Free Lola Zola and the Lemonade Crush by Jackie Hirtz

to sneak in a special beverage that would quench a multitude of parched throats.
    Lawrence, the star of the movie, had reportedly been wandering through the desert for over an hour when Lola and Melanie arrived with their jackets bulging and their foreheads perspiring. Once inside the theater, the two girls went to work, roller skating up and down the musty aisles.
    â€œExcuse me, are you thirsty?” Lola asked a middle-aged woman sitting next to the aisle, munching on popcorn she must have smuggled into the theater.
    â€œShush,” she said, “I’m trying to watch the movie.”
    â€œIt’s a wonderful film,” said Melanie, the small-talk specialist. “The desert part is awesome.”
    â€œThe whole movie takes place in the desert,” the woman said, annoyed that she had been drawn into conversation. She shook her head as if to say, “You imbecile.”
    â€œThat’s why we thought you might want a thirst quencher,” said Lola, not waiting for the woman’s permission before pouring her some lemonade. Thewoman must have been dying of thirst, munching on salty popcorn and sitting in a furnace. “Here, try my pucker potion,” said Lola, handing the woman a cup.
    When the moviegoer hesitated to drink something that, as far as she knew, could be poison, Lola poured a cup for herself and downed it in a flash.
    â€œMmmm deelish, and look, I’m still alive!”
    â€œQuiet,” yelled an elderly gentleman near the front.
    â€œYeah, shut your traps,” hollered a woman with a raspy voice. “I can’t hear!”
    Lola, her palms sweating, anxiously awaited the popcorn smuggler’s first taste of lemonade.
    Taking a sip, then a slurp, then a gulp, the woman smacked her lips with delight. “This wild and wonderful lemonade makes the screen jump out and grab me. I’m there with Lawrence now.”
    Lola poured some more virtual reality lemonade and handed her a business card in the shape of a lemon. The card read, “Pucker-Power. Lola’s Magical Lemonade. Weekends and after school. Salt Flat Road. Be there.”
    A high school student in an usher’s uniform shined a flashlight on them and said, “A kid complained you’re making a racket. Quiet down, okay?”
    Smiling at the usher, who also happened to be the ticket-seller, Lola said, “Sorry, we were just looking for seats.”
    The usher shined his flashlight on a myriad of empty seats. “Find one and glue your butt to it.”
    The Twister Sisters plopped down in the nearest empty seats, waited for the usher to return to his ticket booth, and then bopped back up on their roller skates. Lola thought it was odd that a kid, not an adult, would report them to the usher. She scanned the dark theater but didn’t see any other kids. Go figure.
    Lola and Melanie moved on down the aisle, squeezing through rows and occasionally rolling over people’s toes. Ouch!
    â€œDo you feel like you have a cactus in your throat?” asked Lola.
    â€œIs your mouth one big dried-out tumbleweed?” echoed Melanie.
    Parched movie viewers couldn’t quench their lemonade thirst fast enough. Business was good, thanks to Lawrence, who was now crawling in the sand like a dehydrated prune. A short while later, after they had poured countless cups of lemonade and distributed over fifty business cards, they were confronted by the irate usher.
    â€œThe kid’s still complaining about your hustle and bustle, so pack up those pitchers and boogie on out,” said the usher. “I don’t want to lose my job.”
    â€œTotally understandable,” said Lola. “We’re history.”
    Agents 002 and 315 scurried out of the theater and across the street. They swarmed into the Mirage Beauty Salon to share the lemonade news among the blue-haired ladies and their gossip-spreading root-dyers.
    Cruising through the salon on roller skates, Lola and Melanie