Finally Jessie ran out of gas. She lay down on the bed and tried to make her brain work. Her body was so worn out that her brain felt like the only part of her that could work.
"One of your friends stole my money?" she asked.
"I think it was Scott Spencer," said Evan. "He went upstairs to go to the bathroom. And then he came down all in a hurry and said he had to go home. After that, I went upstairs and the money was gone."
"He's such a jerk," said Jessie.
"The biggest," said Evan. "If he gets an Xbox, I'll know it was him."
"It was a lot of money," said Jessie, feeling tears start to spring from her eyes and run down her face.
"It was," said Evan. "I couldn't believe how much when I saw it. You're really something, you know that? Earning all that money selling lemonade."
Thanks, thought Jessie, though she couldn't say the word. "Why'd you do it, Evan?" she asked. She meant Why'd you take the money? And why'd you act so mean? And why'd you start this whole war in the first place? There were too many questions.
"I was mad at you for putting the bugs in my lemonade," he said.
"Well, I was mad at you for saying you wanted to pulverize me," she said.
"I only did that because you were hanging out with Megan and I felt totally left out."
"Well, how do you think I felt when you wouldn't let me hang out with you and stupid Scott Spencer?"
"Well, I was mad at you because ... because..."
Jessie sat up and looked at Evan. Evan looked at the wall.
"Because I don't want you in my class this year," he said.
"Because I'll embarrass you," she said solemnly.
"Because I'll embarrass myself," said Evan. "I never have the right answer in math. And I read slower than everyone when I read out loud. And I make mistakes. All the time. And now with you in the class, it's going to be worse. They'll all say, 'Wow, he's even dumber than his little sister.'" Evan's shoulders slumped and his head hung low.
"You're not dumb," said Jessie.
"I know you don't think I am," he said. "And that stinks, too. That you're going to see how dumb I am in school."
"You're not dumb," said Jessie again. "You made a hundred and three dollars and eleven cents selling lemonade in just five days."
"Yeah, but you made two hundred and eight dollars! You see? You're my little sister, and you're twice as smart as me."
Jessie shook her head. "Half that money is Megan's. She just gave it to me to give to the Animal Rescue League. I only made a hundred and four dollars."
Evan unslumped. "Really?" Jessie nodded yes. "So you made a hundred and four and I made a hundred and three?"
"And eleven cents," said Jessie.
"So it was really a tie?" said Evan.
"No," said Jessie. "I won. By eighty-nine cents."
"But, I mean, c'mon," said Evan. "After all that, it was practically a tie."
"No," said Jessie. "It was close. But I really won."
"Wow, we pretty much tied," said Evan.
Jessie decided to let it go. For the first time in four days, she didn't care about who had more and who had less. Besides, she was waiting to see how long it took before Evan figured it out.
Not long.
"Holy crud!" he said suddenly. "I lost Megan's money, too? A hundred and four dollars of her money? Oh, CRUD." He threw himself back on his bed and covered his face with both arms. Neither of them said anything for a long time. Finally Jessie broke the silence.
"I'm really sorry I put the bugs in your lemonade."
"Thanks," said Evan. "I'm sorry I took your and Megan's money."
"We shouldn't have done any of this," Jessie said, waving her hand at the money on the bed. "It ruined the end of summer."
"Yeah, the whole summer's been crud," said Evan.
"Not the whole summer. Just the last five days. Remember we went to Bar Harbor? And we swam at the pond?" Jessie couldn't stand Evan thinking their whole summer together had been crud.
"Yeah, but I think the last five days kind of cancels all that out," said Evan. "I can't believe I have to tell Megan Moriarty—"
"She likes you," said Jessie.
Evan sat up, surprised. "Really?"
"Yeah," said Jessie. "I don't get it either. But she's always asking what you're doing and if you can play and stuff. Why do you think she does that?"
"Cool," said Evan, smiling. "So you guys are friends?"
"Yeah," said Jessie. "We're good friends."
"Okay then. So she'll be coming over here to play and stuff. Right? That's cool."
"You're weird," said Jessie.
"Yes, I am," said Evan.
There was another long silence. The late summer light in Evan's one-window room had faded to black, but neither one of them wanted to turn on a light. It was nice sitting there, just the two of them, in the cooling darkness. An afternoon breeze had kicked itself into a gusty wind, and the shade on the window tapped out a steady beat that was pleasant and reassuring.
"This war was stupid," said Jessie.
Evan nodded in the dark.
Just then they heard the sound of thunder booming in the distance. Then more and more until the whole house shook.
"The fireworks!" shouted Jessie.
"Oh, snap!" shouted Evan.
Jessie and Evan raced down the stairs. At the bottom, they found their mother sitting on the last step, watching the sky through the sliding screen door.
"Why didn't you call us?" said Evan.
"We're missing the fireworks!" said Jessie.
"Oh, I figured whatever the two of you were talking about was more important than a fireworks show." Mrs. Treski turned to look at her kids. "Did you work it out?"
Evan and Jessie nodded just as a roman candle exploded in the sky.
"Not a bad seat," said Mrs. Treski, patting the step. "Enjoy."
For twenty minutes, the night sky was alive with wagon wheels, party-colored dahlias, and whistling glitter palms. Evan, Jessie, and Mrs. Treski sat watching, silent but for the occasional "Oohhh" and "Aahhh" that seemed to escape from their lips like hissing air from an overblown tire.
When the last of the fireworks bloomed and then faded, Evan, Jessie, and Mrs. Treski sat in the darkness, waiting. No one said anything for several minutes. And then Jessie whispered, "It's over."
Yes. It was over.
"Wait," said Evan. "What was that?"
"What?" asked Jessie, straining her ears.
"Listen."
In the distance, a boom and a rattle.
"More fireworks," said Evan, staring up at the dark sky.
"Where? I don't see them," said Jessie.
All of a sudden the sky split in two as lightning sliced the night. An explosion of thunder rolled through the house, rattling the windows and pictures on the walls. Rain poured from the sky as if a gigantic faucet had been twisted on.
"Yow!" shouted Mrs. Treski, leaping up from the step. "Battle stations!"
Every window in the house was wide open, so Evan, Jessie, and Mrs. Treski ran from the top floor to the bottom, shutting windows and sopping up puddles. The rain came down with the fury and impatience of a two-year-old having a tantrum. As he closed the window in his room, Evan could hear the gurgle of the gutters choking on the downpour.
"One thing ends, another begins," said Mrs. Treski, meeting Jessie and Evan on the stairs. She raised her index finger, like a wise philosopher. "Fireworks. Rainstorm."
Jessie raised her index finger. "Summer. School."
Evan raised his index finger. "War. Peace."
Then they laughed because it was silly—the three of them acting like wise philosophers, standing on the stairs.
That night, before she closed her door, Jessie whisper-shouted to Evan, who was already in bed, "Hey. I've got an idea. About getting Megan's money back."
Jacqueline Davies, The Lemonade War
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