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chapter-50

It became clear to Kyle pretty quickly that the library basement was divided into two sections.

And he was about to plunge into the second one!

He tipped forward as his bin entered a black hole and streaked downhill in a nearly ninety-degree angle, rumbling into whatever the darkness was hiding on the other side of the dividing wall. He gripped the hard plastic sides of his roller-coaster car so tightly his fingers hurt.

Since there was absolutely no light, Kyle couldn’t see what was coming next.

But he could sure feel it.

First he was slammed sideways in a sharp turn to the right. Then he was slammed back in an even sharper turn to the left.

After two more rib-crunching twists and turns, his stomach leapt up and down in his throat as he careened across a series of rolling hills.

And then there was another vertical drop. A free fall! To make things worse, the blue bins weren’t equipped with seat belts—because people weren’t supposed to ride in them, just boxes!

Just when he thought the g-forces might stretch his cheeks into his ears, the roller coaster slammed on its brakes. Kyle nearly flew out of the box.

But the bin had finally stopped moving.

And he was still alive.

Kyle started breathing again.

Until he heard a chain clinking.

His bin tilted backward. Again!

He was climbing straight up another twenty-foot wall, his head bouncing and banging against the lip of the plastic box.

This was such a bad idea, he thought. Bad, bad, bad, bad, bad.

Kyle realized he couldn’t help Mr. Lemoncello all that much if he ended up dead.

Finally he saw a small window of light that grew wider as the bin rose higher.

He had to be approaching the first floor of the library.

Kyle squirmed around in the container. He wanted to be all set to roll out the second he was under the reference desk. The Krinkle brothers could be waiting right there. Kyle had to grab the Benjamin Bean box before they did.

His bin reached the top of the wall and flipped forward into another tunnel. This time it was lit. The cardboard carton in front of him disappeared around a curve. Five seconds later, Kyle entered the same turn.

He rumbled six feet down a straightaway.

Some sort of magnetic switch clicked.

The bin tipped sideways to dump its contents.

Kyle tumbled onto the marble floor underneath Ms. Waintraub’s desk.

“There he is!” he heard Abia whisper in the distance.

She and Miguel were running to the reference desk from the fiction wall.

Kyle looked around on the floor.

“Where’s the Benjamin Bean box?” he asked as quietly as he could.

“They got it!” answered Miguel, keeping his voice hushed. “They had a robo-cart waiting for it the second it popped out of the hole.” “We chased after it,” said Abia. “But the robot proved faster than our feet!” “The bots up here are speedier than the ones downstairs,” added Miguel.

“It took the cardboard carton through the bookshelf and into Mr. Lemoncello’s office,” said Abia. “We must assume that is where the Krinkle brothers are currently situated.” Kyle slumped down onto the floor and kicked off the drone slippers. Miguel tossed him his tennis shoes.

“Where’s the shoebox?” Kyle asked as he laced up. “That might be all the proof we actually need. The Benjamin Bean box was a bonus.” Abia looked at Miguel.

Miguel looked at the floor.

“We, uh, sort of lost it,” Miguel admitted.

“What?” said Kyle, standing up.

“When we were chasing the robot.”

“I thought it was a good and noble idea,” said Abia.

“You thought what was a good and noble idea?” asked Kyle.

“To, you know, throw something at the robot,” said Miguel.

Kyle’s jaw dropped. “You threw Mr. Lemoncello’s shoebox at the runaway robot?” Miguel nodded. “I thought a bop on the head might slow the thing down long enough for Abia to catch it.” “But unfortunately,” said Abia, “Miguel threw with far too much force.” “Yeah,” said Miguel. “I couldn’t believe how hard I hurled that thing, bro. Totally overshot the robot’s head and BOOM! It landed in the cargo basket. Yo, it was like I threw a perfect Hail Mary touchdown pass in the final seconds to win the game! It was awesome.” “Except we lost the only solid proof we had that Mr. Lemoncello isn’t a liar and a thief,” Kyle said sadly.

“Yes,” said Abia. “That part is not so awesome.” “So,” said Kyle, “we failed.”

Because, he didn’t say out loud, I tried to take another shortcut and went on Mr. Blue Bin’s Wild Ride instead of just using the steps, coming upstairs, and helping Abia and Miguel tackle the runaway robot.

Kyle put his head in his hands. He was all out of ideas. They’d blown their last shot at clearing Mr. Lemoncello’s name.

“You know,” said a soft voice behind them, “I failed several times before I was elected president.” It was Abraham Lincoln. Wherever he was, Mr. Raymo had switched on the Nonfictionator.

“When I was young, I went to war a captain and came home a private. I lost my job. I lost eight different elections. I failed in business. Twice.” He gestured toward the other exhibits as they came to animated life and ambled over to where Lincoln was standing.

“In fact,” said Lincoln, “that’s the one thing we all have in common. Thomas Edison, the Wright brothers, Emily Dickinson, me, even Michael Jordan.” “We were all failures,” said Jordan. “I missed more than nine thousand shots in my career. I lost almost three hundred games. Twenty-six times I’ve been trusted to take the game-winning shot and missed. I’ve failed over and over and over again in my life. And that is why I succeed.” “Only a dozen of my poems were ever published in my lifetime,” said Emily Dickinson.

“My talking doll?” added Edison. “Total disaster!” “If you’ve never failed…,” said Orville.

“…you’ve never tried anything new,” his brother, Wilbur, finished.

Kyle grinned.

Abia had been right early on.

There was a reason why Mr. Lemoncello chose the historical figures that he did for the new exhibits.

To remind Kyle of what he already knew: No game is ever over until it’s over!