in and saw my reaction. She smiled softly. “Boy, what’s a girl got to do to get her best friend to come visit?”

I walked over, fell down beside her, and wrapped my arms around her.

I’d been so wrapped up in my stupid feud that I’d almost forgotten we were best friends up until last year. To be honest, I didn’t even remember why it started, and now I didn’t care. Jenna hugged me back and squeezed me tight. I still remembered her hugs. She always gave the best hugs.

I found out the rest in pieces. What everyone in the neighborhood, but me, seemed to know.

Her mom had left a month ago, filing for divorce. She was only around on the weekends while she finished packing. Two weeks ago, she hugged Jenna goodbye. This isn’t your fault, she’d said. But always remember I love you no matter what.

And then she just left.

This was never about lemonade. Not for Jenna.