Jessie shook her head. Not a single person in the fourth-grade line was talking. Everyone was watching Jessie and Scott. She continued reading, "'If you are found guilty—'"
"Are you saying," said Scott, his eyes narrowing and a scowl appearing on his face, "that I stole money?"
Jessie took a deep breath. She knew it was a big deal to accuse someone like that.
"Yes, I am," she said. There were murmurs among the fourth-graders.
"What about you?" asked Scott, turning toward Evan and taking a few steps forward. He reached out to poke Evan in the chest, but Evan swatted his hand away before it ever touched him. "Are you saying I stole your money?"
Jessie looked at Evan. He dribbled the basketball twice, then held it in his hand, staring at it. Suddenly, Jesse realized that she should have talked to Evan before doing any of this. He was the one who'd been the victim of the crime. He was the one who would still have to play with Scott every day at recess. He was the one who would have to testify against him in a court of law.
But it was too late now. Everyone was watching them. Everyone was waiting to see what would happen next.
Evan dribbled the ball again. One, two, three. Jessie knew that he was thinking. Evan thought with his whole body, not just his brain.
"That's what I'm saying," he said quietly. "I'm saying you stole the money from me."
The line of fourth-graders had twisted into the shape of a large, sloppy C with both ends watching what was happening in the middle.
Now that Evan had accused Scott of stealing, the line started to fall apart entirely as kids pulled in close to hear what Scott would say next.
But it was Jessie who spoke first. "'If you are found guilty, your punishment will be that you have to give your new Xbox 20/20 to Evan Treski.'"
"No way!" said Scott, but he could barely be heard over all the noise that the fourth-graders were making. Everyone had an opinion about the fairness of the punishment.
"Hey," said Ryan. "What happens if he's found not guilty?"
Jessie shook her head. "He won't be."
"I will, too, you twerp!" said Scott. "And when I am, here's what's going to happen. Both of you"—he pointed at Jessie and Evan—"are going to stand up in Morning Meeting and tell everyone, including Mrs. Overton, that you told lies about me and that I didn't take anything from anyone. And then you're going to apologize to me. In front of everyone."
"4–0!" Mrs. Overton was standing in the doorway, a look of dismay on her face. "What kind of a line is this?"
The kids scrambled back to their places, and those at the front started the morning march into the classroom. But Evan, Jessie, and Scott still faced each other.
"Is it a deal?" asked Scott.
"Deal," said Evan, and turned his back on them to head inside.
"I'll even put it in writing," said Jessie. She waved the arrest warrant in front of Scott. Then she picked up her backpack and hurried to the end of the line, smiling.
Soon, justice would be served.
* * *
Agreenment of Atonement following the Trial of Scott Spencer
If Scott Spencer is found GUILTY in a court of law of the crime of stealing $208 from the pocket of Evan Treski's Shorts on September the 5the of this year, he will give his Xbox 20/20 to Evan Treski to keep froever.
If Scott Spencer is found NOT GUILTY in a court of law of the crime of stealing $208 from the pocket of Evan Treski's shorts on september 5th of this year, Evan and Jessie Treski will stand up in the Morning Meeting on Monday morning and tell the entire class that Scott Spencer did not steal $208 from the pocket of Evan Treski's shorts on September 5th of this year, and they will Apologize to him for telling Lies.
Evan Treski's
Jessie Treski
Scott Spencer
* * *
Chapter 6
Impartial
impartial (), adj. Treating everyone the same; not taking sides in an argument; fair and just.
At recess, Jessie didn't waste any time. Evan watched as she pulled index cards, one by one, out of a big envelope. All the fourth-graders crowded around.
"You're the plaintiff," she said to Evan, and handed him a green index card that said PLAINTIFF on it. "That means you're the victim of the crime." Evan studied the card, then stuck it in his back pocket. A kids' court sounded like a crazy idea to him. A crazy Jessie idea. But he was used to those, and this one might get him a new Xbox 20/20, not to mention the satisfaction of proving Scott's guilt in front of everybody. For that, he was willing to give it a try.
"I'm Evan's lawyer," said Jessie, and she gave herself a purple index card that said LAWYER FOR THE PLAINTIFF.
Then she turned to Scott. "You're the defendant, which means you're the one who's on trial." She gave him a yellow index card that said DEFENDANT on it.
Then she started to hand out five orange index cards.
"Hey!" shouted Scott. "Don't I get a lawyer?"
"Hold on! You'll get one in a minute," said Jessie sharply. She continued handing out cards.
"I want Ryan," said Scott.
"Sorry," said Ryan, holding up an orange card. "I'm a witness."
"Then I want Paul."
"He's a witness, too," said Jessie, handing Paul the last orange card. "Everyone who was at Jack's house on the day of the crime is a witness."
"Well, then who's going to be my lawyer?" asked Scott, crumpling his DEFENDANT card.
Jessie ignored his question. She held up a purple card. "Megan, you're on the jury," she said. Evan's heart jumped. There was one vote he could count on.
"When's the trial?" said Megan.
"After school," said Jessie. "On Friday."
Megan shook her head. "I think we're going away this weekend."
