‘Chicken Soup for the Girl's Soul: Real Stories by Real Girls about Real Stuff. Really, now,’ I chortled with amusement, making Baekhyun send a poisonous glare my way.

I was absently browsing through Baekhyun’s quirky collection of old, worn books. They spanned an enormous range of subjects; from boring-looking autobiographies to fast-paced action thrillers; pompous self-help books to beautiful, glossy travel guides; enchanting fantasy novels to dark, haunting crime and horror stories.

‘Oh, be quiet. It was a birthday present from some bumbling aunt who thought that ‘Baekhyun’ sounded like a girl’s name. Psh,’ Baekhyun grumbled unhappily, looking up from a hardback copy of Carlson’s Guide to Landscape Painting to scowl at me.

I tried not to laugh as I patted his ankle consolingly.

While I was very entertained by the odd mix of books that lined the shelves, I could also tell how much Baekhyun treasured his books. Even though the books were old, they had been bound carefully in plastic sheets to preserve their fragile covers, and the pages, though well-thumbed, had obviously received much care.

Each book was free of dust, as were the shelves, as though the books were read every day.

Baekhyun had told me that all of the books were either hand-me-downs from his parents or neighbours, or were presents from distant relatives. This was actually true for most of Baekhyun’s things, since there was no way his parents would let him go shopping on his own.

A small smile tugged at my lips as I watched little Baekhyun treasure that which he had with so much love, even though he had so little.

An idea popped into my head.

‘Stay here,‘ I told a confused Baekhyun even as I dashed out the door, ‘I’ll be right back.’

15 minutes later, I was back at Baekhyun’s house with 5 dozen lemons, 3 bags of sugar, a stack of assorted paper cups and a hole in my dad’s bank account.

In my defense, this was a good cause.

I’d also grabbed a large empty cardboard box on the way back from the store and my favorite black Sharpie.

‘Baekhyun,’ I announced to the bewildered child who was looking at me as if I’d decided to bring a horse home, ‘we’re going to sell lemonade.’

And so half an hour, 20 sore fingers and a broken pitcher later, the pair of us were dragging Mrs Byun’s sewing table out onto the stretch of pavement in front of mine and Baekhyun’s houses, covered it in ridiculous-looking cat-print tablecloth and tied our cardboard “BAEKYEOL’S LEMONADE – IT’S IRESSISTABLE IRRESISTABLE!” sign to the table legs. It took us two trips each to bring all 5 pitchers of lemonade out. Mrs Byun had kindly provided us with a cooler filled with ice cubes, while Mr Byun was busy setting up a large umbrella so we could sit in relative shade while we waited for customers.

Baekhyun wanted to give his parents free cups of lemonade for their help, but the generous souls paid for them anyway. It kind of made me think (slightly bitterly) about how differently my parents (I really mean just Fiona) would have reacted—probably would have just told me not to waste my time and their money. I tried to push the thought out of my head.

Business was going slow the first half-hour. Baekhyun had taken to curling up in his chair and browsing his paperback Small Business For Dummies, 4th Edition.

I swear he’s like a 50-year-old geezer stuck in a 12-year-old’s body.

40 minutes later, a silver SUV suddenly pulled up in the driveway and I perked up when I realized that they were some of my new friends. The backseat of the car flew open and four of my schoolmates streamed out of the car. An older woman stepped out of the driver’s seat, a small smile on her face.

‘HEY GUYS!’ I shouted excitedly, waving like a madman. The four of them waved back enthusiastically. They were all dressed in identical sweaty, muddy, grassed-stained soccer jerseys, and they looked tired but happy.

‘Yeol! ‘Sup!’ Minseok grinned. He was the first one to our lemonade stand.

I’d only met them a week ago but I’ve always thought that the child had an in-built food detector. Hm.

‘Hey! Guys, meet Baekhyun!’ I said excitedly, gesturing to a shy Baekhyun who half-raised a hand in greeting, ‘Baekhyun, meet Yixing, Luhan, Sehun and Minseok,’ I grinned, gesturing to each of them in turn.

‘Hello, Baekhyun,’ Luhan smiled warmly.

‘Wassup!’ Minseok held out a fist for Baekhyun to bump, to which Baekhyun cocked his head in confusion, before reaching out hesitantly, taking Minseok’s plump fist between his thumb and forefinger and shaking it, as one would deal out a handshake.

Everyone died.

Luhan was bent over the table, clutching his aching sides, ‘oh good grief, Yeol, your friend is adorable.’ He reached over to pinch Baekhyun’s cheek gently.

‘Hey. No touching. He’s mine,’ I pouted, slinging a possessive arm across Baekhyun’s chest and pulling him closer to myself. This elicited a raised eyebrow from Yixing and a devilish smirk from Sehun. Baekhyun’s face had turned so red I started to wonder where all the blood was coming from. In his embarrassment he hid his face in my shoulder. I think my tummy joined the circus because it seemed to be doing cartwheels all over the place.

‘What’s so funny?’ the older woman from the car asked, approaching our stand. Sehun immediately clung to her arm so I deduced she was his mom.

‘Nothing, Mrs Oh~’ I smiled, ‘would you care for some lemonade?’

Mrs Oh ended up buying lemonade for everyone, generously putting a 20 in our money jar, effectively giving us twice the amount of money we asked for. Baekhyun gave her a glowing smile, in response to which she ruffled his hair affectionately.

The commotion our laughter had caused seemed to attract several curious passers-by, and we soon had a small queue going, and we had already covered our costs by the first hour.

By 4 o’clock we were all sold-out, covered in sweat and a bit of lemonade, but also 110 dollars richer than we originally were.

Time for phase two.

I grabbed Baekhyun’s hand and began to drag him away, the money clutched tight in my other hand. He gave me a questioning look. I just chuckled.

‘Come on. There’s somewhere I want to take you.’