“So he’s suing for libel.”
“And he’s got a case.”
“For how much?
“Thirty starbills. I don’t have it.”
“I can’t believe this.”
“Do I have the authority to call a city council meeting?” she asked without hesitation. She had obviously already given this some thought.
“I’ll talk to Corey. I’ll ask him not to sue.”
“That’s not the point. This program isn’t working. It’s making people too desperate for money.”
I leaned back in my chair. She had a point. “I’ll look into it.” She gave me a long, hard stare, nodded her head, and left without another word.
It was time for some more appointments. When in doubt, make an appointment. I needed to find out if this program was working at all. So I spoke to all the people who had been “forced” to get jobs, 10 in all, and they agreed to meet with me in my office to discuss their progress. It had been two weeks since I had set up the Everybody Works program, so if anyone was having trouble finding work, this was his or her last week to come up with something.
I thought I’d begin with the one person who I knew would have the biggest problem with the new law—James the doctor. It’s rumored that one summer he faked sunstroke to get out of mowing the lawn. He’d looked it up in some medical journal and acted out the exact symptoms. Then after his father finished the lawn, he faked a miraculous recovery. He was actually admired for how good he was at being lazy. If anyone was going to fail at finding work, it was James. That is, unless he was pushing people down cliffs so he could give them medical attention and charge them afterward. The Way things were going, that sort of thing didn’t appear to be beyond the people of this town.
James came in with a much different look on his face than when he had come in before. He actually seemed excited to talk to me. Of course, the cliff theory immediately came to mind.
“So, James, how are you doing?”
“Great. Thanks.”
“Are you finding any work?”
“Sure.”
I swallowed a lump in my throat. “What kind?”
“I sold some lemonade and juice and stuff. See?” He reached into his back pocket and pulled out two starbills. My mouth fell open. “Remember how it was so hot the other day? I guess people were pretty thirsty, huh?”
“You made two starbills selling drinks?”
“And change. Sold about 40 cups.”
I smiled. “You’re kidding me. That’s great!”
“I just thought about what you said about being a productive member of society and participating in the economy. So I figured I should do this.”
“I’m impressed. I guess you’re gonna keep this lemonade thing going, huh?”
“Definitely. Especially this summer.”
“Well … I’m sorry for ever doubting you. You really came through. I was beginning to think this new program wasn’t working for anybody, but … at least it worked for you.”
“Yeah,” he said.
“Well, I’ll tell you what. Go on and keep doing what you’re doing. In a few weeks, I’ll check on you to see if you’re still making money. Okay?”
“Sounds good.”
James left, and I held my chin up high. I felt like a father whose son had just hit the home run that won the game. I imagined turning to the other parents in the stands, saying, “I taught him that swing.”
Much to my delight, most of the interviews went just as well. Out of the 10 people I talked with, only three were displeased with the new law. Five had gone out and gotten new jobs or figured out new ways to make money. A couple of them, like James, had rarely lifted a finger in their lives. But I guess with the right incentives, people can produce. I began practicing the speech I would give before the U.S. Congress in 25 years: “Ladies and Gentlemen, I have two words for you—Everybody Works …” (Applause.) “Thank you …” (More applause.) “Thank you …” (Standing ovation.) “Thank you …”
The first thing I did after the interviews was tell Scott, and he immediately took the wind out of my sails.
“James sold lemonade?” he asked.
“That’s what he said.”
“Do you believe him?”
“He had the money right there.”
“But do you know for sure that’s how he got it?”
“I have no proof, no. You don’t think he sold lemonade?”
He picked up a pipe from the table. It wasn’t a real pipe, it was a bubble pipe, but he claimed it helped him think. “That doesn’t sound like James.”
“I know it doesn’t. That’s what’s so great.”
“And the others. How did they get their money?”
“Different ways.” I looked at him and grabbed the pipe out of his mouth. “Oh, come on. You think they’re all lying?”
“Pardon me for raining on your victory parade, but it sounds suspicious,” he said as he grabbed the pipe back. “I think I should investigate.” I guess he figured he was on a roll, detective-wise.
“I’m not paying you.”
“I know that. I’ll do this one for you on the house.”
I rolled my eyes. He had never liked the new law. I assumed this was his way of trying to prove it didn’t work. He picked up his magnifying glass and hat.
And as he opened the door, someone started screaming.
8
BAD JUSTICE
THE SCREAMING WAS COMING FROM Jill’s house, which was next to Scott’s. Jill was pointing her finger in Marcy’s face, and Marcy wasn’t backing away. They were both yelling at the same time, listening to nothing but themselves. Others were gathering around to watch the fight, but Marcy and Jill didn’t see them. All they were seeing was red.
“I never should’ve hired you!” Jill shouted.
“I wish I’d never asked you to!” Marcy replied.
“Fine. Then go ask Corey for a job. Start picking through our trash cans. I hear he needs a decorator for his kitchen!”
“If I’d known what a jerk you’d be for a boss, I would’ve done that to begin with.”
