Mr. Lemoncello's Great Library Race

by Chris Grabenstein

  “Great,” said Kyle. “We’ll give Jessie the message. Oh, one last thing. Meemaw wants to know when she’s getting her head shot back.”

  “You mean the publicity still we used to dummy up the game box top?” said David.

  “Yeah,” said Kyle. “It’s her only copy.”

  “We’ll put it in the envelope with her check,” said Frederick.

  “With the money we make off our version of Mr. Loony-cello’s Fantabulous Floating Emoji game,” boasted David, “who knows? Maybe they’ll both get holiday bonuses!”

  The two brothers laughed.

  “Yes, sir,” said Kyle. “Thank you, sir.”

  Mr. Raymo entered the office. He was pushing an empty handcart.

  “Excuse me,” he said. “We need to put those boxes someplace more secure.” He gestured toward the shoebox, the Benjamin Bean carton, and the “New Ideas” crates.

  “What?” said Frederick. “Why?”

  “Mobs of civilians will be traipsing through this building tomorrow night,” said Mr. Raymo. “We should keep important documents such as those locked up tight in the control room for the next twenty-four hours. After the gala, we will have more time to properly deal with them.”

  “I like the way you think, Raymo,” said David. “Lock ’em up!”

  Mr. Raymo loaded the boxes on his dolly and exited.

  Making sure to wink at Kyle on his way out.

  “You kids in town through tomorrow?” asked David.

  “Yes,” said Abia. “We are spending the night at the local Holiday Inn Express.”

  “Kyle’s grandmother is paying for it,” said Miguel.

  Frederick narrowed his eyes and lowered his suspicious eyebrows. “Who’s this Kyle?”

  “This other kid we know in Kansas City,” said Kyle quickly. “He couldn’t make the trip. But his grandmother is friends with my grandmother. She paid for our plane tickets and the motel room. She’s our chaperone. She thinks we came here to read.”

  “Well, see if she’ll spring for a second night at the motel,” said David. “That way, you kids can come to our grand opening gala tomorrow.”

  “You bet, sir,” said Kyle. “We wouldn’t miss it for the world!”

  The big event was in less than twenty-four hours.

  Kyle just hoped that was enough time for Mr. Raymo to do everything he needed to do to make Kyle’s plan work!

  Of course the library was packed the next night for the Krinkle brothers’ big gala.

  Kyle’s whole family was there. So were all the families of the other local board members. In fact, it felt as if all of Alexandriaville was crowded together under the rotunda—plus TV news crews from the larger Ohio cities. The Chiltingtons and the mayor stood on an elevated platform with Frederick and David Krinkle, all of them smiling for the flashing cameras.

  Mr. Raymo wasn’t with them.

  The chief imagineer was locked behind the red door inside the library’s master control room.

  So was all the evidence to clear Mr. Lemoncello.

  Earlier, Kyle had sent Mr. Raymo the final audio and video files he needed for the real show—the stuff Katherine and Elliott scored in Kansas City.

  “The food stinks,” whined Andrew, nibbling around the edges of a vanilla wafer, the only food the Krinkle brothers served at their party. “The beverages stink, too. The only drink is generic ginger ale.”

  The Krinkles’ new exhibits were the same ones Mr. Lemoncello had planned: Thomas Edison, Michael Jordan, the Wright brothers, Emily Dickinson, and Abraham Lincoln. According to the gala’s program, “The Trial of Luigi Lemoncello” would take place later.

  David Krinkle presented the new exhibits as if he and his brother had come up with the ideas and created everything themselves.

  “As fellow inventors,” David announced, “we’d love to hear what Thomas Edison has to say on this grand and auspicious occasion.”

  The Edison hologram marched across the floor and climbed up the steps to the stage.

  “When I single-handedly invented the lightbulb,” said the dumbed-down Edison, “I remember thinking, who will pick up my creative spark and carry it forward for the next generation? Thank goodness we have the Krinkle brothers.”

  The crowd cheered and applauded.

  “You guys ready?” Kyle whispered to his friends.

  “Go for it, Kyle Keeley,” said Abia. “It is definitely time for a shortcut.”

  Kyle took a deep breath and stepped forward.

  “Thomas Edison is right!” he shouted. “The Krinkle brothers are geniuses. In fact, they deserve to be statues, right here in the library.”