"You can't miss the trial!" said Jessie. Evan wanted to shout the same thing, but he kept his mouth shut.
"I'll talk to my mom," said Megan. "Maybe we can leave later. But you'd better give this card to somebody else." She handed the purple card back to Jessie.
"Oh, all right," said Jessie, sounding disappointed. "Take one of these." She handed Megan a white card that said AUDIENCE on it.
It only took Jessie another minute to hand out the twelve JURY cards and the rest of the AUDIENCE cards. All the audience members were girls because all the witnesses were boys and the jury, as Jessie explained to everyone, had to be fifty-fifty.
Evan looked around. It was weird, the way all the kids were going along with Jessie's idea. Didn't they know this was all fake? And how did Jesse know all this legal stuff? How did she always know things he didn't know?
Jessie rounded up the six girls who held white audience cards. Then she turned to Scott. "You can pick anybody from the audience to be your lawyer. Technically, we don't even need the audience. No offense," said Jessie, turning to the girls.
"I don't want a girl lawyer," said Scott.
"Suit yourself," said Jessie, shrugging. "But don't come back and complain you weren't offered legal counsel."
"A bunch of girls!" said Scott. "Some offer! I'll be my own lawyer. I'll defend myself." He turned to Jessie. "And I'll beat you at it, too!" he said. That was just like Scott, thought Evan. Always thinking he was the best. Always the kid who had the best stuff. Who took the best vacations. Who had everything.
"Good," said Jessie. "Defend yourself." There was just one more index card in her envelope. Evan watched as she pulled it out slowly. The card was red. It had one word on it.
Jessie looked around like she was making a very important decision, but Evan knew she'd already decided who would get that red card. Jessie never left anything until the last minute.
"The judge is going to be ... David Kirkorian."
There was dead silence.
Then Paul shouted out, "Are you kidding me?"
"He can't be a judge!" said Ryan. "He collects human bones!"
"I do not!" said David, turning bright red but stepping up to Jessie and taking the card out of her hand.
"Why him?" asked Paul after the duty teacher walked away.
"Because he's the only one in the whole class who's impartial," said Jessie. "He's not friends with Evan or Scott. He'll be fair. He won't play favorites. And that's the most important thing about a judge. A judge has to treat everyone the same."
David held up the red card in one hand and placed the other one over his heart. "I solemnly swear that I'll be a fair judge," he said.
"Good," said Jessie.
But Evan couldn't believe it. Who was going to listen to a kid like David Kirkorian?
For Evan, the day went downhill from there. All afternoon in class, they worked on things that Evan hated: math fact drills, spelling rules, and writers' workshop. Then Mrs. Overton discovered that one of the jump ropes was missing from the 4–0 milk crate, and that was Evan's fault because he was Equipment Manager.
But the thing that really slam-dunked the day right into the garbage can, the thing that changed it from a crummy day into absolutely one of the top ten worst days of his life, happened after school.
Evan was strapping on his bike helmet when Adam walked up to him at the rack and pulled out his bike. "You want to come over?" asked Evan.
"Can't," said Adam. "I promised my mom I'd help her get the house ready for Yom Kippur."
"Is that today?" asked Evan, clicking the buckle under his chin.
"It starts Friday night, but my mom wants me to clean up my room today and do some other stuff, too."
Evan knew that Yom Kippur is a holiday where the grownups don't eat all day. It was supposed to help them think about their sins, but Evan couldn't figure that out. When he was hungry, he couldn't think about anything except what he was going to eat next.
"You want to come to the break-fast party?" asked Adam. The Goldbergs always ate a big meal at sunset when the holiday fast was over.
"Sure," said Evan. He'd been to lots of Friday night dinners at Adam's and Paul's houses. He liked the candles and even the prayers he didn't understand, but mostly he liked the food: challah bread, roasted chicken, and applesauce cake.
"Are you going to go the whole day without eating this year?" asked Evan. Last year, Adam had bragged that he was going to fast next year for Yom Kippur.
Adam shrugged. "I might try." Then he looked down at his bike and bounced the front wheel a couple of times on the hard blacktop. "Look. Uh. There's something I've been meaning to say to you. You remember how over the summer, Paul and Kevin and me, we ditched you in the woods that time?"
"Yeah," said Evan, wondering why Adam was bringing up something that had happened months ago. Evan had been really mad back then, but now it was over.
"Well, I'm really sorry. And I hope you'll forgive me." Evan looked confused. Adam shrugged. "Dude. It's Yom Kippur. The Day of Atonement. You have to go around and ask people to forgive your sins."
Evan laughed. "You're such an idiot!" He shoved Adam. Adam grinned, faked like he was going to throw a punch, then got on his bike, and rode away.
Evan was just about to push off on his bike when he saw Ryan and Paul walking together toward the path. He rode across the blacktop and crossed in front of them right before they came to the fence. Before Evan could say anything, Paul slung his arm around him, nearly knocking him off his bike. "Hey, Evan, I totally owe you one. Thanks for taking the blame, you know, when Charlie got off his leash."
