The Ambrose Deception

by Emily Ecton

  Frank gave him a funny look. “Well, yeah. It’s for expenses. You know, a per diem type thing. They want a level playing field, right? So if you need money, use that,” Frank said, looking at him in the rearview mirror.

  “Any expenses?” Wilf held his breath.

  “Well, don’t go crazy on me. But whatever you need to do what you’re doing, I guess.”

  Wilf’s eyes gleamed. “Great.” He cleared his throat. “So. How do you feel about baseball, Frank?”

  Frank grinned at him and hit the gas.

  Bondi waited until the waitress brought his Coke and ice cream sundae before he ripped open his manila envelope and poured the contents out onto the table. As he expected, the cover sheet of the packet of papers was a list of the items in the envelope. He went through everything carefully, reading the guidelines and checking to make sure everything was there. Phone, check. Driver info, check. Debit card, check. Clues, check. Instructions, check.

  Satisfied that he wasn’t missing anything, Bondi cracked his neck (to the left, and the right), and carefully lay the small Clues envelope down in front of him. Then he put the papers and camera back into the manila envelope. He slipped the debit card and driver info into his pocket and picked up the phone.

  “Great personal expense,” Bondi scoffed. “Right.” The phone looked like it might’ve been considered high-tech ten years ago, but it was pretty far from up-to-date. Bondi wasn’t even sure it could text. But first things first.

  Bondi cracked his knuckles and opened the small envelope. He closed his eyes, pulled out the first clue, and, after taking a deep breath, read it.

  Eli should’ve called this bubbler “Spitty Geese with Fish Huggers.”

  Bondi frowned as he reread the clue. Bubbler. That word had to be the key, he could tell. And it seemed really familiar to him.

  Bondi stifled a laugh as he slapped the clue down on the table. This was going to be too easy. Bubbler was the key, all right. Anyone who’d had Mr. Reynolds in fourth grade had to know that a bubbler was another word for a fountain. (Other interesting Mr. Reynolds trivia: he said jimmies instead of sprinkles and pop instead of soda, and called all the guys in the class boyo. He also would’ve been an astronaut instead of a teacher if it hadn’t been for his lousy 20/30 vision. Not that Bondi thought any of that would come up in this contest, but it never hurt to remember stuff.)

  But if the clue was about a fountain, there was only one “bubbler” in Chicago that mattered: Buckingham Fountain in Grant Park. Bondi helped himself to a bite of sundae and grinned an ice-creamy grin. All he had to do was take a photo, and he was a third of the way to victory. Bondi put down his spoon and pulled out the second clue.

  Help your bird friends get Wright to the Root of the matter as you spiral down from 12 to 2.

  Bondi shrugged. Tougher, but how hard could it be? He knew lots of places that had birds. It was probably the Arboretum or something. Worst case scenario, he’d Google birds in Chicago. No biggie. He’d get it done.

  He wiped his mouth with his napkin and took out clue number three.

  Surrounded by glass, you’ll find the world at your feet.

  Bondi put the clue back into the envelope. He had some pretty good ideas about that already. How many places could there be in Chicago where you’re surrounded by glass? Not many, probably. And according to page three of that information packet, the solutions to the clues were all inside the city limits. Piece of cake.

  Bondi had always tried to keep his academic life low profile. Sure, he did well enough to keep his parents happy, but when he was at school, he wanted to be the kid other kids wanted to be, not just a brain. It might be high time to change that image a little, though. Winning this scholarship would be a pretty awesome feather in his cap. Another bright light on the Bondi marquee.

  Bondi took another big spoonful of his sundae to celebrate. It wasn’t often that he got ice cream, not since his mom had gotten on that weird health kick and put them all on that new Paleo diet. Heck, he might even have another sundae before he left, just as a pat on the back.

  Bondi almost felt sorry for those two other kids. They wouldn’t know what hit them.

  SOLUTIONS TO CLUES

  By: Bondi Johnson

  1. Eli should’ve called this bubbler “Spitty Geese with Fish Huggers.”

  SOLUTION: Buckingham Fountain, Grant Park, Chicago, IL

  2.

  3.

