“Don’t even think about leaning that bike against my car,” Mick said.
“You think I want Mustang germs on my brand-new Raleigh, dude?” Liam said.
“What took you so long?” Amelia called. “We’ve done three cars already!”
Mick was polishing a green hatchback while the owner, a man in a suit, leaned against a tree and read a newspaper. Duke was spraying mud off a silver SUV, and Amelia and Roshni were washing Simon’s van. Simon was inside, his seat tipped back and the window open so he could call out suggestions.
“Hey, Liam,” he said. “The girls have missed a bit of the back fender. And Roshni! A little more elbow grease, please!”
Simon rolled up the window just in time to miss Roshni’s sponge. He made faces at them through the suds.
Liam lowered his bike to the grass.
“Is the sign still there?” Roshni said. She and Amelia had made two signs in the end—the big one, which they ended up taping to a streetlight on Hastings (after a fierce argument over which one of them had to stay at Hastings and hold it), and a smaller one with just an arrow, tacked to a telephone pole at the end of their block.
“Yup,” Liam said. He waved his arms wildly as a red Mini turned up the street. “I’ll direct traffic,” he said as the car pulled up behind Simon’s van.
“Forget it!” Roshni said. “Grab a sponge!” She beamed at the woman stepping out of the Mini. “Ten dollars for a wash. Special deal on Minis tonight. We throw the polishing in for free!”
Sudsy water pooled on the street and ran down the gutter. Most people wanted a quick slosh with sponge and hose and skipped the Turtle Wax. Amelia kept track of the number of cars. Jordan’s blue Honda Civic was number seven. Marguerite’s red Ford Fiesta was number ten, and the Rachel’s Renos van was number twelve. Rachel pitched in to help and then insisted on giving a five-dollar tip. Amelia had brought the pickle jar, and by car number fourteen it was overflowing with bills.
There was one scary moment when Domenico showed up on his motorcycle. “Isn’t that the Italian guy?” Roshni whispered. “Here comes trouble.”
But Duke smiled and walked over and slapped Domenico on the back. “Hey, dude. Glad you made it. These are the amazing kids I told you about. Amelia, Roshni and Liam.”
“The loan!” blurted Amelia. “He’ll pay you back! Honest!”
Domenico grinned. “He’s paying me back with a snake. As soon as he gets in an interesting one, he’s giving me a call. Now, how are you at polishing chrome?”
At seven thirty, Gabriella arrived, dressed in her salon clothes—a short black skirt and high-heeled sandals. By then things had slowed down. The last car had been fifteen minutes ago, and Amelia was secretly glad. Her arms were aching, and her fingers had shriveled up like raisins. She glanced around for Roshni, who was sitting on the curb, listening to Liam’s new iPod.
Mick was showing Liam the Mustang’s engine, and Duke was rolling up the water hose when a gleaming silver car that looked familiar glided up the street and pulled over. Amelia frowned. Where had she seen it before?
A man and a woman in a sari stepped out of the car. The East Indian couple from next door!
“Your car is so clean already,” Amelia said.
The man smiled. “But I have a feeling this is for a good cause, so we’d like to participate. I’m Kamal Pawar, and this is my wife, Namita. I believe we’re neighbors.”
“I’ve been awful about coming over to meet you,” Namita said. “Life just gets too busy. You’ve been there quite a few months now.”
“Almost a year,” Amelia said. She introduced everybody and then told Kamal and Namita about Winston and the other animals while Mick put a little extra shine on their car with some Turtle Wax.
“The coupon idea,” Namita said. “That’s brilliant. I’m always too lazy to look for myself.”
“I’ll bring some coupons over tomorrow,” Amelia promised, “and you can pick out what you want.”
Something landed splat in the middle of her back. She spun around.
“Wet-sponge fight!” yelled Liam.
“Three hundred and twenty bucks,” Duke said. “You guys are incredible.”
Amelia, Duke, Gabriella, Simon, Liam, Roshni and Mick crowded around the kitchen table, dripping, while Diane sliced pieces of peach pie and Marguerite handed them out. Duke had dumped all the bills and coins out of the pickle jar, and they had counted it twice, just to make sure.
“That’s a lot of money,” Duke said.
But it’s not enough, Amelia thought. She fought back a pang of disappointment and nibbled at the edge of her pie, listening to Gabriella talk about the apartment in Port Moody.
“Simon took us there this morning, and we are putting down a deposit tomorrow.” Gabriella frowned. “It is a shame we are moving just when Rachel said she would build us some shelves in the reptile room. And the apartment, of course, is not perfect. There are marks on the ceiling from water, so I am thinking it will leak in the rain, and there is a strange smell coming out of the bathroom taps, and the landlord has a problem with booze. I have never seen so many empty wine bottles. But”—she flashed one of her dazzling smiles—“he is happy to have the animals.”
Diane frowned.
After everybody had left, Diane disappeared while Amelia rinsed the pie plates and put them in the dishwasher. When she was finished, she went to her bedroom. She searched under the beanbag chair for the envelope with the phone number for the house in Langley. If Duke and Gabriella had to move, they should move somewhere good.
She put the envelope on her dresser and then sat on the edge of her bed, sorting through her stack of coupons. She tried to decide which ones Kamal and Namita might like. Their car had been spotless, so she figured they were into cleaning. She made a pile with Lysol spray, Arm & Hammer laundry detergent, Mr. Clean Magic Eraser, Febreze and Nellie’s dryer balls. She didn’t hear her mother come back.
“There,” Diane said, standing in her doorway. “That’s done.”
“What’s done?”
“I’ve told Duke and Gabriella they’re not going anywhere.”
Amelia leaped up, her coupons flying everywhere. Her heart soared. “They can stay? Like, for good? You really mean that?”
“Yes, I do.”
“What made you change your mind? Was it that crummy apartment? Or was it Beaker and Mango? That was my idea.”
“Nothing made me change my mind. I don’t know why you say things like that. I changed it myself. I do have—”
“An open mind,” Amelia said, beaming.