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chapter-19

Kyle and Akimi hung back while Sierra and Miguel dug through the book bins with a couple dozen other eager Dewey decimal decoders.

A short, scrappy kid from the Southeast team leapt into one of the rolling canvas containers and tossed out language books (the 400s) to his teammates.

Marjory Muldauer simply stood next to the book heaps and pointed. “That one. That one. That one, too.” “That’s our first twelve!” said Miguel when he and Sierra filled the lowest shelf of the library cart with their first two armloads of books. “Only two dozen more to go!” If somebody put a wrong book on a cart, the lady in the ceiling said, “Sorry, Northeast team,” or “Sorry, Pacific team.” Then she urged them to “please try again.” Sierra and Miguel didn’t make a single mistake. Neither did Marjory Muldauer.

The guys from the Pacific and Northeast teams goofed up the most. They kept mixing up their 100s (philosophy and psychology) with their 200s (religion).

“Go!” said Miguel, loading the thirty-sixth book about history and geography onto Team Kyle’s cart.

Kyle took off at the exact same second as the first relay racer for Marjory Muldauer’s Midwest team.

The front left wheel on Kyle’s rumbling three-tiered wagon was wobbly. Like a grocery cart with a squished grape stuck to one of its tires.

The whole library cart was shimmying.

But he didn’t slow down.

After he passed through the tunnel behind the fiction shelves and hit the doors to the 300s room, he was in the lead.

He aimed for the inside railing, figuring the tighter the circle he ran, the faster he’d complete his lap.

Pranav Pillai from the Pacific team came tearing up on his left. They must’ve sorted out their confusion about the 100s and 200s faster than Kyle had thought they would.

Then Pillai did something absolutely amazing. He twirled around in place—while running. He moved his hands over each other and behind his back as he executed a total 360-degree rotation.

Kyle had to slow down a little to nod and give the guy some props.

“Later, dude!” Pillai hollered as he flew past Kyle. He swerved inside to hug the balcony railing that Kyle had wanted to hug.

That’s when Kyle remembered that to make the Pacific team, you had to pass the West Coast librarian’s final test: a synchronized library-cart drill. The California, Oregon, and Washington State kids weren’t pros, but they were definitely the best library-cart handlers in the building.

By the time Kyle completed his circuit around the balcony and reached the 000s door to hand off the cart to Miguel, the Pacific team’s second runner, Kathy Narramore from Oregon, was already four doors ahead of him. When she saw a crimp in the carpet, she did a front flip over the rolling buggy so she could pull it behind her for a while before she did a somersaulting backflip so she could push it again.

Meanwhile, Miguel hit the bump and sent a stack of books tumbling off the cart’s slanted shelves.

By the time Miguel finally reloaded the cart, pushed it around the balcony, and handed it off to Sierra, the Pacific team’s fourth and final runner was ready to lap her.

Sierra made it as far as the 500s door when the Pacific team’s closer sprinted across the finish line.

Akimi never even got into the race.

The Hometown Heroes had lost.

The Pacific team took the first medal of the duodecimalthon.

“Congratulations on your Gold medal,” said Dr. Zinchenko as she draped a ribboned medallion over each of the winning team members’ heads.

“No worries,” said Kyle, trying to buck up his teammates, even though he was starting to have those “champions become chumps” feelings again. “We’ll take the next one.” “Definitely,” said Miguel.

“Unless,” said Akimi, “it involves running with a rolling suitcase.” —

During the lunch break, the Pacific team kids did interviews with NPR, PBS, and the Book Network.

“That used to be us,” groused Akimi.

“Come on,” said Kyle. “You didn’t think we’d win every single game, did you?” “No. I didn’t think it. But I was kind of counting on it anyway.” “My bad,” said Miguel. “I lost all that time when I hit that bump.” Kyle glanced at Sierra. She had a smile on her face. Because she was reading again, and apparently, The Fourteenth Goldfish by Jennifer L. Holm was a very amusing book.

—

At two p.m., all eight teams were once again summoned to the second floor.

The library carts, each one still loaded down with three dozen books, were parked, once again, in front of the 000s door.

“Great,” muttered Akimi. “A rematch.”

“Teams,” said Dr. Zinchenko, “it is now time for our second contest. In game number two, you must put all of your books back on the shelves in the exact spot where they belong. Therefore, you will need to first properly determine the full Dewey decimal number for all thirty-six of your assigned books and then place them in their proper shelf slots in your Dewey decimal room.” Kyle looked at Miguel.

“We can do this,” said Miguel. “It’s why we ran all those drills after school.” “Teams?” said Dr. Zinchenko. “Please return to your carts.” The eight teams clustered around their carts to size up their thirty-six titles.

Miguel, Sierra, and Akimi tilted their heads and squinted. Kyle could tell they were already noodling out numbers.

Great. They could do that part. Kyle would be in charge of running real fast and slamming the books into the shelves.

They had a chance.

A good chance.

—

It took Team Kyle only one hour and twenty-two minutes to correctly code and reshelf all thirty-six books.

Unfortunately, the Midwest team, led by Marjory Muldauer, did it in under an hour.

Marjory and her teammates would be awarded four Olympian medals.

“Looks like that’s one for us”—Marjory smirked at Kyle—“and none for you.” The medal ceremony took place under the Wonder Dome, which, to honor the idea behind the second game, was operating in its spectacular Dewey decimal mode. The ten pizza-slice video screens scrolled constantly changing images associated with each category in the library cataloging system.

“Hey, Kyle,” Miguel whispered as Dr. Zinchenko draped an Olympian medal around Marjory Muldauer’s neck. “How come they have different names for the medals? Why aren’t they all just, you know, ‘gold’?” Kyle shrugged. “Maybe to make it easier for us to remember that we lost two different games today.” But tomorrow would be another day.

With two new games to play.

Kyle just hoped his team didn’t lose both of those games, too.