  Melissa finished the last problem on Damon Anderson’s math worksheet and tucked it into her notebook to deliver on Monday. That was good for another five bucks. It wasn’t a ten-thousand-dollar scholarship, but at least it was something. It wasn’t like she had a lot of options. Her bus ticket wasn’t going to pay for itself.

  “Melissa! Check it out! Right in the crotch.”

  Melissa rolled her eyes. Her brother, Liam, was watching some blooper show on TV, and the last video had him laughing so hard that he slid off the couch.

  “Let me guess: a baseball?” It was usually a baseball on those shows.

  Liam giggled and crawled back onto the couch. “Better! German shepherd. Nailed him right where it counts.”

  Melissa plunked down next to him. A cereal commercial was on. “Sorry I missed it.”

  Liam wiped his eyes and giggled one last time. “It’s okay. I bet they’ll show it again after the commercial. It was too awesome to show just once.”

  “You kids aren’t watching that bloopie show again, are you?” Melissa’s grandmother hurried in from the kitchen, clipping her earrings on as she walked.

  “Blooper,” Melissa corrected her.

  “That’s what I said. Bloopie.” She tugged on her right earring to make sure it was secure and started on the left one. “Is that what’s on?”

  “Yes, Gran,” Liam said.

  Melissa’s grandmother finished with her left earring and sighed. “Well, okay, but don’t watch it all day. Put something else on for a while. Try that Learning Channel for a change. TLC—that’s supposed to be educational.”

  “Um. Okay,” Liam said, giving Melissa a worried look. Their grandmother obviously wasn’t a frequent viewer of The Learning Channel. Shows about extreme hoarding and weird addictions probably would be educational, but most likely not in the way her grandmother had in mind.

  “I’m running late for my coffee, but I’ll be back by dinner, so be good, and don’t make a mess.” Melissa’s grandmother was on a limited income, but she had budgeted their expenses so that she and her friend Margie could splurge on a cup of coffee at the nearby McDonald’s once a week. She wasn’t about to miss it. “Now, don’t forget—Ooh! Turn it up!”

  Gran snatched the remote out of Liam’s hand and cranked up the volume of the TV. An ancient-looking man in a suit was glaring at the camera.

  “Enoch Ambrose,” Gran breathed.

  “Here we go,” Liam said under his breath.

  “Have some respect,” Gran said, sitting down next to Melissa. “Now shush.”

  “Tonight at ten, Chicago Action News has the latest on the death of Enoch Ambrose, multimillionaire and founder of Ambrose Industries. He died earlier this month, leaving a will that some have described as unusual, but others say just reflects the eccentricities of its author. Initial expectations were that he would leave his vast estate to his two children, but as inside sources tell us, it may not be that simple. We’ll give you an update on the execution of that will, and what might be causing the delays. Also, is your toaster oven waiting to kill you? Our I-Team Investigation says yes. Details at ten.”

  Gran stood up. “Why are the good ones always dead?” she said, handing the remote back to Liam. “Ah well, Margie’s waiting. Watch your brother, Melissa. And don’t forget—I told Mrs. Lewis you’d print out her e-mails this afternoon.”

  “Sure, no problem,” Melissa said.

  Mrs. Lewis across the hall could barely work her computer, so twice a week Melissa went over to print out any messages sent to the Lewis account. Mrs. Lewis sp
ent the days in between perusing exciting offers from sketchy pharmaceutical companies and pen-pal invitations from Russian women who were under the misapprehension that she was a man. Melissa didn’t mind doing it, though. Gran’s ancient desktop had died last year, and she hadn’t saved up enough to buy a new one yet. It was nice for Melissa to be able to use a computer every once in a while without having to truck all the way down to the library.

  Maybe when she won the contest, she’d be able to get a computer of her own. Sure, the money was for school stuff, but maybe they’d let her use a little bit now, if she asked really nicely. Then maybe Gran could go to McDonald’s with Margie whenever she wanted. And maybe Melissa wouldn’t have to watch Liam all the time.

  Melissa gave a short laugh. Maybe pigs would fly, too. She didn’t think that Smith guy would do anything for her, no matter how nicely she asked.

