Carly slapped her hands on the table then gleefully announced her epiphany: “Yes! I’ll do it! I’m going to free the Sunshine Club! And everyone will be welcome here!”

  The lively and profound conversation ended abruptly as Lemon ran into the dining room, bawling her head off.

  Concerned, Old Lady Marbles asked, “Oh my, what’s wrong, deary? What happened?”

  Lemon climbed into her chair and gushed through her tears, “I’m just so happy! Wahh! Unicorns are real! Wahh!”

  Ginger rose to help but then sat down again after realizing Lemon was crying from joy.

  Marco turned toward the hallway.

  Uh oh.

  I shouldn’t have left Lemon alone up there with Olivia.

  She spoke to Old Lady Marbles directly, but everyone stopped talking to listen to the darling little girl struggle through her tears. Even the old Water Witch smiled.

  “I… went… (sniff)… into Olivia’s… (gasp) room… to see... (sniff) if she was... (sniff) okaaay… ay… ay… (gasp).”

  She rocked back and forth in her chair. “It was… (sniff) the prettiest room… (sniff) I ever saw… (gasp). She has… unicorn everything! (sniff sniff)”

  “Oh my goodness!” Old Lady Marbles held back her laughter. “This is the cutest thing I’ve ever seen in my whole life. I have to get this!” She pulled out her phone and hit record.

  “So then what happened, dear? Go on,” she encouraged.

  “Olivia asked… (sniff) if I believed… (sniff) in Unico-orns,” Lemon sobbed, rocking in her chair. “And I said… Wahhh! I do… oo… oo…! I really, really do… Wahhh!”

  “She has… Wahh! a necklace… Wahh! shaped like a heart… (sniff),” she continued through her tears, voice rising higher. “It makes rainbows! (sniff) But you have to baa-lieve… Wahh!”

  “Then she asked me again… (sniff) if I believed… and I said yes… yes!” Lemon gasped dramatically. “And then—together—we said: we need sunshine and rainbows!”

  “We went to the window… (gasp) and there—Wahh!—there was a rainbow! Wahh!”

  “Because we believed! We baa-lieved in Unico-orns! Wahh!” Lemon was now beaming with joy. “Unico-orns are real! This is the happiest day… of my li-ife! WAAAAAH!”

  The entire table froze. No one even breathed as Lemon cried her way through the story.

  Marco rolled his eyes and looked around the table, baffled. “Isn’t anyone going to tell her the truth?”

  Then, shaking his head at her, he snapped, “There’s no such thing as unicorns, Lemon! Rainbows come after the rain. Duh, that’s why they’re called rainbows!”

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  His face lit up with a grin. But he quickly regretted it.

  Crap.

  Carly was looking at him like he’d crossed some invisible social line. One of those rules everyone swore existed, but he never could quite see. Another imaginary unicorn, real to everyone but him, and he was done trying.

  Lemon responded with the loudest, screechiest little girl scream ever caught on video.

  “I NEED SUNSHINE AND RAINBOWS!!

  I BELIEVE IN UNICORNS!

  UNICORNS ARE REAL!

  YOU’RE FULL OF CRAP!”

  Everyone at the table clapped their hands over their ears to block out Lemon’s screeching. The chandelier flared bright, and one of the bulbs popped with a sharp crack. A teacup slipped from someone’s hand and shattered across the tile.

  Only Marbles, who diligently kept her cell phone camera trained on Lemon, left her ears unprotected.

  Mr. Ravel and Carly ducked under the table, then rose slowly, wide-eyed. The others lowered their hands, shell-shocked.

  Marbles finally turned off the recording and said, “Oh my goodness, Lemon. I think my ears are still ringing.”

  Mr. Cookie-Montebello stood up and sternly announced, “That’s it. Fun’s over. We’re going home!”

  It was still grey and cloudy outside. The dry freeway asphalt drank up the rain, changing from its usual dusty pale grey to wet dark black. In the back of Mr. Cookie-Montebello’s minivan, little Lemon fell asleep in her seat. Up front, Old Lady Marbles manipulated her floppy Kitten Brigade hat into the shape of a pillow and nodded off as well.

  Marco closed his eyes, listening to the soothing sound of tires rolling along the wet freeway. He wasn’t sleepy. He was replaying Lemon’s high-pitched screaming over and over again in his mind.

  “Unicorns are real!”

  “YOU’RE FULL OF CRAP!”

  His mother had warned him not to lose his temper again. After this, she was definitely going to ground him for the rest of summer.

  It’s not my fault Lemon believes in stupid unicorns.

  He pressed his thumb to the space between his eyebrows and rubbed slowly. It felt good.

  Anton dropped off Lemon and Marco just inside the metal gates of El Stucco.

  As he stepped out of the air-conditioned minivan, the heat felt heavy and layered. The old condominiums looked dingy, dirty, and ragged from the storm. Dust and dirt had washed off the terracotta rooftops and onto the decks and patios, making everything feel like a giant beige mud hole.

  I hate it here. It’s all so fake. Everything is stupid.

  The hot afternoon sun emerged from behind the clouds, and bright white sunlight reflected off the windshields of the wet parked cars and shallow rain puddles. The warm, humid air still smelled of earthy desert creosote.

  Lemon hissed at Marco one last time, “Unicorns are real!”

  Then she ran across the steaming asphalt parking lot, her feet smacking the wet pavement with defiant rhythm all the way to her grandmother’s.

  Standing alone near one of the dripping carport overhangs, he watched as she disappeared. Then he scrunched his face, mocking her in a whiny voice:

  “Wah! I’m a widdle baby! Unicorns are real! Wahhh!”

  He laughed, stepping backward into a carport support pole.

  Warm rainwater trapped on the flat metal roof suddenly released, pouring down on him, drenching his hair and the back of his shirt.

  “Ahh!” he screamed, stumbling into a warm puddle and soaking his shoes again.

  Marco dragged himself to the stairs.

  Oh no.

  Angel the cat sat on the condo steps, holding in her mouth the limp carcass of the last surviving fledgling dove.

  Scowling at her, Marco muttered through clenched teeth, “Stupid cat.”

  A fat drop of rainwater slid off his nose.

  Just in case Gretty Lime was watching, he stepped carefully around Angel, repressing the urge to chase her off, then headed up the stairs.

  His wet shirt clung to him, reeking of Lysol and wet cigars.

  Ick, I think I still stink from the dump.

  He stepped through the condo’s front door.

  Inside, it was cool and dark, like always.

  “Mom?” he called out, hoping she hadn’t heard about his outburst yet.

  Her voice came from the bedroom: “Marco, can you come in here a moment?”

  Uh oh. She knows.

  Resigned to his doom, he sighed and slunk toward her slowly.

  So long, Summer.