“I’m a jerk? You’ve been my employee for three weeks and you may have just bankrupted us!”
“You take this dumb newspaper too seriously.”
“Well, thanks to you, that might not be a problem anymore.”
“I hope it does go bankrupt. At least you’ll be human again.”
This was too much for me to stand back and watch. I felt responsible for some of this, and the verbal zingers were getting way too personal. I stepped in. “Hey, hey. Wait a minute.”
“Go away,” Jill said to me.
“I’m quitting this town,” Marcy said.
“Marcy—” I said.
“No, wait. I’m not quitting yet. I’m gonna stick around long enough to vote you out of office, then I’ll quit.” She stomped away.
Jill turned away from me and headed back into her house. I debated going in the other direction and letting her cool off, but I wanted to defend myself now. I opened the door. She was sitting at a table with her head resting on a stack of papers—the issue in which Corey was misquoted.
“Jill …” I whispered.
“You’re the cause of all of this!” she shouted without looking up.
“You two will work this out.”
“She was a good friend, Ryan. I slept over at her house when we were in kindergarten! I’ve never fought with her like that.”
“That’s why you’ll be okay.”
“Please! Let me call a city council meeting!”
“It’s not the law, Jill. The program is working. We just need to work out a few of the kinks.”
“You’re putting the town before friendships.”
“I’m not, I—”
Her head popped up as if it were attached to a spring. “Then how come I just lost one of my best friends?” She brushed her hair away from her face. Her eyes watered like she might cry, and she stared at me, waiting for an
answer to this unanswerable question. She breathed in sharply. “There are things that go on outside these woods, Ryan,” she said.
“I know,” I replied.
“Then maybe you should stop being so much of a mayor and just be a kid.” Jill laid her head back down on the stack of papers.
“I’m sorry.” I didn’t know what else to say, so I turned and left.
The crowd that had gathered to see the cat fight between Marcy and Jill had not yet dispersed. They all looked at me, searching for some look on my face that would tell them what had happened. Scott ran up to me.
“What’s going on?” he asked.
“Nothing,” I said.
“Well, hey,” he began, excited. “Guess what I just saw.” I looked at him as if to say, “I’m not guessing.”
“I saw James going into Max’s house.” I failed to catch his point, and he noticed. “Come on! James and Max? They’re not friends. They’re not even close.”
“Scott, would you please get to whatever point you’re trying to make.”
“I think Max is up to something.”
“So, what’s new?”
“No, I mean, with all these people suddenly making money, like James. I think Max is responsible.”
“You think he’s hiring them for something?”
“I don’t know. But it seems possible, doesn’t it?” I hated to admit it, but this did sound like something both James and Max would do. “Let’s go investigate,” Scott said, leading the way.
I think Scott sensed that if he was going to uncover something here, he was going to have to do it primarily on his own. I did not want to find anything. I wanted James to be telling the truth.
We sneaked toward Max’s house and watched from behind a tree. James was nowhere in sight. We tiptoed a little closer, making more noise than we would have if we had just walked, but that wasn’t important. Scott was on the prowl. We were behind the tree closest to Max’s house, and we could hear voices from inside.
“Is that James?” I whispered.
“I can’t tell,” Scott said. The leaves crunched under Scott’s feet as he inched closer. Suddenly, the door swung open. He scurried back to the tree.
James came out of the house. “It’s due Monday,” Max said to him from inside. James had a thick book in his left hand.
“Okay,” James replied like a servant to his king. James closed the door behind him.
“Let’s get him,” I whispered.
“Wait,” Scott said. “Let’s just follow him for a minute.”
James went through the down town area and stopped at one of the two picnic tables that made up our park. He sat down and opened the book. He pulled a pencil out of his pocket and began to work.
Scott was ready. “Okay, let’s go.” We pretended we were on our way to the other side of town and just happened to see our good friend James there.
“James!” Scott said with a smile pasted on his face.
“Hi.”
“What are you doing?” Scott asked as he sat down across from him at the picnic table. I slid in next to Scott.
“Just a little homework.”
“Oh.” Scott lifted up the corner of the thick book to read the title. “Algebra. Tough stuff. Especially for a sixth grader.”
James pulled the book toward him and suddenly became very interested in his homework.
“You know, Ryan, I don’t know any sixth graders in algebra. That’s a seventh grade class, isn’t it?”
“I think so,” I said, knowing exactly what Scott was up to and playing along.
“I’m in an advanced-placement class,” James said, stuttering over every word. This was actually not that far from believable. James was definitely smart enough to be in an advanced-placement class. The problem with him was that he would be too lazy to do all the work required. I didn’t believe him, and neither did Scott.
“Oh, I didn’t know that. But I guess I could’ve just asked the algebra teachers. I have them for math. In fact, maybe I’ll ask them at school tomorrow.”
“Well …” James was thinking fast. “I’m not actually in the class. They didn’t want me to be in a seventh grade class, you know, because I’m a sixth grader, but I’m doing the work at home. I have a tutor.” This was very good. James seemed flustered as he closed his book. “I gotta go,” he told us.