"Yeah, sure. No big deal," said Evan, shrugging. Evan and Paul did that all the time for each other: swapping the blame so that they wouldn't get in trouble with their own parents. Parents always went way easier on other people's kids than they did on their own.
"You want to come over?" Evan said to Paul and Ryan, balancing on his bike without pedaling forward.
Paul shook his head. "No, we're going to Scott's."
Evan slammed his feet to the ground and stared at the two of them.
"He said we could try out the 20/20," said Ryan. "It's supposed to be awesome. You should come, too."
Evan felt like he'd been sucker-punched. "No way!" he shouted. He stared at Paul and then Ryan with an expression that said, Traitor! but neither one of them said anything in return. Finally, Evan said quietly, "I can't believe you're going over to his house."
Paul shrugged. "He didn't do anything to us."
"Some friend you are," said Evan.
"C'mon, Evan," said Paul. "You don't even know for sure that he took the money..."
"I know!" said Evan.
"You should come," said Ryan. "Everyone's going over there after school."
A picture came into Evan's mind of the whole fourth-grade class marching over to Scott's house. All his friends. And where would he be? He'd be at home, with his little sister. "Who?" he asked. "Everyone, who?"
"All the guys," said Paul. "You know, me and Ryan and Jack and Kevin. All the guys."
"Not Adam," said Evan, thinking to himself that at least he had one friend who was loyal.
"Well, he's gotta help his mother with some stuff," said Ryan, "but then he's coming over after that. Like in an hour."
Evan shook his head in disbelief. His best friend. Stabbing him in the back. He yanked his handlebars away from Paul and Ryan and rode off without saying another word.
Chapter 7
Due Diligence
due diligence (), n. Taking the time and making the effort to do a reasonably-good job at something; the opposite of negligence.
"Can we take a break now?" asked Megan, sitting up on her knees. She held the blue marker in her hand as if it were a lighted candle. Her fingers were covered with ink in all colors, and she had a pencil stuck through the base of her ponytail.
Jessie was lying on her stomach with her whole box of colored pencils spread out in front of her. There was no way they could take a break now! The trial was tomorrow. There was still so much left to do.
She'd already interviewed the five witnesses who were going to testify—Paul, Ryan, Kevin, Malik, and Jack—to find out exactly what they remembered about the day of the crime when they were at Jack's house. She'd written out index cards for David Kirkorian that told him exactly what he was supposed to say during the trial.
* * *
WHEN! THE TRIAL BEGINS:
You bang your gavel and say: "All rise! Court is in session. The Honorable David P. kirkoraian presiding."
* * *
* * *
IF SOMEBODY TALKS WHO'S NOT SUPPOSED TO:
You say: "Order in the court! Order in the court! If you're not quiet, I will hold you in contempt!"
* * *
* * *
WHEN YOU SWEAR IN A WITNESS:
You say: "Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?"
* * *
Now she was finishing up coloring the map that showed where each person would stand or sit during the trial. And she still had to write her closing argument!
Jessie felt—for the first time in her life—as if she was about to take a test and she hadn't studied long enough.
"Let's just work a little longer," she said. "Are you almost done with the nametags?"
Megan showed Jessie the twelve jury nametags,
the five witness nametags,
and the judge's nametag.
"Those are good," said Jessie. "Now you just have to do the ones for the audience."
Megan groaned. "This is why Evan calls you Obsessie Jessie."
Jessie hated that nickname. She hated all nicknames! Why had Evan told Megan about that?
"I am not obsessed. I just work hard. It's called due"—she thought for a minute, but couldn't come up with the nam
e—"something." She scrounged under the papers that were scattered on the floor and found "Trial by Jury," the booklet her mother had written. She started flipping through the pages.
"But we've been doing this for hours!" wailed Megan. "I want to go outside."
"Due diligence!" said Jessie. "That's what it's called. Doing your job so that later, no one can blame you and say you didn't work hard enough."
"Well, due diligence is BORING!" said Megan. She picked up the ruler that Jessie had been using to draw straight lines on her map and began to balance it upright in the palm of her hand. She was pretty good at it. Jessie was impressed.
Suddenly, Megan asked, "Do you think you can really prove that Scott stole Evan's money?"
Jessie felt her throat close up for an instant.
That was the question she was most afraid of. That was the question that had kept running through her mind last night as she lay in bed, trying to fall asleep.
"I don't know. I'd better be able to." Jessie imagined standing up in front of the whole class and apologizing to Scott. It made her feel like throwing up.
Megan put the ruler down and flopped onto the floor, spreading her arms and legs out like a starfish. She picked up the map Jessie had drawn that showed where everyone would be in the courtroom.
The courtroom wasn't a "room" at all. It was the grassy part of the school playground—the part that was farthest away from the building and the blacktop and was shaded by a row of large elm trees. Jessie had drawn exactly where they would set up the milk crates and the jump ropes and the balls and who would sit where. Everybody's name was marked with some kind of symbol.
Megan stared at the map. "It's like I can almost imagine the whole thing happening," she said. "There's just one thing." She turned the paper one way, then the other. "It's not symmetrical. See?"
The Lemonade Crime Page 3