Billy Sure Kid Entrepreneur and the No-Trouble Bubble

by Luke Sharpe

  We wind our way down to the lower level of the stadium, eventually coming to the Hyenas’ locker room. A security guard blocks the door.

  “Hi, boys. If you’re looking for autographs, you’ll have to wait outside,” the guard explains.

  “Actually, we’re here to talk with Carl Bourette about a business proposition,” Manny says in his most matter-of-fact tone.

  “Really?” the guard says, raising his eyebrows skeptically.

  I pull a Sure Things, Inc. business card out of my pocket and hand it over. “If you could please give this to Carl and say that Billy Sure would like to speak with him, that would be great,” I say.

  “Wait here,” says the guard, who turns and disappears into the locker room.

  A few seconds later he returns, followed by Carl Bourette! He is still in his dirty uniform, but I’m so excited I don’t care.

  “Hey, it’s my old pal!” Carl says, shaking my hand. He turns to the guard. “It’s okay, Frank. I’m a big fan of Billy Sure. Come on in, boys.”

  I follow Carl into the locker room. I can’t believe I’m inside the Hyenas’ locker room! How cool is this? Manny trails along behind me.

  Manny! Oh, gee, he shouldn’t be behind me! We’re business partners. That means side by side.

  “Carl, you remember my business partner, Manny,” I say.

  Carl turns around and starts to reach his hand out to shake Manny’s, when three of his teammates surround me.

  “Billy Sure!” says one player.

  “Hey! It’s Mr. All Ball!” shouts another.

  “We love that thing!” adds another. “You’re the greatest!”

  “Well, actually, it’s not all me,” I begin. “My partner—”

  Carl puts his arm around my shoulder. “Guys, this is my buddy Billy Sure,” he says to his teammates.

  I look back and see Manny standing there, staring at his shoes. I start to feel bad about everyone focusing on me. Sure Things, Inc. would not exist without Manny.

  “And this is Manny Reyes,” I say, gesturing behind me. “My partner at Sure Things—”

  “HEY, BILLY, CATCH!” calls a voice from across the locker room, interrupting me.

  I turn toward the voice just in time to see a Hyenas player softly tossing a hockey puck toward me. As soon as it leaves his hand, it changes into a baseball.

  “The All Ball rules!” shouts the player as I catch the baseball.

  “So what did you want to talk to me about?” asks Carl. We all sit down on benches. Me, sitting on a bench in the Hyenas’ locker room! Wow!

  Anyway, finally, down to business. And finally, Manny can take part in the conversation.

  “We’ve been talking to Chris Fernell from BETTER THAN SLEEPING! about doing a TV show,” I explain. “A contest for young inventors. Manny, my sister Emily, and I are going to be the judges.”

  “Whoever wins will get Sure Things, Inc.’s help in turning their idea into a real product,” Manny adds.

  “Sounds fantastic,” says Carl. “But where do I come in?”

  “Oh yeah,” I say. “Chris will only agree to produce the show if we can get a big-name sponsor to be our partner.”

  “As a matter of fact, Chris is the one who suggested we get in touch with you to see if you and the Hyenas would like to be part of this,” says Manny.

  Carl looks right at me. “Do a TV show with you?” he says. “Sounds great! Let me check with our management, and I’ll let you know.”

  Carl stands up. “Gotta grab a shower and get out of here, but great to see you, Billy,” he says, shaking my hand.

  What about Manny?

  Carl reaches out and shakes Manny’s hand. Phew. “Nice to see you again, Manny.”

  “You too, Carl,” Manny says.

  Manny and I head out of the locker room and to the parking lot.

  “Even if nothing comes of this, I got to see Carl again and visit the Hyenas’ locker room,” I say, still feeling ON TOP OF THE WORLD. “What a great day.”

  “And I got to eat four ballpark hot dogs,” Manny adds, smiling. “A really great day!” Then he belches again, even louder than the first time.

  From Babe Ruth to See Ya, Babe

  I ARRIVE HOME in a great mood, which is only made better when I find an e-mail from my mom saying that she is available for a video chat this evening. As a matter of fact—I check my watch—in fifteen minutes!

