The Lemonade Crime
Jacqueline Davies
The Lemonade Crime
Jacqueline Davies
Table of Contents
Title Page
Table of Contents
...
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Copyright
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Houghton Mifflin Books For Children
Houghton Mifflin Harcourt
Boston New York 2011
For C. Ryan Joyce
in loco parentis to many—
and one, in particular
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Many thanks to the good people who helped shepherd this book: Tracey Adams,
Mary Atkinson, Henry Davies, Mae Davies, Tracey Fern, Jennifer Jacobson, Sarah
Lamstein, Carol Peacock, and Dana Walrath. A special thanks to Ann Rider, who
knew when to push and when to step back—and then push again.
Text copyright © 2011 by Jacqueline Davies
Illustrations by Cara Llewellyn
Pronunciations are reproduced by permission from
The American Heritage Dictionary of the English Language
All rights reserved. For information about permission to reproduce selections
from this book, write to Permissions, Houghton Mifflin Harcourt Publishing
Company, 215 Park Avenue South, New York, New York 10003.
Houghton Mifflin Books for Children is an imprint of Houghton Mifflin
Harcourt Publishing Company.
www.hmhbooks.com
The text of this book is set in Guardi
The illustrations are pen and ink
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Davies, Jacqueline, 1962–
The lemonade crime / written by Jacqueline Davies.
p. cm.
Summary: When money disappears from fourth-grader Evan's pocket and
everyone thinks that his annoying classmate Scott stole it, Evan's younger sister
stages a trial involving the entire class, trying to prove what happened.
ISBN 978-0-547-27967-1
[1. Trials—Fiction. 2. Behavior—Fiction. 3. Brothers and sisters—Fiction. 4.
Schools—Fiction. 5. Forgiveness—Fiction.] I. Title.
PZ7.D29392Le 2011 [Fic]—dc22 2010015231
HMH 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
Contents
Chapter 1 * Fraud [>]
Chapter 2 * Revenge [>]
Chapter 3 * Eyewitness [>]
Chapter 4 * Hearsay [>]
Chapter 5 * Accused [>]
Chapter 6 * Impartial[>]
Chapter 7 * Due Diligence[>]
Chapter 8 * Defense[>]
Chapter 9 * Bona Fide[>]
Chapter 10 * Trial by Jury[>]
Chapter 11 * Perjury[>]
Chapter 12 * Sixth Amendment[>]
Chapter 13 * Circumstantial Evidence[>]
Chapter 14 * Fighting Words[>]
Chapter 15 * Balance[>]
Chapter 16 * Amends[>]
Chapter 1
Fraud
fraud (frôd), n. The crime of deceiving someone for personal or financial gain; a person who pretends to be something that he or she is not.
"No fair!" said Jessie. She pointed to the four chocolate chip cookies that her brother, Evan, was stuffing into a Ziploc bag. They were standing in the kitchen, just about ready to go to school—the fourth day of fourth grade for both of them, now that they were in the same class.
"Fine," said Evan, taking out one cookie and putting it back in the cookie jar. "Three for you. Three for me. Happy?"
"It's not about being happy," said Jessie. "It's about being fair."
"Whatever. I'm outta here." Evan slung his backpack over his shoulder, then disappeared down the stairs that led to the garage.
Jessie walked to the front-room window and watched as her brother pedaled down the street on his bike. She still didn't have her bike license, so she wasn't allowed to ride to school without a parent riding along. That was just one of the bad things about skipping third grade and being the youngest kid in the fourth-grade class. Everyone else in her class could ride to school, but she still had to walk.
Jessie went to the refrigerator and crossed off another day on the lunch calendar. Today's lunch was Chicken Patty on a Bun. Not her favorite, but okay. With her finger, she tapped each remaining day of the week and read out loud the main dish: Deli-Style Hot Dog (barf); Baked Chicken Nuggets with Dipping Sauce; Soft-Shell Tacos; and, on Friday, her favorite: Cinnamon-Glazed French Toast Sticks.
