1 Illusion

The Magic Trap The Lemonade War Series

Chapter 1 Illusion illusion (n) something that seems to be one thing when it is really another; a magic trick Jessie slipped her fingers along the inside of her closet doorjamb until she found the secret key. Silently, she unhooked it from the tiny nail pressed into the old wood and closed the key tightly in her fist. She liked the way the key became warm when she did this, the way it left a perfect imprint of itself in the soft flesh of her palm. As quietly as a cat, she padded over to her bookcase, then paused. Was the Locked sign still showing on her door? Sometimes it flipped around if she closed her door too quickly. It would be a disaster if someone walked in while she was retrieving her lockbox from its hiding place. Even

worse if someone walked in while the lockbox was open and saw what was inside. Jessie never showed anyone her saved-up money. That was just asking for trouble! THIS DOOR IS LOWED! She opened her door and poked her head out to make sure that the Locked sign was in place. As long as the sign was on her door, no one was allowed to come into her room. That was the rule in the Treski house. She could hear her mother packing in her room across the hall—a dresser drawer opening, the sound

of footsteps crossing the wooden floor, hangers jangling in a closet. Jessie frowned. She didn't like her mother going away. But there was nothing she could do about it now. This was one of those situations where she would have to "adapt and evolve," as her mother sometimes said. "Hey, Jess, can I ask you something?" Jessie jumped at the sound of her brother's voice as he came up the stairs. Evan had been in the basement all morning, banging away on some old wooden boards. She'd thought she was safe from his prying eyes! She clutched the key more tightly in her hand. "Not right now. I'm busy." Jessie started to retreat into her room, but she stopped when she noticed that her brother was carrying a book in his hands. Evan never carried books. He hated books. To him, they were the enemy, making him feel small and dumb. It didn't help that Jessie, who was thirteen months younger, was such a good reader. She looked at the book, wondering what it could possibly be.

It was old, whatever it was. The edges of the brown leather cover looked like they were crumbling, and the fancy gold lettering on the spine was half flaked off. Evan held it slightly open, his fingers curled around the edge to mark the page. "It'll take two seconds," he said, half pleading, half ordering. "Not now!" Jessie replied. She tapped the Locked sign on her door for emphasis, just so he'd remember the rule, and went back into her room, closing the door tightly behind her. Still, she waited two whole minutes ("one Mississippi, two Mississippi, three Mississipp...") to make sure Evan had left the hallway and wasn't listening at her door, before she tiptoed to her bookcase and retrieved the lockbox she kept hidden behind the row of books on the top shelf. The lockbox was heavy because of all the coins she'd been collecting for the past few months. It was surprising how many pennies, nickels, and dimes you could find if you just kept your eyes on the

ground. Jessie's mom said that Jessie had a talent for finding money, but it wasn't a talent so much as a passion. Most kids wouldn't even bother to pick up a penny if they spotted it, but Jessie never let a coin pass without scooping it up and putting it in her pocket. She also saved her gift money and chore money, and now her lockbox was terrifically heavy and made the most wonderful rattling sound when she shook it. Jessie sat cross-legged on her bed and opened the box. There were dollar bills and coins, the blue ribbon Evan and Jessie had won in the Labor Day contest last summer, several comment cards from her best friend, Megan, postcards from her dad, and a handwritten survey about love in the fourth grade, in which someone in her class had admitted to having a crush on Jessie. Anonymously! Jessie wasn't even sure why she kept that particular piece of paper, but every time she decided to throw it out, she ended up putting it back in the lockbox. It was evidence! Of what, she wasn't sure.