Chapter 4

Chapter 4 Partnership partnership (partnership) n. Two or more people pooling their money, skills, and resources to run a business, agreeing to share the profits and losses of that business. Jessie had been waiting for this moment—the moment when Evan would see their lemonade stand, see the wonderful decorations they had made, see the crowds of people waiting in line, see Megan Moriarty standing by her side. He would see it all and be so impressed. He would think to himself, Wow, Jessie is one cool kid. She sure knows how to run a lemonade stand right! And then he'd jog over and say, "Hey, can I help out?" And Jessie would

say, "Sure! We were hoping you'd come over." And it would be like old times. Why hadn't it worked out like that? With one part of her brain, Jessie continued to take money from customers and make change. That was the part of her brain that worked just fine. With the other part of her brain, Jessie went over what had happened with Evan. That was the part of her brain that tended to run in circles. She and Megan were selling lemonade. Business had been good. Then Mrs. Pawley, a neighborhood mom, walked up. She had had a bunch of kids in her backyard running through the sprinkler, and now they wanted twelve cups of lemonade. Twelve! It was the biggest sale of the day. Megan got cracking pouring the lemonade and Jessie took the six singles that Mrs. Pawley handed her. All the kids from Mrs. Pawley's backyard were chanting, "Lemon-ADE! Lemon-ADE! Lemon-ADE!" A fly buzzed by Jessie's ear—they'd been having a problem with flies because of the sticky lemonade

spills on their stand—and she cocked her head to one side to shoo it since her hands were busy with the money. And that's when Jessie looked up and saw Evan standing there, staring. So she smiled. But he didn't smile back. So she waved, even though she had all that money in both hands. She waved so he'd know that she was happy to see him. And then he stalked off, all stiff-legged and bristly. And she never got to say, "Sure! We were hoping you'd come over," like she'd rehearsed in her head. And just then, Tommy Pawley, who was two years old, pulled down his bathing suit and peed right on the lawn. And Megan laughed so loud, Jessie was sure you could hear it all over the neighborhood. That's what had happened. That's exactly what had happened. But Jessie knew that something else entirely had happened. And she didn't get it. The way

she didn't get a lot of things about people. All she knew was that the sight of Evan walking away—walking away from her for the second time that day—made her feel so sad and alone that she just wanted to run home to her room and curl up on her bed with Charlotte's Web. "Hey, Madam Cash Register," said Megan, nudging her. "You're falling behind. Ring three for this lady and one for this kid here." Jessie turned away from the retreating figure of Evan. "That's a dollar fifty," she said to the woman standing in front of her. She took the five-dollar bill the woman was holding out and made change from her lock box, focusing all her energy on the part of her brain that worked just fine. It's true that when Evan had first walked out of the garage, Jessie had banged up to her room and tried to think of every way possible that she could make his life a living misery.

She'd thought of telling Mom that Evan was the one who broke the toaster (by playing hockey in the house, which is not allowed). She'd thought of taking back every one of her CDs from his room (even though she knew that would mean she'd have to give back all of his CDs). She'd even thought of putting peanut butter in his shoes. (This was something she'd read in a book, and she loved to imagine that moment of horror when he'd think he'd somehow gotten dog doo inside his shoes.) But when these ideas had finished bouncing around her brain, and when her breathing had returned to normal and her fists weren't clenched at her sides anymore, she knew that what she really wanted was to get the old Evan back. The one who was so much fun to be around. The one who helped her out of every jam. Like when she ate all the Lorna Doones that Mom had set aside for the Girl Scout meeting. And Evan had ridden his bike to the 7-Eleven and bought a new package before Mom even noticed. Or when

she accidentally—well, not accidentally, but how was she supposed to know?—picked the red flowers in Grandma's garden that were a hybrid experiment. Evan had said they'd both done it so that Grandma's disappointment was spread around. Or the time that Jessie had smashed the ceramic heart that Daddy had given her because she was so mad that he had left them. And then, when she had cried about her broken heart, Evan had glued every single last piece back together again. She wanted back the Evan who was her best friend. But Evan didn't want her, because he thought she was a baby and she was going to embarrass him in Mrs. Overton's class. So she had to prove to him that she was a big kid. That she could keep up with the crowd. That she could fit in—even with his fourth- grade class. I'll show him I can sell lemonade, too. Just as good as him and Scott. I won't embarrass him. So Jessie got down to business.