Spin the Golden Light Bulb

by Jackie Yeager

  “I don’t think it’s a big deal.”

  “Why not? It’s going to take us forever to include skills from all six. I think we should ask Master Freeman to change the rules or something.”

  “Kia! Are you crazy? He’ll think we’re lazy or not smart enough to figure it out.”

  “I am not lazy!”

  Jillian’s eyes get big. “I didn’t say you were lazy. I just don’t think you should complain to him. We have to work harder, that’s all. We can figure it out.”

  Now I feel stupid for saying it. I’m not afraid of extra hard work. That’s what got me to this camp in the first place. Besides, I don’t want anyone thinking I’m not smart enough to be here. “I’m sorry. I’m just nervous.”

  “That’s okay. I am too.”

  “You are?”

  Jillian quick looks over at Mare like she’s afraid she’ll hear what she’s about to say. But Mare’s talking to the boys, not even listening to us.

  “Well, yeah,” she says. “I want to win just as bad as you do.”

  I think about that for a second. Jillian never looks worried about anything. I mean I can tell she likes being here, and really wants to do a play, but I never thought about why she would want to win or if she was worried we wouldn’t. “Are you afraid to get programmed?”

  Her mouth turns into a frown. “Yeah. I’m probably going to be put into Earth and Space. I always score the highest in that category, but I really want to be put into Art Forms. At least if I win and enroll at PIPS, I’d get to work on some artistic stuff. It would be better than Earth and Space, that’s for sure.”

  I smile and her frown disappears. It’s nice knowing she really wants to win like I do.

  We walk down the hall to Meeting Room Twelve with the rest of our team. The same chair I’ve sat in all week is waiting for me. I’m glad I only have to sit in it for a few minutes though. Seraphina doesn’t mind if we sit on the floor or even on the table.

  We’ve already decided on the theme for our play—ghosts! We agree that if we’re trying to answer the question, Where do humans go after they die? then using ghosts as tour guides will be perfect. We’ve decided who our characters will be too, and now we’re working on what our play could be about.

  After our morning meeting, Gregor leads us on a jog around Piedmont University. Ander tries to run ahead but Gregor won’t let him. When we get to the pond at the far end of campus, we climb onto a pile of rocks. Gregor says that fresh air and exercise encourage a creative mind. I think he’s right. The breeze has filled my head with lots of ideas about our play. So have the butterflies fluttering near me.

  If only our team could fly to heaven, then we could spy on the dead people and know for sure if that’s where they went—because maybe it isn’t heaven. Every single person in this whole world wants to know what will happen to them after they die, and I think I know why we all want to know—because we’re scared. Maybe if we knew, then we wouldn’t be scared at all.

  My brain swirls in fast motion. Maybe we could invent a robot like Mabel who could travel with a dead person and give us the answer. Maybe we could capture a dead person’s spirit and analyze it under a microscope. Or we could analyze a dead person’s cells under it instead. My ideas are swirling in my brain. As soon as I think of a new one, I forget the old one. I feel like a pinball machine. I could really use a brain organizer.

  When our break is over, Gregor leads us on the run back. Seraphina instructs us to work in small groups in our bedchambers until lunch. Mare and Jillian want to start planning costumes. The boys want to plan the sets. I want to do both, but I decide to work with Ander and Jax. We have to come up with an awesome backdrop for our play and there’s no way I’m going to miss this part. Besides, Ander will probably take too many breaks, so I think I need to make sure that he doesn’t.

  When we step into the boys’ bedchamber, the laser board jumps to life, and the beams rearrange themselves. It startles me every time I speak. Ander says I’m jumpy. I’m not jumpy. I’m just not used to laser creatures flying around every time I make a sound.

  Jax sits down at the planning table and folds his hands. I want to remind him there are no teachers here—he can relax a little bit, but then I wonder, maybe he can’t relax. Maybe he’s nervous around us. Maybe that’s why he doesn’t ever talk unless he has to. I sit across from him and try my best to not be scary or hard to talk to.

