Chapter 15

Chapter 15 Balance balance (balance), n. A device used for weighing that has a pivoted horizontal beam from which hang two scales. In statues and paintings, the figure of Justice is often shown holding a balance. "Grandma, can you talk for a minute?" Jessie stuck a moshi pillow behind her head and cradled the phone to her ear. "Sure, Jessie Bean. What's up?" Jessie's grandmother lived four hours away, so Jessie called her on the phone a lot. "Everything's awful," said Jessie, picking at a corner of her bedroom wallpaper that was peeling.

She explained to her grandmother about the trial yesterday and the basketball game and Scott kicking the ball into the swamp. She told her how Evan had to hunt for the ball for half an hour before finally finding it, and how he told all his friends to just go home, he'd find it himself, just go home. So they did. And how Evan and Jessie were left to look for the ball, and how Evan didn't talk the whole time they did. "And today he's not even eating, or anything," said Jessie. "Did you know that it's Yom Kippur?" "Yom Kippur, is that the one where the kids dress up?" asked Jessie's grandmother. "No, that's Purim." Grandma was always mixing up things like that, things that sounded kind of the same, but were different. During their last phone call, she was talking with Jessie about the sequoia trees in California, but she kept using the word sequester instead. "Yom Kippur is the day when the Jewish people ask for forgiveness and they don't eat."

"Is Evan Jewish now?" asked Grandma. "No, but he's not eating. He says he's not hungry," said Jessie. "Sometimes that happens to me," Grandma said. "I practically forget to eat." "But Evan's always hungry," said Jessie. "Mom says he's a bottomless pit." "He'll eat when he's ready," said Grandma. "Let it go." Jessie hated it when her grandmother said that. She was always telling Jessie to let it go and be the tree. Crazy yoga grandma. How could anyone be a tree? "But... I want to do something to help," said Jessie. "Why don't you bake cookies?" said Grandma. "That'll get him to eat. Right?" "I don't think so," said Jessie. "Not this time." This was bigger than cookies. How could she explain to her grandmother how bad things were? Jessie had believed in the trial. She had thought

the truth would come out in court, and with truth would come justice. But instead of truth in the courtroom, there had been lies, including hers. Instead of justice, there was a crime with no punishment. And now she and Evan were going to have to stand up in front of the entire fourth grade and say that they had been wrong— even though Jessie knew that wasn't true. "Grandma, it's so unfair," said Jessie. "I know Scott Spencer took that money. I know he's lying. And now it feels like I did all this work, just so he'd end up looking innocent!" "Some things are beyond your control, Jessie," said her grandmother. "You need to learn to accept that. You can't run the whole world." I wish I did, thought Jessie. The world would be a better place if she was in charge. But then... she thought of the terrible thing she'd done. "Grandma," she blurted out. "I lied in court." She explained how it had happened. Her grandmother listened to the whole story without interrupting.

"Lying is wrong," Grandma said, "but at least you did it from a good place in your heart. You don't need to feel ashamed about loving your brother." "I still feel really bad about it," said Jessie. "That's good," said Grandma. "I'd be worried if you didn't feel bad about lying. You do have control over that. Nobody can make you lie. So feel bad for a while, and always remember what you've learned, and then move on and be a better person. But don't beat yourself up, Jessie. You're only seven." "Grandma! I'm eight!" said Jessie. How could her grandmother forget her age? "Really?" said Grandma. "Are you sure?" "I've been eight for almost a whole year. My birthday is next month." "Good," said Grandma, "because I have a book I've been meaning to send you, and it will be the perfect birthday present." "Grandma," said Jessie, her voice sounding a warning. "You're not going to send me The Prince and the Pauper again, are you?"

"No, Miss Smarty Pants! I remember I sent you that book—twice! You'll never let me forget that, will you?" "Why do you forget things?" asked Jessie. "You didn't used to." "Oh, Jessie Bean, I'm getting old." Her grandmother laughed quietly, and Jessie hugged the phone closer. "And that's something neither of us has any control over. Sorry to say." Jessie heard the doorbell ring downstairs. She knew her mother wouldn't hear it all the way up in the attic office, and she was pretty sure that Evan wouldn't answer it, even if he did hear it. "Gotta go, Grandma," said Jessie. "There's someone at the door." "Okay, Honey Bear. Be the tree! And bake cookies! I love you." Jessie ran downstairs and opened the front door. There was Megan. "Hi," said Megan. Jessie lifted her hand in a short wave, but she