Lemonade for Water

“Anna! Tammy!” my mother yells, cupping her hands over her mouth in an attempt to amplify her voice. “Stop that, right now!”

I glance at my sister from over my sunglasses, and we share a knowing grin. Getting on Mom's nerves are one of our many hobbies.

“Ignore her,” Anna whispers, giggling, as we turn our backs so she can't see what we're doing. We stand, shoulder to shoulder, hips to hips, ankles to ankles. We both bend over, and I set down the plastic watering can.

“Here,” I say in a low voice. “I brought it from the backyard.”

Anna peeks over her shoulder at Mom, who's red-faced and chattering quickly to Mrs. Brooks, our neighbor, like she does when she's embarrassed or nervous. “She's occupied. Good, we've got time.” She rips open a packet of lemonade and dumps it into the bucket of water she'd brought. Her long, brown hair falls in her face, and she tucks it aside impatiently.

I stir the lemonade, mixing quickly with a long stick I'd polished so no tree bark would get in the drink. This time's goal: to put lemonade instead of water in Mom's watering can, so she'd water lemonade instead of H2O. She hates gardening, but her older sister, my aunt Katy, always brags about how her children are amazing and how her garden is amazing. So, she only gardens to please Aunt Katy. Therefore, she wouldn't care if the plants died. (In which they probably won't – lemonade won't kill them.)

“Okay, that's enough, Tammy!” Anna snaps me from my train of thought and takes the bucket, pouring it into the watering can. Mom always has us refill the water in the watering can whenever it's low, so this won't be weird.

“Now. Mom always waters the plants in the morning,” my sister says, straightening. “In the predawn light, she won't be able to tell the difference between lemonade and water. Everything's good.”

With a nod, I cap up the watering can. “Hopefully, she won't even take this off,” I say, pointing to the top.

Anna nods with me, and we both grin. “Good. I'll run this over to the backyard real quick.” She peeks over her shoulder again and grabs the nearby water hose, throwing it near me, and then she picks up the watering can and jogs around the house.

I look over my shoulder, Mom pulling up behind me. Mrs. Brooks is nowhere in sight. “Hi, Mom.”

“What have you and Anna been doing?” she asks, suspicious.

“Well,” I say, taking a dramatic pause and pushing my sunglasses up to the top of my head, “we were helping you out. You're going to water your garden tomorrow, and we thought we'd fill up the watering can like you asked.” I gestured to the water hose lying near me, thankful for Anna's quick thinking.

“Where'd Anna go?” She's still suspicious. Her blond hair, wrapped in a loose bun, is falling quickly from its hold.

“Anna,” I drawl, hand on my hip, “went to take the watering can to the backyard, so you don't have to haul it out tomorrow morning.” I sigh and shake my head. “You know, I really don't know why you're always thinking that Anna and I do pranks on you whenever we can.”

“Maybe it's because you do,” Mom replies with a smile, kissing the crown of my head. She throws an arm over my shoulders. “Let's go inside, sweetie pie.”