  On cue, Mr. Raymo, secure in the control room, popped five pairs of Krinkle brother holograms into the ten statue nooks underneath the Wonder Dome.

  The audience cheered again.

  The Krinkle brothers, onstage, beamed even brighter smiles.

  Until their statues started talking.

  “We didn’t ‘steal’ Whoop Dee Doodle,” said the five Frederick holograms in perfect sync. “Benjamin Bean liberated Mr. Lemoncello’s half-baked, harebrained scheme for us. He brought a poor infant of an idea to a more loving and supportive home.”

  “For a hefty fee, of course,” grumbled the five statues of David. “We paid him fifty thousand dollars for Mr. Lemoncello’s idea.”

  The audience wasn’t cheering so much anymore. In fact, some of them had horrified looks on their faces.

  “What goes on here?” said the real David.

  “You’re that boy from last night!” snarled Frederick. “The grandson!”

  Kyle grinned. “Told you I wouldn’t miss this gala for anything in the world.”

  Overhead, the David statues flickered and changed topics.

  “Now why would Beth Bennett worry about the one hundred thousand dollars we promised to pay her? She did her job. Everyone believes she is Irma Hirschman. She’ll get her money.”

  “Typical actress,” muttered the five Fredericks. “Tell her to go back to playing Mrs. Maplebutter! Tell Miss Jessica Bennett not to worry about her money, either. She’ll be paid as soon as our version of Mr. Lemoncello’s floating emoji game rolls off the assembly line. We want to make sure it works before we pay her for liberating those blueprints out of the old coot’s floor safe.”

  “Enough!” cried the real Frederick. “Mr. Raymo? Turn those fool statues off or you’re fired!”

  “No can do,” replied Mr. Raymo through the sound system. “According to my master schedule, it is now time to play Mr. Lemoncello’s Rickety-Trickety Fact or Fictiony game.”

  “Which,” added Kyle, flipping on the wireless microphone Mr. Raymo had rigged him up with, “will show us what happens when you play loosey-goosey with the truthy.”

  When Kyle said that, a giant lion cage hologram (with an animated lion prowling around inside it) materialized directly above the stage to hover over the Krinkle brothers.

  “Okay,” said Kyle, doing his best to imitate Mr. Lemoncello’s game-show-host voice. “My friends and I have done extensive research and are here today to tell the whole world the truth. Mr. Lemoncello does have a patent and a shoebox filled with the stuff that inspired Family Frenzy, including a vintage Barbie doll boot from 1973!”

  A hologram of the shoebox, a patent with an embossed seal, and a knee-high go-go boot appeared under the Wonder Dome, which had faded to black to help make the holograms pop.

  “Irma Hirschman, on the other hand, never filed for a Family Frolic patent because, well, she never invented a game in her life.”

  Another hologram appeared: a granny knitting in a rocking chair. It was followed by a Mrs. Maplebutter bottle.

  “Because Irma Hirschman, her claims, her website, and everything else about her are fake. She’s a character, stolen by the Krinkle brothers, portrayed by an amazing actress, Beth Bennett, who used to be Mrs. Maplebutter and, as you just heard, was paid one hundred thousand dollars to play this new role.”

  The
Wonder Dome became a video screen, filled with a clip of Beth Bennett talking directly into Elliott Schilpp’s smartphone lens.

  “I’m Beth Bennett. Yes, I am a classically trained actress,” she said melodramatically. “But they said I was too old to play Mrs. Maplebutter anymore. Too old? Ha! I am an actress. I defy age! I could play an infant! So when the Krinkle brothers called, I jumped at the chance to play my juiciest role yet! Irma Hirschman—the wronged and weepy game inventor. I already had the costume. I am also available for commercials and corporate appearances.” She wiggled her thumb and pinky next to her ear like her hand was a phone. “Call me,” she mouthed.

  More murmurs of disgust rippled through the audience.

  “But wait,” said Kyle, “that’s not all. Mr. Lemoncello never stole an idea, but the Krinkle brothers sure did. As you’ve heard the Krinkles confess, Whoop Dee Doodle was Mr. Lemoncello’s idea until they paid Benjamin Bean to steal it.”

  A whoopee cushion appeared overhead.

  “And as you’ve also heard, the Krinkle brothers just stole the blueprints for Mr. Lemoncello’s newest creation, the Fantabulous Floating Emoji game.”

