Billy Sure Kid Entrepreneur Is NOT a SINGER!

by Luke Sharpe

  The winner of Sing Out and Shout will choose a charity and donate the prize money to it.

  “This sound great, doesn’t it, Manny?” I say when we finish reading. “I think we’re going to have a blast on this show. I wonder who the celebrity singers will be.”

  “Sounds like fun,” Manny says calmly. Then he turns back to his sales figures. I don’t say anything, but I think Manny is a little nervous.

  That night at home as I head upstairs, I pass Emily’s room. I see a small pile of completed notes on one side of her desk and a huge stack of blank notepaper piled up on the other side.

  And, of course, she’s wearing a hat. Tonight’s hat looks like a bright-orange flying saucer stuck to the side of her head. Well, at least it doesn’t have any feathers.

  “How’s it going?” I ask, genuinely concerned that she might not be able to go to the TV show. Emily may be my annoying older sister, but I know how much it means to her.

  Emily just nods and mumbles “okay” without even looking up. She finishes one card, adds it to the smaller pile, then grabs the next blank one.

  “It’s tougher than it looks, huh?” I ask sympathetically.

  “It’s a lot of work, Billy,” she says. “Look at this.”

  She picks up the guestbook that Dad put out at his art show. “Some of these people only wrote their names in the guestbook. No mailing address, no e-mail address, no phone number, no nothing! Fortunately, I’m good at tracking people down—but still, I don’t know how I’m going to finish in time to go to the TV show.”

  I decide not to point out that the last time Emily bragged about being good at tracking people down, she wasn’t able to figure out who Nat Definite was.

  “Like, look at this!” Emily continues, pointing to a page in the guestbook. “This person, TALI DECISO? All she wrote was her name. No address, phone, e-mail, nothing! Where do I even start to look to track her down? I know that Dad had visitors at the show from all over the world. What if she’s from a different country? This is really hard.”

  I admit it. I feel bad for Emily. I know how much she wants to go to the TV show. And this does look like an almost impossible task.

  “Good luck, Em,” I say, then I head to my room.

  Emily grunts and goes back to writing.

  I wish I could help somehow, but my handwriting isn’t very neat. If I’m being honest, it kind of looks like a sea monster’s handwriting—if the sea monster had no arms!

  Hmm. Wait a minute. That gives me an idea. (No, not creating an army of sea monsters—though that would be awesome.) Maybe I can help Emily! I may not have neat handwriting, but I do have pretty neat inventing skills . . . and I bet I can make a special pen that will help her finish the job faster.

  But now comes the hard part—inventing!

  • • •

  The next day I get to the office feeling pretty energized. It’s been a long time since I’ve invented something for fun. Don’t get me wrong, inventing is fun, and I need to get this right ASAP to help Emily out—but it’s been a while since I’ve been able to tinker around with parts and pieces, rather than trying to roll out the Next Big Thing!

  I draw a couple of rough sketches for what the special pen can be, but nothing seems to be coming together. I draw and draw and draw, until . . .

  Craaaaash!

  I move my arm so quickly across the page that I accidentally knock over my cup of pencils. Pencils fly out, scratching their way across the sketch pad. I glance down and see six identical gray lines all curving in the same direction.

  BINGO!

  I can almost see the giant lightbulb appear above my head. That’s it! Emily’s special pen will be able to write many notes at the same time! And I think I have just the parts and pieces to make this invention.

  “Hey, Manny,” I call across the room.

  Manny is firing off e-mails to get more publicity for our TV show appearance.

  “Remember when you bought a big box of MANNEQUIN HANDS?” I ask.

  Okay, there was a brief period of time where Manny kept ordering some pretty kooky supplies online. I used to make fun of them . . . but now I see they can come in, dare I say, HANDY!

  “Funny, I was just thinking about those fake hands,” Manny replies.

  “Really?”

  “Nah.” Manny laughs. “But what about them? Do you think they could be contestants on Sing Out and Shout?”

  Now I laugh, thinking about all of those hands performing a song!

  “I have an idea to make a special pen for Emily that will help her write thank-you notes,” I explain. “And those hands would be perfect to work with! Do you know where they are?”

  Manny shakes his head. That means I’ll have to start looking around the office for the fake hands . . . which also means I’m going to come across a ton of the other supplies he ordered.

  I start with a heavy-looking box in the corner. Thankfully Manny is much more organized than I am—there’s no order to how the boxes are set up, but at least there are labels.

  I thumb my way across BROKEN WINDSHIELD WIPERS, TACO HOLDERS, USED DENTURES, and INSIDE-OUT UMBRELLAS. Then next to RUBBER CHICKENS are the mannequin hands! I grab the box and hurry back to my workbench.

  Now here comes the fun part.

  I line up ten hands and slip a pen into each one, attaching them all together with some other parts and pieces so they’re all controlled by one pen in the center. That pen is powered by your own hand, so it writes the same note eleven times at once!

  Okay, I’m ready to test this.

  I line up blank pieces of paper and start writing.

  Dear Art Lover,

  I’m so glad you came to my art show. I thank you, my family thanks you, but most importantly, Philo’s butt thanks you.

  Many thanks,

  Bryan Sure

  It works! Each pen moves as my own pen does and writes on the blank sheets of paper. The notes are all written in fresh ink and look perfect! Well, as perfect as my handwriting can look. . . .

  “Hey, Manny, check this out!” I say.

  Manny touches his phone, sending off one more e-mail, then joins me at my workbench.

  “Watch this.”

  I demo the invention for him by drawing a doodle of a microphone. The doodle gets copied ten times.

  “It’s the 11-IN-1 PEN!” I announce, smiling.

