Spin the Golden Light Bulb

by Jackie Yeager

  Someday I’m going to invent a patch for my uniform shirt that includes my name not just my stupid number. I know that’s against the Crimson rules, but maybe there’s a sort of substance I can paint on it so if you looked at the digits real close, in the right light, you’d see it—like a secret code. On a sunny day like this, Kia would shimmer right through 718. Then everyone would know my name, and I’d know everyone else’s too.

  I break free of the building and walk past the dogwood tree with the pink blossoms. I pull my yellow aero-scooter out of the rack, zip up my parachute vest, hop on, and crank it into gear. It hovers above the ground by just a few inches until I push the release button. Then, it slowly lifts up to the top of the tree and takes off. The warm breeze blows my bangs away from my eyes and Crimson gets farther and farther away with every house I pass. I could ride through the air like this all day! Mom says it’s not good to waste petroleum though, and I know she’s right. Maybe someday I’ll think up a better fuel to use, like old feathers or discarded pet fur.

  I fly over the blue house where Charlotte and her twin brother, Charlie, live. It doesn’t look much different from when I used to hang out there—back when they didn’t care about what lunch table they sat at. Maybe I shouldn’t have told them about my latest inventions, Inventor Ball and Duct Tape Ball, but who wouldn’t want to play sports where you race to build inventions or where you wad up duct tape for thirty minutes and see whose ball gets the biggest? They seriously don’t have any imagination anymore.

  I catch the smells of cinnamon and sugar and slam on the brake. Snickerdoodles! If only I could stop to eat one right now . . . or a muffin. But right then a new invention pops into my head. Muffin Baking Pants Pockets! I could make really cool white pants with colorful pockets. The pockets could be lined with special oven material—the hot coals and everything—except they would be insulated so your legs wouldn’t burn up in flames. If you wore them, all you would have to do is pour the ingredients into the pockets, shake them up with a dance, press a button to bake, and ta-da . . . muffins made in your pants! No kitchen needed. You could bake muffins anywhere.

  Hmm. I’ll have to add that to my list of inventions when I get home.

  I shoot down to the sidewalk and take the side streets to my house. Mine is the stone one high up on the hill. I think a long time ago, Hansel and Gretel lived here—after they defeated the witch with the crooked finger. Maybe someday I’ll write a book about the mysterious creature they hid inside the oak tree in my front yard. That would be a really good story.

  My Grandma Kitty is waiting by our fence, right where I knew she’d be. She pulls me off the scooter. “Oh, Lovey Girl. Tell me how it was! Was your question a tough one? Did you stick to the plan? Did you give the judges an answer they weren’t expecting?”

  My face burns up. “I gave them an answer they didn’t expect, that’s for sure.”

  “Then you did amazing!” Her lemon drop earrings swing as she talks.

  “Maybe, if they like watching kids act like idiots.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I sang a song and swam around on the floor like a mermaid.”

  “You didn’t.”

  “I did.”

  “Oh, Peppermint Stick! That’s wonderful!”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, of course. In the academic categories, the judges want to see that you’re intelligent and can retain information. That’s why you study. But in the Swirl and Spark Recall category, the judges want to see that you can be original and think quickly. They want you to give a creative answer.”

  “Then maybe I did okay?”

  “Of course you did okay! Mark my words. Besides, you’ve inherited all those creative genes from me. Now go inside and see your mother. She’ll have my head if she figures out I was here.”

  I give her a long hug, park my scooter in the scooter port, and find my mom in her office. That’s where she keeps copies of her files. She’s a chemist. When she’s not working in a lab, she’s reading her files.

  She looks up from her work. “Hi, Honey. How was your task today?”

  “I’m not sure. The judges looked stern. I couldn’t tell what they were thinking.”

  “I’m sure you did fine. You always do.”

  “I better have done better than fine! That was my last task, Mom. My scores are being sent to the Piedmont people right now! What if I didn’t make it? What if I didn’t score high enough?”

