فصل چهل و یکم

chapter-41

Kyle was sort of relieved.

If the encyclopedias Dr. Zinchenko needed were missing, maybe they’d just move on to another question. Hopefully, another one Sierra knew the answer to.

“Guess we need to move on to the next question card,” Kyle said to Mr. Lemoncello.

“Not so fast, Keeley,” said Marjory. “Since Mr. Lemoncello was so sweet to give us smartphones when we played that Battle of the Books game, I used mine to Google ‘Bonfire of the Vanities, 1497,” because that’s what the Italians used to call the burning of objects they considered immoral. If I may quote: ‘The most infamous bonfire took place on February seventh, 1497, when the Dominican priest Savonarola collected and publicly burned thousands of objects like art and books in Florence, Italy, on the day of the Mardi Gras festival.’ It doesn’t even mention Shrove Tuesday. It does, however, confirm that my answer, February seventh, 1497, is correct.” Perched on a stool behind the librarian’s desk, Mr. Lemoncello looked completely dumbfounded.

Miguel pointed at Marjory. “You used your phone to find the answer! You cheated.” “No, I did not. I only used it to confirm my answer.” “I am so sorry, sir,” said Dr. Zinchenko, still bracing herself against the banister on the second-floor balcony.

“As am I,” said Mr. Lemoncello, his shoulders sagging. “As am I.” “You should be more than sorry!” shouted Mrs. Chiltington from the gallery. “You should be ashamed, Mr. Lemoncello. This is no way to run a library! Missing children’s books and encyclopedias?” “This is egregious!” shouted Charles.

“The people of Alexandriaville deserve better!” added his mother.

“This is also heinous!” said Charles. “And atrocious, too.” Mr. Lemoncello held up a shiny green medal. “I suppose I could cut this thing in two and award one half to each of you. But I might need a laser beam or a hacksaw….” “Why would you give Sierra anything?” demanded Marjory. “You asked for a date; I gave you a date. She gave you nothing except the name of a holiday.” “And a year,” said Akimi. “Sierra got the year right, too.” Marjory snorted. “Too bad she couldn’t come up with the month and day like I did. Then she’d actually have a date!” “I suppose you are correct, Miss Muldauer,” said Mr. Lemoncello. “Sound the jubilee; the Midwest team wins another medal.” “This isn’t fair!” grumbled Miguel.

“There’s still the twelfth game,” said Kyle. “If we win it, we’ll be all tied up again.” “And we can do that sudden-death overtime thing,” said Akimi.

“Miss Muldauer?” said Mr. Lemoncello. “Please step forward and receive your prize.” Marjory strutted to the center of the room.

“For answering our most important questions most correctly, it is my honor to award you the most important medal of all the very important medals awarded thus far: the Yertle the Turtle.” “Huh?” said Marjory. “Why’d you give it a dumb name like that?” “Because, Miss Muldauer, Dr. Seuss’s book was considered extremely controversial when it first came out in 1958, for including the word ‘burp.’ ” Mr. Lemoncello belched. “Sorry. Guzzled too much Lemonberry Fizz while I was recharging my batteries. Yertle the Turtle has also been banned because of its political messages.” “Whatever,” said Marjory.

She snatched the medal out of Mr. Lemoncello’s hand, twirled around, and dangled her new prize in front of Team Kyle.

Kyle tried to ignore her. “What’s the next game?” he asked Mr. Lemoncello.

Just then, a voice rang out behind Kyle.

“Stand aside, please. Coming through.”

It was Clarence, the security guard, wading through the crowd of spectators.

“Mr. Lemoncello?” he said, waving a stack of papers. “You need to see this.” “What is it?”

“A list of all the titles currently missing from the library shelves. Dr. Zinchenko asked us to put one together after that last Flora and Ulysses book disappeared from the fiction wall.” “That looks like a mighty thick stack of paper, Clarence.” “Yes, sir. Ten pages.”

“Any encyclopedias on your list?”

“Every single ‘S’ volume in the building.”

Mr. Lemoncello shook his head and drooped in his seat.

“Enough. I’m done. I can’t fight this fight alone anymore.” He slowly rose off his stool and gave his town-crier bell a weak jingle.

“Hear ye, hear ye. Oyez, oyez. The games of the first Library Olympiad are hereby suspended. If you have trouble understanding the word ‘suspended,’ kindly look it up in a dictionary, but forget checking an encyclopedia, because all the ‘S’ volumes have gone missing.” “Does this mean I win?” shouted Marjory.

“No, Miss Muldauer. It means I am tired of playing games here in Alexandriaville. Nobody wins. Everybody loses.” “What about those college scholarships you promised?” said one of the other members of the Midwest team.

Mr. Lemoncello turned to his head librarian.

“Dr. Zinchenko? Kindly give a ‘Go to College Free’ card to each and every Library Olympian.” She started passing out small orange cards.

“Tomorrow,” said Mr. Lemoncello, “you shall all receive a full scholarship if you remember to bring that card with you to the closing ceremonies. If you should somehow lose it between now and then, I might pretend I don’t know who you are, what you want, or what it was I promised to give you.” Dr. Zinchenko handed Kyle his “Go to College Free” card.

It was the size of a “Luck” or “Fortune” card from Mr. Lemoncello’s Family Frenzy board game.

But this rectangle of flat cardboard was worth thousands and thousands of dollars.

Still, Kyle wished Mr. Lemoncello didn’t look so sad. He wished he had drawn a “Find the Missing Books” card instead. He wished they could all go back to playing games.

When the thirty-two “Go to College Free” cards were handed out, Mr. Lemoncello narrowed his eyes and peered at the players.

“Hearty and splendiferous congratulations to you all,” he said without any of his usual zip. “However, I have a sinking feeling that at least one of you doesn’t really need a scholarship from me anymore.”