Mr. Lemoncello's Great Library Race, Page 4

  All in all, Kyle did extremely well. His teacher, Mrs. Cameron, even congratulated him for “citing his sources.” Kyle was certain he’d aced it.

  Unfortunately, Charles Chiltington gave his report right after Kyle. Charles was dressed in his usual school uniform (one that nobody else ever wore): a blue blazer, khaki pants, white shirt, and striped tie. He looked like he thought middle school was a formal dance at his father’s country club. He also had a slim laptop computer tucked under his arm.

  “Is it permissible for me to do a PowerPoint talk, Mrs. Cameron?” he asked sweetly. “I think presentation software helps to augment and enrich what could otherwise seem exceedingly tedious and dreary if presented in the somniferous mode of a traditional oral report.”

  “Of course, Charles,” said Mrs. Cameron. She was one of the teachers who totally fell for Charles’s smarmy routine and loved all the big words he used.

  “Thank you, Mrs. Cameron. And may I say, your new glasses frame the work of art that is your face quite wondrously.”

  “Why, thank you, Charles. Please, proceed.”

  Chiltington hooked up his laptop to the Smart Board and blew the class away with a slide-show presentation that included awesome animations, video clips, and transitions. It was all about John Pierpont Morgan, a famous American financier, banker, and all-around rich guy who used to buy all sorts of stuff, like Charles Dickens’s original manuscripts and Michelangelo’s sketches, to put on display in his private library.

  “Very impressive, Mr. Chiltington,” said Mrs. Cameron when he was done. “That’s what I call an A-plus-plus-plus presentation.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Cameron,” said Charles. “But as you’ve often instructed us, anything worth doing is worth doing well!”

  The bell rang.

  The class filed out the door.

  “That’s two for me and none for you!” Charles sneered the second they hit the hall. He laughed and strutted away.

  Kyle felt the way his big brother Mike probably did when he missed a jump shot at the final buzzer and his basketball team lost by one point.

  Only that never happened.

  Mike’s basketball teams always finished their seasons undefeated.

  And his brainiac brother Curtis always got straight A’s.

  After two defeats to Chiltington in a row, Kyle now held the family title of the Biggest Loser.

  “Come on,” Kyle called to his mom at seven-thirty on Friday night. “I don’t want to be late!”

  All week long, Kyle had been dreaming about winning Mr. Lemoncello’s exclusive, board-members-only board-game-without-a-board. His mom drove him downtown to the library, where he joined twenty-four other Library Olympians under the Wonder Dome at eight o’clock sharp (when the library closed early for the special event).

  “Text me when you need to be picked up,” said Kyle’s mom.

  “Will do! Thanks for the ride.”

  He hurried up the front steps, raced across the lobby, and skidded into the Rotunda Reading Room, where he met up with his friends.

  “Check out the statues,” said Miguel, nodding toward the recessed nooks between the rotunda’s ten arched windows.

  It was a good thing that the holographic sculptures stood on top of glowing pedestals where their names were inscribed, because Kyle only recognized a few: Marie Curie, Albert Einstein, and Galileo Galilei. He had no idea who the others were: Dian Fossey, Jacobus Arminius, Jane Goodall, Neil deGrasse Tyson, Isaac Newton, Louis Pasteur, and Nicolaus Copernicus.

  “They’re all famous researchers,” said Akimi, whose dad was an engineer. Akimi knew science the way Sierra knew books.

  Suddenly, the Wonder Dome blossomed into a swirling, animated version of the cover to the Beatles’ famous Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band album. A bouncy version of “With a Little Help from My Friends” filled the rotunda.

  Mr. Lemoncello appeared in a spotlight on the second-floor balcony. He was dressed in a shiny blue marching-band uniform with tassels and boards on the shoulders—just like Paul McCartney in the famous album cover photo.

  “Cheerio and greetings to you all!” Mr. Lemoncello decreed from his lofty perch. “I’m delighted that so many of you chose to act like books and have returned to the library! For this elimination round, you will need the higher power of lucky plus a little help from your friends. So please—pair up!”

