Arcade and the Fiery Metal Tester

by Rashad Jennings

  * * *

  “I never thought I’d be climbing stairs again!” Carlos grins ear-to-ear as he leads us up the metal spiral staircase toward the crown.

  I huff and puff. “Carlos, slow down, man! We’re dying back here!” I keep an eye out, above and below, for Loopy.

  Zoe grabs me by the shoulder. “Arcade, don’t get your hopes up. The woman said he was here three years ago.”

  I reach for my golden chain. “I know, but we have the power of pure gold working in our favor. And Carlos is walking! Anything can happen. I bet he’s up here. I asked the token, remember?”

  We keep climbing, and Zoe keeps talking. “You asked the token to bring you to the Statue of Liberty.”

  “I know. Because Loopy’s here. Zoe, we HAVE to find him!”

  “One hundred forty-six more stairs left!” Carlos calls out, his triumphant voice echoing off the walls of the pedestal. “This is the BEST DAY OF MY LIFE!”

  Scratchy wipes sweat from his brow. “I’m glad YOU’RE enjoying it. This climb is making me itchy!”

  I tune my ears for any sound of a Loopy bark, but all I hear are people, huffing and puffing. Finally, after a few more circles around the staircase, we come to a cramped area with little look-out windows.

  “We’re here! The crown!” Carlos bends down to touch his toes and stretch. Then he leans with both hands against a window to look out. A tear rolls down his cheek. Then he turns to me. “I don’t know how you made this happen, Arcade, but thank you. Thank you SO much.” Then he goes back to gazing out the window.

  The crown is cramped and stuffy. Each of us stands next to a little window and stares out. The waves gently roll in toward the shore way down below. We are higher than everyone else on Liberty Island. They all look like ants from up here.

  One of those ants could be Loopy.

  “Aww, I miss the little Arcade.” Zoe reaches over and messes my hair up with her hand. “You were so cute three years ago.”

  “Three years, Zoe. The token is late by three years. Why would it do that to me?”

  Zoe looks me straight in the eyes, and then she points to Carlos. “Maybe this isn’t about you.”

  Yeah, Arcade. Don’t be so self-absorbed.

  I walk over and stand next to Carlos.

  He just keeps staring out at the city. “Man, I LOVE New York.” He looks over at me. “And I LOVE THIS DAY.”

  And just as soon as he says that, something heavy drops on my chest, and golden glitter shoots out of the Statue of Liberty’s torch.

  “RADICAL!” Scratchy yells. “This is better than the 4th of July!”

  The glitter plasters itself on all the windows, and two of the panes grow and stretch to become elevator doors. The golden coin slot pops up, right in the middle of them.

  “Does this mean we have to go back home?” Carlos reaches down and rubs the tops of both his legs.

  I hate to say it. “Yes. I’m sorry. Back to Dooley. And the test.”

  But maybe, just maybe, I passed this one.

  * * *

  Our backpacks are waiting for us in the elevator. And so is Carlos’s wheelchair.

  “Did we travel back in time?” Carlos asks as he marches in place, enjoying the last bit of wheelchair-free time. “Is that why I can walk? Is that why we all look so young?”

  I take a look at my short arms and small feet. “I guess that’s what’s happening. I never know with this token. I wonder exactly how far back we went?”

  Zoe is fishing in her backpack for something. She pulls out some small rumpled papers. “Here, this will tell us. The date is on our tickets.” We crowd around to take a closer look. “See, today’s date, October 26th, is stamped on the ticket. But the year is exactly three years ago!”

  Scratchy starts counting on his fingers. “Arcade, if the security lady was right about seeing Loopy three years ago—”

  Zoe interrupts. “And if we were just at the Statue of Liberty three years ago—”

  I conclude, “Then we lost Loopy six years ago?”

  Zoe smiles. “And we know we lost him in one of two places on Picture Post . . .”

  I catch my breath. “And it couldn’t have been at the school, when Wiley was in third grade, because the math doesn’t work out.”

  “So we had to have lost him when Wiley was riding his bike! On that street where the kids were making fun of him. When he broke Reagan’s window!” Zoe grabs me by the shoulders. “And that makes sense, because that would have made Wiley . . .”