  Akimi leaned in so she could speak into Kyle’s lapel mic: “Coming soon to toy stores everywhere.”

  A hologram of a smiley-face emoji floated between the granny in the rocking chair and the bottle of syrup.

  “Put it all together and it’s pure Krinkle because it definitely stinkles!”

  That was the cue for the Michael Jordan hologram to leap up and slam-dunk a basketball into the whoopee cushion, which set off the teetering Rube Goldberg contraption’s chain reaction: The whoopee cushion made a fart sound, expelling a gust of air, which ruffled the patent document. It rolled up like a window shade with a sharp snap that knocked over the shoebox, which made the Barbie boot kick the rail of the rocking chair, which surprised the sweet little old lady so much she flung up her knitting needles, which poked the side of the smiley face’s head, which deflated like a balloon and whizzed sideways like a bottle rocket, crashing into the Mrs. Maplebutter bottle, which toppled over and poured a stream of corn syrup goop directly on top of the lion cage, coating the bars with globs of sludge, which made the cage so heavy it slowly drifted down until it trapped both Krinkle brothers underneath it—with the roaring lion.

  “Yep,” said Kyle, “that’s what happens when you keep on lyin’! You end up in the lion cage!”

  The crowd laughed and cheered. The TV crews (and every smartphone under the dome) had captured the whole chain reaction. The two police detectives who’d questioned Mr. Lemoncello ambled up onto the stage, probably to ask the Krinkle brothers a few questions, too. The Chiltington family was trying its best to disappear into the walls.

  The whole thing was absolutely, incredibly spectacular!

  Saturday night, there was a second gala at the library.

  This one was hosted by Mr. Lemoncello.

  The place was, once again, packed.

  “Welcome, one and all, to this most wondermous celebration of truth, justice, and the American way!” cried Mr. Lemoncello, who was decked out in a Superman costume for the occasion. Instead of an “S” on his chest, he had a “T” for “truth.”

  “I’m glad that, thanks to my splendiferous board of trustees, we are all here tonight, laughing at my nightmare!”

  The Krinkle brothers had long since fled Alexandria-ville, and they were facing several lawsuits filed by Max Khatchadourian, chief corporate counsel at the Imagination Factory, as well as federal charges of corporate espionage.

  The Chiltington family had left Ohio on an extended ski vacation to Switzerland.

  The food at Mr. Lemoncello’s gala was, of course, out of this world. So were the beverages, including ice-cold Lemonberry Fizz. Balloons were festooned everywhere. Haley Daley flew in from Hollywood and sang her number one hit single “Stop Playin’ Games, Baby.”

  Kyle’s whole family was there celebrating with him. His brainiac brother Curtis even got Haley’s autograph.

  Kyle stood back and beamed, soaking it all in.

  After about thirty minutes of laughter, food, music, and video magic from the Wonder Dome, it was finally time to reveal the new holographic attractions.

  Thomas Edison told the truth.

  Michael Jordan showed off his amazing moves.

  Emily Dickinson poetically recited the theme song to Gilligan’s Island while the Wright brothers swooped around the rotunda with their arms stretched wide.

  For the grand finale, Abraham Lincoln finally revealed the fun fact nobody had found in the Fabulous Fact-Finding Frenzy: “I was an animal lover and would neither hunt nor fish.”

  Seated in a monumental marble chair, he had a cat purring in his lap.

  When all the new exhibits were up and running and interacting with the crowds, Kyle and Abia finally gave Mr. Lemoncello the answer to the last question in the Fabulous Fact-Finding Frenzy.

  “The inspiration for your game Family Frenzy was your big crazy family,” said Kyle.

  “Your nine brothers and sisters: Alberto, Arianna, Fabio, Francesca, Lucrezia, Mary, Massimo, Sofia, and Tomasso,” said Abia.

  “Your mother and father, Angelica and Angelo. Your dog, Fusilli, and your cat, Stromboli,” added Kyle.

  “Congratulicitations, Kyle and Abia! You are the first team to give me the correct answer. Therefore, you officially win the Fabulous Fact-Finding Frenzy. You will be going on tour with the new exhibits and receive…”

  Mr. Lemoncello pulled back a black velvet cloth to reveal two shiny, shrink-wrapped game boxes.

  “…the first copies, hot off the presses, of my brand-new Fantabulous Floating Emoji game!”

  Kyle’s eyes nearly popped out of his skull.

