Chapter 5

Chapter 5 Competition competition (competition) n. Rivalry in the marketplace. Dinner that night at the Treskis' was quiet. So the explosion that followed seemed especially loud. It was Jessie's turn to clear and scrape the dishes, Evan's turn to wash and stack. Evan looked at the pile of dirty plates on his left. Jessie was ahead. She was always ahead when it was her turn to clear, but tonight it felt like she was taunting him. To Evan, every plate-scraping sounded like "Can't keep up. Can't keep up." Evan was scrubbing the casserole pan when Jessie stacked the last dirty dish by his elbow. Then she stuck her hands under the faucet to rinse without

even saying excuse me and shook her hands practically right in Evan's face and said, "So how much money did you make?" That was it! He couldn't hold it in any longer! "Why'd you do it, huh? Why'd you have to ruin the one thing I had going?" For a second, Evan wasn't sure if he meant the lemonade stand or Megan Moriarty. In a mixed-up way, he meant both. And there was no way he was going to tell Jessie that after paying back his mother for the four cans of lemonade, one can of grape juice, and one bottle of ginger ale (she'd been pretty irritated when she came down from the office and there wasn't a single cold drink in the house), he had walked away with two dollars and eleven cents. On top of that, he was pretty sure Scott had kept the five-dollar bill they'd earned. Well, what was Evan supposed to do? Ask Scott to turn his pockets inside out? Evan hadn't kept track of the sales, so he couldn't be sure. "Why'd I do it? Why'd you do it? Why'd you invite that jerk over for a lemonade stand?" shouted

Jessie. "And how come you wouldn't let me play? You're the one who was mean." "You're such a showoff," said Evan. "You always have to let everyone know that you're the smart one." "I wasn't showing off. I was just trying to have a little fun. Is that against the law? You won't do a lemonade stand with me. Then I won't do a lemonade stand with you. I'll do one with my friend Megan, instead." "You can-not be her friend. You can-not be her friend!" shouted Evan. "Why not?" "Because you're a little kid. You don't even belong in the fourth grade. And because you're just an annoying showoff pest and no one likes you!" The words felt like disgusting spiders running out of his mouth. They were horrible. But it felt so good to get rid of them. Then Evan saw Jessie's lip tremble. Uh-oh. Jessie was a howler. She didn't cry often and she didn't cry long. But when she did, it was loud. Mom would

come down from her office. Evan would catch the blame. Unfair. But Jessie didn't let loose. Instead, she stood as tall as her runty height would allow and said, "Megan likes me. She invited me over to her house tomorrow. We're going to make another lemonade stand and earn twice what we did today." Oh, that was it! She was going to ruin everything. Show him up right in front of Megan. Even before the school year started! Make Megan think he was just some stupid loser who couldn't even beat out his baby sister at a lemonade stand. Evan boiled over. "I wouldn't count on it, Juicy," he said. Jessie hated that nickname, and Evan only used it when he had to. "I'm going to have a lemonade stand every day until school starts. And I'm going to earn a hundred bucks by the end of the summer. Enough for an iPod." "Oh, please. Like you could if you even wanted to," said Jessie. "Megan and I already made twelve

bucks each today. We could have a hundred dollars like that." Jessie snapped her fingers. "And then what?" said Evan. "You'd lock it up in your lock box and save it 'til you were fifty years old. You're the biggest miser on this planet." Jessie stiffened up. Her mouth made a funny O. But then she put a hand on her hip and smirked at Evan. "For your information, I'm going to make a one-hundred-dollar donation to a charity." Evan snorted. "Yeah, right. What charity?" There was a long pause. And then Jessie said, as smooth as whipped cream, "The Animal Rescue League. Megan and I talked about it today." "You don't even like animals," said Evan. "Everybody likes animals!" shouted Jessie. "And I'm going to give them a hundred dollars. So you can't ever call me a miser again." "I hope I never have to talk to you again," shouted Evan. "Hey!" a sharp voice called from the stairs. Mrs. Treski had a pencil stuck in her hair and a worried

look on her face. "I could hear you two all the way in the attic. With the air conditioner on high. What's up?" Evan looked at Jessie. Jessie looked at Evan. They had taken a vow. A spit vow. Ever since Dad had gone, they had vowed not to fight in front of Mom. It made her sad. Sadder, even, than when Dad left. "Nothing," said Evan. "Nothing," said Jessie. Mrs. Treski looked at the two of them. "Come on. Out with it. What are you two yelling about?" "It wasn't a fight, Mom," said Evan. "We were just joking around." "Yeah," said Jessie. "We were goofing. Sorry we got you out of your office." Mrs. Treski looked at both of them with her laser eyes. Jessie hung the dishtowel on the oven handle and fiddled with it until it was perfectly straight. Evan bent over the casserole pan and scrubbed as if his life depended on it. He scrubbed so hard, his