The Fight for Kidsboro (23 page)

Max then called Jake to the stand. “Do you know Nelson Swanson, Mr. Randall?”

“Not really. I've met him. I know he's the one who built the car.”

“Do you know Jill Segler?”

“I met her once. She interviewed me.”

“How about Scott Sanchez?”

“Again, I met him once.” Where was he going with this?

“Alice Funderburk.”

“Cop, right?”

“That's right. Do you know her very well?”

“Nope.”

“How about Mayor Ryan Cummings? Do you know him very well?”

Jake looked over at me with an evil smile. “Oh, yes. I know Ryan.”

Nelson objected, “Your Honor, I fail to see the relevance—”

“Thank you, Mr. Randall. That's all,” Max said.

Jake stepped down. Then Max pulled another unexpected move. “I'd like to call Ryan Cummings back up to the stand.”

I looked at the judge, desperately hoping This was against the rules. But it wasn't. I slowly left my seat and took my place on the stand.

“Mr. Mayor, welcome back,” Max said with a smile.

“Thanks,” I said, rolling my eyes.

“Mr. Mayor, do you know Jake Randall?” Oh no. He wouldn't. Jake had probably told him something, and now Max was going to blackmail me. Or maybe it was something else. Maybe Max was just trying to scare me. I had to stay calm. If I acted nervous, or if I refused to answer the question, everyone in Kidsboro would know something was up. They'd all be asking me questions. I couldn't deal with that. I had to remain calm.

“Yes,” I said.

“How well do you know him?”

“Not that well, really.”

“Is he your friend?”

“I don't know if I would call him that. He's an acquaintance.”

“Isn't he a little more than that?”

I gulped. “What do you mean?”

“He's a citizen of this town, isn't he?”

“Yes,” I said, fearing a bad question was just around the corner. I shifted in my chair.

“It's very strange that he became a citizen. You know why? Because our city charter states that 80 percent of the city council has to approve a new citizen. That means four out of the five members of the city council had to vote for him. And yet … Jake just testified that he doesn't even know four out of the five members of the city council. He does, however, know you. Mr. Mayor, if Jake only knows one out of five people on the city council, could you tell us how it is that he became a citizen?”

I glanced over at Jake. He was trying to hide a smile.

“You must've recommended him very highly if they were convinced without ever meeting him.”

I didn't answer.

“He must be a very good friend, Mr. Mayor. And we all know how much pride you take in your citizens. We all know you would never want a dishonest, untrustworthy person within the walls of Kidsboro. So, Mr. Mayor, when Jake says that these events took place … you know, with the car and all … you believe him, don't you?”

He had me again. I couldn't question Jake's character. I took a deep breath and prepared to lie. “If that's what he said … I guess it happened.”

“And do you think Jake would ever be a part of any hoax, Mr. Mayor?”

“I … suppose not.”

“Thank you, Mr. Mayor.” Thankfully, I got to get off the stand. My heart was pumping against my chest like a bongo drum.

“No further questions,” Max said. “We rest our case, Your Honor.”

The judge allowed each lawyer to restate his case. Nelson's sounded pretty flimsy up against Max's, I must say. I couldn't quite read the jury's faces. I just hoped they remembered the other scams that Max had pulled in the past. That was probably Nelson's only hope. The jury left to discuss the verdict.

Nelson remained in his chair behind the table. I wanted to say I was sorry, but I didn't think it would matter at this point. I would wait until the verdict was in.

I decided to get out of there before anyone asked me any questions about Jake. On my way out, I ran into him. He was maneuvering himself out from under the pavilion roof on his crutches. He smiled and patted me on the back. “Thanks for saying such nice things about me, Ryan.”

Fuming, I grabbed him by the arm and led him away from the crowd. “What are you guys doing?” I demanded once we were out of earshot.

“Who?”

“You and Max.”

“We're try in' to win a case.”

“What did you tell him?”

“About what?”

“You know about what,” I said, fisting the bottom of his shirt up into a wad.

“Man, you're really scared of me.” I let go of his shirt. I was giving myself away. “I didn't tell him nothing. Don't worry.” He headed back to the meeting hall. “We're pals, remember?”

I watched him walk away. I didn't want to be scared of him. But I was.

The jury would probably be out for a while, so I decided to take a break from reality and check out Kidsboro's version of Hollywood. The movie shoot had been in progress for over a week now. The last time I had been there, things weren't going terribly well. I hoped Pete had been able to smooth some things over.