  “Good to see you smiling,” Gran said, patting Melissa on the shoulder. She kissed Liam and Melissa, leaving red smudges on their cheeks, and picked up her purse from the table by the door.

  “What’s this?” she said, holding Melissa’s manila envelope up in the air. “Something exciting?”

  “Just for school. You know,” Melissa said, trying to sound casual as she lunged for the envelope and snatched it out of her grandmother’s hands. “Nothing important.”

  Gran cocked her head at Melissa but just nodded. “Well, take care of that ‘nothing important.’ And remember: Mrs. Lewis.”

  She smoothed Melissa’s hair and then bustled out. Melissa locked the dead bolt behind her, and then stood, staring down at the envelope.

  “Oh man, you missed it again!” Liam called from the living room. “Right in the crotch!”

  Melissa sighed. “Hey, Liam, can you hang out for five minutes while I go print that stuff?”

  “Sure.” Liam peered at her from over the back of the couch. “Dead-bolt the door, and only answer the secret knock?”

  “Right.” Melissa clutched the manila envelope tightly. “Be back in a sec.”

  Melissa grabbed her keys and stepped into the hallway, waiting until she heard Liam throw the dead bolt before hurrying over to Mrs. Lewis’s apartment.

  The scholarship contest might be a big scam, but there was at least one more thing she could check before she gave up forever. It was worth a try, anyway.

  Mrs. Lewis had her computer set up right next to the entry door, the theory being that if anyone broke in, they could just take it quickly and leave the rest of the apartment alone. Melissa waited as Mrs. Lewis’s computer hummed to life, and then she logged on and printed out Mrs. Lewis’s e-mails—ten spam messages, one reminder to update her virus protection, a notice about a supermarket sale, and a new pen-pal invitation, this one from a woman named Olga. While the printer was working, Melissa opened another browser window. She hesitated for a moment and, taking one last look at the clue, she typed in two words: Lorado Taft.

  The clue had said go to where he had died in 1909. One quick Internet search should tell her where in Chicago that was. She could at least check out the place, maybe take a picture for those old losers.

  Melissa scanned the results and clicked on the first one.

  Lorado Taft. Born, Elmwood, Illinois, 1860; died, Chicago, Illinois, 1936. Taft was an American sculptor, writer, and editor, who

  Melissa’s jaw clenched involuntarily, and she could feel the blood rushing to her face. She read the opening lines again.

  died, Chicago, Illinois, 1936.

  She clicked back to the search results and read another bio. The facts were the same.

  Melissa squeezed her eyes shut. Well, that cinched it. If she’d ever needed proof that the scholarship was a big joke, there it was, plain as day.

  The clues were impossible. She couldn’t go to the site of Lorado Taft’s death in 1909. Because he didn’t die until 1936.

  SOLUTIONS TO CLUES

  By: Melissa Burris

  1. Go to the site of Lorado Taft’s Death in 1909.

  SOLUTION: Up yours.

  2.

  3.

  Wilf took the stairs three at a time as Frank drove away. He couldn’t think of any way the day could’ve been more awesome, unless he’d caught that fly ball in the sixth inning. Which, technically, should’ve been his, since it landed right in front of him. But that little kid probably deserved to have it. And besides, as Frank had pointed out, fighting a six-year-old would’ve made him look pretty bad. Even if that six-year-old was a dirty thief.

  Wilf stopped at his front door and made sure he’d gotten rid of the evidence—no peanut shells sticking to his cuffs or mustard on his shirt or anything. Then he headed in and dumped his backpack on the floor.

  “Have a good meeting, hon?” his mom called from the kitchen. “Did you find out anything about the scholarship? I’m so proud of you.”

  Wilf leaned against the arched doorway to the kitchen. His mom had everything pulled out of the refrigerator and was smelling something in a Tupperware container.

  “It was fine. No big deal. They’ll let us know later. I had, um, study group after.”

  “Oh?” Wilf’s mom looked up. “Well, that’s great. I’m glad you’re taking your work more seriously.” She sniffed the Tupperware again, and then stuck it under Wilf’s nose. “What do you think? Bad?”

  Wilf jerked his head back, his eyes watering. “Jeez, you have to ask? That’s rank.”