  “A first grader! You guys, we’ve got to get to school and find out where Reagan Cooper lived in first grade!”

  Chapter 31

  Cheater, Cheater

  “I HOPE YOU ARE ALL RESTED AND READY TO BE TESTED! HA! WE’RE GETTING IT OVER WITH, FIRST THING!” Mr. Dooley grinned as he passed out the math tests. This time Amber Lin passed out the scan sheets.

  She placed a scan sheet on my desk. “Good luck, Arcade. This was a hard chapter.”

  “You’re telling me.” I glanced over at Wiley Overton just as he reached into his huge brown backpack and pulled out a paper, which he slipped under his test.

  There’s space on the test to show our work. No one needs that much scratch paper.

  Yet, everyone in the room seemed to have it. All except Scratchy, Amber, Bailey, Carlos, . . . and me.

  I pulled a number two pencil out of my backpack and checked to make sure the point was sharp. When I looked up, the door to our classroom was flung open. In walked our principal, Mr. Francis, with Reagan Cooper. She had her arms crossed, and she was smirking at . . .

  Wiley Overton.

  “HELLO, MR. FRANCIS.”

  “Hello, Mr. Dooley. I’m sorry to interrupt. Can I speak to you for one moment, please?”

  Dooley got up from his desk and went out in the hallway with Reagan and Mr. Francis. When they came back in, Reagan was gone. Both men were staring at me.

  “Arcade?” Mr. Dooley said. “Please put down your pencil and come out to the hallway.”

  I nodded. “Yes, sir.”

  “And Wiley? We’d like to see you too.” Wiley got up.

  “And bring your backpack, Mr. Overton,” Mr. Francis said.

  Yes! Maybe I’m gonna get my flamingos back!

  * * *

  Mr. Francis stood with his arms crossed. His big mustache looked like it had just been oiled and styled at a beauty salon.

  Mr. Dooley spoke at a normal pitch. “Wiley, it’s come to our attention that for the last few weeks, tests have been taken from my desk drawer, photocopied, and passed around, enabling many students on this campus to cheat on my tests. Are you in possession of any of those photocopies right now?”

  Wiley put his backpack down on the floor and cracked his knuckles. He looked left, right, anywhere except at Mr. Dooley.

  “Mr. Overton,” Principal Francis said, “let me assure you, there will be consequences for cheating, but if you withhold any information that we find out about later, the consequences will be greater.”

  “Uh,” Wiley cleared his throat, “yes, sir.”

  Mr. Francis uncrossed his arms. “I know you struggle with tests, so the temptation to cheat is great.”

  Wiley nodded.

  “Do you have the test with you now, Wiley?” Mr. Dooley put one hand on his hip and rubbed his chin with the other.

  Wiley looked down at the floor. “Yes, sir.”

  What am I doing here? I have nothing to do with this.

  Mr. Francis put out his hand. “Let’s have it then.”

  Wiley glanced over at me for a split-second, and then reached into his backpack and lifted out another backpack. It was black, with flamingos. No surprise there. He handed it to Mr. Francis. “Kids have been passing this around school every week. The tests and the answers are in it. I’ve been having trouble understanding math, so I’ve been using it to help me study. It’s easier when I know what the questions are going to be. But I never look at them when I’m taking the test.”
<
br />   Mr. Francis unzipped the flamingo backpack and pulled out a folder filled with papers. He handed the stack to Mr. Dooley, who flipped through them. “My tests from the last few weeks,” Dooley said, shaking his head.

  “Unbelievable,” sighed Mr. Francis, a concerned look on his face. Then he looked up at Wiley. “Where did this backpack come from? Who’s the ringleader?”

  Wiley shrugged. “I don’t know, sir. After I’m done with it, I pass it to another kid. Then it makes the rounds. All I know is whose name is on the tag.”

  My stomach churned. My mouth ran dry. My fingers turned cold.

  Mr. Francis picked up the backpack, pulled the tag up, and read, “Arcade Livingston.” He glared at me. “This is your backpack?”

