فصل پنجاه و دوم

chapter-52

The motel safe was huge, the size of a whole room, which was what it probably had been until Mr. Peckleman converted it into a steel-walled high-security vault.

It was also empty except for a couple of stacks of birdseed sacks. Kyle couldn’t believe it.

“There’s nothing in here,” he said.

“But it looks like there used to be,” said Angus Harper. “Check out those marks on the carpet.” He pointed to the floor.

“Indentations that might’ve been made by heavy boxes,” said Elliott Schilpp.

“Book boxes,” added Sierra.

“No!” somebody screamed outside the motel. “You can’t do it!” “That sounds like Marjory,” said Nicole Wisniewski. “She screamed at us all the time.” “Come on!” said Kyle.

The twelve treasure hunters tore out of the office, raced across the lobby, and headed out to the patio, where all the other Library Olympians and their chaperones were standing in a circle, staring at something that was making their jaws drop.

Kyle heard a crackle and a pop.

He pushed his way through the crowd.

Mr. Peckleman stood next to the blazing fire pit, laughing hysterically.

Marjory was there, too. Tears streamed down her cheeks.

“I’m begging you, sir,” Marjory said. “Don’t do this.” “What’s going on?” demanded one of the chaperones.

“We’re going to get rid of these wretched squirrel books, once and for all,” cackled Mr. Peckleman.

“Oh, no you are not,” said Akimi, shoving her way to the front of the crowd to join Kyle near the roaring fire pit.

Kyle could see garden carts, a little red wagon, and a wheelbarrow loaded down with books. On top of the pile closest to him was Flora and Ulysses.

“Marjory told me all about how you tricked her into stealing that book,” said a man in a priest collar, who Kyle figured had to be Father Mike, chaperone for the Midwest team. “I’m going to call the police.” “Try it, Padre,” snapped Mr. Peckleman, “and I start tossing books on the bonfire the second your finger touches your phone. I figure I can burn through most of ‘em before the police even show up. They’re very busy this afternoon down at the Lemoncello Library. It seems an anonymous tipster just phoned in a report of a major book burglary.” “That was you!” whined Andrew. “How can you do this, Uncle Woody?” “Easy. You see, I agree with that lunatic Lemoncello: ‘Knowledge not shared remains unknown.’ Well, if I destroy this so-called knowledge about squirrels, no one will ever know it existed.” He held up a copy of Flora and Ulysses. “A squirrel who writes poetry? Pah! Squirrels are nothing but thieving rodents. Rats with fluffy tails! They’re bullies who steal food from innocent birds.” “Look, Mr. Peckleman,” said Kyle, “just because you don’t like books about squirrels…” “Nobody else should, either! Don’t you see, Mr. Keeley? I’m trying to protect you children. You shouldn’t be forced to read lies about a squirrel named Earl who wears a red scarf and can’t find his own acorn. Your young eyes should not be exposed to videos about a flying squirrel who shares his home with a talking moose.” “That’s a cartoon,” said Kyle. “It’s not real.” Kyle didn’t know what to do.

Mr. Peckleman was nuttier than any of them had suspected.

And the fire pit was really blazing.

If the police were busy downtown at the library, investigating the theft of the missing books, it would take them maybe ten minutes to race all the way up to the motel.

Mr. Peckleman could burn a ton of books in ten minutes.

Kyle had to do something. Saving Mr. Lemoncello’s library had to include protecting its books, even the ones some people didn’t like.

“Look, Mr. Peckleman, let’s make a deal….”

“Oh, that’s right. Andrew told me about you. You’re the game boy. You think you can make some kind of trade with me like you would if we were playing Monopoly?” “Why not? What are you afraid of?”

“Not you, Kyle Keeley. Or any of your friends. What I am doing is right!” “Then let’s play a game. If we win, you don’t burn a single book.” “And if I win?”

Kyle looked to Akimi.

She nodded.

He turned to Mrs. Yunghans.

“Do what you have to do, Kyle. We’re running out of time.” Finally, Kyle looked at Marjory Muldauer.

She nodded, too.

“Okay, Mr. Peckleman,” said Kyle, “if you can beat us in a game—” The old man jabbed a finger at Kyle. “I get to choose the game, right?” “Fine. But remember—if we win, you have to leave the books alone.” “Yes, I heard you the first time,” said Mr. Peckleman. “But what do I get if I win?” Kyle swallowed hard. “The books.”

Mr. Peckleman’s eyes bugged out and he sneered. “I already have the books. I want something more! Something to make this game a little more…exciting.” Kyle was stumped. He didn’t know what else to offer.

A breeze fanned the flames. Made them leap higher.

That’s when Marjory Muldauer stepped forward.

“If you win,” she said, “you can burn this, too.” She held up her “Go to College Free” card.