  His mom frowned. “That’s what I was afraid of. Out it goes!” She slopped the contents into the trash can and rinsed the Tupperware out in the sink.

  “Yeah, so…study group. It was great,” Wilf said, rubbing his nose to erase the stench. “We’ll probably be meeting a lot, too. Every day, ’cause we’ve got lots of important tests and papers coming up. And, um, reports and stuff. Spreadsheets.”

  Wilf’s mom nodded absently as she opened another container. “That’s fine, hon. Oh, and you can tell your dad, too. He’s supposed to call Tuesday.”

  “Yeah, great,” Wilf said, heading off down the hallway. He closed the door behind him and immediately turned on the old laptop his dad had given him when he came through town the last time.

  Wilf’s dad had always traveled for his job, so he’d never been around that much even when he was living with them. It wasn’t all that different now that he and Wilf’s mom had split up. Still, it would’ve been nice to hang out with him sometimes instead of just talking on the phone every other week. Wilf smiled to himself. His dad would’ve gotten a kick out of that fancy car. Wilf just wished he didn’t have to wait until Tuesday to tell him about it.

  Wilf flipped his new debit card in the air while he waited for the laptop to boot up. There was a whole city out there, just waiting for him. He didn’t know how long this gig would last, since there was pretty much a 100 percent chance he was going to mess it all up, but until he did, one thing was certain: he was going to have a terrific time.

  TENTATIVE SCHEDULE, WILF SAMSON:

  1. Go to aquarium.

  2. Visit Sears Tower Skydeck Ledge (Willis Tower, whatever).

  3. Watch laser light show at the planetarium.

  4. Go to zoo (both Lincoln Park and Brookfield, if possible).

  5. Ride Ferris wheel at Navy Pier.

  6. Seadog boat ride.

  7. Hot Dog taste-test-a-thon—Fat Johnnie’s vs. Wiener’s Circle vs. Jimmy’s Red Hots vs. Superdawg vs. others to be named later (until puking commences).

  8. Get psychic reading.

  9. Other activities yet to be determined.

  SOLUTIONS TO CLUES

  By:____________________________________

  1.

  2.

  3.

  Bondi folded his arms. “You’re probably wondering why I called you here.”

  Inez Castillo, a little birdlike woman in glasses and a blazer, shrugged and flicked cigarette ash onto the sidewalk. “I assumed you needed a ride somewhere.”

  She’d pulled the black sedan up to the curb haphazar
dly and was leaning up against it, smoking. Bondi wasn’t sure the space she was parked in was entirely legal.

  Bondi nodded. “Right, I do. See, I’ve solved the first clue.” He paused. Inez just took another drag on her cigarette. “It’s a pretty big deal.”

  “Good for you.” Inez Castillo checked her watch. “So you want to get going? I assume you’ve got pictures to take, or whatnot.”

  Bondi nodded. He thought she’d be more impressed, or at least pretend to be interested. But no reaction was fine, too. Just as long as she could get him where he needed to go, Bondi didn’t care what she did.

  Except for one thing.

  “So…Ms. Castillo?” Bondi started.

  “Inez is fine, kid.”

  “Inez. Great. The contract? It said, um, nonsmoking driver.” Bondi eyed the cigarette in her hand.

  Inez flicked the cigarette onto the sidewalk and crushed it with the toe of her shoe. “You see anyone smoking? No smoking here, kid,” Inez said, stone-faced.

  Then she cracked a smile for the first time. “So where to?”

  Bondi grinned. “It’s Buckingham Fountain. That’s the first solution.”

  Inez pushed her glasses up on her nose, making her look even more like a fluffy brown bird. “Nice.”

  She hopped in the car and gunned the engine. “Let’s win that prize.”

  Melissa’s Clues:

  Go to the site of Lorado Taft’s Death in 1909.

  Freeze! Look to the building where Tarzan swam to find your “Contribution.”

  Go to 1910 for ice cream, then stick around to watch the newborns.

  Bondi’s Clues:

  Eli should’ve called this bubbler “Spitty Geese with Fish Huggers.”

  Help your bird friends get Wright to the Root of the matter as you spiral down from 12 to 2.

  Surrounded by glass, you’ll find the world at your feet.