The Hubby Hold (IQ Testing Book 2)

by ipam

  I nod. “Okay, right!”

  Duchie exhales. “So, put the cotton balls into both your ears then wrap your neck and head with sleeping bag, first. Second, position your kneecap above the truck horn, but maintain an upright balance. Don’t fall over. Then I’ll slap your leg, you lower the kneecap onto the truck horn. It will be very loud, so cover your ears. Your part is done. I will tie your kneecap then place the sleeping bag over my face, while I twist the wiring for the right frequency. Unfortunately, we didn’t get to see the tree split…”

  “Unfortunately, we get to feel the dang tree, splitting in half, then booming to the ground. We’ll know, if this works, immediately.”

  Duchie nods and smiles. “Yeah, I estimate the tree falling in about ten seconds…”

  I grin. “Fifteen seconds…”

  “You count for me.”

  I wink. “I will. Good luck to us!” I place the cotton balls into both my ears then wrap the sleeping bag around my face. I see darkness. I hear Duchie, fiddling with equipment of the stereo. I feel her hand near my leg.

  Duchie places the cotton balls into her eardrums then wraps the sleep bag partially around her skull, keeping her eyelashes exposed to see the wire inside the stereo. She slaps Ketona on the leg.

  Ketona slowly lowers her kneecap then hits the truck horn.

  The truck horn blasts in a musical note of bong, like third octave G-chord.

  I cover my wrapped skull with both hands, humming, trying to knock out the annoying truck horn sound. I feel the rope tighten around my knee and leg.

  Duchie ties the rope around the kneecap of Ketona then shifts her hand to the twisted wiring. She dials it, clockwise.

  The truck horn blasts in a musical note of a higher bong, like third octave A-chord.

  She dials the wiring, clockwise, again.

  The horn sings in a higher pitch, like second octave D-chord.

  She dials the wiring, again.

  The horn sings in a higher pitch, like first octave G-chord.

  She dials the wiring continuous in a clockwise movement.

  The horn sings in a higher pitch, like first octave A-chord.

  My head spins from the high pitch of the truck horn, starting with a low bong then quickly moves into a shrieking scream, hearing it the sound, inside the sleeping bag. My cot faces the rear window. I feel the cool dampness of the cool forest on my exposed naked hands, covering my wrapped head. I taste the salt from the nervous bile, coming from my fluttering stomach muscles with permanent failure, inside the red color tone. I feel, like vomiting, so I’m glad that I followed Duchie’s advice, not to eat.

  I hear the cracking of wood.

  I gasp with shock.

  Duchie twists her fingers over the exposed wiring, feeling the tiny particles of electricity, flowing back and forth. She isn’t worried about getting electrocuted from the good casing over the live wiring. Her head spins. She holds her breathe from puking up the fruit and nuts eaten inside the pink color tone, early morning. She leans to the side with dizziness, covering the sleeping bag over her burning eyeballs and stinging eardrums.

  She twists the wiring, again.

  The truck horn sings in a new pitch, like beyond the highest octave in music.

  My head spins from the new high pitch.

  She leans into the console, dizzy. Then, she twists the wiring, again.

  The truck horn sings into a higher pitch, ear-piercing shriek.

  I forgot to count the number of seconds, feeling dizzy and sleepy. My eyelashes close, when I hear more cracking sounds of wood, coming from the front window of the truck.

  Duchie twists the wiring, again then leans into the console, feeling asleep.

  The truck horn blasts in a super loud sound, amplifying throughout the woodlands, when the frequency is captured by the dripping water droplets, inside the wet leaves stuffed, inside the exposed wood of the damaged tree.

  The water molecules shake then vibrate, rippling in two semi-circles of sound wave in all geographical directions, around the landscape.

  The sound wave hits then slices through the exposed wood, slowly eating away tiny splinters of yellow pine millimeter by millimeter. The tiny splinters jump away from the sound wave, landing in the grass. More tiny splinters separate then jump from the tree wood, creating a horizontal gash into the wood. The gash grows sideways and deeply from the willingly departing tiny splinters, when the tree groans, sliding from down 60 degrees to 58 degrees of an angle.