Saturday's box was empty, but someone had used a red marker to fill in the box:
* * *
Saturday
Yom Kippur
par-tay!
* * *
Jessie put her hands on her hips. Who had done that? Probably one of Evan's friends. Adam or Paul. Messing up her lunch calendar. Probably Paul! That was just like him. Jessie knew that Yom Kippur was a very serious Jewish holiday. She couldn't remember what it was for, but it was definitely serious. You were not supposed to write the word after Yom Kippur.
"Jessie, are you all ready?" asked Mrs. Treski, walking into the kitchen.
"Yep," said Jessie. She picked up her backpack, which weighed almost as much as she did, and hefted it onto her shoulders. She had to lean forward slightly at the waist just to keep from falling backwards. "Mom, you don't have to walk me to school anymore. I mean, I'm a fourth-grader, you know?"
"I know you are," said Mrs. Treski, looking on the garage stairs for her shoes. "But you're still just eight years old—"
"I'll be nine next month!"
Mrs. Treski looked at her. "Do you mind so much?"
"Can't I just go with Megan?"
"Isn't Megan always late?"
"But I'm always early, so we'll even out."
"I suppose that would be okay for tomorrow. But today, let's just walk together. Okay?"
"Okay," said Jessie, who actually liked walking to school with her mother, but wondered if the other kids thought she was even more of a weirdo because of it. "But this is the last time."
It took them less than ten minutes to get to school. Darlene, the crossing guard, held up her gloved hands to stop the traffic and called out, "Okay, you can cross now."
Jessie turned to her mother. "Mom, I can walk the rest of the way myself."
"Well," said Mrs. Treski, one foot on the curb, one foot in the street. "All right. I'll see you when school gets out. I'll wait for you right here." She stepped back up on the curb, and Jessie knew she was watching her all the way to the playground. I won't turn around and wave, she told herself. Fourth-graders don't do that kind of thing. Evan had explained that to her.
Jessie walked onto the playground, looking for Megan. Kids weren't allowed in the school building until the bell rang, so they gathered outside before school, hanging on the monkey bars, sliding down the slide, talking in groups, or organizing a quick game of soccer or basketball—if they were lucky enough to have a teacher who would let them borrow a class ball before school. Jessie scanned the whole playground. No Megan. She was probably running late.
Jessie hooked her thumbs under the straps of her backpack. She had already noticed that most of the fourth grade girls didn't carry backpacks. They carried their books and binders and water bottles and lunche
s in slouchy mailbags. Jessie thought those bags were stupid, the way they banged against your knees and dug into your shoulder. Backpacks were more practical.
She wandered toward the blacktop where Evan and a bunch of boys were playing HORSE. Some of the boys were fifth-graders and tall, but Jessie wasn't surprised to find out that Evan was winning. He was good at basketball. The best in his whole grade, in Jessie's opinion. Maybe even the best in the whole school. She sat down on the sidelines to watch.
"Okay, I'm gonna do a fadeaway jumper," said Evan, calling his shot so the next boy would have to copy him. "One foot on the short crack to start." He bounced the ball a few times, and Jessie watched along with all the other kids to see if he could make the shot. When he finally jumped, releasing the ball as he fell back, the ball sailed through the air and made a perfect rainbow—right through the hoop.
"Oh, man!" said Ryan, who had to copy the shot. He bounced the ball a couple of times and bent his knees, but just then the bell rang and it was time to line up. "Ha!" said Ryan, throwing the ball sky high.
"You are so lucky," said Evan, grabbing the ball out of the air and putting it in the milk crate that held the rest of the 4–0 playground equipment.
Jessie liked Evan's friends, and they were usually pretty nice to her, so she followed them to stand in line. She knew not to get in line right behind Evan. He wasn't too thrilled about having his little sister in the same classroom with him this year. Mrs. Treski had given Jessie some advice: Give Evan some space, so that's what she was doing.