  Ander grabs his notebook from the bin and puts one foot on the chair. “Okay, Big Guy, what kind of set should we build?”

  Jax shifts in his seat.

  Ander tilts his head. “Come on. We want to hear your idea. What do you think?”

  “You want to hear what I think?”

  “Yeah,” I say. “Why wouldn’t we?”

  Jax turns red. “I’m not used to people listening to me.”

  “How come?” Ander asks.

  Jax looks down at the table. “I guess I figure since I’m quiet people don’t want to hear what I have to say. But I guess maybe I don’t give them the chance.”

  I smile as big as I can. “Well, now you have the chance to say whatever you want.”

  Jax lets out a breath, like he’s been holding it in his whole life. “We could make a back drop like they do in theaters. The frame could be made out of metal, and we could hang fabric from the top like curtains.”

  “It would have to be big though,” Ander replies.

  “We can make it as big as we want.”

  I try to imagine a large, curtain-like backdrop. “That would look good, I guess. I mean it’s a great idea, Jax. But is that as creative as we can get?”

  “I don’t know,” he replies.

  I feel an idea ready to burst. “What if we build a set that moves or something instead?”

  “Yes!” Ander points to me. “It could spin or change shape.”

  “Exactly! The whole point of the play is to answer the question of where people go after they die. What if our set is the object that rotates?”

  Jax looks confused. “I’m not sure I understand.”

  “We can use our set to show examples of where humans go after they die.”

  “Yeah,” says Ander. “We could build a set that turns into a coffin!”

  “Or the boxes the Egyptian Pharaohs used to be put in for all of eternity,” I say.

  “Right!” he shouts. “That could be the object that rotates. But, since none of us is exactly sure where people go after we die, we have to show where we think they go—or where the ghosts think they go.”

  Jax pulls the printed copy of the task out of the bin and flips through to the description page. “The task states that we need to build an object that changes three times and then goes back to its original place—in the form of a circle. I don’t see how we can make the object our set.”

  “We already know we’re going to show ghosts giving a dead person a tour of choices—where they can go after they die,” I say.

  “And,” says Ander, “the rules don’t say it has to be an actual circle. What if the ghosts use a giant object to show the different places dead people could go? Like . . . we could make a big rectangular box. The first side could show all three choices, like a gallery or something, then the next side could show the first choice, a casket that gets buried in the ground.”

  “And then it could rotate to the next side—a giant oven where your body gets cremated and sprinkled throughout the air,” I say.

  Ander walks near the sound board. The lasers are freaking out. “And then it could switch to the last side which is the third choice . . . a rocket that sends your body into space!”

  “Yes! That’s perfect!” I answer, walking around the room in circles, resisting the urge to jump up on Ander’s bed. This is going to be so great!

  Jax is finally smiling too. “But it has to go back to its original spot at
the end.”

  “Okay,” says Ander. “At the end, it can rotate back to the first side with all the picture choices. That’s when the dead person-ghost makes his decision.”

  “That would be awesome!” I squeal.

  “What do you think, Jax? Do you like that idea?”

  “Yes, and I think the judges would like it.”

  “I like it,” says Ander.

  “Me too!” I say. “None of the teams will create a rotating set and a play. I know they won’t.”

  We high-five each other and check the clock on the wall. It’s almost lunch time. The boys and I make a run for it through the halls of Piedmont Chamber to meet Mare and Jillian. When we enter the dining hall, Jillian runs over and drags us to the table.

  “Okay, so Mare and I planned the materials we need to make costumes, all of them creepy and ghost-like. Jax you’re the serious ghost guide. Mare is his ghostly assistant. I am the dramatic ghost. Ander you’re the silly ghost, and Kia, you’re the little ghost girl, new to the after-life, who must choose a way to spend eternity. What do you guys think?”

  “Oh! I love it,” I say. “That’s perfect!”

  “Awesome,” says Ander. “I can be silly, weird, and strange.”

  “I’m fine with that too,” says Jax.

  “Okay, good,” says Jillian. “We were hoping you’d all agree.”

