The Lemonade Crime (3 page)

"Like what?" asked Adam.

"I did a lot of chores around the house."

"There's no way you saved up that much money from doing chores," said Adam.

"I did, too," said Scott. Now he held on to the ball and dribbled it in place. Ryan held up his hands for it—it was his turn to shoot—but Scott wouldn't give it up. "What're you saying?"

"I'm saying what I said," said Adam. "There's no
way
you saved up that much money just from chores."

What he's saying,
thought Jessie,
is that you stole all our lemonade money from Evan, and everybody knows it!
If only someone had seen him take it. If only there'd been an eyewitness—like the crime shows on TV! Then Scott wouldn't have gotten off ... scot-free.

A shadow fell across the page of her book. Jessie looked up, and there was David Kirkorian standing next to her.

Jessie still didn't know a lot of the fourth-graders, but David Kirkorian was legendary throughout the school. Everyone said he had all kinds of weird collections at his house. He kept a jar of peach pits on his dresser, and he added a new one every time he ate a peach. He had a box full of shoelaces from every shoe he'd ever worn. He even had a large brown envelope filled with his own toenail clippings. At least, that's what everybody said, though Jessie was pretty sure that no one had actually seen the envelope.

"You're not allowed to read outside during recess," said David.

"I never heard of that rule," said Jessie.

"Just because you don't know a rule doesn't mean it isn't a rule." David started picking at one of his fingernails, and Jessie wondered if he collected those, too.

"That's the dumbest rule I ever heard."

"No, it's not," said David. "You could get run over sitting here. You're not even paying attention. A ball could conk you on the head. You could
die.
"

He started to walk off in the direction of the duty teacher. Jessie felt her face getting hot. What was David going to say to the duty teacher?

Jessie stood up and hurried toward the school building. She would say that she had a stomachache. She would go to the nurse. Mrs. Graham always let you lie down for a couple of minutes before sending you back to your class. It was a good place to rest and be quiet. A good place to think. And Jessie had a lot of thinking to do. Not just about rules and recess. But about how unfair it was that Scott always escaped punishment—and what she could do to change that.

"Toenail collector," Jessie muttered under her breath as she hurried inside.

hearsay
(
),
n.
Quoting someone else's words when that person is not present to say whether those words are true; rumor. Hearsay is not allowed as evidence in a court of law.

"So, you get it?" asked Megan, leaning back in her chair. "They're the same. See?"

The math problem was about symmetry. There were five different shapes drawn on the page, and for each one, Evan had to figure out if the shape was symmetrical or not. If it was, he had to draw the line of symmetry. Megan had already done the first one to show him how.

But Evan was having a hard time thinking about symmetry when he was sitting right next to Megan Moriarty.

"That one's easy," said Evan, trying to sound cool. "Everybody knows that hearts are symmetric."

"Not all hearts," said Megan. "Look at this one."

"Well, that's just freaky," said Evan.

The next three shapes weren't too hard, and Evan was able to draw the line of symmetry for each one.

But the last one had him stumped, and Megan finally had to let him in on the trick: the shape wasn't symmetrical at all.

"It looks like it should work," said Megan, "but it never does, no matter where you draw the line. Jessie showed me that. She's a math genius, huh?"

Evan didn't say anything. Having a sister who was smart enough to skip a whole grade was like having a best friend who was a basketball star. It made you look bad by comparison.

"Hey, Evan?" said Megan, dropping her voice and leaning in even closer. They both looked over at Mrs. Overton, who was talking on the class phone. Evan could smell the coconut shampoo Megan used on her hair. It made him think of ice cream at the Big Dipper. "How do
you
think Scott Spencer got the money for that 20/20?"

The nice, floaty feeling leaked out of Evan. "Scott Spencer? Huh!" said Evan.

"I know what you mean," said Megan, sitting back and twirling her hair. "He always acts so nice when the teacher's around, but then he's really mean in the halls."

