I was supposed to save money. That was the plan. But so far I’d spent more money than I’d earned. That was a million times horrible. But what made that a million, million times worse was Lexi.

While I wasted time sitting on the couch thinking of great ideas that Malcolm told me were either silly, impossible, or what are you thinking?, Lexi earned serious money. I thought she had just studied with friends the last two days. But I should have known something was up, especially when she smirked at me during dinner.

This is what happened: I was thinking of ideas on the couch while watching TV. I could paint houses, but I didn’t own a ladder. I could put on puppet shows, but I didn’t own puppets. I could fly people to the moon, except I didn’t have rockets, a launching pad, or anything even remotely space-like. I was writing down my next lousy idea, “Become an Internet hacker,” when someone knocked on the front door.

“Is this where Lexi lives?” asked some large, deep-voiced, seventh-grade guy in a football jacket.

“Maybe,” I answered.

“I’m here for tutoring,” he said. I stared at him, clueless. “My teacher recommended her.” I continued staring. “Lexi’s tutoring. You know. I brought cash.” He waved some bills in his hand.

I might have caught on slowly, but as soon as I saw the wad of money in his oversized paws, my eyes opened wide. “I’ll take that.” I held out my palm. “You have to pay in advance.”

But before Mr. Football Guy could slap his money on me, Lexi hollered from upstairs, “Almost done! I’ll be down in a minute! Don’t give my brother any money!”

Football Guy frowned at me and put his dough in his pocket.

He waited in the hallway as I stomped to the family room. I should have known teachers would point kids in Lexi’s direction. Teachers loved Little Miss Perfect because she listened in class and got straight As and raised her hand. But if you ask me, that was brownnosing.

I couldn’t waste any more time watching cartoons, not if Lexi was already earning serious coin. I needed to make money, and I needed to make it quick. But it’s not easy coming up with excellent moneymaking schemes when your sister is making stacks of riches all afternoon by tutoring. It’s about as easy as eating horseradish without gagging.

In other words, it’s practically impossible.

So I turned off the tube and called Malcolm.

“Help!” I squeaked. “Lexi’s earning a fortune. Do you think we could dig for oil? Or buy a metal detector and find hidden treasure on the beach?”

“We don’t live near a beach,” said Malcolm.

“Which is so unfair!” I wailed.

“Listen. You just have to be smart,” said Malcolm. “Think economics.”

I yawned. “You’re boring me again.”

“No, listen. It’s the law of supply and demand. Why did you sell so many apples?”

“Because I only sold them for a dime.”

“Right. You supplied apples for ten cents. There was a demand for them at that price. You need to supply something people want. That they demand. At a price they want to spend. That’s what economics is all about.”

Supply and demand. I thought I had heard that before in school, in between naps. “I bet I could sell autographed pictures of myself.”

“No one is demanding pictures of you.”

“I could give dance lessons.”

“You can’t supply that.”

“I could open a kissing booth.”

“There are no demands for your kisses. And do you really want to supply that?”

“No,” I admitted, trembling at the thought. “I could sell magical beans that make you fly.”

A pause. “You have magical flying beans?”

“Of course not. But you’re killing all my other ideas,” I groaned.

“Remember, supply and demand. It’s not enough that someone demands it. You have to be able to supply it, too.”

After I hung up with Malcolm, I had plenty to think about. I needed ideas that people demanded! A need I could supply! I was still mulling this whole economics thing over when Lexi walked Mr. Football Guy out of the house. “See you tomorrow, Eric!” she sang. After she closed the door, Lexi flopped on the recliner across from me. “So how’s it going?” she asked me.

“Awesome,” I grunted.

“Well, at least you don’t have to tutor some of these kids. Eric is nice and everything, but he doesn’t even know the difference between a gerund and an infinitive!”

“Imagine that,” I said. I had no idea what she was talking about.

Lexi laughed at my blank look. “Okay. Bad example. What are you doing to earn money?”

“Stuff,” I mumbled.

She smiled. “I thought of a bunch of terrible ideas at first, like being on a reality show. Can you imagine? I’m sure your ideas are way better.”

“Way better,” I mumbled, looking down at my feet.

“I even thought of putting on puppet shows or magic shows. Remember when we were little kids and we put on that magic show for Mom and Dad? We were horrible. I tried to make you disappear, but you refused to sneak out of the hole in the box because you said that was cheating.” She laughed, and I laughed a little bit, too. She leaned over to me. “So how are you going to earn money?”

I stared at her. I knew her game. She was just trying to pry for information. She wanted to get the upper hand. But I wasn’t giving her anything.

“None of your business,” I hissed. “I’ve got so many great moneymaking ideas, I don’t know which one to try first.”

She smiled and leaned back. “Name one idea.”

“So you can steal it? No way. Just because you have some crummy tutoring jobs doesn’t mean this contest is over.”

“Face it, baby brother. You don’t have a chance of winning and you know it,” she said with a stuck-up, I’m-way-better-than-you grin.

“In your dreams!” I shouted. “It’s not over — by a long shot! Don’t count your kittens before they’re hatched.”

“Kittens don’t hatch.”

“Exactly! Because that’s the only way a cat is coming into this house!” I howled, leaping from the couch.

“That doesn’t even make sense,” chortled Lexi.

“Says you!” I hollered. Her giggles followed me as I stomped up the stairs.