  We reach the New York table where Mare is waiting. “We like the character ideas, and the boys and I figured out the set,” I say. “It can be our rotating object that shows all the places a ghost could go to spend eternity. We were thinking a coffin, a crematory oven thingy, and a rocket ship that sends your body to space. What do you guys think?”

  “I like it,” says Jillian.

  “Me too,” says Mare. “But I want to be the one to show the ghost girl the oven thing and since I gave in on the play idea, I get my way with this.”

  I want to roll my eyes but I don’t.

  “Fine,” says Ander. “I call the rocket ship!”

  “Then I’ll show the coffin,” says Jillian, “And Jax, you can show all the choices at the end, since you’re like the head ghost.”

  He nods and we end up all talking at the same time. I can’t tell who’s the most excited about their character. Through the chatter, I picture myself as a little ghost in a ragged costume. I’m twirling around, looking at my choices for the after-life. I twirl and twirl and that’s when I figure out what to choose. Soon though, I snap out of my daydream and look around the room at all the other teams talking and eating their lunches too. For the first time, I don’t feel so overwhelmed. We’re going to ace this task. I just know it!

  NACHO CHEESE BALL

  That night after dinner, my teammates and I, stuffed with raviolis and garlic bread, walk out to the college square across from the entrance to Piedmont Chamber. The white pillars on the buildings make it look like a giant playground from ancient Greece. Tonight, the Piedmont sports games begin, and we’ve signed up for Nacho Cheese Ball. At the filling station at the edge of the field, we pick up buckets and plastic suits from the referees. The suits are covered with sensors and link up to the scoreboard. Once we’re dressed, one by one, we turn a spigot and gooey cheddar cheese balls plop into our buckets. We grab nacho-chip-shaped scoopers, gloves, and goggles and head out to battle, looking like astronauts.

  The object of the Nacho Cheese Ball is to throw cheese balls at the other team’s target for points. The targets are bulls-eyes marked 58, 46, 34, 22, 10. You get 58 points for hitting the small circle in the center. The New York target is placed at one end of the field, and the Iowa target is placed at the other. All players begin standing in the center of the field in a section painted yellow. It’s called the neutral zone—the only safe place on the field, the only place where you can’t be hit with cheese balls. If you get hit while you’re running anywhere else on the field, your team loses four points.

  We’re up against the Iowa team for the first round. We step into the neutral zone, buckets in hand, ready to whip some cheese. The referee blows the whistle and we make a run for it. A red-haired girl, who looks like she’s six, winds up her scooper and whips one at me. I’m too quick though. It misses me by a few inches and I keep running for their target. When I’m a few feet away, I dig into my bucket. I scoop out a cheese ball but . . . GLOP! Goo explodes on my ankle. The six-year-old got me! Ugh. I may have just lost four points for getting hit, but I’m about to get fifty-eight. I whip a cheese ball at their target. Smash! 34. That’s good. I’ll take it. I dig in for another, but a scary boy is racing for me. No! I turn away from their target, and he chases me back into the neutral zone.

  I have nowhere to go. I can’t get past him so I come up with a new plan. If I can’t get any more big points, I’ll just fire away at him for lots of little ones off his score. When he steps out of the box, I chase him down. Dig, scoop, fire! Dig scoop, fire! I get him at least nine times. That’s probably 36 points!

  The whistle blows and we freeze. The scoreboard flashes—New York: 416, Iowa: 242. Yes!

  My legs are dripping in cheese as I meet up with my teammates. Mare trudges over too, her whole body covered, even her hair. She freaks out and I don’t even try not to laugh. Jillian, Ander, and Jax have escaped with just a few cheese stains. That makes Mare even madder. We jog off the field together with a win in our first round of Nacho Cheese Ball. Not bad, even if we do look like astronauts.

  THE PANTRY PROWL

  Early the next morning, I’m startled out of sleep by a bunch of loud knocks on our bedchamber door. I know it’s Swissa, even though I can hardly open my eyes. I mean, who else would it be? I pretend to be asleep so Jillian will let her in. Mare sleeps like a dead person, so my only hope is Jillian.

