Arcade and the Fiery Metal Tester

by Rashad Jennings

  “Where’s your pal Doug?” Wiley asked, rubbing his fist with his hand.

  I pulled my old backpack off my shoulders. “He moved.”

  Wiley laughed. “Still scared of me, huh?”

  “NO. He’s NOT scared of you.” I breathed in deep and blew it out.

  My face felt like it was on fire. I reached for the token. It was cool. I walked to my row in the back, where my friends Scratchy and Carlos sat, trying to put a broken pen back together.

  “One time, I was messing with a spring from one of these things and it dug into my finger!” Scratchy pretended to whimper. “When I showed it to the teacher, she almost fainted!” Carlos and Scratchy laughed. They stopped when they saw me.

  “Hey, Arcade,” Scratchy said. “I’m real sorry about Doug moving.”

  “Yeah.” Carlos smoothed his hair. “That’s a terrible thing. He’s a really nice guy.”

  “Wah, wah, wah, wah! One less goofball in the neighborhood,” one of the Tolleys chimed in from the middle of the room. Today they were wearing matching wrinkled blue polo shirts.

  “Hey, Tolleys, can one of you smile for me? It will make me feel better.” Sure enough, the one with the chipped tooth smiled. Unfortunately, I still couldn’t remember which one had the chipped tooth. I gave him a little wave. “Thanks. It means a lot.”

  “Don’t mention it. It’s the least I could do after you helped me with my tree house project last year.”

  Casey! Write it DOWN, Arcade. Casey has the chipped tooth!

  “OKAY, PEOPLE. TODAY IS YOUR FIRST TEST OF MIDDLE SCHOOL. I HOPE YOU ARE READY!”

  Mr. Dooley was extra loud this morning. He walked over to his desk, inserted a little key in the top right drawer, and pulled out some papers, which he began to pass out. “Bailey, can you please grab a stack of computer scan pages from the back table and make sure every student gets one? DID YOU ALL BRING YOUR NUMBER 2 PENCILS?”

  I raised my hand.

  “YES, MR. LIVINGSTON? ARE YOU MISSING SOMETHING?”

  Besides my best friend?

  “Um, yes . . . sir. I . . . uh . . . forgot my pencil.”

  And I sort of forgot that we were having a test too.

  “WELL, YOU ARE IN LUCK, BECAUSE I ALWAYS HAVE PENCILS AVAILABLE FOR THOSE WHO ARE ILL-PREPARED.” Mr. Dooley pointed to a jar in the corner by the sink that held a few pencils. They each had a huge plastic sunflower taped to the end. I walked over and grabbed one, sniffed it, and everyone laughed.

  “SORRY I HAD TO MAKE THEM SO OBTRUSIVE. IT’S THE ONLY WAY TO BE SURE NO ONE WALKS OUT WITH MY PENCILS!”

  By the time I reached my desk, Bailey had made it to the back row with the computer scan sheets. She gave me a sad look. “I’m sorry about Doug. He drove me crazy when we were on the career expo team together, but other times he made me laugh really hard, which eased my anxiety.” She placed her last scan sheet on my desk. “Good luck with the test.” Then she walked back to her desk, cracking her knuckles.

  “YOU HAVE FORTY-FIVE MINUTES. IF YOU FINISH EARLY, YOU CAN READ A BOOK.”

  Yaaaasssss! Now we’re talkin’.

  I got right to work and smoked the first ten problems. I showed my work in detail, and wore my lead out bubbling in those answers. Then I hit a problem that stumped me.

  This was the formula that Doug and I were having trouble with last week. Ugh. What was it? Maybe I’ll just skip this one for now . . .

  The next problem was easy. And so were the next twenty. Mr. Dooley had even thrown in a few joke questions like, What is the name of your middle school? Ha. What a joker. I breathed easy as I scratched out my work, sure that Mr. Dooley would be impressed by my first middle school test grade! I glanced up at the clock as I finished up the last problem.

  I popped onto my feet, returned the sunflower pencil to the jar, and took my test and scan sheet up to Mr. Dooley.

  “ARCADE! FIRST ONE TO FINISH. LOOKS LIKE YOU HAD THE LUCK OF THE SUNFLOWER WORKING IN YOUR FAVOR.” Mr. Dooley winked and placed my scan sheet in the top right drawer of his desk.

