Lemonade Mouth Puckers Up (29 page)

There’s nothing left to do but say goodbye.

Rajeev starts by thanking my parents for maybe the hundredth time. He hugs Maa and then Baba and then Madhu (she’s biting her bottom lip and looking like a cloudy day) and then me.

“Stay in touch, Monu,” he whispers in my ear, giving me a squeeze.

“Of course” is all I can manage because of the heat in my eyes and the rock that seems to be weighing down my stomach. Saying goodbye to Rajeev feels worse than I ever would have imagined less than two months ago, back when I actually hid in my room just to avoid meeting him. In the weeks since then, I’ve grown accustomed to having him around. I already know I’ll miss his weird sense of humor and his water fights and the way he can make Madhu smile just by making a face at her. I’ll miss our easy conversations, the way I never have to explain certain things to him because we both grew up with the same kind of parents.

I feel like I’m saying goodbye to the brother I never had.

It’s Charlie’s turn next. He and Rajeev do one of those
guy-handshake things that involve a long series of complicated steps and end in bear hugs. It’s sweet to watch, especially after the uncomfortable start I know Charlie had when Rajeev first arrived. That’s one of the things I love most about Charlie, how even when he feels strongly about something he’s still open enough to realize that his opinions might need adjusting. He takes himself seriously, but in a way, he kind of doesn’t. Charlie knows how to laugh things off and move on.

Rajeev is finished spending his final moments with Wen and then Olivia. Next comes the part I’m sure will be the hardest.

All week I think everybody has been feeling bad for Stella. Not that she’s been walking around in a depressed fog or anything. Olivia and Stella and I got together at Olivia’s two nights ago to listen to music and talk, and Stella seemed cheerful enough. But it doesn’t take a relationship expert to see that this is going to be hard for the girl. She and Rajeev have not only fallen headlong for each other, but even though I never would have guessed it, they turned out to be an incredible couple. Like curried chickpeas and hot sauce, they just go together.

Watching the two of them at this moment brings another lump to my throat. They both look haunted, like they can’t believe they’re saying goodbye. They’re gazing into each other’s eyes and holding hands. Not a word passes between them, and yet I can tell there’s real communication happening. It’s amazing to watch.

At last he kisses her forehead.

She puts her hand on his cheek.

He takes a step back.

After a heartbeat he turns and walks away, his expression resolute as he moves through the gate.

There. It’s over now. All of us step closer to Stella. Her eyes are red rimmed. Wen rests his hand on her shoulder. I hear Olivia whisper in her ear, “He’ll be back. Don’t worry, Stella. We’ll see him again soon.”

I want to believe it, but I don’t. I’ve never met Rajeev’s family—well, not recently, anyway—but I know how things are. Rajeev’s parents are superconservative, and they just arrived in this country. Stella is wonderful, but they don’t know that. Plus, Stella and Rajeev are going to be two thousand miles apart.

If you ask me, Lubbock might as well be the moon.

Everybody’s quiet as we watch Rajeev work his way through the short line, wheeling his carry-on luggage behind him. He steps through the metal detector. He’s on the other side now but he still hasn’t looked back at us. He’s walking farther away down the long hallway. It hurts. It feels like we’re watching a part of Lemonade Mouth disappear, like he belonged with us and is now being ripped away. Stella’s face is ashen. Charlie squeezes my hand and I can’t help feeling grateful that at least
he
isn’t going anywhere.

I can’t believe Rajeev still hasn’t looked back at us, but then, just as he’s about to turn the corner and out of sight, he spins around in a cool robot dance move that’s somehow both choppy and graceful at the same time, and he’s facing us again. He lifts an invisible lemonade cup into the air.

“Hold it high!” he calls out with a grin. “Raise it up!”

Even though my throat is tight and I feel my eyes welling, I smile. I think each of us feels the same way. We do
what he asks. We all return the salute of our new, dear friend, holding up our invisible cups. Even Madhu, Baba and Maa.

I have no idea what’s going to happen to any of us next. Whatever it is, though, I can’t help thinking things won’t be the same without him.

Dear Ted
,

I don’t know whether to feel good or to scream. My life just jumped into scary overdrive, and yet as
I’m writing this I’m wondering how much you even know. Have you even received my last letter, the one where I told you that we were going to meet with Sista Slash?

Well, now we have. And boy, what a day it’s been
.

We met her in a restaurant in Providence. She’s in New England anyway because the Take Charge Festival is this weekend (even you must have heard about that—the huge multiband benefit concert in Vermont? It’s all over the news), and since she’s putting up the money for the whole thing, she’s spending the week up in Vermont organizing the final preparations. She said she wanted to come down to Rhode Island to meet us, though, and in her message she said she’d be at a place called the Lone Star Veggie, a little vegetarian Texas barbecue restaurant on Federal Hill
.

It was a good thing the trip from Opequonsett wasn’t long. For the whole ride into Providence, Stella was working up a major freak-out. “Are we going to be late?” she kept asking. “Oh god oh god oh god, can you believe this is happening?”

When we stepped into the restaurant, there she was, Sista Slash, the Lawless Queen of Anarchy. She was alone at a booth waiting for us. We recognized her right away, not only because a solidly built middle-aged rocker with spiky black
hair striped with orange is kind of hard to miss, but also because there weren’t any other customers in the place at the time. When she realized how many of us had come (eight—us five plus Lyle, Naomi and Mrs. Penn, who drove) she started moving tables so we could all sit together
.

Now, I’ll be honest. From what little I knew about Sista Slash—her shock-and-blast music; her reputation as a reckless, in-your-face crusader for a zillion different causes; even her whole retro-tough studded-jeans-and-leather look—I was secretly worried she would turn out to be a loudmouthed, full-of-herself, rock-diva type. But she wasn’t. She seemed genuinely thrilled to meet us. In fact, instead of talking about herself, she went on and on about how much she loves our music
.

“Guys, I just have to get this out right from the get-go,” she said (she has a Southern accent—I didn’t know that, did you?), “I’m a huge fan of Lemonade Mouth. Your sound is outside of the everyday. It takes risks. It’s got an edge, know what I mean? An attitude. And, girl,” she said, turning to Stella, “I can’t get over that uke of yours! Holy crap! That little thing rocks!”

Stella was speechless. She turned purple
.

Believe it or not, Sista Slash was super charming the whole time we were with her. And funny! You should’ve heard her talk about all the trouble she
has getting her hair to stay spiky after wearing a motorcycle helmet. (“This darn do takes up more of my time than I care to admit, but I’m not giving up my ride, and appearances must be maintained!”) Or about how worried her accountant is because of the financial risk she’s taking on the Take Charge concert. (“The man is so frightened of taking chances that I think even if he was about to burst he’d be too scared to pee in the dark.”) Within minutes she had us all laughing and relaxed. The woman might have a pile of gold records, a Humanitarian of the Year award and the email address of the Dalai Lama, but Sista Slash is about as unassuming as they come. I began to see why Stella admires her so much. Even Mrs. Penn was impressed at how down-to-earth she was
.