  I grab an energy bar and a glass of juice and settle into my favorite chair, set up the video chat window on my laptop, and wait for Mom’s face to appear. A few moments later, there she is.

  “Hi, honey! I’m so happy to see you,” she says.

  She appears to be in a hotel room somewhere.

  “Me too, Mom. Where are you?”

  “Oh, nowhere important. How’s that TV show coming?”

  As usual, Mom doesn’t seem to want to tell me where she is. Oh well. There’s more important stuff on my mind. “The TV show idea is moving along. The producers want a big name involved and suggested Carl Bourette!”

  “How exciting!” says Mom. “So is he going to be on your TV show?”

  “Not sure yet, but I hope so.”

  And then I tell Mom what’s been on my mind a lot lately. “So, you know my birthday is coming up soon, right?”

  “Of course.”

  “And I’m turning thirteen, which means I’m about to become a TEENAGER.”

  “You did that math all by yourself, huh?” Mom jokes. “It’s hard for me to believe that I’m about to have two teenagers. I can’t wait to see you and give you a big birthday hug.”

  “Funny you should say that. I would really, really love for you to come home for my birthday,” I admit. I’m not sure if I have time to plan a whole birthday party. So if I can’t have that, I want to spend the day with Mom.

  “Oh, Billy,” she says.

  I know it’s serious when she calls me “Billy” instead of “honey.”

  “I’m right in the middle of a huge project. I don’t think I can get there for your birthday. I’m so sorry. I feel terrible.”

  “Well, if there’s any way you can, that would be fantastic.”

  “You’ll be the first to know, honey,” she says, but I know it’s hopeless.

  A couple of minutes later she signs off and I’m staring at a blank screen, wishing my mom could be home for my big birthday.

  • • •

  The next morning, I come downstairs for breakfast to discover Dad making a concoction of pickle-and-pineapple waffles. I’m used to Dad’s wacky food combinations, but when he thwaps! on homemade avocado-licorice syrup, I decide this might be his all-time weirdest.

  Once again, I’m grateful to Emily for getting the ball rolling on the Gross-to-Good Powder. I grab the salt shaker—which is now always filled with the powder at our house—sprinkle some onto my green-tinted waffles, and dig in.

  “Good waffles, Dad,” I’m able to say without lying.

  “It must be my SECRET INGREDIENT,” Dad says.

  “You mean the pickles?” I ask.

  “No, the fish oil,” Dad says, and then digs in to his ginormous stack.

  BLECH!

  A couple of minutes later Emily comes downstairs. I immediately notice that the long purple braid she’s had for the past few weeks is gone, but I don’t say anything. No matter how well we’ve been getting along lately, I know better than to ask Emily about what she is or isn’t wearing, or any hairstyle, eyewear, or method of speaking. These can all change without warning with the old thing forgotten and the new thing being the most important thing she’s ever done.

  On first glance I can’t figure out what her new “thing” might be. Is it possible she’s outgrown having to have a new “thing”?

  “Have some of my secret-ingredient waffles,” Dad says, as Emily takes a seat at the table.

  Emily immediately reaches for the salt shaker. As she grabs it, I hear a loud clinking noise. That’s when I see that she has a funky ring on
each of her ten fingers. Some have colored stones on them. One is a gold butterfly. Another is a silver skull.

  This must be her next new “thing.” Ignore, I tell myself. Ignore.

  “So, Dad, it looks like Manny, Emily, and I might be doing a TV show with Chris Fernell to help us find our next invention,” I say.

  Emily tries to pick up her knife. It clatters against her rings and drops back onto the table. She tries the fork instead. That she manages to grasp awkwardly in her palm as if it were a weapon. She attacks her waffles. Hi-yaaaaa!

  “That’s fantastic!” says Dad, eyeing Emily’s antics but looking away quickly, knowing full well what staring or, worse yet, commenting would bring.

  “Oh, I also had a video chat with Mom last night,” I continue. “I told her how much I miss her and also how much I wish she could be here for my birthday. You know, it being a big one and all.”

  “What a great idea!” says Dad.

  “Yeah, well, it doesn’t sound like Mom can make it.” Saying it aloud makes me realize just how much I want Mom to be here for my birthday.

