Read Online The Lemonade War by Jacqueline Davies - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Jacqueline Davies
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feel like to walk into that classroom on the first day of school with all those eyes looking at her? Would they stare? Would they tease? Would they ignore her, even if she said hi?
Jessie looked at the names, then slammed the directory shut. She couldn't do it. She just wasn't brave enough.
Evan walked into the kitchen and grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl. A cloud of fruit flies rose up in the air and settled again. Evan inspected the apple and then bit into it, without washing it first.
Jessie wanted to say something but held her tongue. She looked at him and thought,
It is
never
going to feel normal, not talking to Evan.
"Hey," she said.
Evan raised his apple to her, his mouth too stuffed to talk.
"So, is Paul coming over today?" she asked.
Evan shook his head, munching noisily.
"Well, is anyone coming over?" Jessie was curious to see what the enemy was up to today. Yesterday, Evan's smile had told her plenty: He had sold a lot of lemonade. A
lot.
But what was he going to do today?
Evan shrugged his shoulders. He swallowed so hard it looked like he was choking down an ocean liner.
"But you
are
setting up a stand, right?" asked Jessie.
"Nah. I'm good," said Evan, looking closely at his apple. "I'm just gonna take it easy today." He took another enormous bite and walked out of the kitchen and down the basement stairs.
Take it easy? How could he take it easy? You didn't take it easy when you were in the middle of a war.
Unless.
Unless he had already won the war.
Could that be possible?
It was impossible!
There was no way Evan had earned a hundred dollars in just three days of selling lemonade.
No way.
Jessie's mind skittered like one of those long-legged birds on the beach. Had he? Could he? Were her calculations wrong? Was there some other way? Had she overlooked some detail? Some trick? Was she missing something?
Jessie flipped open the school directory. Maybe he had a hundred dollars. Maybe he didn't. She couldn't take a chance. She started putting pencil check marks next to the names of girls she thought might work out.
She'd gone over the list twice when the doorbell rang. It was Megan.
"I've got a new idea," said Jessie.
"Awww, not more lemonade," said Megan, sinking onto the couch in the family room. "I'm tired of selling lemonade. And it's just too hot. I practically had sunstroke yesterday painting all those faces."
"We're done with that," said Jessie. "No more extra services. Doesn't pay off. But here's an ideaâ"
"Forget lemonade! Let's go to the 7-Eleven," said Megan. "Is Evan home? We could all go."
"No. He's not home," said Jessie, eyeing the door to the basement. She needed Megan to be on board with her plan. She needed Megan to make the phone calls. "Look. This is great. And
we
don't need to sell the lemonade."
Jessie laid out all the details. She showed Megan the new scrap of paper.
Then she showed Megan her page of calculations. At first Megan buried her head under a pillow, but then she poked her head out like a turtle and started to listen for real.
"That sounds like a pretty good plan," she said. "But is it really going to work?"
Jessie looked at her calculations. She'd done them twice. "It should," she said. "I really think it should." She frowned, suddenly not so sure of herself. "It's a big up-front investment. And a lot of work organizing everybody. But once they're set up, we should just be able to sit back and watch the money roll in. The key is spreading everybody out so there'll be plenty of customers. We'll need at least ten girls. Fifteen would be better."
"That's the whole fourth-grade class," said Megan, looking doubtful. "How are we gonna get them to do this?"
"Well, you could phone them all up," said Jessie. She handed Megan the school directory, open to the third-grade page.
"Me?" said Megan. "Why me?"
"Because they know you," said Jessie. "They know you, too."
"Yeah, but they
like
you."
Megan shook her head. "Not all these girls are my
Jessie looked at the names, then slammed the directory shut. She couldn't do it. She just wasn't brave enough.
Evan walked into the kitchen and grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl. A cloud of fruit flies rose up in the air and settled again. Evan inspected the apple and then bit into it, without washing it first.
Jessie wanted to say something but held her tongue. She looked at him and thought,
It is
never
going to feel normal, not talking to Evan.
"Hey," she said.
Evan raised his apple to her, his mouth too stuffed to talk.
"So, is Paul coming over today?" she asked.
Evan shook his head, munching noisily.
"Well, is anyone coming over?" Jessie was curious to see what the enemy was up to today. Yesterday, Evan's smile had told her plenty: He had sold a lot of lemonade. A
lot.
But what was he going to do today?
Evan shrugged his shoulders. He swallowed so hard it looked like he was choking down an ocean liner.
"But you
are
setting up a stand, right?" asked Jessie.
"Nah. I'm good," said Evan, looking closely at his apple. "I'm just gonna take it easy today." He took another enormous bite and walked out of the kitchen and down the basement stairs.
Take it easy? How could he take it easy? You didn't take it easy when you were in the middle of a war.
Unless.
Unless he had already won the war.
Could that be possible?
It was impossible!
There was no way Evan had earned a hundred dollars in just three days of selling lemonade.
No way.
Jessie's mind skittered like one of those long-legged birds on the beach. Had he? Could he? Were her calculations wrong? Was there some other way? Had she overlooked some detail? Some trick? Was she missing something?
Jessie flipped open the school directory. Maybe he had a hundred dollars. Maybe he didn't. She couldn't take a chance. She started putting pencil check marks next to the names of girls she thought might work out.
She'd gone over the list twice when the doorbell rang. It was Megan.
"I've got a new idea," said Jessie.
"Awww, not more lemonade," said Megan, sinking onto the couch in the family room. "I'm tired of selling lemonade. And it's just too hot. I practically had sunstroke yesterday painting all those faces."
"We're done with that," said Jessie. "No more extra services. Doesn't pay off. But here's an ideaâ"
"Forget lemonade! Let's go to the 7-Eleven," said Megan. "Is Evan home? We could all go."
"No. He's not home," said Jessie, eyeing the door to the basement. She needed Megan to be on board with her plan. She needed Megan to make the phone calls. "Look. This is great. And
we
don't need to sell the lemonade."
Jessie laid out all the details. She showed Megan the new scrap of paper.
Then she showed Megan her page of calculations. At first Megan buried her head under a pillow, but then she poked her head out like a turtle and started to listen for real.
"That sounds like a pretty good plan," she said. "But is it really going to work?"
Jessie looked at her calculations. She'd done them twice. "It should," she said. "I really think it should." She frowned, suddenly not so sure of herself. "It's a big up-front investment. And a lot of work organizing everybody. But once they're set up, we should just be able to sit back and watch the money roll in. The key is spreading everybody out so there'll be plenty of customers. We'll need at least ten girls. Fifteen would be better."
"That's the whole fourth-grade class," said Megan, looking doubtful. "How are we gonna get them to do this?"
"Well, you could phone them all up," said Jessie. She handed Megan the school directory, open to the third-grade page.
"Me?" said Megan. "Why me?"
"Because they know you," said Jessie. "They know you, too."
"Yeah, but they
like
you."
Megan shook her head. "Not all these girls are my
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