  Akimi and Kyle immediately locked eyes.

  “Team?” they said simultaneously.

  “Team!” They shook on it.

  “If it’s science junk…,” said Kyle.

  “I’ll take the lead,” said Akimi. “And, Kyle? We just call it science. Not science junk.”

  “Right. Gotcha.”

  As Mr. Lemoncello drifted down a spiral staircase, his shimmering boots, complete with tall accordion heels, played along with the bouncy bass line of the Beatles tune.

  “Tonight’s elimination-round game,” he announced when he reached the floor and the music stopped, “is titled Who or What in the World Are We?” He twirled in place (which made his accordion shoes wheeze like a deflating bagpipe sack) and faced Ms. Waintraub, the holographic research librarian, who had just appeared behind her desk.

  “Adrienne?” said Mr. Lemoncello, doing his best to sound like a game show host. “Tell them how we play!”

  “Tonight’s category will be ‘famous foursomes,’ ” she said in her bored computer voice.

  “Wow,” mumbled Miguel, who had teamed up with Abia Sulayman, “she’s a load of laughs.”

  “She is serious because research is a serious proposition,” said Abia.

  “Does it have to be that serious?” joked Kyle.

  “Yes, Kyle Keeley. Research requires due diligence and proper perseverance.”

  “You see why I teamed up with her?” said Miguel with a grin. “We’re gonna rock this round!”

  “The Beatles, of course, were a famous foursome,” continued the research librarian.

  “In fact,” added Mr. Lemoncello, “when I was your age, we called the Beatles the Fab Four, because they were fabulous and there were four of them—not because they resembled a multipack of laundry detergent.”

  “You will each be given a different foursome to identify,” droned Ms. Waintraub. “Each clue card will lead you to one of the four items in your grouping. When you correctly identify your first item, you will be given a clue to help you find the second. At any point in the clue-giving-and-taking process, you can guess what the four persons, places, or things have in common. However, should you guess incorrectly, you will be eliminated from the competition.”

  “And that,” exclaimed Mr. Lemoncello, “is precisely why we call this the elimination round! Please step forward and receive your first clues.”

  The twelve teams stepped up one at a time, and each took a bright yellow envelope from Mr. Lemoncello.

  “Do not open your envelopes until I say when. Of course, I don’t know when I might say when. Oh, dear. I just did. Twice!”

  All the teams ripped open their envelopes. Kyle and Akimi read what was written on theirs:

  * * *

  The past tense of “921 is”

  * * *

  “What?” said Kyle. “How can a number have a past tense?”

  “It’s a riddle, not a question,” said Akimi. “If it was a question, there’d be a question mark!”

  “Okay. The past tense of nine-two-one is nine-two-lost.”

  “Kyle, there is no past tense for the number one.”

  “Sure, if you want to get technical about it…”

  “This is research. We have to—”

  Akimi was cut off by Angus, who’d just slammed his palm down on the reference desk. Hard.

  “Our famous foursome is card suits,” he said.

  “Can you show us your work?” asked Ms. Waintraub.

  “No problem. Our clue was a math problem. The answer was 616.21.”

  “That, of course,” said his teammate,
Katherine, referring to notes she must’ve written down in her little black book, “is also the Dewey decimal classification for books about cardiology, the study of hearts.”

  “And,” explained Angus, “since this is a Lemoncello game, we figured ‘cardiology’ could also be a pun referring to the study of, you know, cards. Hearts is one of four suits in every deck.”

  “The others are clubs, spades, and diamonds,” added Katherine.

  “Congratulicitations!” cried Mr. Lemoncello. “We have our first team of data diggers! Since there will be only five new exhibits, there are only four slots remaining! Work your clues, super sleuths! Work them with voracious rapidity!”

  “Come on,” said Akimi.

  “Where are we going?” asked Kyle.

  “Upstairs. Our clue is a Dewey decimal number, too!”

  As they dashed up the spiral staircase to the Dewey decimal rooms, Kyle felt a familiar surge of adrenaline.

