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chapter-8

Over on the side of the stage, a shoe that looked like a peeled-open banana appeared from behind a curtain.

When it landed, the shoe burp-squeaked.

As a second banana shoe burp-squeaked onto the floor, Kyle looked up and there he was—Mr. Lemoncello! He had loose and floppy limbs and was dressed in a three-piece black suit with a bright red tie. His black broad-brimmed hat was cocked at a crooked angle atop his curly white hair. Kyle was so close he could see a sly twinkle sparkling in Mr. Lemoncello’s coal-black eyes.

Treading very carefully, Mr. Lemoncello walked toward the podium. The burp-squeaks in his shoes seemed to change pitch depending on how hard he landed on his heels. He added a couple of little jig steps, a quick hop and a stutter-step skip, and yes—his shoes were squeaking out a song.

“Pop Goes the Weasel.”

On the Pop! Mr. Lemoncello popped behind the podium.

The crowd went wild.

Mr. Lemoncello politely bowed and said, very softly, “Tank you. Tank you. Grazie. Grazie.” He bent forward so his mouth was maybe an inch away from the microphone.

“Buon giorno, boise and-uh girls-a.” He spoke very timidly, very slowly. “Tees ees how my-uh momma and my-uh poppa teach-uh me to speak-eh de English.” He wiggled his ears. Straightened his back.

“But then,” he said in a crisp, clear voice, “I went to the Alexandriaville Public Library, where a wonderful librarian named Mrs. Gail Tobin helped me learn how to speak like this: ‘If two witches were watching two watches, which witch would watch which watch?’ I can also speak while upside down and underwater, but not today because I just had this suit dry-cleaned and do not want to get it wet.” Mr. Lemoncello bounced across the stage like a happy grasshopper.

“Now then, children, if I may call you that—which I must because I have not yet memorized all of your names, even though I am working on it—what do you think is the most amazingly incredible thing you’ll find inside your wondrous new library, besides, of course, all the knowledge you need to do anything and everything you ever want or need to do?” No one said anything. They were too mesmerized by Mr. Lemoncello’s rat-a-tat words.

“Would it be: A) robots silently whizzing their way through the library, restocking the shelves, B) the Electronic Learning Center, with three dozen plasma-screen TVs all connected to flight simulators and educational video games, or C) the Wonder Dome? Lined with ten giant video screens, it can make the whole building feel like a rocket ship blasting off into outer space!” “The game room!” someone shouted.

“The robots!”

“The video dome!”

Mr. Lemoncello raced back to the podium and made a buzzing noise into the microphone.

“Sorry. The correct answer is—and not just because of Winn-Dixie—D) all of the above!” The crowd went wild.

Mr. Lemoncello whirled around to face his head librarian.

“Dr. Zinchenko? Will you kindly help me pass out our first twelve library cards?” It was time to announce the essay contest winners.

Dr. Zinchenko placed a stack of twelve shiny cards on the podium in front of Mr. Lemoncello.

“Please,” he said, “as I call your name, come join me onstage. Miguel Fernandez.” “Yes!” Miguel jumped up out of his seat.

“Akimi Hughes.”

“Whoo-hoo.”

Kyle was thrilled to see his two friends be the first ones called to the stage.

“Andrew Peckleman, Bridgette Wadge, Sierra Russell, Yasmeen Smith-Snyder.” Yasmeen squealed when her name was called.

“Sean Keegan, Haley Daley, Rose Vermette, and Kayla Corson.” Ten kids, all the same age as Kyle, were up onstage with his idol, Mr. Lemoncello. He was not. Only two more chances.

As if reading his mind, Mr. Lemoncello said, “Only two more,” and tapped a pair of library cards on the podium. “Charles Chiltington.” “Gosh, really?” He dashed up to the podium and started pumping Mr. Lemoncello’s hand. “Thank you, sir. This is such an honor. Truly. I mean that.” “Thank you, Charles. May I have my hand back? I need it to flip over this final card.” “Of course, sir. But I cannot wait to spend the night in your library, or, as I like to call it, your athenaeum. Because, as I said in my essay, when you open a book, you open your mind!” Finally, Charles the brownnoser let go of Mr. Lemoncello’s hand and went over to line up with the other winners.

“And last but not least,” said Mr. Lemoncello, “Kyle Keeley.” Kyle could not believe his ears. He thought he was dreaming.

But then Akimi started waving for him to come on up!

Dazed, Kyle made his way up the steps to join the others onstage. Mr. Lemoncello handed Kyle a library card. His name and the number twelve were printed on the front. Two book covers—I Love You, Stinky Face and The Napping House—were on the back.

“Let’s all pose for a picture, please,” said the principal.

When everybody moved into position for the photographer, Kyle found himself standing right next to Mr. Lemoncello.

He swallowed hard. “I’m a big fan, sir,” he said, his voice kind of shaky.

“Why, thank you. And remind me—you are?”

“I’m Kyle, sir. Kyle Keeley.”

“Ah, yes. The boy who proved what I’ve always known to be true: The game is never over till it’s over. BONG!”