فصل هجدهم

chapter-18

Bright and early the next morning, Kyle, his teammates, and their chaperones climbed into their bookmobile for the drive downtown to the Lemoncello Library.

The adults sat up front with the driver.

The kids were in the back with the books and a mini-fridge stocked with chocolate milk, pop, and six different kinds of juice.

“So,” said Miguel, “did Andrew’s weird uncle talk to any of you guys last night?” “He talked to me this morning,” said Sierra. “When I was on my way to the breakfast room.” “What did he want?” asked Kyle.

“He told me he could give me a ‘Go to College Free’ card,” said Sierra.

Miguel nodded. “Me too.”

“And why wasn’t I offered this card?” asked Akimi.

Miguel shrugged. “Maybe because I turned him down.”

“So did I,” said Sierra.

“What did he want in exchange for the card?” asked Kyle.

“Worms for his baby birds?” suggested Akimi.

“He didn’t really say,” replied Miguel. “I turned him down before he had a chance.” “Me too,” said Sierra. “I also reminded him that winning a college scholarship isn’t the only reason we’re playing these games.” “Really?” said Akimi, arching an eyebrow. “What other reason is there?” “To prove that we truly deserve to be crowned champions.”

“Oh. Right. That.”

“This could be part of the game,” said Kyle.

“Seriously?” said Akimi.

“Yep. Mr. Peckleman is kind of working for Mr. Lemoncello this week—running Olympia Village. And in Mr. Lemoncello’s Marvelously Mysterious Mine Shaft game, there are devious dwarves who offer you cheat cards that let you do stuff like use elf shovels even if you’re not an elf. But elf shovels, you find out after it’s too late, can’t dig up diamonds, only gold, and you need a ton of gold plus two diamonds to win.” Sierra nodded very slowly. “You’ve played a lot of Mr. Lemoncello’s games, haven’t you, Kyle?” “Enough to know that most of his cheat cards eventually come back to bite you in the butt.” When Kyle and his teammates entered the library’s grand rotunda, the room was more crowded than they had ever seen it.

Spectators, staring up at the Wonder Dome, were seated at the four rings of tables. The players from the seven other teams milled around, oohing and aahing at things Kyle and his friends now took for granted, like the holographic statues perched on their pedestals, peering down at the crowd below. The statues were waving at people who were waving up at them.

Kyle recognized only one of the projected images—a greenish bald guy wearing bifocals and pants cut off at the knees and tugging on a kite string. That had to be Benjamin Franklin.

“Who are those other people?” he whispered.

“Famous librarians,” said Miguel. “Melvil Dewey, Eratosthenes, Saint Lawrence, Lewis Carroll—the usual suspects.” Kyle nodded. He was so glad Miguel was on his team.

“In honor of the ancient Olympic Games,” reported Akimi, “they have all sorts of Grecian urns up in the Art and Artifacts Room. And you can check out Mr. Lemoncello’s old gym shoes in the Lemoncello-abilia Room on the third floor. Bring a gas mask.” “I heard Muhammad Ali is boxing Rocky Balboa in the IMAX theater,” added Miguel. “Winner wrestles Hercules.” Up on the Wonder Dome screens, Kyle saw the enormous image of eight empty library carts and two rolling bins bulging with books. They seemed to be parked in front of the doors to the 000s Dewey decimal room on the second floor.

“Welcome, children!” cried a trembling voice. “I’m so glad you are all finally here! What took you so long?” Kyle looked toward the circulation desk in the center of the round room. Usually, that was where Dr. Zinchenko and her staff worked, helping people find whatever information or books they were looking for. During the escape game, a holographic version of Mr. Lemoncello’s favorite childhood librarian, Mrs. Gail Tobin, had popped in to help administer clues.

Today’s guest-librarian hologram, the lady with the trembling voice, was somebody new.

She looked frazzled. Worn out. The way teachers sometimes look at the end of a really long day right before spring break.

“My name is Lonni Gause,” said the shaky see-through librarian. She was nervously nibbling a pencil as though it were a cob of corn. “I was the very last librarian at the old Alexandriaville Public Library—the one they bulldozed down so they could build a parking garage.” She started sobbing. “Oh, the horror! The horror!” “Thank you, Mrs. Gause,” said Dr. Zinchenko, striding into the room from a section of the fiction bookshelves that swung open like a hidden passageway in a castle. “Welcome to day one of our competition, Library Olympians. Today we begin our quest for champions!” “Yes!” cried the holographic librarian. “We need champions. We also need defenders! We needed them all those years ago when, first, books started disappearing off the shelves and, then, the wrecking balls rumbled up Main Street. Oh, the horror. The horror!” Dr. Zinchenko pointed and clicked a miniature remote at the wailing librarian. The librarian disappeared.