  His competitive juices were definitely flowing again.

  They reached the landing on the second floor and hurried around the wide circular balcony, sprinting for the distant door that would take them into the 900s room, which was filled with all the books from (and exhibits about) that category of the Dewey decimal system.

  “The nine hundreds are for history and geography, right?” said Kyle.

  “Correct,” said Akimi as they rounded the bend outside the 700s door.

  “So in geography, our famous foursome could be the four continents.”

  “There are seven of those, Kyle.”

  “True. But you need four to get to seven.”

  “Kyle?”

  “Yeah?”

  “You’re jumping to conclusions.”

  “Because I want to jump into the winner’s circle with Angus and Katherine!”

  “Conclusion-jumping is the opposite of doing research.”

  Akimi grabbed the handle of the 900s room door.

  “The past tense of ‘921 is’ could be ‘921 was,’ ” she said as quickly as she could. “That would put us in the biography section.”

  “Why?”

  “Because 921 through 928 is the range reserved as an optional location for biographies,” said Akimi.

  “Says who?”

  “Librarians everywhere. Don’t you remember studying that for the Olympics?”

  “That was months ago. I already forgot all that stuff we had to memorize back then.”

  “Well, I didn’t.” She led the way into the 900s room. Since the 910s were all about travel, there were several different model airplanes and jets spinning in circles under the ceiling. Akimi marched past all the tour guidebooks and went straight to the 920s.

  “Within 921,” she said, “books are shelved alphabetically by a subject’s last name.”

  “Fine. So who was Was?”

  Akimi pulled “921 Was” off the shelf. “George Washington.”

  “Excellent. Okay. That means our famous foursome is tall presidents.”

  “Whaaa?”

  “From that game last week, remember?”

  “Kyle…”

  “Okay. Forget tall presidents. Washington is one of four presidents with states named after them.”

  “No,” said Akimi. “Washington’s the only one.”

  “Okay, okay. How about presidents with their faces on money.”

  “Kyle?”

  “Yeah?”

  “We need to go downstairs and pick up our second clue and come up with a logical correlation.”

  “A what?”

  “A real reason the clues go together!”

  Kyle reluctantly agreed because the clock was ticking and no way was he losing two games at the library in less than two weeks.

  They raced back to the first floor just in time to hear Miguel and Abia name their famous foursome: “The Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles!”

  “Who, of course,” added Abia, sounding like she was going for extra credit points, “were named after the renowned Renaissance artists Leonardo, Michelangelo, Raphael, and Donatello.”

  “Congratulicitations!” shouted Mr. Lemoncello. “That means two of our five research assistant slots are now filled! Only three more to go.”

  Hands trembling because they knew they were falling behind, Kyle and Akimi ripped open their second clue.

  * * *

  This president’s personal library of approximately six thousand books became the basis of the Library of Congress. His books were

  purchased from him for $23,950.

  * * *

  “It’s Thomas Jefferson,” whispered Akimi.

  “How can you know that?”

  “I just do! Come on, back to the second floor.”

  They clanged up the spiral staircase again.

  “Wait a second,” said Kyle. “Jefferson was the third president, right?”

  “Yes,” said Akimi. “Washington, Adams, Jefferson, Madison—”

  “So that’s our foursome!” said Kyle, as they tore past the travel section again. “The first four presidents of the United States.”

  “Good guess,” said Akimi, scanning the presidential biographies, hoping to find some sort of third clue. “But why didn’t they do Washington, then Adams, then Jefferson?”

  “Because Mr. Lemoncello is like me. His mind is kind of scattered and all over the place!”

  “We should go back and get our third clue card,” said Akimi, frantically searching the shelves. “There’s nothing up here.”

  “I wondered why we raced up here, since we already had the answer.”

  “I just thought…”

  Kyle saw something over Akimi’s shoulder in the travel section. Actually, he saw somebody—a hologram of Teddy Roosevelt. Kyle recognized him from all those Night at the Museum movies.

  “You made the right call,” Kyle said to Akimi, nodding to the semitransparent president behind her.

