Lemonade

It was a Saturday morning. It was hot, hazy, just the kind of weather needed for a lemonade stand to make a profit. It had originally been my idea to start one, after seeing kids do it on TV, but Joey liked to think it was his. I was eleven, he was thirteen. My sister Maybell was twelve. Joey thankfully wasn't a relative of mine, instead my neighbor. I say thankfully because I had the largest crush on him, I had since about second or third grade. He had this warm brown hair that stood up in the back, and large round eyes that were the color of the sky, and they shined like the jewels on the shopping network my grandma always watched. His chin was pointed and his jaw was sharp with the onset of puberty, but his cheeks still round, and his face still soft. Unfortunately for me, Maybell also liked him, and also unfortunately for me, she was closer to his age. She had already started wearing a bra, while I had the body of a boy (and still assumed I always would) and she claimed to "know how boys work and what they want from girls". I figured playing tag, watching scary movies, and eating ice cream were enough. At least, that's what always worked with Tommy Sampson, the boy that liked to follow me around and said I was his best friend, despite the fact that I mostly just thought he was annoying. But, I guess she was right, because during the lemonade selling, his eyes would turn to her and look her up and down, resting on her blue eyeshadowed face. And I could only look at the lemonade heating up in the sun, and facing the disappointment that comes with unrequited love.