  “Then you’ll get programmed like all the other kids at school. That wouldn’t be a bad thing you know.”

  “Mom! That would be a very bad thing. You know that!”

  “Kia, I know you want to go to that camp, and then go to PIPS after that. Grandma Kitty has filled your head with all sorts of unbelievable stories, but, in reality, only five students from each state get to go. Those are not very good odds. Besides, math is a well-respected program. Numbers are important; they’re reliable. You’ll have a very bright future if you get programmed for math.”

  “I don’t want to get programmed for math! Who wants to study one category for six years?”

  “I did. I loved being programmed into the Earth and Space category.”

  “That’s you, Mom.”

  “Yes, you’re right. I just want you to prepare yourself for the fact that you probably won’t place in the top five, and later this week, you will probably be programmed for math.”

  I want to scream but I don’t. “I’m going to my room. The Day of Brightness is Friday, and I need to pick out my best uniform.”

  She shakes her head, but I don’t care what she thinks. I could place in the top five. I could be on the New York State Team. I just don’t get it. Why doesn’t she want me to win?

  THE GOLDEN FIVE

  The Day of Brightness is dark and stormy, with the rain pounding the roof of the auditorium. I don’t think that’s a good sign for any of us, but I’m wearing my lucky uniform skirt with the ruffled bottom and my favorite black boots. Maybe those will help. I even wrapped a braid around my ponytail. Grandma Kitty said it’s good to have an important hair style for important days, and I’m definitely sure this is the most important day of my life.

  If wishing with my whole heart could make my wish come true, I’d win the Piedmont Challenge. I’d get my very own Golden Light Bulb trophy, just like Grandma Kitty’s. But wishing won’t help me win, and I haven’t invented a wishing machine yet. All I have are the scores on my seven tasks, and I really hope that’s enough.

  We shuffle in our seats waiting for Master Freeman, the President of the Piedmont Organization, to pop onto the video screen. Kids from all over New York must be watching on their screens too. Soon, the video flickers to life and Master Freeman walks up to the podium wearing a tuxedo—and a very serious face. I sit on my hands. My nails can’t take this pressure.

  “Welcome, sixth graders, to the Day of Brightness, the day we honor the brightest thinkers, the most creative problem solvers, students who are able to make any situation brighter!”

  I clap along with my eight hundred classmates and all of our teachers. That’s when the shivers shoot up my arms, leaving goosebumps scattered all over.

  “There was a time in our country’s history when our students were the brightest in the world. The most innovative ideas came from the people of the United States of America. Back then, our country was the leader of the free world, but as the world changed, we failed to change with it. Other students from around the globe created things the world had never thought possible. Gradually, we lost our place as the country with the best ideas. That’s when Lexland and Andora Appelonia from the Piedmont University stepped in.

  “They were young students at the university when they met. She was a science major, and he was a creative writer. They knew the best ideas came from giving young minds the freedom to be creative and study the areas that came na
turally to them. But they also knew the importance of focusing an individual’s talents, helping them to avoid outside distractions. Not long after they graduated and married, they developed a new educational system. Under this system, students are programmed into their strongest course of study: Art Forms, Communication, Earth and Space, Human History, Math, and New Technology.”

  Inside, I cringe when he mentions math but try to keep my expression normal as I listen to the rest of his speech.

  “Today, each of you will discover what category you’ll be programmed into. You’ll study that category for the next two years. You’ll become a specialist in that category, and by the time you complete eighth grade, you will be fully prepared to enter a specialized high school as well. This is an exciting day for you. We at the Piedmont Organization wish you well in your academic careers.”

  The clapping hurts my head; I can’t get programmed today.

  “We also hold this competition to discover the most creative problem solvers in this country—all in an effort to restore our creative greatness. These young people may one day do just that!”

  My stomach gets swirly. I’m going to be one of those people.

  In one swift motion, Master Freeman pulls a slip of paper out of a red envelope. “The following five students from across the state have received the highest scores in the Piedmont Challenge. They will make up the elite 2071 team from New York who will attend Camp Piedmont in Maryland this summer and move onto the next phase of our competition, The Piedmont National Finals. The end result may be enrollment into the exclusive Piedmont Inventors Prep School, instead of getting programmed.”