  “I think you’re right, Mr. Dooley! I won’t be surprised if I get an A . . . A for ARCADE!”

  * * *

  I got an F . . . F for FORGOT! It turned out that when I skipped question eleven, I forgot to skip a bubble! So I entered the rest of the answers in the wrong rows. Mr. Dooley had run our scan sheets during the morning break, so I got the bad news right away.

  “Welcome to the fail club,” Wiley Overton said to me as I tried to pass him on the way out of class. He held up his scan sheet to show me his failing grade, almost like he was proud of it. “Everyone’s buzzing about how the bookworm failed the math test. How’d you do it?”

  “I skipped a problem, but I forgot to skip the bubble. My answers got all off. Is that what you did?”

  He scratched his head. “Nah. That would be really dumb! I just didn’t know how to do the math. I can fix my problem with a tutor. Not sure what you can do about yours.”

  “I guess I need to PAY MORE ATTENTION WHEN I AM BEING TESTED.”

  Wiley actually laughed at my attempt to imitate Mr. Dooley. “I’m sure you’ll do better next time.” Then he looked down at his math book and sighed. “Math is supposed to be my good subject.” He unzipped his huge backpack to shove the book in.

  Hey, wait. Was that . . . flamingos?

  I stepped in to get a closer look. Wiley quickly zipped up his pack. “Back off, bookworm, I got personal space issues.”

  “Sorry. I was just checking out your roomy backpack. I lost mine a couple weeks ago and this old one is ripping in spots, so I’m in the market for a new one. Do you like having such a big backpack?”

  “Oh, yeah. I can carry everything in here.”

  “Can I see inside?”

  Wiley whipped the backpack over his shoulder. “Another time. I gotta go to my next class. I think you do too.” Wiley pointed up at the clock, which showed that I had two minutes to get to history.

  “What’s your next class, Wiley?”

  “English. The worst.”

  “Oh. Sorry to hear that. Maybe I could help you sometime.”

  Wiley wiped his hands on his rumpled, brown shirt. “Not necessary. I feel like things are going to turn around for me real soon.” He patted his backpack and raised an eyebrow. “See ya, Arcade.”

  “See ya.” I headed toward the door. But Wiley didn’t. Instead he walked over toward Mr. Dooley’s desk. Mr. Dooley had stepped out with most of the class when the bell rang. Wiley unzipped the side pocket of his backpack and pulled out a stick. He started jamming it into the lock on the top drawer of Mr. Dooley’s desk.

  “I think his lock is broken, Arcade. What do you think?” He shoved the stick back in his backpack and laughed. “Yeah, things are going to turn around real soon.” He pushed by me to get out the door. A bell rang.

  Yeeaaah. That would be the tardy bell for history.

  Chapter 22

  Letter from the Past

  The following Saturday, Doug and I finally got to do a face chat. I was in my room reading a library book when my phone buzzed.

  “Arcade! Check this OUT!” Doug held a plastic flamingo up to his phone screen. “These ugly pink things are all over the place around here! It makes me miss Flames. How’s he doin’?”

  “He’s okay. Getting a little bigger. And more orange.”

  “Hey, I got good news on the greenstone! Gram’s taking it off the market for a couple months. We gotta figure out what to do with all her stuff, and right now she isn’t feeling well, so she doesn’t want to deal with the hassle of all the paperwork. I’m coming for a week at Thanksgiving and we’ll figure it out then. I told her your family would look after the house. Is that okay?”

  “Is that okay? Doug, that’s great! I was wondering what I was going to do about Flames. I think I really should take him home.”

  “Home? Like to BEIJING? Dude, I wanna go this time!”

  I reached down and grabbed the token in my hand. �
�If only I knew how to really control this thing.”

  “Maybe you just gotta be more specific when you talk to it. You should practice!” Doug’s suggestion was a good one. What had Miss Gertrude’s letter said?

  I know that you have the power to control it . . .

  Loopy jumped up into my lap and tried to lick the phone. “Loop! What are you doing? Now there’s slobber in the cracks of the screen.”

  “Hey, Loopy! How ya doin’, boy?” Doug waved and held up the plastic flamingo. “This is all I got for animals down here in Florida. I really miss you all, Arcade.”

