The Fight for Kidsboro

by Marshal Younger

  I glanced over at Jake. He was trying to hide a smile.

  “You must’ve recommended him very highly if they were convinced without ever meeting him.”

  I didn’t answer.

  “He must be a very good friend, Mr. Mayor. And we all know how much pride you take in your citizens. We all know you would never want a dishonest, untrustworthy person within the walls of Kidsboro. So, Mr. Mayor, when Jake says that these events took place … you know, with the car and all … you believe him, don’t you?”

  He had me again. I couldn’t question Jake’s character. I took a deep breath and prepared to lie. “If that’s what he said … I guess it happened.”

  “And do you think Jake would ever be a part of any hoax, Mr. Mayor?”

  “I … suppose not.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Mayor.” Thankfully, I got to get off the stand. My heart was pumping against my chest like a bongo drum.

  “No further questions,” Max said. “We rest our case, Your Honor.”

  The judge allowed each lawyer to restate his case. Nelson’s sounded pretty flimsy up against Max’s, I must say. I couldn’t quite read the jury’s faces. I just hoped they remembered the other scams that Max had pulled in the past. That was probably Nelson’s only hope. The jury left to discuss the verdict.

  Nelson remained in his chair behind the table. I wanted to say I was sorry, but I didn’t think it would matter at this point. I would wait until the verdict was in.

  I decided to get out of there before anyone asked me any questions about Jake. On my way out, I ran into him. He was maneuvering himself out from under the pavilion roof on his crutches. He smiled and patted me on the back. “Thanks for saying such nice things about me, Ryan.”

  Fuming, I grabbed him by the arm and led him away from the crowd. “What are you guys doing?” I demanded once we were out of earshot.

  “Who?”

  “You and Max.”

  “We’re try in’ to win a case.”

  “What did you tell him?”

  “About what?”

  “You know about what,” I said, fisting the bottom of his shirt up into a wad.

  “Man, you’re really scared of me.” I let go of his shirt. I was giving myself away. “I didn’t tell him nothing. Don’t worry.” He headed back to the meeting hall. “We’re pals, remember?”

  I watched him walk away. I didn’t want to be scared of him. But I was.

  The jury would probably be out for a while, so I decided to take a break from reality and check out Kidsboro’s version of Hollywood. The movie shoot had been in progress for over a week now. The last time I had been there, things weren’t going terribly well. I hoped Pete had been able to smooth some things over.

  When I got there, Pete was filming at the bottom of the cliff and had apparently just finished a scene. Scott was lying at the base of the cliff, moaning. Lying next to him were three garbage bags filled with couch cushions. The bags were painted to look like rocks. From the looks of things, Scott had just been asked to stand under a cliff while rocks landed on top of him. I guess Pete had misjudged the weight of the couch cushions, because Scott looked to be in quite a daze. He was mumbling something about nap time.

  Then Valerie stormed up with a piece of paper in her hand. She went straight to Pete and stuck her finger in his face. Everyone else on the crew stopped what they were doing and filed in behind her. Pete watched them, clueless.

  “Mr. Director, the entire cast and crew met last night after we were done taping. We met to discuss how we were feeling about this movie production. As it turns out, Pete, everyone felt pretty much the same way. We’re all sick of you!”

  “What?”

  “You’ve pushed us way too hard. We’re 10 to 14 years old. We shouldn’t have to work 60-hour weeks.”

  “I thought you liked doing this,” Pete said.

  “We used to like doing this. But you’ve completely taken the fun out of it for everyone.”

  “How?”

  “Funny you should ask that. At the meeting last night, we came up with a list of grievances. And from that, a list of demands. We will refuse to work until every last one of these demands is met.”

  “Refuse to work? You can’t do that. You’re under contract.”

  “We’re breaking it, unless these demands are met.”

  “Okay, what demands?”

  Valerie cleared her throat and read aloud, “We will get a one-hour lunch break every day.”

  “All right, I can deal with that,” Pete said.

  “We will not work past seven o’clock in the evening, unless we are given overtime pay.”

  “I suppose I could work around the seven o’clock thing. But you’re not getting overtime. We’re over budget as it is.”

  Valerie went on. “The cast and crew will be allowed to have as much creative input as they desire.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “We can change the script if we want to.”

  “No way. This is my film—”

  She ignored him and went back to the list. “The actors will not be required to touch other actors.” I was certain this one was Valerie’s demand.

  “What? You’ve gotta be kidding! The script has to have—”

  “We will not be required to travel over 15 miles an hour and run into solid objects, and we will not be required to have solid objects that are traveling over 15 miles an hour run into us.” Scott’s demand, obviously.

  “This is ridiculous.”

  “We will not be required to do any more method-acting exercises where we have to act like we’re a kitchen appliance for an entire day.” I could understand this one. Scott was clearly embarrassed one day when he had wrecked trying to ride a bicycle like a toaster oven.

  “What gives you guys the right to question my techniques? I’m the artist here. Spielberg doesn’t have to answer to his actors.”

  “You’re not Spielberg. And you’ll give us what we want or we walk.”

  “No way. I can deal with some of those things, but I can’t turn my set into a free-for-all. I have to have control.”