  Swissa knocks harder, shouting this time. “Get up, girls. I’m not going to knock again!”

  Jillian jumps out of bed, carrying her pillow. Swissa marches in, her blonde hair pulled back in a messy bun, and places lilies on our work table. The curtains fly open and I cover my face. Why does she have to be so mean? I slowly pull the blankets away, but only because the sun feels so warm on my face.

  “Come on, girls. Get up. You have a busy day planned.”

  “Every day is a busy day,” Mare whines from under the blankets. “When do we get a day off?”

  Swissa laughs. “A day off? You get a day off when I get a day off.”

  “When is that?” asks Jillian.

  “At the end of summer, when camp is over.”

  “But I’m so tired!” calls Mare.

  “You’re tired? Why don’t you switch places with me? You can work in the chamber crew and wear this ugly white dress. I’ll gladly solve that stupid task in your place.”

  I rub the gritty sleep from my eyes. Swissa is as miserable as ever today.

  Mare climbs out of bed. “No, thanks. I’m good.”

  “I didn’t think so. Have fun brainstorming. Don’t worry about me; I’ll be doing laundry.” She picks up our basket of dirty clothes and slams the door on her way out.

  I jump out of bed and run to the shower before Jillian can beat me to it. She always takes forever, and I don’t want to be the last one ready when Swissa comes back to send us down to breakfast—not when she’s in a mood like this.

  I finish getting dressed and climb onto the window seat near my Golden Light Bulb. I send a message to Grandma Kitty with my phone.

  Hi, GK! So much to tell you. We’re doing a play for the judges after all. I thought Mare would never give in. It’s a story about ghosts. Our set is going to move and everything. We’ve gone on a run every morning, played Nacho Cheese Ball and eaten scrambled apples for breakfast. Yum! Have you made any new earrings? I’m going to wear the pink cupcake ones you made for me today! XOXO Kia.

  I start to put my phone away when I think of my mom. Maybe I should message her too. I type quic
kly before Mare and Jillian finish doing their hair.

  Hi, Mom. You might like it here. The buildings are old and pretty, just like the college you went to. Our task is hard but we’re finding ways to use all our skills, even math. The food is good. Not as good as fried macaroni, but close. Say hi to Dad and Malin and Ryne. I miss you. Love, Kia.

  I wonder what Mom and Dad really think about me being here at camp. Are they counting the days until I come home? Are they secretly wishing that we don’t win the competition? I hope they aren’t doing that. Grandma Kitty says that negative energy can disrupt my success. I don’t want anything to disrupt my success.

  When we get to the dining hall, Seraphina and the boys are already at our table. “I have a surprise for you. We’re taking a field trip,” she says, clapping her hands. Today her purple nails are striped with light blue.

  Ander grins. “Where are we going?”

  “You’ll find out after breakfast, so hurry up. Gregor is meeting us outside in fifteen minutes with the aero-carts.”

  “Aero-carts?” I ask. “I’m in!”

  “Yes!” says Ander. He jumps out of his chair, and we all race for the buffet line. We take blueberry muffins to save time, and carry them back to our table.

  A few minutes later, we’re outside beside two large aero-carts that look like regular golf carts. Gregor sits behind the wheel of one. Ander jumps into the driver’s seat of the other.

  “Can I drive?” he asks to no one in particular. “Not a chance,” says Seraphina. “Andora would put me on the next plane out of town if I let you do that.”

  “Fine,” he says, and slides over to the passenger seat. Seraphina gets behind the wheel, and I jump onto the back of her cart. Jax gets in the other cart next to Gregor, and Mare and Jillian jump on the back.

  “Are you okay back there by yourself?” Seraphina asks me.

  “Sure,” I say. I grab the metal bar, and she turns the key. She drives us along the paved path behind Gregor’s cart, then lifts off a few feet above the ground. We pick up speed and soon Piedmont Chamber fades out of site. The morning breeze sends shivers up my arms, but the cool air doesn’t bother me at all. It feels good, just like it does when I ride my aero-scooter.