Splat! by Eric Walters Read Free Book Online Page B

convertible, waving and smiling at the crowd, the perfect politician.
    Just then he looked over and saw the four of us covered in tomato stains. He froze,his hand above his head stuck in mid-wave, the smile replaced by a look of complete disbelief.
    I didn’t know whether I should be afraid or amused. I went with amused and waved back as his car rolled by. He cast one more glance over his shoulder, shook his head forlornly and then turned back to the crowd and started to wave. I couldn’t see his face, but I knew he’d be smiling again.
    I just wondered what was going on in his head. I guess I wouldn’t have to wait long to find out. I was pretty sure he’d be back here as soon as the parade ended to tell me exactly what he thought. Maybe he wouldn’t be pleased, but what could he really say? we were running the event and even making some money.
    â€œThere’s my man!” Keegan yelled.
    Next in line in the parade was Stewie The Tomato, the official mascot of the Tomato Festival. With him were his entire family—four other people dressed in tomato costumes to look like Mr. and Mrs.Tomato and their three tomato children. They were riding atop a float that looked like a gigantic tomato basket.
    â€œHey, Stewie!” David yelled. “You rule, Stew!”
    Stewie turned our way and waved. I noticed that the smile painted onto his costume looked very similar to the smile that my father was flashing. Maybe Stewie was thinking about running for mayor. He might have a shot.
    â€œAnybody know who’s inside the Stewie costume this year?” Keegan asked.
    â€œNo idea,” I said. “I just know how hot he must be.”
    I’d been Stewie twice before and by the time they pulled the Stewie suit off me I was swimming in my own sweat. Not a pretty sight or smell—although compared to Owen last night I’d gotten off pretty easily.
    Next in line came a float with an Elvis impersonator on the back. Music blared from the truck, and he sang along. When he wasn’t being Elvis he ran the gas station.He’d been a part of the parade for as long as I could remember.
    He was dressed in a glitzy white jumpsuit covered in rhinestones and was wearing big, dark sunglasses and sideburns that were like pork chops.
    Funny, he used to do a younger version of Elvis. Now he was imitating the middle-aged, big gut, eaten-too-many-donuts-and-deep-fried-chocolate-bars-and-cheesecake Elvis.
    Right after Elvis came four white convertibles. Perched on the backseat of each were three of the contestants for the Miss Tomato Festival contest. All twelve contestants were dressed in identical long white dresses.
    Kelsey sat in the second car, waving at people. If I had a vote she would have gotten it.
    â€œShe looks really good,” I said without thinking.
    â€œSometimes you don’t appreciate what you have until it’s gone, huh, Keegan?” David asked. That was even worse than what I said.
    â€œShe’s only gone for the moment. She’ll come back to her senses.”
    â€œI don’t know,” David said. “I saw her and Owen together this morning down at the fairgrounds, and they were all kissy face and holding hands.”
    I cringed. This wasn’t good—but maybe he needed to hear the truth.
    â€œHey, Kelsey!” Keegan yelled.
    The three girls in her car looked over and all got that same stunned look that my father had when he saw us covered in tomato stains. Then they broke into big smiles and started laughing and pointing at us.
    â€œI guess that’s something,” Keegan said. “I knew she couldn’t stay mad at me forever.”
    â€œJust because she’s laughing at you— laughing at all of us—doesn’t mean she’s going to forgive you,” I said.
    â€œStep by step, I’m moving in the right direction.”
    â€œJust don’t forget that large roadblock and his tuba standing between you and