  The sound wave beats the tiny splinters, making them jump away further from the wood, when the tilted tree bark quickly slides down 25 degrees of an angle.

  The tree top of heavy limbs, and leaves weigh, too much, down the tree bark then the tilted tree falls down zero degrees of an angle, flat into the wet grass.

  The front wheels of the truck squeal from the tension of the chains around the rubbers, slowly lifting from the red mud ditch.

  When the tree topples to the flat ground, the front wheels, of the truck, leap into the air for 1.2 seconds. The truck lifts then rolls an upward motion upon the two rear tires from the muddy ditch. The truck slides over the mud, the grass, and tiny wooden splinters then falls down on its front wheels, with a jolt.

  I awake, blinking open my eyelashes, hitting my face on the rough cot.

  The truck horn blasts in an ear-piercing shriek, within my eardrums.

  I lift my buttocks upward then lift my kneecap, slightly, permanently stopping the annoying noise of the truck horn.

  The truck shakes side to side from the hard impact of the chain movement of the sound wave.

  I scratch the sleeping bag from my heated face, yelling with excitement. “Duchie! Duchie, slice the rope. Get the rope off my kneecap. It worked. The truck moved from the mud hole. Duchie, wake up.” I wiggle then fling sideway away from the cot and the truck horn, landing on sorta top of the bench seating, shifting my kneecap from the truck horn.

  My kneecap is still tied to the truck horn.

  I am being very careful. If I continue to play the special musical notes resounding from the modified truck horn, then we both will pass out, again.

  Duchie feels the heavy jolt, seeing the darkness. The sleeping bag is wrapped around her face. She is lying on the floor of the truck mats. She moans then scratches the sleeping bag from her sweaty face, tossing the fabric, onto the seating.

  I smile down at Duchie.

  She giggles. “I see ya, Ketona. And you’re smiling. I don’t hearing the truck horn, anymore. It worked, perfectly. Can you hear me?”

  “My ears are buzzing, but I can clearly hear your question and your reaction. It worked, perfectly. Get me out of the rope, before my foot slides onto the horn. Okay?”

  Duchie struggles upright, standing on her knees. She unties the rope around Ketona, then cuts off the stereo, in case, the truck horn blasts its special musical song, again.

  The truck horn will cause them to pass out, again.

  I scoot along the seat then climb out of the cab. I swing around then crawl over the seat, pushing the cot through the empty window, then onto the truck bed, out of the driver’s seat.

  Duchie stores the dangerous tools, inside the glove compartment then slides into the driver’s seat.

  I slide out the door, running around the front bumper, quickly surveying for any damage. I shout with excitement. “It looks good. The tires are inflated. The engine isn’t damaged.” I slide into the seat, webbing into the safety belt. “The truck appears in working order, so gun it towards the room, but don’t wreck. Let’s get outta of here and back into the Cubby Hole.”

  Duchie giggles, starting the engine. “I bet the me-chee host is going to be surprised to see us.”

  I giggle. “Forget the me-chee! I bet Marsilla’s going to be totally surprised to see us, inside the golden circle. Go girl!” I slap her arms, giggling and laughing with happiness.

  Duchie stomps the gas pedal, carefully maneuvering around the split tree then swings the engine hood t
owards the red room of mirrors.

  I frown. “You’re supposed to drive backwards, scaring the snakes from the tires.”

  She speeds on the dirt road, swerving around the tree limbs, the tree stumps, and the low bushes plants, while taking out some wildflower beds. “The noise of the tree has scared every single creature into hiding. I don’t see on dangling snakes from the trees, either. We are clear for a going back into the Cubby Hole. I’m driving this truck right up, into the archway then slide my fanny onto the concrete,” she laughs with Ketona.

  Duchie slams the brakes on the wet grass, sliding the truck sideways. The truck stops parallel to the archway. She opens the driver’s door then scoots onto the floor the room, bouncing towards her me-chee chair, in the center of the red room of mirrors.