  “Fine. Then we’re officially on strike.”

  “You can’t be serious!”

  “Come on, everybody.” Valerie dropped the list on the ground in front of Pete. The group filed away quietly. Scott got up from the bottom of the cliff and followed.

  “Nobody’s staying? Oh, come on!” Pete picked up the list. “I’ll give you the lunch break … and the quitting at seven o’clock deal! Except for night shoots, of course. Okay, no more method-acting exercises! I’ll give you that one.” Pete continued to yell out at them, but no one even turned around. Pete suddenly turned defiant. “You’ll be back! You need this job! A lot of you don’t even have other jobs! And you know what? I can finish this movie without you!”

  I turned to Pete and shrugged my shoulders. “Maybe a little compromise wouldn’t hurt.”

  “Compromise is what makes bad movies,” he said, turning and putting his equipment away.

  I got back to the meeting hall just in time. The jury was in place and ready to read the verdict. I sat down and glanced at Nelson. He was fidgeting in his seat. A juror handed a piece of paper to the judge and she read it.

  “Has the jury reached a verdict?” she asked.

  The foreman of the jury stood up. “Yes, Your Honor.”

  “Go ahead.”

  “We, the jury, find for the plaintiff.” Nelson had lost. A gasp went through the crowd and Nelson’s head practically dropped to the floor. The foreman went on, “For the entire 100 starbills.” Another gasp. Nelson’s head bent even further down. I looked around. One person knocked over a chair in anger; another pounded his fist into a post. They were both investors in Nelson’s company. All that money they had invested was gone. Another boy shouted “No!” and buried his head in his hands. It was one of Nelson’s employees. He was probably out of a job. Until this moment, I hadn’t realized just how many people this laws
uit would affect. Max and Jake were giving each other high-fives, and they left the room taunting Nelson. Nelson continued to sit there and stare at the ground. I went over to him.

  “I’m finished,” he said.

  “You can rebuild,” I told him. “You’ve got a good product.”

  “How am I gonna get any investors after this? I can’t build cars any more. I’m done.”

  A week after the verdict, our two biggest industries were gone. Nelson Motors was bankrupt, and Pete’s movie was on hold because of the strike. Investors in both were furious. All of Nelson’s employees had to be laid off. Also, some of the investors had their own businesses, and when they lost the money they had put into Nelson Motors, some of their employees had to be laid off too. In short, no one in Kidsboro (except for Max and Jake) had any money. And because no one had any money, that meant that no one had any money to spend—so businesses were failing. No one was playing miniature golf any more or going to the movies. Unemployment was growing and it showed no signs of getting any better.

  But it could get worse.

  8

  THE GREAT DEPRESSION

  MARCY CAME TO MY OFFICE after she was done at the bank for the day. She looked rattled. “Ryan, can I talk to you for a minute?”

  “Sure.” I motioned for her to come in. She sat down and hit my desk with her knee, almost knocking over a clock.

  “Sorry.”

  “That’s okay.” Her face paled. I felt sorry for her and I didn’t even know what was the matter yet.

  “We’ve got a problem. The bank is almost out of money.”

  “What?”

  “You see … everybody’s broke, and so people are taking their money out of the bank because they suddenly need it. And the people who took out loans to start their new businesses, well … they can’t pay their loans back because they don’t have any customers anymore.”

  “So, there’s all sorts of money going out of the bank, but no money coming in?”

  “Exactly.”

  “Oh, boy.”

  “We wouldn’t be so low except that Max withdrew all of his money—212 starbills.”

  “Why did Max take out his money?”

  “He said he had some things to buy.”

  “With 212 starbills? There’s nothing in Kidsboro that costs that much.”

  “I didn’t ask him about that. I didn’t think it was any of my business.”

  “Oh, man. This is bad. If this gets out, everybody’s going to want to get their money out of the bank as soon as possible,” I said. “And if the money runs out, a lot of people are gonna be really angry.”

  “I know. Some people put everything they owned in the bank.”

  To be honest, I was tempted to take out my own money. I had almost 20 starbills in that bank and I couldn’t afford to lose it. But I couldn’t do that to Marcy or to Kidsboro.

  “How much do we have left?”

  “Twenty-three starbills. And some change.”

  “Okay.” I got up and began to pace around. I had to think. “Okay … if anybody wants to take out any money tomorrow, try to convince them not to. Make up any reason.”

  “I could raise interest rates.”

  “Yes. Good. Tell them that for this week, and this week only, the interest rate is raised three percentage points. They could earn extra money for keeping it in there for one more week. Figure out exactly how much and tell them.”

  “Okay.”

  “And get on these guys who owe the bank money.”

  “I’ve already talked to them. No one has anything to pay back.”

  “I’ll go out tomorrow and bring Alice with me. She’ll squeeze it out of them.”

  “Oh, yeah. That might work.”

  “And most importantly, Marcy … don’t tell anyone about this. Not your best friend, not your mother, not even your teddy bear.”

  “I won’t.”

  “If this gets out, we’re all in deep trouble.”

