فصل بیست و ششم

chapter-26

“Very clever,” said Charles, pulling another silhouette card out of a book.

This cover had been easy to find. It was the third book on the top shelf of the Staff Picks display. The image on the front was a bright yellow yield sign. The title? Universal Road Signs by “renowned trafficologist” Abigail Rose Painter. Charles had found the matching book in the 300s room on the second floor. The 300s were all about social sciences, including things like commerce, communications, and—ta-da!—transportation.

The image also fit nicely with the pictogram he had found in the 700s room in a book called The Umpire Strikes Back. That baseball book was the first cover on the second shelf in the display case and had given Charles a card with the classic pose of an umpire calling an out.

Reading the images from left to right, then down—just like you’d read a book—Charles knew he was on the right track. The traffic sign book gave him “walk” and the umpire book gave him “out.” Put the two picture words together and he had “walk out.” Clearly, if he could find all twelve silhouettes, the Staff Picks display would tell him how to “walk out” of the library (although he had absolutely no idea what the first image he had found, the quarterback tossing a pass, had to do with escaping the library—not yet, anyway).

“Three down, nine to go,” said Charles, winking up at the closest security camera. “And, Mr. Lemoncello, if you’re watching, may I just say that you are an extremely brilliant man?” Charles had never sucked up to a video camera before. He figured it was worth a shot. Maybe Mr. Lemoncello would send him a bonus clue or something.

Instead, when Charles stepped out of the 300s room, somebody sent him Andrew Peckleman. The goggle-eyed library geek was sputtering mad as he rushed down the steps and stomped around the second-floor balcony.

“Stupid library. Stupid Lemoncello. Stupid sphinx and Sekhmet.” “Why so glum, Andrew?” Charles called out.

“Because this game stinks. Mr. Lemoncello just sent a bunch of holograms hurling hieroglyphics after me. He could put somebody’s eye out with those things.” “Really? With a hologram?”

“Hey, they’re made with lasers, aren’t they?”

“Indeed. Say, speaking of hieroglyphics, where might I find a book about picture languages?” “Ha! Why should I help you?”

“Because Kyle Keeley is working with Akimi Hughes and Sierra Russell. I imagine it is only a matter of time before your friend Miguel Fernandez joins their team, too.” “Miguel isn’t my friend! Besides, I’m better at navigating my way through a library than he’ll ever be.” “I know. That’s why I want you on my team.”

“Really?”

Charles smiled. Kids like Andrew Peckleman were so easy to manipulate.

“Oh, yes. Work with me and I guarantee you the world will know that you should be the head library aide at Alexandriaville Middle School.” “The four hundreds!” blurted Peckleman.

“Pardon?”

“That’s where you’ll find books on hieroglyphics and all kinds of languages. If you want secret codes, those are in the six hundreds room. The six-fifties, to be exact.” Charles shot out his hand. “Welcome to Team Charles, Andrew.” The new teammates stepped into the 400s room. For some reason, it was pitch dark and smelled like pine trees.

“Bienvenida! Bienvenue! Witamy! Kuwakaribisha! Welcome!” boomed a voice from the ceiling speakers. “This is the four hundreds room, home of foreign languages. Here, CHARLES and ANDREW, you can learn all about your American heritage.” A bank of spotlights thumped on.

Charles and Andrew were face-to-blank-face with a row of four featureless mannequins. An overhead projector beamed a movie onto dummy number two, turning it into a perky woman who looked like a flight attendant.

“Hello, and welcome to your American heritage. I’m Debbie. Let’s begin your voyage!” “That’s okay,” said Charles. “We’re rather busy.”

“Let’s begin your voyage,” the mannequin repeated.

Charles sighed. Obviously, there was no way to turn this silly display off. He might as well speed things along by telling the dummy what it wanted to hear.

“Fine. But can we go with the abridged version? We’re in a bit of a rush.” “Yeah,” added Andrew, “we have to escape before noon tomorrow.” The woman, whose body remained frozen while a movie made her face and costume spring to life, reminded Charles of the graveyard statues from the Haunted Mansion ride at Disney World.

“While we research your family trees,” she said, “please enjoy this short and informative film.” “Is this part of the game?” Andrew whispered to Charles.

“Possibly. Pay attention for any bonus clues.”

“Okay. What do they look like?”

“Who can ever say?”

A screen behind the life-size dummies leapt to life with all sorts of scratchy images of people huddled together on the deck of a boat near the Statue of Liberty.

“For decades,” narrated the ceiling voice, “public libraries have proudly served America’s newest citizens—the immigrants who flock to these shores yearning for the freedom to build their own American dreams.” Charles really wasn’t interested in this kind of stuff. His ancestors were all Americans; the only language they spoke was English.

“Yes, the library is where many new arrivals journey first. To learn their new homeland’s language. To keep in touch with the world they left behind. To search for the gainful employment that will make them productive residents of their newly adopted home!” The movie dissolved into blackness.

“Thank you for your kind attention,” chirped the cheerful Debbie. “We have completed your American family tree. Let’s meet your first American ancestors!” Two mannequins sprang to illuminated life, both of them dressed in traditional Thanksgiving pilgrim costumes.

“I know who they are already,” said Charles. “That’s John Chiltington and his wife, Elinor. They came to Plymouth Colony on the Mayflower. Can we move on to Andrew’s family? Please?” “Of course,” said Debbie.

The mannequins quickly went through Andrew Peckleman’s ancestry. Apparently, the family name had originally been Pickleman, because they made pickles. After a prolonged parade of pickle people, the dummies took on the guise of Andrew’s most famous ancestor, a guy in hornrimmed glasses and a tweed sports coat named Peter Paul Peckleman.

“I appeared on the TV game show Concentration in 1968,” he announced, “and won a roomful of furniture and wood paneling for my rumpus room.” Charles smiled. He knew the TV game show Concentration was very similar to Mr. Lemoncello’s Phenomenal Picture Word Puzzler, one of the games he had picked up at the toy store. Peter Paul Peckleman’s claim to fame was further confirmation that piecing together the picture puzzle would show Charles how to escape from the library.

He’d been right.

The dummies had just given him a bonus clue.