فصل چهاردهم

chapter-14

The next day, when Kyle and his teammates were dropped off at Olympia Village by their parents, the motel was swarming with kids and chaperones.

“Uh-oh,” said Akimi. “They all have slick warm-up outfits.”

The seven other teams were decked out in brightly colored hoodies and sweatpants. Kyle and his friends were wearing jeans, sneakers, and mismatched jackets. So were their chaperones.

“That’s okay,” said Sierra. “We’re saving our uniforms for the parade of champions.” “Check it out, you guys,” said Miguel. “There’s Andrew Peckleman.” Their classmate marched briskly out of the hotel lobby wearing a bright blue sweatshirt and a Toronto Blue Jays baseball cap.

“May I have your attention, please?” Andrew shouted through a bullhorn. “May I have your attention?” No one gave him any attention.

All the kids from out of state and their chaperones kept gabbing and giggling.

“So when do we get to check out this Lemoncello Library?” said a boy with the kind of tough edge New Yorkers always have in movies.

“I sure do want to ride one of those hover ladders,” said a girl who sounded like she might be from Alabama or Louisiana.

“Dude,” said a kid from California, “I’m heading straight to the Electronic Learning Center so I can half-pipe the craters on the moon.” Andrew tried again. His bullhorn squealed with feedback. “WILL YOU STUPID PEOPLE PLEASE SHUT UP?” Every single Library Olympian glared at him.

“Thank you. Um, now, here with a few words about the motel is my boss and, uh, great-uncle-twice-removed, Mr. Woodrow ‘Woody’ Peckleman.” A skinny bald man—who sort of resembled a plucked chicken in a bright blue suit—strutted out the lobby door. He had a very pointy nose that looked like a beak. He twitched and fidgeted and squinted in the sunshine. Kyle half expected him to start scratching the toe of his shoe at the dirt, searching for chicken feed.

“Welcome,” said Mr. Peckleman, with a voice even more nasal than Andrew’s. “The Blue Jay Extended Stay Lodge—also known, this week, as Olympia Village—is, as you may have noticed, my personal bird sanctuary. Please enjoy our feathered friends’ colorful, song-filled company and merry antics.” He gestured toward a nearby bird feeder. “But, please, do not feed the squirrels. Squirrels are nothing but thieving rodents. Rats with fluffy tails.” Oh-kay, Kyle thought. Andrew’s great-uncle is a little nutty.

“Also,” Mr. Peckleman continued, “you are free to enjoy the brand-new Lemoncello video arcade machines recently installed in the motel’s game room, right off the lobby. There is no charge for any of these games.” “Woo-hoo,” cried Kyle.

Now everybody in the crowd turned to gawk at him.

Right. Kyle figured his competition was more into books and libraries than video games. He felt as out of place as he’d known he would.

“That’s okay,” whispered Akimi. “I’ll play Dragon Bop Bubble Pop with you.” “Me too,” added Sierra.

“Ditto,” tossed in Miguel.

“Thanks, you guys.”

Suddenly, an old-fashioned horn went AH-OOGA.

Kyle looked at the motel entrance.

A car resembling a pouncing cat, with glowing green eyeballs for headlights, had just eased off the highway and pulled into the parking lot.

“The cat is one of the tokens from that board game,” said Sierra, who had been studying Lemoncello games the way Kyle had been studying libraries and books. “Family Frenzy!” “Correctamundo,” said Akimi.

The cat car was followed by eight Winnebago-sized vehicles, their sides covered with vinyl graphics designed to make them look like bookshelves on wheels.

“And check those out,” said Miguel as the vehicles gracefully glided into a reserved row of angled parking spaces.

The catmobile’s paw door swung up, and out stepped Dr. Yanina Zinchenko, wearing a blazing-red flight suit. She strode through the crowd and politely took the bullhorn from Mr. Peckleman.

“Welcome, everybody, to Ohio and Olympia Village,” she said. “Kindly report to the bookmobile with your region’s name affixed to its side. Our library staff will give each of you a welcome packet containing the card key for your room, meal tickets, and information about this week’s exciting events. The bookmobiles will be at your disposal throughout the games. They will take you wherever you need to go. They are also filled with books to make your commute more enjoyable. The opening ceremonies for the games of the first Library Olympiad will be held this evening, here at Olympia Village. Start time is eight p.m. There will be fireworks. And cake. Also balloons. So please, settle in, freshen up, and get ready for an exciting week.” Everyone applauded. Dr. Zinchenko clicked her heels and bowed.

Two smiling Lemoncello Library staffers in yellow jumpsuits with ID badges lanyarded around their necks emerged from each of the eight bookmobiles with stacks of manila envelopes.

“Let’s go get our room assignments,” said Mrs. Yunghans, the middle school librarian. Mr. Colby Sharp, one of the middle school’s ELA teachers, would be Team Kyle’s other chaperone.

Kyle, Akimi, Miguel, and Sierra followed the two adults to the bookmobile with “Home Team/Defending Champions” proudly displayed on its side.

The gangly Marjory Muldauer was standing with the two yellow-suited library staffers in front of it.

“Excuse me, Miss Muldauer,” said Mrs. Yunghans, who of course recognized the girl immediately. “Are you looking for the Midwest team’s bookmobile?” “No,” said Marjory. “I was just curious if any of the reigning ‘champions’ knew when the first perambulating library appeared in the rural villages of Cumbria County, England.” Kyle looked to Miguel and Sierra. They looked blankly at him.

“The first what?” said Akimi.

“Perambulating library.” Marjory gestured over her shoulder. “A bookmobile. A mobile library?” “Is this going to be on the final?” quipped Kyle. He was trying his best to sound confident in front of his fiercest rival.

Marjory Muldauer kept her eyes locked on Kyle. “You never know, do you, Mr. Keeley?” “Miss Muldauer,” said Mrs. Yunghans, “perhaps you should rejoin the rest of your team?” Marjory ignored her.

“It was 1857,” she said. “It was a horse-drawn cart. Donated by a Victorian merchant named George Moore to ‘diffuse good literature among the rural population.’ ” “Well,” said Kyle, “these are way cooler. And the drivers don’t have to shovel horse poop all day.” Marjory Muldauer didn’t laugh. She narrowed her eyes.

“I hope you enjoyed your fifteen minutes of fame, Mr. Keeley. Because when these games are over and done, you will be over and done, too.” She turned on her heel and walked away. Kyle actually shivered.

The girl wasn’t just scary good. She was also scary.