“Perhaps we’ll hear more from Mrs. Gause. Later. Now, however, it is time for our first game. Will all thirty-two contestants please report to the second-floor balcony? Spectators? You may witness the event, live and in high-definition color, up on the Wonder Dome.” “This way, you guys,” Kyle said to the kids from out of town as he headed toward the nearest spiral staircase. All the Library Olympians followed and clomped up the metal steps.

“Kindly report to your assigned library cart,” said a soothing female voice oozing out of the second floor’s ceiling speakers. “And remember, free people read freely.” Marjory Muldauer, walking with her Midwest teammates, chuffed a sarcastic laugh. “Thanks for the sappy bumper sticker, ceiling lady.” The second floor was a carpeted, circular balcony, with the same circumference as the Rotunda Reading Room below. The twelve-foot-wide balcony was lined with evenly spaced massive wooden doors that opened up into the ten Dewey decimal rooms.

Eight library carts—three tiers of slanted shelves on wheels—were lined up in front of the door to the 000s room. Across from them stood two canvas bins, both loaded with books.

Each library cart was labeled with two laminated cards: one with the name of a team, the other designating a range of Dewey decimal numbers. The Hometown Heroes’ empty cart was labeled “900–999.” “That’s for history and geography,” Miguel reminded Kyle.

“Welcome to our first event: the Library Cart Relay Race,” said Dr. Zinchenko, coming through another secret panel. This one was cut into the back of the curved fiction bookcases, which climbed past the second floor on their way up to the dome. “To win this game, your team must be the first to complete four laps of the second-floor balcony without spilling any of the three dozen books stacked on your rolling shelves, no matter the obstacles.” Marjory Muldauer’s arm shot up.

“Yes?” said Dr. Zinchenko.

“There aren’t any books on the library carts.”

“No? Oh, that’s right. The library has been closed for a week, so all of the recently returned books—exactly two hundred and eighty-eight different titles, thirty-six from each of eight different Dewey categories—are presently stored in one of those two rolling bins. You must find the books that belong in your group, carefully load your cart, and, then, each team member must complete one full lap of the balcony and cleanly pass the cart off to the next relay racer. The team that finishes first will take home today’s first medal and move closer to their college scholarships. I suggest choosing your swiftest cart pusher for the final leg.” “That’s you, Akimi,” said Kyle. “You’re the fastest.”

“I’m the slowest,” said Miguel.

“I’m pretty slow, too,” added Sierra. “I’m more of a reader than a racer.” “That’s okay,” said Kyle. “You two will be in charge of finding our books for us.” “The numbers should be on the spine,” said Miguel. “Look for anything that starts with a nine.” “By the way,” said Dr. Zinchenko, “to make this game more challenging, we have temporarily covered up all the call numbers on the spines of the books in the bins.” “Oh-kay,” said Akimi. “So much for that idea.”

“Find books about historical events and places you’ve always wanted to visit,” suggested Sierra.

“How about the bathroom?” said Kyle, feeling queasy. “I wouldn’t mind visiting it right now.” “Relax, bro,” said Miguel. “Sierra and I will load the cart. You and Akimi need to run real fast once it’s good to go.” “You take the first leg,” said Akimi. “Try to buy us an early lead.” Kyle nodded. He was pretty swift. Not as fast as Akimi, but thanks to his big brother Mike the Jock, he was used to running wind sprints. “I’ll give it my best shot.” “Please stand by,” said the soothing ceiling voice. “Once your cart is fully loaded, do not block, trip, or shove the other teams. Do not interfere with their cart handoffs.” “In other words,” said a new voice in the ceiling—Mr. Lemoncello’s—“play nice, cart runners—not to be confused with kite runners, a book you should all definitely read when you’re a little older. Dr. Zinchenko? Let the book-sorting shindig begin!” Dr. Zinchenko raised her arm. She was holding a fancy tasseled bookmark between her fingers as if it were a small flag.

“On your mark,” she said. “Get set. Go!”

She lowered the bookmark.

The race was on!