“But you just got here,” Scott said.
“I know, but I just remembered something I have to do.” James spun out of his seat and practically ran away from us, stumbling over a tree root as he went.
“So, what do you think?” Scott said.
I hated to admit this. “I think Max is paying him to do his homework.”
“Pretty obvious.”
“But that doesn’t mean Max is paying everybody. Max doesn’t have that much homework—and he’s smarter than most of those kids. There’s no way he’d let them do his homework.”
“That’s what investigations are for,” Scott said, scratching his chin and raising his eyebrows.
At least someone was enjoying his job.
I felt obligated to go to Jill’s trial, though I didn’t really want to witness it. Jill didn’t have much of a chance, in my opinion. Pete was the opposing lawyer, and I hoped that he would panic again like he had before. But he wasn’t up against Valerie this time; Jill was defending herself. I had no idea what to expect from Pete.
Corey was suing for 30 starbills, which was a lot. Nobody in Kidsboro had 30 starbills lying around, except maybe Max, who probably had 30 starbills under his sofa cushion at home. Rumor had it that if Pete won the case, he’d get a third of the winnings. Ten starbills would be enough for him to live off of for a pretty long time.
And Jill was right when she said that Marcy may have bankrupted her. Jill didn’t have 30 starbills to pay. Obviously, she’d used her father’s computer and paper to create the newspaper, so she didn’t actually have to cease production. But this would mean that all future profits she made at the newspaper would go to Corey for a long, long time. Jill wouldn’t have anything for general expenses. She would be no better off than James the quack doctor. Plus, the newspaper was a business, and businesses were required to pay special business taxes. She would end up owing the city a lot of taxes after a while.
The jury would not be thinking about that, though. They would probably be thinking about doing something cool. Like nailing the press.
Court was called into session, and Pete made his opening statement. He basically just stated the facts—that the Kidsboro Chronicle had been irresponsible for printing something that was not true, and that Corey was going through public humiliation because of it.
Jill made her own opening remarks, admitting that she’d made a mistake, but that we all make mistakes. She offered to print a retraction stating that Corey did not, in fact, decorate his room with garbage.
She also questioned the amount Pete was asking for. “Thirty starbills? The paper doesn’t make that in a whole year!” I noticed a couple of the people in the jury nodding their heads when she said this. Thirty starbills was too much. Jill had a good chance of getting the amount reduced to 15 or even five. Five she could handle.
Pete called his first witness. “I’d like to call Corey Hawkins to the stand.” Pete and Corey had obviously rehearsed this. Corey pretended to be very upset with the way people were treating him. He was practically in tears as he told a story about how somebody glued soda cans together to form a swan and put it in his front yard. It wasn’t a pretty story, but the performance was so fake that I think it turned some of the jurors off. It was looking as if Jill might have a chance.
That is, until Pete called his second witness.
“I’d like to call Marcy Watson to the stand.” Marcy stepped up, ready to tell her story. The bailiff swore her in. “Marcy,” Pete began, “How would you describe your relationship with Corey?”
Marcy looked surprised by the question. “My relationship?”
“Yes. Are you fr
iends?”
“Well …”
“Do you like him?”
She shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know.”
“Have you ever had him over for dinner? Done homework together?”
“No.”
“So you’re not friends.”
“No. I guess not.”
“Are you enemies?”
“I wouldn’t say that.”
There wasn’t very much space for anyone to move in the meeting hall pavilion, but what room Pete did have, he made use of. He began to pace in little 12-inch circles, like a buzzard ready to feast.
“But isn’t it true that in the third grade, you had a little … argument?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“An argument about a doll?” Marcy’s eyes went to the floor. She knew what he was talking about.
“Marcy, didn’t Corey steal your Baby Wetty doll and throw it down the sewer?”
Marcy flipped. “Are you trying to say I did this on purpose?” There was a murmur from the crowd.
“Just answer the question, please.” I had a feeling Pete had been waiting to say that.
“That was years ago!”
“Answer the question.”
“I forgot all about that.”
“Yes or no.”
“Yes, but …”
“And didn’t you say, Marcy, and I quote, ‘I’ll get you back for this if it’s the last thing I do’?”
“I don’t remember.”
“Is it possible that you said that?”
“I guess.”
“No further questions.”
Marcy stood up. “I didn’t do this on purpose. Why would I still care about something that happened four years ago?”
The judge asked Marcy to sit down. I looked over at Jill, who had her head down.
When it was her turn, Jill called Marcy back up to the stand. She tried to make it clear that Marcy had no intention of getting back at Corey for something that had happened in the third grade. I didn’t know if it was working or not.
The lawyers made their closing statements, and then left the decision to the five-person jury. After 10 minutes, it looked as though the jury would be arguing for a while, so I left. Jill was outside facing the opposite direction from Marcy. They still wouldn’t speak to one another. I couldn’t look at Jill as I passed her.
The Fight for Kidsboro Page 6