Jessie looked across the playground just in case Megan had appeared, but instead she saw Scott Spencer jumping out of his dad's car. "Oh, great!" muttered Jessie. As far as Jessie was concerned, Scott Spencer was a faker and a fraud. He was always doing something he wasn't supposed to behind the teacher's back, and he never got caught. Like the time he cut the heads off the daffodils that were growing in the art room. Or when he erased stars from the blackboard so that his desk group would win the weekly Team Award.
When Scott got to the line, he cut right in front of Jessie and tapped Ryan on the back of the shoulder. "Hey," he said.
"Hey," said Ryan, turning and giving him a nod.
"Excuse me," said Jessie, poking Scott in the arm. "The end of the line is back there." She jerked her thumb behind her.
"So what?" said Scott.
"So you can't just cut in front."
"Who cares? All we're doing is going into school."
"It's a line," said Jessie. "The rule is you go to the end of the line."
"Who cares what you say?" said Scott, shrugging and turning his back on her. The line was starting to move forward. Scott punched a couple more boys on the arm and said hey to them. Some of the boys said hi back, but Jessie noticed that Evan kept looking straight ahead.
"Man, am I late," said Scott to Ryan. He was grinning from ear to ear. "I couldn't stop playing my new Xbox 20/20."
"You got a 20/20?" asked Ryan.
Paul turned around. "Who did? Who got one?"
"He says he did," said Ryan, pointing to Scott.
"No way," said Paul. "That's not even out yet."
"Well, you can't get it in a store," said Scott. "But my mom knows people in Japan."
Jessie looked toward Evan, who was at the front of the line. She could tell that he hadn't heard what Scott said, but more and more boys in line turned around to hear about the 20/20. It was the newest game system, with surround-sight goggles and motion-sensing gloves. The line in front of Jessie started to bunch up.
When Jessie got to the door of her classroom, Mrs. Overton was standing there, saying good morning to each student as the line filed in.
"Mrs. Overton, Scott Spencer cut in front of me this morning." Jessie was no tattletale, but Scott needed to learn a thing or two about rules.
Mrs. Overton put a hand on Jessie's shoulder. "Okay, Jessie. I'll watch tomorrow to make sure it doesn't happen again, but for now, let's just let it go."
Perfect! thought Jessie as she walked to her desk and took down her chair. Scott Spencer gets away with something again.
After putting her chair on the floor, she walked out into the hall to hang her backpack in her locker. She tore off a corner of a page from her Writer's Notebook and quickly wrote a note on it. Then, as she passed Evan's desk on the way to her own, she slipped the note into his hand. She didn't see him open it and read it, but by the time she sat down at her own desk, she could tell that he had. Evan was staring at Scott Spencer, and you could practically see bullets coming out of his eyes.
Chapter 2
Revenge
revenge (), n. The act of causing pain or harm to another person because that person has injured you in some way.
Evan crushed the note in his hand. Suddenly he didn't feel like laughing and joking around with his friends. Suddenly he wanted to punch his fist through the wall.
Here's why: Evan was more certain than ever that Scott had stolen money from him. It had happened just last week. Right in the middle of that heat wave. Right in the middle of the lemonade war with Jessie. They'd all been at Jack's house. All the guys—Paul and Ryan and Kevin and Malik and Scott—were playing pool basketball. Evan had $208 in the pocket of his shorts. Two hundred and eight dollars! It was more money than he'd ever seen in his whole life. He'd left his shorts folded on the bed in Jack's bedroom while they all went swimming. But then Scott got out of the pool to go to the bathroom. And a minute later, he came running out of the house, saying he had to go home right away. And when Evan went back in the house to get dressed, the money was gone.
It had been the worst feeling in Evan's entire life.