  The auditorium is silent. I think I might throw up. Like right here. Now. All over my lap.

  My mother’s words pop into my head, Math is a very good program, Kia. You’ll have a very bright future if you’re programmed for math. Grandma Kitty’s words fight to take their place. Oh, Lovey Girl, of course you did okay! Mark my words.

  I don’t want to hear Mom talk about math. I just want Grandma Kitty to be right. I press the fold in my skirt and make my silent wish: Please say Kia Krumpet. Please say Kia Krumpet.

  Master Freeman grins. “The first winner is . . .”

  The fold in my skirt won’t stay down. The corner is wrinkled, and now it’s—

  “Number 718. Kia Krumpet from Crimson Elementary School.”

  He’s not going to call my name. It won’t be me. I didn’t beat all those kids—

  Heads turn to look at me. Wait, what? Did he say 718? Did he say Kia Krumpet?

  Arms are pulling at me and faces are staring, no—they’re smiling at me. He did. He said Kia Krumpet! OhmygodOhmygodOhmygod!

  I scoot my way across the seats in my row, trying not to step on any feet, but my heart is pounding so hard I almost forget how to move. I walk down the aisle as kids and teachers reach out to slap my hands. My body seems to figure out what to do though, and suddenly I’m running up the steps.

  Principal Bermuda greets me on the stage, but I can’t hear anything he says. It’s like he’s talking in slow motion as he hands me my very own Golden Light Bulb. It’s heavy and way shinier than Grandma Kitty’s! I look out into the crowd and the people come into focus. Their faces are still staring at me, and their hands are still clapping. Principal Bermuda points to a spot on stage where I’m supposed to stand, but all I can do when I get there is squeeze my trophy. My knees are shaking. I feel the zippers of my boots bumping into each other. I can’t believe I won. I’m the first kid from the whole town of Crimson Heights to ever win The Piedmont Challenge. Charlotte said I had no chance, and so did my mom, but I did it!

  Master Freeman holds up the red envelope. Yes! Now I’ll find out who my teammates will be. Maybe they’ll come from New York City or Buffalo. Or maybe Albany. I don’t actually care where they come from. I just know they’re going to be my new best friends. They won’t think my inventions are weird because they probably like to think up inventions too.

  The auditorium gets quiet again. I stare at the giant screen. “The second winner of the Piedmont Challenge is: Number 122, Alexander Yates, also from Crimson Elementary School!”

  Wait. What?

  A skinny boy with a huge smile lands on the stage next to me. How did he win too?

  He pumps his fist in the air. The crowd roars as he dances with his Golden Light Bulb. What is he doing? This is my moment. I’m the one who broke the Crimson Curse. He bows to the crowd, so I curtsy. I can’t believe I just curtsied.

  Master Freeman taps the microphone twice. I’m not standing on this stage alone anymore. I always dreamed of being the first winner from Crimson, but I never dreamed of some dancing kid winning too. Master Freeman calls out the three other winners and everything that happens after that is a blur.

  “Number 219: Marianna Barillion, Crimson Elementary School! Number 606: Jax Lapidary, Crimson Elementary School! Number 434: JillianVervain, Crimson Elementary School!”

  What? Are you kidding me? One by one the three other kids from Crimson run up onto the stage. We stand together stunned.

  Master Freeman clears his throat. “It appears as though Crimson Elementary School has made a bit of history today. No two students from the same school have ever won the Piedmont Challenge in the same year. Now, in New York, we have five. Congratulations to this year’s New York team—the Crimson Five!”

  Principal Bermuda is puffed up with pride. Teachers flood the stage to shake his plump hand. Flashes from cameras that come out of nowhere blind me. My teammates and I dance and jump around the stage. I’m grinning so big my mouth hurts. It’s okay that I’m not the only winner from Crimson, I guess. Who cares anyway? I did it. I’m going to Camp Piedmont—with my very own Golden Light Bulb!

