فصل پنجاه و چهارم

chapter-54

The boot was another playing piece from Mr. Lemoncello’s Family Frenzy board game.

So Kyle had a pretty good idea who was driving the bootmobile.

His hero. Luigi L. Lemoncello.

The boot car turned into the motel driveway with Dr. Zinchenko’s green-eyed catmobile following close behind.

Kyle couldn’t figure out what was going on. Mr. Lemoncello had said he was leaving town. Going to New York or Terabithia, which sounded like it might be in Indiana.

The police cars escorting the two game pieces on wheels had flapping Library Olympics flags attached to their bumpers. They weren’t coming to the motel to arrest Mr. Peckleman. They were just part of Mr. Lemoncello’s motorcade.

The boot car skidded to a stop near the patio. Dr. Zinchenko’s cat car crawled to a halt behind it. Mr. Lemoncello popped open the boot ankle and stepped out.

“Donald?” cried Mr. Lemoncello, his voice booming across the parking lot. “Extinguish thy flame!” “I fly with haste to do thy bidding,” said Mr. Peckleman, sounding all of a sudden like he was in a play by Shakespeare. He bent down and flipped a switch on the fire pit. The flames disappeared in a poof!

“Gas logs,” said Mr. Lemoncello. “Just another part of our glorious charade.” “Huh?” said Kyle.

Mr. Lemoncello was dressed in a bright yellow tracksuit and a half-lemon crash helmet, which he unbuckled and tucked under his arm as he strode onto the patio.

“Please cover those books with their protective tarps,” coached Dr. Zinchenko, who was dressed in her standard red leather minidress, scarlet stockings, red high heels, and red-framed librarian glasses.

“Thy wish is my command, milady!” Mr. Peckleman ruffled open a bright blue tarp with a theatrical flourish and draped it over all the squirrel books.

Mr. Lemoncello approached Andrew Peckleman.

“Andrew?”

“Yes, sir?”

“My grandmother isn’t Strega Nona, and you don’t have a long-lost great-uncle-twice-removed named Woody.” “I don’t?”

“No. Meet Sir Donald Thorne, one of the finest actors in all of England!” Sir Donald, who everybody had thought was Uncle Woodrow “Woody” Peckleman, took off his Blue Jays baseball cap and twirled it in front of his face as he took a bow.

“ ’All the world’s a stage,’ ” he said. “ ’And all the men and women merely players.’ ” “Sir Donald also coached Dr. Zinchenko and me so we might play our own parts with passion and panache.” Mr. Lemoncello started imitating himself, acting much more melodramatically than he had in his original performance. “Oh, boo hoo. I, Luigi Libretto Lemoncello, hereby officially declare the games of this first Library Olympiad to be over. Done. Kaput!” “Wait a second,” said Akimi. “That was all an act?”

“Indeed.”

“You were very convincing, sir,” said Sierra.

“Sir Donald is an excellent coach.”

“And thou, sir, art an excellent pupil.” Sir Donald took another bow.

“Thank you,” said Mr. Lemoncello, taking his own little bow.

“But why were you pretending to give up on the library?” asked Kyle.

“To make absolutely, positutely certain that all of you would not do the same. Now, before I made my dramatic exit, I promised I would appoint a new board of trustees for my library on Monday. All public institutions similar to ours have such boards….” “Indeed they do,” added Dr. Zinchenko. “Mostly to raise funds and to make certain the institution fulfills its mission.” “Well,” said Mr. Lemoncello, “my library never has to worry about raising funds. Did I mention I’m a bazillionaire?” “Yes,” said Abia Sulayman. “We have heard.”

“However, I do need a board of trustees to champion my cause here in Alexandriaville. That’s the real reason I hosted these Library Olympics. I told you it was a quest for champions. And it was. I was looking for library lovers willing to stand up and fight for what’s right, no matter the cost or personal sacrifice.” He paused and looked directly at Marjory. “Even if they did not agree with my way of doing things.” “I’m sorry I took that book,” said Marjory.

“We figured somebody would once Mr. Peckleman started passing out his ‘Go to College Free’ cards. It was a test. To see if you, or anyone else, were here for the wrong reasons. I’m overjoyed that, in the end, you fought so hard to save these books, because believe it or not, Marjory, I, too, love libraries qua libraries. I just don’t like saying ‘qua.’ It makes me sound like a duck.” Everyone, including Marjory, laughed.

“Now then,” said Mr. Lemoncello, putting down his crash helmet so he could clasp his hands behind his back and address his Library Olympians, “seeing the results of this final game, I feel confident that I have finally found my first board of trustees. In the end, you all worked together to save the library even though there was no prize except the knowledge, joy, and wonder contained inside the pages of its books.” “But, um, we’re not adults,” said Akimi.

“Thank goodness. Adults can be so serious and dull. And as you all know, reading and learning are anything but dull!” “You really want me on your board?” asked Marjory.

“Oh, yes. Couldn’t do it without you. Or Andrew.”

“I wasn’t in the Olympics,” said Andrew.

“Minor technicality. You’re a trustee now, Mr. Peckleman. Congratulations!” “But I live in Michigan,” said Marjory.

“And my library has state-of-the-art technology, including very high-speed Wi-Fi, so we can all chat via your brand-new smartphones. I need your help—Marjory, Andrew, all of you—to make certain my library is the best that it can be. All I ask is that you always champion freedom of speech, freedom of expression, and freedom of fun!” “Well, I guess a little fun is okay,” said Marjory. “As long as there’s always a quiet place for people to read.” “It’s why the Electronic Learning Center has soundproof walls.” Mr. Lemoncello opened his arms to the group. “So, will you thirty-three new trustees share this quest for truth and knowledge with me?” “We will!” everyone answered, including Marjory Muldauer, who actually seemed to be enjoying herself.