  His mouth hung open. A little drool might’ve dribbled out, too.

  And he couldn’t believe he was about to say what he was about to say.

  “Thanks,” he squeaked. “But, uh, we’d officially like to give all of our prizes to Akimi and Angus.”

  Mr. Lemoncello looked flabbergasted. “My gast has been flabbered. Why would you two give away your prizes?”

  “We promised we would,” said Abia, because Kyle was too busy staring sadly at the two shiny game boxes.

  “That’s okay,” said Angus, stepping forward. “You guys can keep the games.”

  “Yeah,” said Akimi. “Kyle would just come over to my house and beat me at it anyway.”

  “Plus,” said Angus, “I liked how you stuck it to those Krinkle brothers last night. You saved the library, dude.”

  “Not by myself,” said Kyle. “I had a ton of help. Everyone played a part.”

  “Very well, then.” Mr. Lemoncello turned to face the crowd. “Dr. Zinchenko?”

  “She’s back?” asked Kyle.

  “Oh, yes,” said Mr. Lemoncello. “Arrived early this morning after changing planes in New York City, where she dropped by the Imagination Factory to pick up a few gift items for me.”

  Dr. Zinchenko—who was very hard to miss with her red dress, red heels, red eyeglasses, and red hair—wheeled a library cart across the rotunda floor.

  It was loaded down with ten more copies of Fantabulous Floating Emoji!

  “Everybody gets a game!” announced Mr. Lemoncello. Then he started pointing at all the trustees in the crowd. “You get a game, and you get a game, and you get a game!”

  “Woo-hoo!” shouted Miguel.

  “But wait!” declared Mr. Lemoncello. “There’s more. Time for another surprise: Instead of just one team going on a whirlwind tour, all twelve of you will travel to libraries across North America with our new exhibits.”

  “Yes!” said Andrew Peckleman. “I’ve always wanted to visit Vancouver!”

  “And that’s not all,” said Mr. Lemoncello. “In grati-tude for all that you twelve trustees have done in your unrelenting quest for the truth and your refusal to accept the first answer as the only answer, I hereby decree that a new set of statues fill th
e nooks of the Rotunda Reading Room for the coming week! Mr. Raymo, if you please?”

  One by one, five of the ten alcoves were illuminated with new holographic images: pairs of statues featuring the teams of the Fabulous Fact-Finding Frenzy: Elliott Schilpp and Katherine Kelly, Miguel Fernandez and Pranav Pillai, Sierra Russell and Jamal Davis, Andrew Peckleman and Diane Capriola, Akimi Hughes and Angus Harper.

  “What about Kyle and Abia?” asked Akimi.

  “Well,” said Mr. Lemoncello, “I knew those two would never be able to find a way to work together, to truly become a team, to forget what they thought they knew about each other and find out the truth. So we’re giving them each their own separate nooks.”

  A holographic Kyle popped up on the opposite side of the rotunda from the holographic Abia.

  “Mr. Lemoncello?” said Kyle. “You’re wrong. We made a fantastic team.”

  Mr. Lemoncello arched an eyebrow. “Is that a fact? Can you prove it?”

  Abia grinned. “Definitely, sir. It’s true.”

  “Well then, Abia, I’m glad I did this one-on-one interview with you.”

  “It is a time-honored investigatory technique, sir,” said Kyle.

  “Indeed so! Mr. Raymo, if you please?”

  Lights flickered.

  The Kyle hologram faded away and then popped up in the nook alongside Abia.

  “Congratulations, Kyle,” said Abia, extending her hand.

  Kyle took it…but paused midshake.

  “Wait a second. That’s the first time you didn’t use my last name. You didn’t call me Kyle Keeley.”

  “I know,” Abia said with a smile. “Because now we are more than teammates. We are friends.”

  The party continued. Haley Daley sang her other big hit, “Game On, Baby!”

  Some kids danced.

  So did Mad Dog, the bookmobile driver, and Dr. Zinchenko.

  Together.

  Sierra Russell and Jamal Davis sat down to read their books. Elliott Schilpp ate six chili dogs. Michael Jordan taught Kyle’s brother Michael how to dribble a ball between his legs.

  After the song ended, Kyle made his way over to the center desk, where Dr. Zinchenko was cutting a huge sheet cake with “Congratulicitations” scrolled across it in bright red frosting.