  I scoot across the bench then plop into the floor, skipping with happiness. I circle around Duchie and her me-chee chair, giggling and smiling. “We did it. We beat the Cubby Hole…”

  Duchie grabs Ketona, pulling close to the me-chee chair, says. “We go back into the Cubby Hole for the next color tone, but I need to land, first, inside the green color tone.”

  “Why?” I stop bouncing, frowning with confusion.

  “Snakes versus knives?”

  I drop my mouth. “What?”

  Duchie exhales. “The fear question from our app for the Citizenship Day, you fear knives. I fear snakes. We both have landed, first, and exposed our fear factor. You landed, first, again, using up your love answer. The cats became the cougars, within the orange color tone.”

  “Yeah, I did.”

  “I’ve not landed, first position, twice. I still have left my love answer of sunflowers…”

  I nod, grinning. “Okay, that should be safe enough to finish the green color tone then advance…”

  She nods. “So, I gotta drop down from the Cubby Hole, first, landing inside the green room of mirrors.”

  I drop my mouth. “Ya gotta drop, first. How’s that’s going to be possible? The academic questions are timed with fifteen seconds, max. I can’t miss a question. I mean, I can miss one question for the passing value of 75 percent. The math problems are getting more complicated, taking me almost the full fifteen seconds to answer…”

  “Calm down, honey!” Duchie winks. “The first question’s always the easiest. The answer will be green. Okay! So, ya wait, counting out to about thirteen seconds, before answering the question and avoiding missing the fifteen second deadline. Then, I’ll be thirteen seconds ahead of you, giving me plenty of time to answer the other three questions. Does that make sense?”

  I frown then nod. “Okay! I can do that. I can wait about thirteen seconds, before answering the first question. Yeah, that should ensure that you drop down into the floor, before me.”

  Duchie nods. “Okay, let’s zoom back into the Cubby Hole. I bet we’ll be the only two me-chee chairs in the place. So, the me-chee will, immediately, start the set of questions, like always.”

  I nod, skipping towards my me-chee chair. I slide inside, when the fabric quickly cover me.

  The chair drops into the dark tunnel, when I scream with anticipation.

  Chapter 14

  Green me-chee

  I rise, first, into the Cubby Hole within the glowing green colors, again. I dropped before Duchie. My me-chee chair jolts into place, glowing with a red shield. Then, I see Duchie pop up then land.

  The me-chee stands, raising his arms, glowing in neon puke green.

  The color makes my stomach turn, without consuming the food basket, within the red color tone.

  The me-chee says. “Welcome back to the Cubby Hole, teens! I hope…”

  I tap my foot in nervousness then tune out the me-chee machine from my brain cells, repeating his same practiced speech.

  I wonder, if Buffo is thinking of me. I’m thinking of him, since I’ve abandoned him, again. I feel so sad.

  But, Buffo has disappointed me, again. He has failed the orange color tone, a second time.

  I feel so betrayed.

  All the math questions were relatively easy, so far, if you were inside an air conditioning class room style environment. However, this is not a class environment, but a competition environment for five dream jobs, within the city of Colfax.

  I feel depressed, leaving Buffo behind inside the orange color tone, a second time. But, we had studied for hours, days, and years, together, preparing for this day, Citizenship Day.

  My BPs studied and encouraged me, every single hour of every single day, including the weekends with my test questions. Granted, my BPs didn’t share all the information about Citizenship, including the dreaded Cubby Hole activities. They, sorta, protected me.

  On the other hand, Buffo was given more information, than I, about Citizenship Day. Yet, he can’t get out of the third color chart, advancing along with me, into the next series of colors, and finally, reaching the gold circle.

  The me-chee says. “The first question, what is the color tone of the me-chee, inside the Cubby Hole, presently?”

  I exhale, shaking my hands, getting the blood flow surging with worry. I silently count down from zero to thirteen, so Duchie can land inside the green room of mirrors, first.

  I wonder, if Rincon is thinking of me. I’m thinking of him, since I’ve abandoned him, again. I feel ashamed, too.

  Rincon came back, failing the green color tone, too, to rescue me, inside our secondly shared red color tone. I giggle, feeling safe, secure, and sweet, being with Rincon.