  “We miss you too, Doug. Even Bailey—”

  “Bailey Martin? I thought I stressed her out.”

  “Well, you do. But you also don’t. Who knows with Bailey? And I could really use your help with Wiley.”

  Doug rubbed his eye. “You need me to take a punch for you?”

  “Nah. But I think he has my flamingo backpack. I saw it poking out of his huge, brown one.”

  “Why would he want to keep your backpack? He doesn’t seem like the flamingo type. Now a backpack with French fries on it . . . I could see that.”

  “That’s why I’m suspicious! He also broke the lock on the top drawer of Mr. Dooley’s desk. The one where he keeps all his tests and answer keys.”

  “Now that’s sketchy. Hey, maybe you could use your token to find out information about Wiley.”

  “How would I do that?”

  “Easy. You just say to it, ‘Show me what’s up with Wiley Overton!’ Then you rub it in between your hands, like this . . .”

  The token jumped on my chest and sizzled.

  “Zoe would never go for it. And I promised a long time ago that I would never go anywhere with the token without her.”

  “She was there when he ran you over in the subway, right? I bet she’d wanna find out what that big guy is up to.”

  Loopy barked, jumped, and bumped the phone out of my hands. “Loop! You have no phone manners!” I dropped down on my hands and knees to pick it up. The screen was black.

  “Doug?” I tapped the screen and poked a few buttons. “Doug? Aww, Loopy, did you kill the battery?”

  I tossed the phone on Doug’s blow-up mattress, which was still inflated next to my bed. I sat down on it and bounced.

  Where would we put Doug if he came to live here permanently?

  A knock sounded at my door. “Arcade?” It was Zoe.

  “Yeah, come on in.”

  Zoe opened the door and poked her head in. “Dinner’s ready in fifteen.” Then she looked at me funny. “You okay?”

  “I’m okay.” I was about to ask her if she wanted to test the token by spying on Wiley Overton when she flung an envelope at me.

  “More mail for you. You’re becoming quite popular.” She rushed in after the flying envelope and plopped down on the mattress. “This one looks intriguing!”

  “Why?”

  “Because it’s from San Francisco!”

  “What?” I grabbed the envelope and read my name, scrawled in messy handwriting.

  “And check out the postmark.”

  “What’s a postmark?”

  “This right here!” Zoe pointed to the inked circle toward the top of the letter.

  It was stamped May 27, 1937. My body went cold and my heart began to pound. I pinched the end of the envelope in my hand and ripped downward.

  Zoe palmed her face. “I’m getting you a letter opener for Christmas.”

  I tilted the envelope and a note fell out. It was in the same messy handwriting that was on the envelope, and there were dirt smudges on the paper. I took a deep breath and read.

  Dear Arcade,

  The bridge is complete. All is forgiven. Come back and bring us home. You have the power to destroy us or redeem us. Choose the latter.

  Sincerely,

  Lenwood and Kenwood Badger

  My hands started to shake. Zoe had to take the letter. “Zoe, what exactly does redeem mean?”

  “It means to save.”

  “And what does latter mean?”

  “It means they want you to pick redeem.”

  “So, do you think I really have the power to do that? And if I do, do you think I should go back for them? That would be the compassionate thing to do, right? Do you think all is really forgiven?”

  Zoe stared down at the letter. She pushed fingers into her temple and thought a minute.

  “NO! I think they’re LYING! Look at this letter, Arcade! Did they even say please? Or sorry for all the trouble they caused you? And what do they mean by ‘all is forgiven’? Do they think they’re supposed to forgive you for something? YOU didn’t do anything!”

  “But they think I stole their token. Maybe if I go back and explain things—”

  Zoe turned to me and grabbed my shoulders. “They’ll take the token from you, then they’ll leave you there! I’m sure that’s their plan! Miss Gertrude even said not to do it! And she’s their grandma! If someone’s grandma doesn’t even trust them, why should you? Nuh-uh, Arcade. You just ignore that letter. Forever. You got it?” She balled up the letter and heaved it against my wall, where it fell behind my desk.

  “Kids! Time for dinner!” Mom called up the stairs. “Zoe, can you bring me a clean tablecloth from the linen closet?”

  “Sure, Mom!” Zoe stood up and pointed her index finger toward my nose. “Ignore it.” Then she disappeared out into the hall.