  Roosevelt was examining a travel book about Africa.

  “Bully,” he said. “I am quite fond of the West African proverb ‘Speak softly and carry a big stick; you will go far!’ Bully!” Then Roosevelt addressed Kyle and Akimi directly. “This third clue has been provided courtesy of the Nonfictionator.”

  Roosevelt saluted and disappeared.

  “George Washington, Thomas Jefferson, Theodore Roosevelt,” said Kyle. “Who are we missing?”

  “Abraham Lincoln!” shouted Akimi. “Our Famous Foursome are the four presidents on Mount Rushmore!”

  They bolted out of the 900s room.

  Sped along the balcony.

  Down below, two people cheered, “Woo-hoo!”

  It sounded to Kyle like another pair of winners.

  How many slots were left? One? Two?

  He and Akimi raced down the steps.

  Flew across the floor.

  And waited their turn behind Sierra and Pranav, who were already addressing the research librarian.

  “Our answer is the Houses of Hogwarts,” said Sierra.

  “And,” added Pranav, “we would like to thank the Nonfictionator for sending along the holographic J. K. Rowling as our third clue.”

  “Congratulicitations!” cried Mr. Lemoncello. “Your answer is correct. We now have our fifth and final team of fact-finding data diggers!”

  “But…”

  “Sorry, Mr. Keeley,” said Mr. Lemoncello. “You and Miss Hughes were the sixth team to report to the reference desk. We’re only looking for five because we’re only doing five new exhibits.”

  “Our famous foursome was Mount Rushmore,” mumbled Akimi.

  “We know that,” said the super-serious research librarian. “We know all the answers.”

  “And,” said Mr. Lemoncello, “we also know you two were—and will forever remain—the first runners-up!”

  Kyle couldn’t believe it. He was the board of trustees’ biggest gamer, and he wouldn’t even be playing the main game? That just wasn’t right. Of course, he had no one to blame but himself. He’d kept slo
wing Akimi down. She probably would’ve finished in the top five if she’d flown solo.

  “Thanks,” said Kyle. “And thanks for the third clue from the Nonfictionator. That was neat.”

  “We gave one of those to every team,” reported Ms. Waintraub. “It seemed only fair.”

  Overhead, the Wonder Dome was filled with floating images of the first five Famous Foursomes: the suits of cards, the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, the yellow-brick-road travelers from The Wizard of Oz (Dorothy, the Scarecrow, the Tin Woodman, and the Cowardly Lion), the four sides of a ship (bow, stern, starboard, port), and, of course, the Houses of Hogwarts (Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, Slytherin).

  Drifting along the bottom rim of the dome like the news scroll on a TV screen were the names of the “Top Ten Research Assistants”: Diane Capriola, Jamal Davis, Miguel Fernandez, Angus Harper, Katherine Kelly, Andrew Peckleman, Pranav Pillai, Sierra Russell, Elliott Schilpp, and Abia Sulayman.

  All the Alexandriaville kids had made the cut.

  All except Kyle and Akimi. They’d be going home.

  “Way to go,” Kyle said to Miguel, knocking knuckles. “You too, Andrew.”

  “Don’t punch me!” shrieked Andrew when he saw Kyle’s raised fist. “It’s not my fault you lost.”

  “I know,” said Kyle, lowering his hand. “It was mine.”

  “Yes,” said Akimi. “It was.”

  “I kept jumping to bad conclusions.”

  “Yes,” said Akimi. “You did.”

  “You’re never going to let me off the hook for this one, are you, Akimi?”

  “No. I’m not.”

  “Thank you all for playing!” announced Mr. Lemoncello. “And congratulations once again to our ten winners. Your Fabulous Fact-Finding Frenzy will start tomorrow morning, here in the rotunda, before the library is open to the public, at eight o’clock sharp unless it’s foggy—then it will be eight o’clock dull.”

  One of the shoulder boards on Mr. Lemoncello’s band uniform started blinking bright red.

  “Sorry,” he said. “That’s the hotline, direct from Moscow. I have to answer that.”