فصل هجدهم

chapter-18

Even though the Fabulous Fact-Finding Frenzy was under way, the Lemoncello Library was still open to the general public.

Frederick and David Krinkle had returned to Alexandriaville, this time to use one of the computers built into every reading desk under the rotunda.

“Here it is,” said Frederick, clacking keys with one finger. “The Wikipedia entry I told you about.” “And you can change it?”

“Yes, David. That’s what makes these things so wonderful. And if anybody cares to check, they will see that these edits were made from a computer here in Lemoncello’s library.” He finished tapping in his entry. “There we are. A few fascinating facts that all the other contributors to this page somehow failed to mention.” David studied the computer screen. “Luigi Lemoncello was a high school dropout?” “If it’s on the Internet, it has to be true. Of course, dropping out of high school may have been a good move on Luigi’s part because, as you will notice if you scroll down, he was kicked off his high school chess team for cheating.” “That was you, Frederick,” said David. “You went to the bathroom during a tournament and consulted a cheat guide to plot your next move. The teacher in the adjoining stall caught you.” “Funny,” said Frederick. “It seems Luigi did exactly the same thing.” The two brothers tittered.

“Our work here is done,” said David. “It’s time we checked in with our local research assistant.” “Yes,” said Frederick. “Hopefully, she has found some information about the blockbuster game we will be announcing for the holidays—before the Imagination Factory announces it first!” The two brothers packed up their things and headed into the lobby, with its ludicrous statue of Luigi standing on a lily pad spewing water out of his mouth like a broken drinking fountain.

“David! Frederick!” hollered the familiar voice of their number one nemesis.

He was standing near a lemon-shaped floor decal, holding a stopwatch.

“What brings you back here like a pair of bad pennies from heaven?” “We wanted to see your new library,” said David, his eyelid twitching. “It truly is marvelous. So generous of you to give up your valuable game-designing time for such a noble cause.” “Thank you, David. And what have you two been up to lately? Mass-producing cheap imitations of my extremely inventive games?” “You’re just jealous,” snapped Frederick. “We outsold you in several markets last season.” “Two,” said Mr. Lemoncello. “Two is a couple, not several. Two is not even a few.” “Well, just you wait for this year!” said Frederick, his face turning the color of a plum. “Your holiday line will be a complete and utter failure!” All of a sudden Michael Jordan, wearing his Chicago Bulls uniform, strolled across the marble floor, casually dribbling a basketball.

“Th-th-that’s Michael Jordan!” blurted Frederick.

“What’s he doing here?” asked David.

“He isn’t,” said Mr. Lemoncello.

“What?”

“He’s not here. He is, in truth, a hologram.”

“Impossible.”

“If I may quote Muhammad Ali,” said Jordan, “ ’Impossible is not a fact. It’s an opinion.’ ” Mr. Lemoncello beamed and bounced up on the heels of his shoes. “So that’s what I’ve been tinkering with lately. How about you boys?” “We have several irons in the fire.”

“Careful,” said Mr. Lemoncello. “They might melt. And when they do, how will you press the wrinkles out of your stiffly starched shirts?” Just then, four young people came bounding up the front steps of the library, dashed through the wide-open front door, and jumped on top of the lemon.

“We’ve got the answer!” they all shouted at the same time.

“Voice in the ceiling?” cried Mr. Lemoncello.

“According to floor pressure sensors,” cooed a computerized voice, “both teams crossed the finish line at the same time.” “Very well,” said Mr. Lemoncello, “Miguel and Pranav, Elliott and Katherine, kindly march over to the whiteboards conveniently located at opposite ends of the lobby and write down your fascinating fact about Mr. Jordan!” The kids did as Mr. Lemoncello instructed. Katherine pulled out her small black book to make sure she remembered what she and her partner had decided to give as an answer.

The boys, Miguel and Pranav, couldn’t decide who had the better penmanship. Finally, Miguel handed the dry-erase marker to Pranav.

“So,” said David, “is this some sort of new game?”

“Oh, no,” said Mr. Lemoncello. “This is the oldest game in the book: thorough and proper research! We’ve just made it a little more fun. Because if something is fun, more of it gets done! By the way, do you two gentlemen know Miss Katherine Kelly?” He gestured toward the girl with long blond hair. “She hails from Kansas City, Missouri. I believe that’s your hometown as well.” “Nope,” said David. “Never met her.”

“Come on, little brother,” said Frederick. “We need to leave.” And they did. Fast.