  ***

  I wrap my Golden Light Bulb inside a sweatshirt and pack it in my suitcase. It should be safe in between all my socks. I can’t forget my invention list too. I pull my wooden Someday Box off my dresser, lift the cover, and there’s my list rolled up a like a scroll. I untie the ribbon and let it unroll. The list is at sixty-seven now starting with the Underwater Bubble Bike. I smile as I skim through it. Wait until the Piedmont people at PIPS see all my amazing ideas. They’ll probably want me to show the list to my new class.

  I think about how far away this camp is, and I wonder if I’ll get homesick. Will I miss Mom and Dad, or my sister, Malin? Will I miss sharing a room with her this summer? I definitely won’t miss her make-up and clothes all over my bed. I might miss my brother, Ryne though. He loves hearing about my inventions. But then I move one of the socks, peek at my Golden Light Bulb trophy buried in my sweatshirt, and try to forget about all the miles between New York and Maryland. Besides, I’ll see them when they visit at the end of camp.

  ***

  Four days later, even before the sun rises over the amphitheater, my teammates and I meet at Crimson Elementary for our send-off. The grass shivers in the breeze, just like I do. The globes of the tree-high lamps look like halos in the middle of the sky. It feels weird here—like I’m heading off to a secret place, all on my own. No moms. No dads. No grandmas. Just me. Well, me and my teammates, and two hundred and forty-five kids from the other states. I imagine all those kids getting onto their own aero-buses, and the butterflies in my stomach wake up. Why can’t they go back to sleep?

  Principal Bermuda leads us to our aero-bus. “Safe travels to you,” he says. “I know you’ll represent Crimson Elementary School well. Now remember, when you arrive at Piedmont University, you’ll be given a new task, only you’ll solve that task as a team. At the end of training camp, you’ll present your solution in the next phase of the Piedmont Challenge—The Piedmont National Finals. The top five state teams will then advance to the Global Championships, an international goodwill competition also created by the Piedmont Organization. The whole community has faith in your abilities, but we’ll be here waiting for you i
f you don’t make it that far. And no worries because if that happens, you’ll still have plenty of time to be programmed before the start of seventh grade this fall.”

  “But, we’re going to Piedmont Inventors Prep School in September. We don’t have to get programmed,” I remind him.

  “Not so, 718. Of course you’ll be programmed if you don’t move on in the competition, just like everyone else.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Grandma Kitty stomps over to him, her hair shining under the street lamps. “That’s not the way I remember it, Principal Bermuda. Back in my day, after kids went to Camp Piedmont, they didn’t have to get programmed.”

  “Ah, yes, years ago children who won automatically went to PIPS. That’s not necessarily true today. Only students who compete at the Global Championships will have the opportunity to be programmed there instead of at their own school.”

  “Only kids who make it to the Global Championships get to go to PIPS?” I ask.

  “Yes, only them.” He pats me on the shoulder.

  I shrug his hand away, but he doesn’t seem to notice.

  “Well kids, it’s time for your bus to lift off. Once again, good luck to you. We look forward to hearing updates on our Crimson Five.”

  I think my head is going to roll off my shoulders. My mom whispers to my dad and then to me. “Listen, Kia. Are you sure you still want to go to this camp? I can tell Principal Bermuda that under the circumstances, it’s not a good idea. You can give someone else your spot and come back home with us.”

  “What? No! I don’t want to go home. I want to go to Camp Piedmont!”

  “But the rules are different now. You may not get into PIPS after all.”

  “But there’s still a chance, Mom. We might make it to the Global Championships.”

  She kisses my forehead. “I know. I just want to be sure this is what you want.”

  “I’m sure.” She just wants me to come home so I can be programmed into math, and a part of me does want to stay right here. But I can’t let her know I’m afraid to go now. She’ll sit on me while the bus flies away. Instead, I think of my Golden Light Bulb and hug her quick.