Once upon a time, about a million years ago, Scott and Evan had been friends. Sort of. Evan used to play at Scott's house a lot, and once in a while Scott would play at Evan's, although Scott said his house was better because there was more stuff to do. One time, Evan even went overnight to Scott's beach house on the Cape. The Spencers had plenty of money because Scott's mom was a lawyer at one of the biggest law offices downtown and his dad ran a financial consulting business out of their home.
But things had cooled off since then. Way off. The truth was, Scott was kind of a pain to be around. The way he bragged, the way he cheated at games, even stupid little games like Go Fish or Operation. Who cared about winning a game like Go Fish? And the way he kept things locked up—like the snacks at his house! He kept Yodels and Ring Dings locked in a metal file cabinet in his basement. If Evan thought about it, he had to admit that he really couldn't stand the kid. And now he had a reason to hate him.
"Morning work, Evan," said Mrs. Overton, tapping the work sheet on his desk as she walked by. Evan turned back to his own desk and studied the Daily Double math problem in front of him. All the other kids in the class were working on the same problem, and Evan could tell that some of them had already finished. Normally this would have made him tense, but this morning, he couldn't even concentrate enough on the problem to get that uh-oh feeling inside of him.
I'd get an Xbox. The new one. That's what Scott had said last week, just before the money disappeared from Evan's shorts. They were trying to figure out how much money they would make from a lemon ade stand and what they would buy if they got rich. Suddenly rich.
And now he had an Xbox. Scott Spencer had a 20/20, and Evan was sure he'd bought it with the money he'd stolen from Evan's pocket. Evan felt like lifting his head and howling.
Sh-sh-sh-sh-sh-sh-sh. A sound like a rattlesnake ready to strike shimmied through the classroom. Evan looked up. Mrs. Overton was shaking the big African shekere she used to get everyone's attention. The beads draped around the hollowed-out gourd made a rustling, rattling sound.
"Okay, Paper Collectors," said Mrs. Overton, "please gather the Daily Doubles and put them on my desk." Every week, the students in 4–0 were assigned a job. Some of the jobs were serious, like Paper Collector and Equipment Manager and Attendance Monitor, and some of them were silly, like Chicken Dresser (the
person who chose an outfit for the rubber chicken that sat on Mrs. Overton's desk) and Goofy Face Maker (the person who made a face that all the kids in 4–0 had to copy at the end of the day on Friday). "Everyone else, come over to the rug for Morning Meeting."
Evan looked back down at the blank math problem in front of him. The only thing he'd written on his page was his name. He handed the paper to Sarah Monroe, then walked over to the rug in the corner and dropped onto the floor, his back up against the bookcase.
"Evan, sit up, please," said Mrs. Overton, smiling at him. "No slouching in the circle." Evan crossed his legs and sat up properly.
First, they went around the circle and every person had to say hello to the person on the right and the person on the left, but in a different way. When it was his turn, Evan said "konichiwa" to Adam, who was sitting next to him. Evan liked saying the Japanese word. It made him feel like he was kicking a ball around inside his mouth. Jessie used sign language to say hello to Megan. Scott Spencer said "Whassup?" to Ryan, which made everyone in the class laugh. Everyone except Evan.
Then Mrs. Overton turned to a fresh page on the Morning Board. A wild goose had landed on the playground yesterday morning, and that was the topic for discussion. Mrs. Overton wanted to know what the kids knew about geese in particular and migrating birds in general. So they took turns until every single one of them had written a fact on the easel. Evan wrote, Some birds fly for days. He was going to add when they migrate, but he was pretty sure he'd mess up the spelling of the word migrate, so he left off that part.
When they'd finished talking about geese and migration, Mrs. Overton capped the Magic Markers and said, "Would anyone like to share something with the class before we go back to our desks?" About half the kids raised their hand, but no one's hand went up faster than Scott Spencer's.
"Scott?" said Mrs. Overton. Evan slumped back against the bookcase. He did not want to hear what Scott had to share with the class.
