Jack Strong Takes a Stand by Tommy Greenwald Page B

she said. “Get these trucks off my lawn.”
    â€œI’d love to, but I’d get fired,” he answered.
    â€œHa-ha,” said my mom. “What’s your name?”
    â€œLarry,” he said a bit reluctantly.
    â€œWell, Larry, this is a TV show, not Woodstock. No one said anything to me about trashing my property. So I suggest you move these trucks in the next five minutes or this whole show isn’t going to happen, and then I bet a lot more people will get fired.”
    Larry examined my mom and quickly decided she wasn’t kidding.
    â€œGive me ten minutes.”
    My mom looked him up and down, then nodded once. “Fine. But if you boys disturb so much as a single dandelion, your lawyers will be hearing from me.” Then she gave him a friendly smile. “I’ll have some lemonade out in a minute.”
    As my mom came back inside, she noticed me. “The things mothers do for their children,” she said.
    Larry the Beard watched her go, then hollered, “Let’s pick up the pace, boys!”
    Sure enough, exactly ten minutes later the trucks were backing off the lawn and heading up the street to the cul-de-sac.
    While the rest of the guys were building the stage, Larry saw me looking out the window and came over. “That your mom?”
    â€œYup.”
    He shook his head. “Piece of work.”
    â€œHey, watch it!” I said.
    â€œIt’s a compliment, little man,” he said, chuckling. “So you’re Jack Strong.”
    â€œYup,” I said again.
    â€œCool,” Larry said. “Wait here.”
    â€œWhere am I gonna go?” I said, and he laughed.
    A minute later, he came back with three guys, and they picked up my couch and carried me out to the front lawn in about six seconds. And nobody dropped anything on their toes.
    â€œSo what’s this all about?” Larry asked me, taking a mashed banana out of his jean jacket and eating it.
    â€œWhat’s what all about?”
    â€œThis whole strike thing. You trying to get a girl or something?”
    â€œI’m in middle school,” I said. “I’m always trying to get a girl.”
    Larry roared with laughter, little banana particles flying out of his mouth. “That’s funny, little man!”
    A loud engine got us both to turn around. A huge trailer was coming up the street, followed by one of those fancy SUVs. They both pulled into our driveway.
    I was starting to realize that it takes a lot of vehicles to put on a television show.
    â€œWalter Cronkite’s here,” Larry said, which I think was some kind of joke that I didn’t get.
    Brody hopped out of the SUV.
    â€œMy guy Jack Strong!” he said, walking up to me and extending his hand. He looked perfect, as usual, except for the fact that he was wearing a bib.
    â€œHey, Brody,” I said.
    He pointed at the trailer. “That’s where I’ll be for the next couple of hours, getting beautiful.”
    â€œCool,” I said. Shaina Townsend, the woman who did the background interview with me two days ago, was there, too, wearing the shortest dress I had ever seen. She looked at Brody and smiled, and he looked at her and he smiled, and I immediately decided that they were boyfriend and girlfriend.
    Brody turned back to me. “So, we are going to have some fun tonight! Especially with Mrs. Fleck right across the street throwing her own little shindig. Holy smokes, this might be a first, even for me!”
    He slapped me on the back and disappeared into the trailer.
    Sitting there watching the huge stage being built, I decided to take a picture and text it to Leo.
    OMG IT’S HAPPENING.
    Two seconds later he texted back.
    DOUBLE OMG.

 
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    The next three hours went by in a blur.
    5:00 p.m. A short guy in one of those Crocodile Hunter jackets introduced himself to me. “I’m Mel, Brody’s producer,” he explained.
    I shook his hand.