  Mr. Dooley gave me a knowing, but confused glance.

  He knows it’s mine. He saw it last year, every day for those last six weeks when I attended PS 23. He often commented on it.

  “Yes, sir,” I said. “But I’m not the ringleader. I don’t cheat. I lost that backpa—”

  “Arcade,” Mr. Francis’s face was as serious as could be, “go gather your things and come with me to the office.”

  Chapter 32

  Suspended!

  Since Wiley was caught with the cheating materials, he got a zero on the test, with no chance of making it up.

  Since I was implicated as the “cheating ringleader,” I got a three-day suspension.

  I lay on my bed that afternoon, staring at the ceiling.

  “I wish I could live on the moon,” I said to the empty room, “away from every other living soul.” The Triple T Token gave a sizzling jolt against my chest. I cupped the pure gold in my palm. “No, not now. I can’t run away from my trials. But do you still believe I’m the right kid for the job? What kind of reputation must I have?”

  There was a knock at the door.

  “Go away, Zoe.”

  The door opened. It was my mom and dad. I dropped the token inside my shirt and I sat up.

  “Who were you talking to, bud?” Dad came over and sat at the foot of my bed.

  “Well, let’s see, it couldn’t have been my dog, because he’s lost. And it couldn’t be my best friend, because . . . well . . . he’s lost too. I guess I was just talking to the air. That’s all I have left.”

  Mom smiled a little and sat down on the edge of my bed. “Well, I heard what you said about your reputation, and I’d like to respond to the question, if you don’t mind.”

  I ran my hand through my hair. “Fine with me.”

  “Your father and I both believe you are not a cheater. We are anxiously waiting for all the facts to come in and hope you will be proven innocent as soon as your principal interviews a few of the students. Take heart, Arcade. Your reputation hasn’t changed with the people who love you the most.”

  I started to cry a little. “But Wiley lied about me! He stole my backpack in the subway and used it to pass the tests around. I saw him break the lock on Mr. Dooley’s desk. He’s the ringleader! How could he do that to me? I’ve been nothing but nice to him!”

  My stomach churned. I remembered the poster of Wiley that I brought back from Picture Post, the one that read: WHINY OVERTON–DUMBEST KID IN THIRD GRADE.

  I should use that to get revenge against Wiley. That would show him! I can’t believe I ever felt sorry for him.

  As soon as I thought that, the token shot heat through my body.

  “Owww!”

  Dad walked over and put his hand on my shoulder. “Arcade, I know it hurts. People can behave badly, and that sometimes causes innocent people to suffer. But we don’t have to let what they do stick to us. We ask God to help us rise above it, forgive them, then we keep living the way we know is right. If you do that with Wiley, he’ll see that you’re different from others. And then he may turn around! Remember, let kindness and loyalty never leave you.”

  I nodded. “Tie them around your neck as a reminder.”

  Dad smiled. “Then you will find favor with both God and people, and you will earn a good reputation. Exactly. Arcade, I think you’re the right kid to do just that.”

  The token jumped inside my shirt.

  “And I’m sorry about all your losses lately,” Mom said. “I lost something very valuable once.”

  Butterflies flew around in my stomach. “What did you lose?”

  “A piece of jewelry. I know, it’s not as big a deal as a dog or a friend, but it was really special, because your father gave it to me when we were dating.”

  She stopped talking. I looked at her. “So, what happened?”

  Mom folded her hands in her lap. “I was really upset. For quite a long time.”

  “That’s not very encouraging, Mom.”

  She laughed softly. “I’m sorry. I did get over it, finally.”

  “How?”

  She looked Dad in the eyes. “I focused on everything I hadn’t lost. And I learned to be grateful for those things. Plus, I figured that whoever ended up with that piece of jewelry needed it more than I did.”

  “I’m not sure anyone needs Doug or Loopy more than me.”

  Mom reached over and hugged my neck. “I agree. And that’s why I’m praying that we get them both back very soon.”

  * * *

  Later that night, I thought about what Mom said.

  She’s praying we get them both back?

  Are she and Dad considering adopting Doug? That would be awesome! But they have no idea that Loopy is lost in Picture Post.