"Yeah, that's Scott," mumbled Evan.

"You know," said Megan, leaning in again. "Scott once told me his mother makes ten dollars a
minute.
Do you believe that?"

Evan thought of the Spencers' house and the vacations they took every year—skiing and the Caribbean and even Europe—and he didn't doubt it for a second. "Sure," he said. "You should see where he lives."

"I heard he has a new TV that's as big as the whiteboard." Megan pointed to the large whiteboard at the front of the room.

"Probably," said Evan. "You wouldn't think a kid like that would steal things."

Megan's eyes opened wide. "Does he really steal? Alyssa told me he does. She said he took her charm bracelet out of her locker and then pretended he'd found it on the playground. Just to impress her. But I don't know if that's true."

Evan was dying to tell her that Scott had stolen $208 from him—but he couldn't. "He stole lunch money from Ryan once. And he took a candy bar from the Price Chopper. He steals lots of things."

Megan looked at him closely. "Did you see him take the money or the candy bar?" she asked.

Evan shook his head. "No, but Ryan said—"

"That's just a rumor, then," said Megan. "You can't believe everything you hear. That's what my parents always say."

"If you knew him like I do, you'd think it was true, too."

"Maybe," said Megan. "But I don't listen to rumors. People probably say things about me that aren't true! And about you, too!"

Evan wondered if that was so. What would people say about him? Did his friends talk about him behind his back? He didn't like to think about that.

But what Megan said got him thinking about the missing money. Evan never actually saw Scott take the money, but he had told everyone—Paul and Ryan and Adam and Jack—that Scott had taken it. And they'd all believed him, because ... well, because it was true! Evan was sure of it.

"You have to know Scott," Evan said, shaking his head again. But he could hear his mother's voice:
Rumors are like pigeons. They fly everywhere and make a mess wherever they go.

accused
(
),
n.
A person who has been charged with a crime or who is on trial for a crime.

Jessie and Megan were walking to school, and they were late. Jessie had called Megan at 7:00 that morning, and again at 7:30, and then at 7:55
and
8:10, but Megan had still been late leaving her house. ("I was late because you kept calling me," she grumbled on the way out the door.)
Ten whole minutes late.
So now they were half running, half walking, trying to get to school before the bell rang.

Normally, Jessie wouldn't have minded missing the before-school time on the playground, but to day she had things to do. On the playground. Before school. With no grownups around.

"C'mon, c'mon," she said to Megan. Megan's legs were longer than Jessie's, but Megan was slow because her mailbag kept banging into her knees.

"Why do we need to get there so early?" asked Megan. She was loping along, about ten feet behind Jessie.

"You'll see when we get there. Keep running, keep running."

"Better hurry, girls," said Darlene when they got to the crosswalk. "I heard the first bell." Jessie and Megan speed-walked across the street. Running wasn't allowed.

"Oh, no!" said Jessie when they rounded the corner and caught sight of the playground. "They're already lining up. Come
on!
"

By the time Jessie and Megan ran onto the blacktop, the entire fourth grade was lined up, waiting for the signal to file into school. The girls should have gone to the end of the line, but Jessie marched right up to the middle, where Scott Spencer was trying to knock Paul's baseball cap off his head. Evan was standing farther up, bouncing the class basketball. He was Equipment Manager this week, which meant he was responsible for bringing in all the playground stuff—balls, jump ropes, Frisbees.

"Hey," said Scott, noticing Jessie. "The end of the line is back
there!
"

"So?" said Jessie, rummaging in her backpack.

"So no cutting," said Scott. "Isn't that the
rule?
" Even Jessie could tell he was making fun of her.

"I'm not cutting," said Jessie, pulling a piece of paper from her backpack and holding it out in front of her. "I'm serving you with a warrant for your arrest."

A few of the boys in front of Scott turned around, and some of the girls at the end of the line moved up so they could see, too.