  The next day I asked Alice to help me collect some debts. I knocked on doors and asked people to please pay back the money they owed the bank. Most said they didn’t have any money, until Alice stepped inside and threatened to turn them upside down by their ankles. Then they suddenly remembered that they did have a little money stashed away somewhere. The plan worked. We were able to retrieve 19 starbills, but that wasn’t nearly as much as what was owed. People genuinely had no money, and no amount of being turned upside down could get them to pay up. By the end of the day, I was happy with what we got. I was pretty sure that the 19 starbills we had collected, plus the 23 already in the bank, would hold us for another few days.

  I was surprised to see Pete with a camera. He was apparently getting ready to film a scene. I walked over, but didn’t see any of the regular actors or crew around. It was just Pete and his six-year-old sister, Robin. Robin was sitting at a table facing someone I didn’t recognize at first. The face was turned away from me. Maybe Pete was filming something for his family.

  “What are you doing, Pete?”

  “Making my film.”

  “What film?”

  “The film I’ve been making for the last few weeks,” he said matter-of-factly, as though it was a stupid question.

  “I didn’t know your sister was in it.”

  “She is now.”

  “What role is she playing?”

  “Right now she’s Ginger.” He looked through his viewfinder and dollied the camera a little to his left.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I told them I could make this film without them. And I will.”

  “How is Robin going to play Ginger?”

  “Robin’s a very talented actress. You’d be surprised.”

  “So, you’re just going to throw out all the stuff you filmed with Valerie as Ginger?”

  “Nope. I’m keeping it.” This was getting tiresome. I wished he would just tell me what was going on.

  “How are you going to explain how Ginger suddenly changed from a 14 year old with long, brown hair into a six year old with curly, black hair?”

  “With this.” Pete held up a plain silver mask, which he took over to Robin. “Here. You can put this on now.” She tied it around her head and he came back and looked through the viewfinder. He glanced toward me. “I changed the script a little bit. Now, Ginger has some kind of dental surgery and has to wear this mask for a month.”

  “So, she’s going to wear this thing for the rest of the movie?”

  “Yep. You see, it makes perfect sense, because if you’ll remember, earlier in the film Ginger talks about being engaged to a dentist.”

  “So?”

  “Well, it’s natural to assume that her fiancé would recognize her need for surgery. It’s perfectly logical.”

  “Oh, right,” I said.

  He looked back toward Robin. “Pull the mask a little toward your right ear.”

  “Who’s that?” I asked, pointing to whoever was sitting in the chair opposite her. I still hadn’t seen his face, and he hadn’t moved an inch since I got there.

  “That’s the bad guy.”

  I walked around where I could see the bad guy’s face, and as soon as I saw it, I almost burst out laughing. “A giant teddy bear?”

  “All you can see is the back of his clothes. When I change angles, I’ll play the bad guy.”

  “With a dental surgery mask on?”

  “No. I’ll just duck behind flowers and stuff. Wear a hat.”

  I raised my eyebrows.

  “It’ll work,” Pete insisted.

  “No, it won’t work,” came a voice from behind me. Pete and I whirled around and saw Mark, the owner and creator of the miniature golf place. His face was red.

  Pete ignored Mark and continued to work.

  “You’re not going to do this, Pete!”

  “Go away, Mark.”

  “I invested a lot of money in this movie, and you’ve got your six-year-old sister playing the romantic lead? I don’t think so.
”

  “I’ve got it all figured out. You’ll never know the difference.”

  “Listen to me, Pete.” Pete continued to look through the viewfinder.

  Mark walked around in front of the camera and spoke into the lens. “Listen to me. I’ve got a business to run. I’ve got loans that I can’t pay back. This movie needs to be made, and it needs to be made now. You will give the actors everything they want.”

  “I can’t do that.”

  “You have to.”

  “If I give in now, they’ll just want more and more.”

  “I don’t care.”

  “This is my movie!”

  “But it’s my money you’re making this movie with!”

  “Investors have no say in how a movie is produced.”

  “I don’t know where you’re getting all these rules. But you’d better close your little rule book and start negotiating with the actors. Now.” Mark pushed on the side of the camera, rolling it to the edge of the flat, wood piece it was sitting on. He took one last angry look at Pete and left. Pete hesitated only a second, then moved his camera back into place.

  “You know, Pete, he’s probably right,” I said.

  “Would you mind leaving the set, Ryan? I’m trying to concentrate.”

  I turned on my heel and left.

  Scott ran up to me, grabbed my arm, and pulled me behind a tree. He looked around to see if anyone was nearby.

  “What is it?”

  Scott came close and whispered, “You need to go to the bank.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s almost out of money.”

  I suddenly lost feeling in my lips. “How do you know that?”

  “A bunch of people are talking about it. I just withdrew everything I had in there. You’d better do the same before it—”

  Before he could finish his sentence, I was sprinting toward the bank.

  I could hear people yelling before I could even see the bank. When I finally saw it, I came to a complete stop. There Was a crowd of people outside the door, demanding to get in. A “Closed” sign hung on the door and Marcy was desperately trying to keep people out. I went to try to make peace, knowing full well I had nothing to tell them that would make anyone feel better.