  KA-RASH!!!!

  The sound of glass shattering pulls me out of my gloomy thoughts. It seems that Emily grabbed a glass of OJ with her fully armored fingers, smashing the glass to bits. Luckily, she isn’t hurt. I can’t say the same for the glass.

  “Sorry, Dad,” she says, jumping up from the table to grab a sponge.

  “I can get you a straw, if you like,” I say. “You know, that way you don’t have to touch any glasses with your rings.”

  Uh-oh. It kinda just slipped out.

  “What do you know about anything?” Emily snaps, as she sops up the spilled juice with a sponge and wipes the pieces of glass into a garbage can. “You’re just a clueless twelve-year-old!”

  I’m about to point out that I am almost thirteen, but then I think better of it. I go back to my waffles.

  • • •

  I arrive at the office that afternoon with Philo in tow. I’m glad that Emily is on board to be one of the judges, but how she’ll be able to hold a pencil to write down her scores is beyond me.

  As I start to jot down ideas for how the TV show might go, the feeling of missing my mom starts to sour my mood. My mom and I have always been close. She used to drive Manny and me to school. Which reminds me . . . Manny! Manny was my best friend long before he was my business partner. I decide to talk to him about it.

  “So you know my birthday’s coming up soon,” I say.

  “Uhh . . . of course,” Manny says slowly, almost like he forgot.

  “I asked my mom if she can come home, but she said she can’t make it. I’m really bummed,” I say.

  Manny turns toward me.

  “I’m sure she’d be here if she could,” he says. “Maybe you could do a video chat with her on that day.”

  Not a bad idea. A poor substitute for having her here, but better than nothing.

  Before I can say anything, Manny’s phone rings.

  “It’s Chris,” he says, reading the caller ID. “I’ll put the call on speaker. Here we go. . . .”

  A voice BOOMS out of Manny’s speaker.

  “Manny! It’s Chris Fernell, Big Time TV. How are ya, babe?”

  “Good, Chris. Listen, I’ve got Billy here to join us on the confab.”

  Join us on the confab? Sometimes I don’t understand Manny at all.

  “Billy Sure, kid entrepreneur . . . How are ya, babe?”

  I try hard not to roll my eyes.

  “Hi, Chris,” I say. Somehow just saying “hi” feels boring. Like I’m a foreigner who just arrived in the land of Show Biz.

  “Good news, fellas,” Chris continues. “The Hyenas have agreed to cosponsor the TV show, and even to brand the winning product with their team logo!”

  “I’m lovin’ it, Chris!” says Manny, winking at me to let me know that he, too, realizes that this is all one big game. Manny happens to be good at the game. I am not.

  “But here’s the thing, Manny, babe. The Hyenas are insisting that Carl Bourette be one of the judges. I think that’s a fabulous idea, don’t you?”

  Manny and I look at each other. I shrug. Why not?

  “Fabulous doesn’t even begin to describe it, Chris,” says Manny.

  “Oh, and my partners here at Big Time TV think we should have five judges,” Chris went on. “It’s a nice odd number. And five people always looks good on TV.”

  With Manny, me, Emily, and Carl, we have four. Maybe Gemma Weston isn’t out of the judges’ circle after all? But somehow that just doesn’t feel right. I smile. I know exactly who should be our fifth judge!

  “What about ABBY NIELSON?” I ask. “She’s the inventor who won our first contest, the one we ran through our website. She came up with the idea for the Sibling Silencer. She’d be really inspiring to the inventors.”

  “I love it!” says Chris. “Any other brilliant ideas?”

  I look at Manny. I realize now that aside from the Hollywood lingo, he hasn’t said much on the phone call. I feel some regret in my stomach. I should have probably run the Abby idea by him first.

  “Any ideas, Manny?” I say, repeating Chris Fernell’s question.

  He thinks about it for a second. Then, in his ever-professional Manny way, says, “Let’s make the show a two-part special. That would build excitement and ratings, and maximize ad dollars. The first night can be an elimination round. The six best ideas according to the judges will move into the finals on the second night. That night we’ll pick the one winner whose invention will become the Next Big Thing.”

  Two-part special? DOUBLE the TV time?

