فصل سی و هشتم

chapter-38

The Hometown Heroes’ bookmobile ride from Olympia Village to the Lemoncello Library the following morning was as dreary as the weather.

Kyle and his teammates stared out the rain-streaked windows and watched familiar streets roll by.

“How weird will it be,” said Akimi, “if the next time we head downtown to the library, we’re not famous anymore? What if we’re just a bunch of losers?” “Thanks for that inspirational thought, Akimi,” said Miguel. “You should really consider a career as a motivational speaker.” “What if something worse happens?” said Sierra. “What if all that stuff Mrs. Gause mentioned happens again? What if Mr. Lemoncello decides to close his library?” “Why would he do that?” asked Kyle.

“Because he’s tired of people taking out books and not bringing them back. He looked so sad yesterday.” “Yo,” said Miguel. “He’s a bazillionaire. He can always buy more books.” “You guys?” said Kyle. “Dr. Zinchenko said the Flora and Ulysses book was in its spot on the fiction shelf a week ago. And no one has been able to check books out since then except—” “The thirty-two Library Olympians!” said Akimi, finishing Kyle’s sentence, the way friends sometimes do.

“Yo!” said Miguel. “That means somebody on one of the other teams took the book out of the library. One of the kids Mr. Lemoncello spent so much time and energy searching for.” “No wonder he was so upset about a single missing book,” said Sierra.

“Yep,” said Kyle. “One of his specially selected library nerds stole that book.” He turned to Miguel. “No offense.” “None taken.”

—

When the team trooped up the slick marble steps into the library’s lobby, they saw Charles Chiltington, his mother, a bunch of stuffy-looking ladies, and that one guy in a bow tie. This time, they were ringed around the Mr. Lemoncello fountain, which wasn’t gurgling water like it was supposed to.

Each member of Mrs. Chiltington’s crew was carrying a one-word protest sign. Together, they read “IS THIS ANY LIBRARY? WAY TO RUN A.” Bow-tie man, who was holding the “LIBRARY?” placard, was standing in the wrong spot.

Kyle and his teammates lingered in the archway just long enough to hear what Mrs. Chiltington and Charles were saying to the Book Network reporter interviewing them.

“If this library is to be a true public institution,” said Charles’s mother, “then it requires public oversight. It should be governed by a board of community trustees, not by a one-man band.” “Especially,” said Charles, “when the batty bandleader is a disingenuous and mendacious charlatan.” “Are you suggesting that Mr. Lemoncello is both a liar and a fraud?” asked the reporter.

“Heavens no,” said Charles. “Don’t be preposterous.”

“But that’s what those words you just used mean.”

“Charles is simply upset,” said Mrs. Chiltington, draping a protective arm around her son. “That’s why we’re here today. Our children deserve a proper library, not an indoor amusement park. Mr. Lemoncello is exposing their impressionable minds to things such as a smell-a-vision version of some book called Walter the Farting Dog that children and their impressionable noses simply should not be exposed to.” Then she smiled and blinked. Repeatedly.

Kyle and his teammates shook their heads and continued into the Rotunda Reading Room.

“Hey, Kyle!”

It was his brother Mike.

“Don’t disappoint us!”

And his other brother, Curtis.

“Win, baby, win!” screamed Mike, pumping his arm. “Woo-hoo! O-H, I-O! O-H, I-O!” They were with Kyle’s mom and dad in the capacity crowd that was bunched behind velvet ropes for the final two events of the duodecimalthon. So was everybody else’s family. And friends. It seemed like the whole town of Alexandriaville had turned out for the big finale.

“No pressure or anything,” said Akimi.

“Yo,” said Miguel, pointing up at the Wonder Dome. “Check it out. I bet they did that to cheer up Mr. Lemoncello.” “I was hoping there might be balloons,” said Kyle as he admired the ceiling.

“It’s beautiful,” said Sierra.

It looked like Dr. Zinchenko had instructed her video artists to run a Balloon Fiesta simulation for the final day of the Library Olympics. The Wonder Dome had been magically transformed into a brilliant blue sky filled with brightly colored hot-air balloons. The video loop made the Rotunda Reading Room feel as if it were a gondola gently swaying beneath a motley-colored airship drifting along on a warm breeze.

It was awesome.

“Turn! It! Off!” decreed a voice from the third-floor balcony.

Kyle looked up. Mr. Lemoncello stood at the railing. He was dressed in a black suit, black shirt, and black tie. He looked like he was on his way to a funeral.

The Wonder Dome went dark. It was just a curved white ceiling.

“I was so looking forward to this day,” sighed Mr. Lemoncello from his lofty perch. “Today is the day I thought I would finally discover my true champions.” He looked down at the thirty-two Library Olympians.

Kyle thought he knew why his hero seemed so sad. One, or maybe more, of the thirty-two kids Mr. Lemoncello had entrusted with all the wonders of his library had betrayed him. They had taken away a book they weren’t supposed to even touch.

“But instead of being giddy,” Mr. Lemoncello continued, “I feel like a Watership. Down. Dr. Zinchenko? Will you kindly run game eleven? My internal Olympic torch is dimming and is in desperate need of fresh batteries. Therefore, I will be in my private suite working on the clues for game twelve, the final and most important game of the Lemoncello Library Olympics.” Mr. Lemoncello waved a feeble wave and disappeared into his private suite on the third floor.

Dr. Zinchenko, also dressed in black—a shiny, short leather dress—strode into the Rotunda Reading Room. Even her glasses had black frames instead of their usual red ones.

“Will the following teams please choose a representative for the eleventh game of our duodecimalthon: the Midwest, the Northeast, the Mid-Atlantic, the Mountain team, the Pacific team, and the local team from Alexandriaville, Ohio.” Marjory Muldauer shot her arm into the air.

“Yes, Miss Muldauer?”

“What’s this game going to be about? Drinking milk shakes while floating books in a hot tub?” “No, Miss Muldauer, although your sarcasm is duly noted. Game eleven will celebrate your freedom to express yourself with snarky scorn as well as everyone else’s freedom to read. Today’s first game will be all about banned books.”