  I made sure she was all the way down the stairs. Then I quietly rose and walked over to my desk. I called Loopy. “Hey, boy, can you get the ball? Come on, get the ball.” I pointed to the letter that was just out of my reach. Loopy squeezed low, retrieved it, and dropped it in my hand. I petted his head. “Thanks, Loop. What would I do without you?” I lay down on the floor and smoothed out the note.

  True, they didn’t say sorry. And yeah, they probably want the token.

  Doug’s words came back into my head.

  Maybe you just gotta be more specific when you talk to it. You should practice!

  Maybe I should go spy on the Badgers. Then I’ll know if they’re telling the truth or not. But I should practice first . . . on a less threatening bully.

  But how do I get Zoe to go with me?

  Chapter 23

  Spying on Wiley

  “Hey, Zoe, do you love me?”

  Zoe cringed. “Of course. But whatever you want, Arcade, the answer is NO.”

  I sat on the outside stairs of our brownstone on Sunday afternoon, playing with Loopy and munching some gummy bears, because they reminded me of Doug.

  “If you love me, then why do you always argue and question my decisions?”

  “Because you’re an impossible noodle-head. And I want you to live a long life not embarrassing yourself in public.”

  I chewed and grinned. “But you’d want to be there with me, even if I made a bad decision, right? So you could protect me?”

  Zoe threw her arms up in the air. “What do you want me to do now?”

  I closed up my gummy bear bag and placed it on the top of the stairs. “I want you to go on a spying mission with me. Using the token. To find out what’s up with Wiley Overton.”

  “The lumpy potato boy from the subway? Is he giving you trouble at school?”

  “Not yet. But trouble’s on the way. I can feel it.”

  “I don’t think that’s what you’re supposed to use the token for.”

  “Maybe it’s exactly what I’m supposed to use it for. I know Wiley struggles with his schoolwork. But there has to be more. Why is he so mean? Maybe I can help Wiley if I know his story. Maybe that’s part of the mettle testing.”

  “But you still don’t know how to control that thing. How do you know we won’t end up on Mars or something like that?”

  “Doug suggested I be more specific.” The token sizzled.

  Woof!

  Loopy jumped up and tried to lick the token.

  I pointed to my shirt. “Did you see that?”

 
Zoe shrugged. “I might have seen a spark.”

  I pulled the token out from under my T-shirt. It was sparking all right. And gold glitter shot out toward Zoe’s mouth. Loopy jumped on her lap.

  I chuckled. “Nice lip gloss.”

  Zoe waved a finger at Loopy. “Don’t you dare lick the glitter.” She wiped her mouth with her sleeve. “Just how specific do you intend to be? It could be a path to disaster, Arcade.”

  “Every trip through the doors has been fine so far.”

  “Fine? Three words.” Zoe held up three fingers and counted them out. “Golden. Gate. Bridge.”

  “Okay, that one wasn’t so great. But maybe that was the token’s way of protecting us from the Badger brothers. They can’t do us any harm from San Francisco, can they?” Right then, the token began to flame up around the edges. “Whoa! I think I’m on to something, here! Zoe, maybe the token is trying to protect me from Wiley Overton too!”

  Zoe didn’t say anything, but she was squirming there on top of those steps.

  The token sputtered and pulsed and sparked and flamed. Loopy barked and wagged his tail. “Loopy’s game. Are you?” I stood up and golden elevator doors appeared at the bottom of the steps.

  Zoe jumped up on her feet. “This never ceases to ANNOY me, Arcade. Can’t we have a peaceful Sunday afternoon? Seriously!”

  I shrugged. “Who knows? Maybe this will be peaceful.” I pulled the token off the gold chain and was about to throw it in the slot but held back instead. “I guess I better ask for something specific.” I trapped the token between my palms. It was hot but, for some reason, this time it didn’t burn.

  Zoe adjusted her glasses and crossed her arms. “Be VERY specific, Arcade. Do you even know what specific means?”

  “Of course I do. It means I need to tell it exactly what I want.”

  Zoe pulled a hair tie from her shorts pocket and put her hair in a ponytail. “That’s what scares me.”

  “Aw, trust me, Zoe. Here we goooooo . . .” I squeezed the token in my palms. “Take us someplace . . . safe . . . where we can learn all about Wiley Overton. But—”