فصل بیست و نهم

chapter-29

“Right here’s your answer,” said Angus.

The four remaining data dashers had gone into the Young Adult Room on the third floor to use one of the computers.

“Justice for Irma dot org. The whole ugly story is laid out for everybody to see.” Kyle looked at the screen. There was a grainy black-and-white photo of a sweet little old lady wearing granny glasses and an apron over a checked gingham dress. Her gray hair was pinned up in a bun shaped like a cheese Danish.

“Guess she got old,” said Akimi.

“She’s a granny,” added Angus.

“Yeah,” said Kyle. “She sort of looks like one of those Mrs. Maplebutter syrup bottles.” She also looked extremely sad in the photograph as she held up her 1969 Family Frolic game board with one hand while pointing to the Family Frenzy board spread out on a table in front of her.

“This is horrible,” said Akimi, reading the text next to the photograph: In 1969, Irma Hirschman, now a kindly grandmother residing in Smithville, Missouri, was working as a stenographer when she created a board game she called Family Frolic.

“It was based on my happy memories of my big family. I wanted to share that joy and cheerfulness with children all around the world.” Her simple game, with its race from the Local Neighborhood to My First Job to Baby Makes Three to Millionaire’s Mansion, was never a huge hit, but several copies, all manufactured by a local printer in Smithville, were sold by a traveling salesman to homes in the American Midwest.

“I guess that peddler sold a game or two up in Ohio,” Mrs. Hirschman remarked over tea in a recent interview. This interviewer paid for the tea, as Mrs. Hirschman is currently living in a homeless shelter. “That’s where little Luigi first got his sticky fingers on my game.” Five years later, Mr. Lemoncello, the zany billionaire game maker, took Family Frolic and turned it into Family Frenzy.

“He tells everybody that the game was based on his big Italian family,” said Mrs. Hirschman, sniffling away her tears, the tears she has been shedding for over four decades. “He says some local librarian helped him put together the prototype, lending him charms from her bracelet and trinkets she had tucked away in her desk drawer to use as playing pieces. That she even gave him a Barbie doll boot! But the truth is the truth. He stole my game. He stole my memories. He even stole my boot! When I called his big, fancy company—the Imagination Factory in New York City—to complain, those city slickers hung up on me!” Mr. Lemoncello’s entire multibillion-dollar fortune was built on the success of his debut board game, Family Frenzy.

He has never shared a penny of his profits with Mrs. Hirschman, now seventy-five years old, who currently gets by on Social Security, disability insurance, food stamps, and “the kindness of my neighbors here in Smithville and its lovely homeless shelter.” “Man,” said Angus. “Who does Mr. Lemoncello think he is? That is one hundred percent disgusting!” “Only if it’s true,” said Kyle angrily.

“Hey, we have two sources. The box lid and this website.” “Neither of which should be considered completely reliable,” said Abia.

Angus blew her a raspberry. “What? Somebody dummied up this board game and planted it here at the library while somebody else posted a bogus website?” “It’s a possibility!” insisted Kyle.

“Wait a second,” said Angus. “There’s a link to Mr. Lemoncello’s Wikipedia page.” Angus clicked the mouse. “Oh, snap. Mr. L got kicked out of high school for cheating at chess? He was one seriously bad dude when he was a kid. Cheating, stealing…” “Anyone can edit a Wikipedia entry,” said Akimi.

Angus leaned back in his beanbag chair. “Look, I know you guys are locals….” “I’m not,” said Abia.

“Okay. Fine. Y’all just love Mr. Lemoncello. Heck, I do, too. I mean, I did. But face it, the truth is the truth.” “I don’t know,” said Akimi. “This whole thing smells like the dumpster behind a Long John Silver’s to me.” “Fishy?” said Abia.

“Exactly.”

Kyle felt sick to his stomach (and not because of Akimi’s stinky fish thing).

“Look, Angus,” he said, “if this truth is somehow actually the truth, it’ll still be true tomorrow, right?” “Unless somebody edits the Wikipedia page again,” cracked Akimi.

“I still believe in Mr. Lemoncello, and I am not ready to ruin his reputation,” said Kyle. “Not without more facts.” “Me neither,” said Akimi.

“I concur,” added Abia. “We should dig deeper.”

“Fine,” said Angus. “Let’s go ask the holographic Lemoncello for a delay of game. But when we find out the truth…” “You and Akimi win,” said Kyle. “A deal’s a deal. You two can be the ones who go on tour with all the new Lemoncello Library exhibits.” “I don’t know,” sighed Akimi. “If this Irma Hirschman stuff is true, there may not be a Lemoncello Library anymore.”