  He and I shared lots of time in school, together, during class time, and after school, before Buffo entered my life. However, Rincon has always been there at my side, in my shadow.

  He, also, has displayed an exceptional academic performance, within each color tone, today, on Citizenship Day. He, right now, is waiting inside the golden color tone. He will land his dream job as medical technician.

  I growl. “My answer is…green.”

  The me-chee says inside my me-chee chair. “The mayor of Colfax stays at one of the lovely inns, within the city. The inn charges $199.01 per night plus tax for the luxury room. A tax of 12 percent is applied to the room rate, and an additional one time untaxed fee of $50.00 is charged by the inn. Do not provide the solution to the equation. What is the math equation, representing the mayor’s total charges for one night?”

  I’m getting the medical technician position, like my BPs, since I have been studying my entire life, since four years old, for Citizenship Day.

  Rincon can become a me-chee technician, or a me-chee designer, or a legal technician. He should become the legal technician, since Marsilla is both dishonest and arrogant. Her BPs are both legal technicians.

  I say. “The total charge is the room rate of $199.01, the 12 percent tax on the room rate, and the fixed fee of $50.00. The math equation is 1.12(199.01) + 50.” I clear my throat then wiggle my right boot toe. I study Duchie.

  She lies, like a dead person, inside her me-chee chair under the red color shield.

  I frown with annoyance, wondering if, she has addressed the easy second question. I should’ve developed a subtle hand signal for when she had finished answering each academic question, so I could finish, answering my own set of academic questions, before the time limit of fifteen seconds.

  I exhale with more annoyance. I gotta move along with answering my set of academic questions, too, or face the fear of dropping back into the red color tone. I exhale, saying. “My answer is…1.12 times 199.01 plus 50.”

  The me-chee says inside my me-chee chair. “What is the probability that a number selected at random from the set of number listing as 2, 3, 5, 12, 17, 29, 72, 108 will be divisible by both 2 and 3?”

  I exhale and shake my legs and arms, releasing the worry, fright, fear, and tension. This question is not hard, but time consuming within the fifteen second time limit. I whisper. “The number 12 is divided by 2 producing 6. The number 12, also, is divided by 3 producing 4. The number 72 is divided by 2 producing 36. The number 72, al
so, is divided by 3 producing 24. And, the number 108 is divided by 2 producing 54. The number 108, also, is divided by 3 producing 36. The only numbers from the vocal listing divisible by both 2 and 3 is 12, 72, and 108. So, the probability that the number selected at random is 3/8.” I stare at Duchie.

  She lies, again, like a dead person.

  I frown with a distorted face, flipping my hands in frustration. “Come on, Duchie! Answer the freaking question. I’ve already puzzled it out! I don’t have time to waste. My answer is…3/8.”

  The me-chee says within my me-chee chair. “When hydrogen chloride and ammonia vapors react, what do the two vapors form?”

  I exhale, flipping both my hands and feet from the chair. “This is too easy, Duchie. Answer the dang question. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight seconds have passed ya bye-bye, darling,” I giggle, seeing her me-chee chair turn neon puke green. I giggle then say. My answer is…the solid ammonium chloride.”

  My me-chee chair turns puke green, also. The fabrics wrap around me then I fall down into the darkness.

  I scream with delight.

  Chapter 15

  Green park place

  The chair slowly emerges then jolts near the one of side wall of mirrors, like always. I giggle. “Second place, again!” I scoot from the chair, dropping my mouth at the presented view. I stand inside the archway.

  Duchie landed, first, and then slapped the green colored wall. It is open.

  I walk into a large field filled with only yellow sunflowers, smiling and nodding.

  Duchie stands in the front row of numerous rows, going for miles, until it hits the barrier wall, probably, like the other park places.

  There are horizontal rows of sunflower parallel to the archway. Then, there are vertical rows of sunflowers perpendicular to the horizontally rows. Then, there are diagonal rows between the vertical and horizontal rows of sunflowers. There is a white fence separating the sunflowers from me. Then, there is a circular pond separating the fence from me.