  “I love it!” Chris says. “Let’s continue this confab later. Gotta fly . . . meetings, meetings, meetings. Bye, babe!”

  And so our confab ends.

  “Are you gonna talk like that until the TV show is done, babe?” I ask Manny. “Or should I say, TV shows.”

  After that, I shoot off a quick e-mail to Abby, hoping she’ll agree to be a judge. Then I leave the office in a pretty good mood. But the closer I get to home, the more my thoughts turn back to my birthday and Mom.

  Meet the Judges

  WHEN I CHECK my e-mail the next morning I see that Abby has replied.

  Hi Billy,

  So nice to hear from you. And thank you for thinking of me for your TV show! I would be thrilled and honored to be a judge. Count me in!

  —Abby

  Good news. I immediately e-mail Manny to let him know that we have our five judges. I get a reply from him, telling me that he has already set up a meeting for this Saturday morning with Chris and the five judges—something he obviously did before we even knew if we had five judges. Oh-so-Manny.

  I reply to Abby, forwarding the details. I’m starting to get excited about this TV show, and about all the ideas that we’ll be seeing, one of which will be our Next Big Thing.

  I take advantage of my good mood to write to Mom. I let her know that the TV show is a go and it’s going to be a lot of fun. It’s a pretty upbeat e-mail, but I can’t resist reminding her how much I wish she could be here for my birthday. I take Manny’s advice and ask her to make time for a video chat on that day.

  The next few days at the office are filled with brainstorming discussions and outlines, trying to be as prepared as possible before our big meeting. Manny has to reign himself in to avoid developing marketing plans for a product we haven’t even seen the idea for yet. I come up with a scoring system for the judges that is fair.

  The system works like this: Each judge gives between one and five points in five categories—ORIGINALITY, CREATIVITY, USEFULNESS, MARKETABILITY, and EASE OF MANUFACTURING. We then total the scores at the end of the show to figure out the winner.

  When Saturday morning rolls around, Emily and I climb into Dad’s car.

  “Big day, guys,” says Dad, never one to miss an opportunity for understatement.

  A few minutes later we pull up at Manny’s house. He climbs in.

 
“Hi, Mr. Sure,” he says. “Thanks for the ride.”

  “Anything for our budding TV stars!” replies Dad.

  After a forty-five-minute ride we arrive downtown. Dad pulls into the parking lot of the TV station where we’ll be filming the special. Chris Fernell has flown in from Los Angeles to be here. I can see Emily twist her rings on her fingers. I’m not totally sure about what my sister is thinking, but I think she twists those rings when she’s nervous.

  That’s when a bright yellow, super-cool convertible sports car comes speeding into the parking lot. It glides to a stop in the parking space next to us, and out steps Carl Bourette. Next to Carl’s car, Dad’s sensible car looks like a tricycle.

  “Good morning, Billy!” says Carl.

  “Hi, Carl,” I say, still somewhat in a state of disbelief that I am on a first-name basis with Carl Bourette.

  “Hey, guys,” Carl says, extending his hand. He shakes Manny’s hand. Then he shakes Emily’s hand. The expression on his face tells me that he is puzzled by her rings, but Carl must be smart, too, because he doesn’t say anything.

  “Big fan!” Dad says, smiling broadly as he shakes Carl’s hand. “I was there when you hit that grand slam in the All-Star game a few years back. That was something!”

  “Thank you,” says Carl. “Well, I think you’ve got an all-star right here. An ALL-STAR INVENTOR, that is!”

  I can see Emily’s eyes rolling without even looking.

  As we head toward the front door, a station wagon pulls into the parking lot. Out comes a girl with a woman that I assume is her mom.

  “Hi, I’m Abby Nielson,” says the girl.

  “Abby!” I say, walking over to her. It’s at that moment I realize that not only haven’t we ever met, but I forgot what Abby looks like. Yes, she sent me a video demonstration of the Sibling Silencer, but that was way back at the beginning of the school year. She’s cute in that friendly kind of way, with short dark hair and big black-rimmed glasses that just scream out “HIP NERD.”

  We shake hands.

  “And you must be Manny,” says Abby, turning to him. “I loved the paper you posted last week about RAM efficiency. That rocked!”