فصل بیستم

chapter-20

Charles Chiltington brought a tray of cucumber finger sandwiches (with the crusts trimmed off) into the living room, where his mother was hosting a meeting of the League of Concerned Library Lovers.

The seven ladies and one gentleman in a bow tie were huddled around a laptop, their horrified eyes glued to the screen.

“This is an abomination!” said one of the committee members, watching a recap of the Lemoncello Library Olympics’ first day of competition on the Book Network’s website.

Charles knew what “abomination” meant (anything greatly disliked). He used big words whenever possible. It impressed teachers, especially when you used words they didn’t understand. Charles kept a list: “panacea,” “panoply,” “pedantic.” And those were just the ones that started with “p.” He was very sesquipedalian (given to the use of long words) where others were perspicuous (clear in expression and easily understood).

He was also elated (very happy, jubilant, in high spirits) to hear all the adults complaining about Mr. Lemoncello and his egregious (shockingly bad) library.

“It’s preposterous,” said the gentleman in the bow tie. “Racing around in circles with library carts? Restocking shelves? Are these children applying for part-time jobs? Because they’re all far too young to be legally employed.” “Ugh,” said Mrs. Tinker. “That Mr. Lemoncello fellow is so incredibly irksome. So is that Russian gal, Dr. Zinfadelski.” “I’m so very confused,” said Mrs. Brewster. “Why on earth would a library need a director of holographic imagery?” “Because it’s Disneyland in there!” shouted Mrs. Tinker. “Disneyland, I say!” “Then we’re agreed,” said Charles’s mother. “Something must be done.” “And may I,” said Charles, “as a youth of Alexandriaville, quickly elucidate how fortunate I feel to have you wise and sagacious elders looking out for my best interests as well as the interests of all the young children yet to come?” Charles knew being smarmy was the best way to get adults to do exactly what you wanted them to do.

“Thank you, Charles,” said his mother. “Rose, please make a note in the official meeting minutes. Resolved: We, the League of Concerned Library Lovers, must, by any means necessary, seize control of Alexandriaville’s new public library and wrest it away from that borderline lunatic Luigi Lemoncello.” There was a light rap on the living room door.

“Excuse me,” said Chesterton, the butler. “This gentleman insists that he is here for your meeting.” “Are you folks the Concerned Library Lovers?” asked a scrawny old man with a pointy beak who stood timidly in the doorway beside the butler. The man was dressed in a bright blue Windbreaker and was fidgeting with the sweat-stained Toronto Blue Jays baseball cap he held in his hands.

“Do we know you?” asked Charles’s mother.

“I don’t think so. My name is Peckleman. Woodrow J. Peckleman.” “Of the Geauga County Pecklemans?” twittered Mrs. Tilley.

“No, ma’am. From right here in Alexandriaville. Well, I grew up here, but then I flew the coop.” Charles sniggered. He couldn’t help it. Mr. Peckleman looked like a chicken.

“I own the Blue Jay Extended Stay Lodge,” said Mr. Peckleman.

“That’s Olympia Village,” said Charles. “You’re Andrew’s long-lost great-uncle-twice-removed, correct?” “That I am.”

“Pardon me for asking,” said Charles’s mother, “but what brings you here, Mr. Pecklestein?” “It’s Peckleman, ma’am. And I won’t beat around the bush. I don’t like what they’re doing inside that Lemoncello Library downtown.” “Neither do we.”

“I know. I’ve seen you folks on TV. Now, like I said, I used to live here in Alexandriaville. Years ago. Grew up with Luigi. Knew him when he was just a little boy, not some kind of fancy billionaire. And let me tell you folks something: Luigi L. Lemoncello was just as irresponsible back then as he is now. Why, in fifth grade, he made up multiplication and division games to make learning math ‘more fun.’ Pah. Math isn’t supposed to be fun. It’s math!” “That’s all well and good, Mr. Peckleman, but…”

“You people want him out of that library, am I right?”

Charles’s mom coyly twiddled her fingertips against her cheek. “Perhaps.” “Well, I know how to do it.”

“Really? And what do you require from us in return?”

“Not much. I just need you to talk to that brainy gal from Michigan for me. The tall one on the Midwest team.” “Marjory Muldauer?”

“Yes, ma’am. I’ve been scoping out all the library lovers bunking at my motel. Looking for just one of ‘em to help me do what needs to be done. So far, over a dozen have turned me down. But I have a hunch that Miss Muldauer won’t.” “What makes you say that?”

“She’s not very fond of all the silly sideshow antics down at Luigi’s library. I suspect she wouldn’t mind seeing the place run by more responsible adults.” “But, Mr. Peckleman, why do you want me to speak with this girl on your behalf?” “Because, Mrs. Chiltington, she’ll listen to someone refined and educated like you. And when you offer her a ‘Go to College Free’ card, I have a feeling Miss Muldauer will become the answer to both our prayers.”