  That reminded me of something important! I was supposed to talk to Reagan Cooper today, but that whole cheating fiasco got me off track. I grabbed my phone and typed up a text.

  Hi Coop. I’m not a cheater.

  I clicked send.

  She responded immediately.

  I know. I’m sorry you got in trouble for it. Rotten Whiny Overton!

  I texted back.

  I have a question.

  She responded.

  Shoot.

  Do you remember what street you lived on when you were in first grade?

  Yeah. That’s easy.

  WHERE?

  I waited for a response. For an hour! Did her phone die? Was she teasing me? WHAT WAS GOING ON?

  Then it came through. An emoji, the one with the tongue hanging out, and a message.

  Sorry. Mom took the phone till I finished homework. When I was in first grade, I lived in the same place I do now!

  Really? Where is that?

  West 77th.

  My stomach felt like it jumped into my throat. Just nine blocks south of me!

  Hang on, Loopy! I’m coming to find you! Just as soon as I can get this token to heat up!

  Chapter 33

  Christmas Tree Climb

  For the next two weeks, I rubbed the token, I talked to the token, I spun it around on the chain, I pounded it into my chest. But nothing happened.

  One Saturday morning, I lost it. “Heat up, you ROTTEN chunk of gold!” I immediately apologized. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it. I know you’re testing me, and I HATE it! Okay, maybe I understand a little. But it sure seems like you’re picking on me! Can’t you give a guy a break? It’s almost the holidays and I could use a little Christmas cheer!”

  Zoe pounded on my door. “ARCADE! OPEN UP!” She busted in. “We have another Loopy post! And your silly dog now has 1,000 followers!” Zoe handed me the phone.

  “What is this picture?” I asked. “Looks like a building under construction.”

  “Yeah, that’s what it LOOKS like. You need to enlarge it. You won’t believe it!”

  I pressed my thumb and forefinger to the screen and pulled them apart. The picture zoomed in. The construction was tall, with pieces of wood layered on different levels of that famous New York City scaffolding. In between the wood pieces, looked like . . . tree branches?

  “It’s the Rockefeller Center Christmas tree, Arcade! They’re decorating it! And Loopy’s there!”

  As soon as she said that, the token b
egan to burn.

  * * *

  I handed Zoe her phone back, pulled out the token, and rubbed it between my palms. “Today’s the day, Zoe! I know how far back in time to go now.”

  Gold, red, and orange glitter swirled around my room, like autumn leaves falling from the Central Park trees.

  “Be careful, Arcade! I can’t believe I’m saying this, but remember what Doug said—Be specific!”

  “Well, I know we can’t go back six years in age. I was a doofus in first grade.”

  “You’re a doofus now.”

  “Very funny. But a first grader can’t run around New York City alone. So, I have to be specific about that. I know what to say.”

  My closet doors turned to golden doors, and I held the token in my hands, close to my heart.

  “Take us to Rockefeller Center six years ago. But keep us the age we are now.”

  I looked over at Zoe, and she smiled and nodded. Was she actually excited to go on an Arcade adventure?

  The golden coin slot popped up, looking like a miniature doghouse.

  “Throw it in, Arcade!”

  I did. It fell with a clunk through the top of the roof. I clapped my hands together and then pulled them apart. The doors opened.

  * * *

  Christmas carols play over the elevator speakers.

  Oh, Christmas tree, oh, Christmas tree,

  How lovely are your branches . . .

  I hum along. “That’s nice. Christmas music always makes me feel hopeful.” I breathe in deep and imagine how much slobber will be on my face if I can just find Loopy.

  The ride is short, and the elevator doors open up onto an ice-skating rink.

  “So where’s our skates?” Zoe looks around the elevator. “You didn’t ask for skates?”

  Zoe shoves me out and, on the first step, I slip, slide, and spin around on my backside. When I finally stop, I look up. “HEY! There’s the tree!”

  Zoe steps out but doesn’t slide. She just turns around in those black boots of hers that have killer gripper-treads on the bottom. She looks up at the tree. “Nice. But we can’t go up there without getting stopped by security. How are we going to find Loopy?”