When I got there, Pete was filming at the bottom of the cliff and had apparently just finished a scene. Scott was lying at the base of the cliff, moaning. Lying next to him were three garbage bags filled with couch cushions. The bags were painted to look like rocks. From the looks of things, Scott had just been asked to stand under a cliff while rocks landed on top of him. I guess Pete had misjudged the weight of the couch cushions, because Scott looked to be in quite a daze. He was mumbling something about nap time.

Then Valerie stormed up with a piece of paper in her hand. She went straight to Pete and stuck her finger in his face. Everyone else on the crew stopped what they were doing and filed in behind her. Pete watched them, clueless.

“Mr. Director, the entire cast and crew met last night after we were done taping. We met to discuss how we were feeling about this movie production. As it turns out, Pete, everyone felt pretty much the same way. We're all sick of you!”

“What?”

“You've pushed us way too hard. We're 10 to 14 years old. We shouldn't have to work 60-hour weeks.”

“I thought you
liked
doing this,” Pete said.

“We
used
to like doing this. But you've completely taken the fun out of it for everyone.”

“How?”

“Funny you should ask that. At the meeting last night, we came up with a list of grievances. And from that, a list of demands. We will refuse to work until every last one of these demands is met.”

“Refuse to work? You can't do that. You're under contract.”

“We're breaking it, unless these demands are met.”

“Okay, what demands?”

Valerie cleared her throat and read aloud, “We will get a one-hour lunch break every day.”

“All right, I can deal with that,” Pete said.

“We will not work past seven o'clock in the evening, unless we are given overtime pay.”

“I suppose I could work around the seven o'clock thing. But you're not getting overtime. We're over budget as it is.”

Valerie went on. “The cast and crew will be allowed to have as much creative input as they desire.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“We can change the script if we want to.”

“No way. This is
my
film—”

She ignored him and went back to the list. “The actors will not be required to touch other actors.” I was certain this one was Valerie's demand.

“What? You've gotta be kidding! The script has to have—”

“We will not be required to travel over 15 miles an hour and run into solid objects, and we will not be required to have solid objects that are traveling over 15 miles an hour run into
us
.” Scott's demand, obviously.

“This is ridiculous.”

“We will not be required to do any more method-acting exercises where we have to act like we're a kitchen appliance for an entire day.” I could understand this one. Scott was clearly embarrassed one day when he had wrecked trying to ride a bicycle like a toaster oven.

“What gives you guys the right to question my techniques?
I'm
the artist here. Spielberg doesn't have to answer to his actors.”

“You're not Spielberg. And you'll give us what we want or we walk.”

“No way. I can deal with some of those things, but I can't turn my set into a free-for-all. I have to have control.”

“Fine. Then we're officially on strike.”

“You can't be serious!”

“Come on, everybody.” Valerie dropped the list on the ground in front of Pete. The group filed away quietly. Scott got up from the bottom of the cliff and followed.

“
Nobody's
staying? Oh, come on!” Pete picked up the list. “I'll give you the lunch break … and the quitting at seven o'clock deal! Except for night shoots, of course. Okay, no more method-acting exercises! I'll give you that one.” Pete continued to yell out at them, but no one even turned around. Pete suddenly turned defiant. “You'll be back! You need this job! A lot of you don't even
have
other jobs! And you know what? I can finish this movie without you!”

I turned to Pete and shrugged my shoulders. “Maybe a little compromise wouldn't hurt.”

“Compromise is what makes bad movies,” he said, turning and putting his equipment away.

I got back to the meeting hall just in time. The jury was in place and ready to read the verdict. I sat down and glanced at Nelson. He was fidgeting in his seat. A juror handed a piece of paper to the judge and she read it.

“Has the jury reached a verdict?” she asked.

The foreman of the jury stood up. “Yes, Your Honor.”

“Go ahead.”

“We, the jury, find for the plaintiff.” Nelson had lost. A gasp went through the crowd and Nelson's head practically dropped to the floor. The foreman went on, “For the entire 100 starbills.” Another gasp. Nelson's head bent even further down. I looked around. One person knocked over a chair in anger; another pounded his fist into a post. They were both investors in Nelson's company. All that money they had invested was gone. Another boy shouted “No!” and buried his head in his hands. It was one of Nelson's employees. He was probably out of a job. Until this moment, I hadn't realized just how many people this lawsuit would affect. Max and Jake were giving each other high-fives, and they left the room taunting Nelson. Nelson continued to sit there and stare at the ground. I went over to him.

“I'm finished,” he said.

“You can rebuild,” I told him. “You've got a good product.”

“How am I gonna get any investors after this? I can't build cars any more. I'm done.”