Lola Zola and the Lemonade Crush by Jackie Hirtz Page A

who often parked himself in Lola’s armpit, must have smelled a foul odor (BO!). emanating from the Buckster, because he forsake Buck’s pit for a spot on the writhing boy’s chest—a purrfect perch for a closer examination of the suspicious bellyacher. Bowzer, the cat detective, tickled Buck’s nose with his longwhiskers, presumably to see if the ailing boy was too sick for a tickle giggle. Slime, not sure what to do about the cat and his wild whiskers, couldn’t suppress a smile, which soon turned into a laugh, which proved to be slam-dunk evidence that Buckster was a faker.
    Once Buck’s silliness was exposed, the crowd became Lola supporters, muttering…
    â€œNow we know who’s a fraud and who’s real.”
    â€œImagine lying in the middle of the street and trying to pull a stunt like that!”
    â€œHe must think we’re all fools.”
    â€œLola’s got the real lemonade, the one with all the magical powers, and that’s the lemonade we want,” shouted the same woman who just moments ago had put her hand on Buck’s forehead.
    The crowd swelled, and people, waving dollar bills in their hands, swarmed Lola’s lemonade stand chanting, “LO-LA-LO-LA-LO-LA.”
    Seconds later Lola ran out of lemonade, so she darted back inside her house to grab more pitchers from the fridge. On her way to the kitchen, she almost crashed into her parents, who were slow-dancing in the living room. What were they doing acting mushy at a time like this? Could it be that her lemonade had Cupid powers too?
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    Maybe with her parents falling back in love and lemonade sales skyrocketing, the worst was behind Lola.
    Maybe not.
    From inside the kitchen, Lola heard a buzz in the street—a bouncing ball, excited voices.
    â€œIs that him? In person? Do you think he’ll give me his autograph? He’s so handsome—so muscular—so friendly. I watch him on television—never miss a game—can’t believe he’s here.”
    What was all the commotion?
    She peered through the kitchen window to see her neighbors crowd around a tall—never seen anyone so tall—guy wearing a sports jersey and bouncing a basketball.
    Sonny “The Rising Sun” Wilkerson—the best basketball player in the entire history of Mirage and the star of an upcoming Boingo Bits video game—had arrived to endorse Buck’s brew as a favor to Slime Bucket’s dad. Awestruck fans quickly switched lemonade sides to join The Rising Sun and his dribbling ball.
    By the time Lola raced back outside, there wasn’t anyone interested in her magical pucker potion.
    â€œI’m back,” she announced, holding two more pitchers of her peppery beverage.
    No one cared. Bowzer yawned.
    Melanie whispered to Lola, “I’ve never seen a real live basketball star before.”
    â€œNot you too, Mel.” Lola snapped her fingers. “Snap out of it, Mel, you’re starstruck.” Wide-eyed, Melanie gazed at Sonny Wilkerson, while Lola hissed at the Buckster and vowed to beat her lemonade blues.
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Chapter 10
    â€œMelanie Papadakis,” said Lola, roller skating across Lemonade Gulch in her orange shorts and lemon-yellow T-shirt. She stared at Melanie (a sudden traitor?), standing in line for The Rising Sun’s autograph. “If I weren’t your best friend, I might tell the world how many freckles you have.”
    â€œDon’t you dare,” said Melanie, just one person away from actually talking to Sonny “The Rising Sun” Wilkerson. The athlete, in his team sweats, was leaning against the Cadillac limo-lemonade stand, high-fiving fans and urging them to shoot for their dreams.
    â€œMy freckle tab is supposed to be a secret,” said Melanie.
    â€œAnd we’re supposed to be best friends,” said Lola.
    â€œAll I want is an autograph,” Melanie said, turning to smile at the most popular