The Lemonade War by Jacqueline Davies Read Free Book Online Page A

value—snacks."
    "Yeah, except—" Jessie had stayed up late last night reading her mom's booklet. "You know what we're really adding? Fun. That's the one thing people can't get all by themselves. It
looks
like we're selling lemonade and snacks. But we're really selling fun. And everyone wants fun."
    "Wow," said Megan. "That's really smart. It'll be like a party. Who doesn't like a party?"
    Jessie nodded her head. She carefully tore out the definition of
value-added
from the booklet and put it in her lock box. Her mother always said:
Some ideas are like money in the bank.
    An hour later, they were all set up. The lemonade stand was newly decorated with streamers and balloons. Three bowls of snacks—Cheetos, potato chips, and pretzels—were set on top. Jessie had lugged Megan's boom box all the way downstairs, and Megan was doing the DJ thing with her CD collection. It looked like a party had somehow sprung up right in the middle of the hot concrete sidewalk. To anyone passing by, the lemonade stand shouted out, "Come over here! This is where the fun is!"
    As soon as the music had come on, customers
had started drifting over. One of the moms across the street set up a sprinkler in her front yard, and soon all the kids in the neighborhood were running through the sprinkler and grabbing handfuls of Cheetos. Two women walking their dogs stopped for a nibble and ended up staying an hour. And three or four of the neighborhood mothers set up lawn chairs nearby and talked and ate pretzels while their kids ran through the water.
    But Jessie noticed a funny thing. Even though there was an endless buzz of activity around the stand and the chips were flying out of the bowls faster than Megan could restock them, they weren't selling much lemonade.
    "Hey, Jordan," said Jessie, as a four-year-old boy ran by in a bathing suit. "Don't you want a cup of lemonade?"
    Jordan dive-bombed the pretzel bowl and came up with a fistful. "I had too much already. Four glasses!" and off he ran.
    "Four glasses!" said Jessie to Megan. "He didn't buy any! Mrs. Doran, don't you want a cup of lemonade?"
    "Sorry, Jessie, I have to pass," said Mrs. Doran. "I had two already, and I'm trying to cut down on sugary drinks."
    Where's everybody drinking so much lemonade?
wondered Jessie. She looked down the road.
Oh, wait a minute.
"Megan, hold down the fort," said Jessie. "I'll be right back."
    "Sure thing," said Megan, dancing to the music. "This lemonade stand was the greatest idea. It's like a birthday for the whole neighborhood!"
    Jessie headed down the road. As she rounded the bend, she prepared for the worst: Evan's lemonade stand crowded with customers. But there was nothing. Absolutely nothing. The corner was deserted.
    She crossed the street and went into the garage. There was the cooler, dirty and empty. And there were the stacked plastic chairs, four of them this time. And there was—wait a minute. Those were
new
signs.
    Jessie pulled out three large pieces of foam core. On the back of each one was part of the penguin
project Evan had done last year in third grade. On the front were big letters:

    Jessie
couldn't
believe her eyes.
Ten
cents a cup. That was crazy! Even if they sold all ninety-six cups, they'd only make $9.60. And split four ways—that was just $2.40 for each boy. Evan was never going to earn a hundred dollars with that kind of profit.
    Jessie went down into the basement. Evan and Paul were playing air hockey.
Whashoo.
The puck flew into Evan's goal and Paul threw his arms into the air in a victory ∨.
    "Oh, snap!" said Evan. "You're winning."
    "Winning? Winning? Are you kidding me?" said Paul. Then he dropped his voice to a gravelly growl and said, "I don't play to win. I play to
pul-ver-ize.
" Just like that muscle-guy actor in
Agent Down,
the movie that all the boys were talking about. Paul was even flexing his muscles like that actor—except that Paul didn't have any muscles. At least none that Jessie