  “This is awesome, partner,” Manny says. He smiles too. “Emily is going to love it.”

  Manny heads back to his desk as I pack up for the day. I’m feeling really good. I didn’t even have to sleep-invent (sometimes, when I’m working on an invention, I wake up and find the blueprints at my desk). But more than that, if Emily can get her work done ten times as fast, she can probably come with us to the TV show taping. As much as I’m not looking forward to hearing “Em” and “Gem” scream each other’s names when they see each other, I really don’t want Emily to miss out.

  “See you tomorrow!” Manny says as I head out the door. “Right after school so we can leave for the studio.”

  I smile. I’ve been so excited to help Emily, I almost forgot our first studio day is tomorrow! It’s kind of like that exciting “first day of school feeling,” but more exciting because instead of getting homework, we’ll get to be on TV!

  Lend Me a Hand

  AS SOON AS I GET home, I hurry to Emily’s room. There she is, scribbling away, one note at a time. On her head sits a hat that looks like a yellow pigeon landed on some green cauliflower. I’m beginning to sense a bird theme with these strange hats.

  “Any luck on finding that Tali DeCiso person?” I ask.

  Emily looks up from her desk.

  “As a matter of fact, yes,” Emily says. “As I suspected, she lives in another country. I managed to track down her e-mail address, and found out she works at the RAFFREDDARE GALLERY in Rome, one of the top art museums in all of Italy!”

  “I’m impressed,” I say. “Impressed that you tracked her down, but also impre
ssed that someone so important in the art world would be interested in a painting of Philo’s tongue!”

  “Yeah,” Emily mumbles as she goes back to writing. I can see she wants me to leave.

  “I brought you something,” I say.

  “Uh-huh,” she replies, too exhausted to either care what I have to say or to tell me to go away.

  “Look!” I insist. I hold out the 11-in-1 Pen that was hiding behind my back. It spins and the hands spin with it.

  Emily’s eyes go wide.

  “What. Is. That. Thing?!” she nearly barks, horrified.

  I take another glance at the 11-in-1 Pen. One of the hands droops out at me. Okay, I can see now why Manny didn’t suggest Sure Things, Inc. manufacture this one. It looks a little scary. But still, it’s really cool!

  “Here, I’ll show you how it works,” I say. “Can you grab me eleven blank thank-you cards?”

  “You had these mannequin hands just sitting around?” Emily asks, eyeing the contraption suspiciously.

  “Yes,” I reply, matter-of-fact.

  Emily shrugs. She grabs eleven cards.

  “So what happens now?” she asks. “Is this thing going to come to life and help write the cards for me?”

  “Not exactly,” I explain. “You’re going to help yourself with these cards! That way, when Dad asks if you did it, you really won’t be lying. Line up eleven blank notes. Then write on the middle one and watch what happens.”

  Emily follows my instructions. When she finishes writing the note, she looks around and sees eleven completed notes, all looking as if they were individually written—which I guess they were, if you think about it in a certain way.

  “Billy, this is fantastic!” Emily says, smiling for the first time in days. “Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” she cries. Then she gets back to work, writing eleven notes at a time.

  • • •

  A few hours later there’s a squeal down the hall.

  “I did it! I did it! I did it!” Emily yelps. “I’m going to Sing Out and Shout! I did it! I’m FREE!”

  I feel really good about helping Emily out, and even better about the upcoming TV show. I’m just so excited! I’m finally getting all the perks of being a famous inventor without the pressure.

  I decide to treat myself to some CELEBRATORY MILK AND COOKIES in the kitchen, when I walk past my parents’ bedroom. The door is open a crack, and I can hear them talking.

  “You can’t just pack up and go to Italy, Bryan,” Mom says.

  Italy? Dad is going to Italy?

  “And even if you only go for a few months, I can’t be sure that I won’t have to spring into action and leave too,” Mom continues, “the kids are not old enough to be left alone.”

  Left alone? For months? This is very strange. I mean, I got used to Mom being away a lot. (Since she’s a spy working for the government, she’s often away on assignments.) But both Mom and Dad?!

  I hear Dad sigh.

  “I know,” he says. “But this art dealer—Tali DeCiso . . . it sounds like she’s offering me an amazing opportunity.”

  Tali DeCiso! The person that Emily tracked down. She must have gotten in touch with Dad! This is getting stranger by the second.

  “I know, Bryan,” Mom says softly. “It does sound like a fabulous opportunity. Being commissioned to paint for one of the most famous museums in all of Italy! I realize that this could be a once in a lifetime opportunity for you, and I know how much you would love to do this, but what about Billy and Emily?”

  Yeah, what about us? For the first time in a long time, I’m feeling more than a little worried.

  Showtime!

  THE BIG DAY FINALLY ARRIVES.

  I float through my school day wondering if anyone notices. I’m so tired that I end up taking a power nap during lunch. But it works out, because I feel much more energetic when it’s time to head over to the TV studio!

  Mom, Dad, Manny, Manny’s parents, and I pile into the Reyes family SUV. I sit pretty cramped in the back row, sandwiched between Manny and my dad. It’s not until we are halfway to the studio that I realize Emily is not with us.

  “Hey, WHAT ABOUT EMILY?” I ask.

  Mom and Dad shrug.

  “She didn’t want to come with us,” Dad says distractedly.

  Okay, that’s weird. Who drove Emily to the studio?

  But I don’t have a lot of time to think about this, because soon I’m walking through the glass doors leading to the TV studio, getting a familiar TV show thrill! As weird as it is, I feel comfortable here. This is where Manny and I did the Next Big Thing TV show to help us pick the NO-TROUBLE BUBBLE as a Sure Things, Inc. invention. There’s a picture of me on the wall. It’s kind of like my HOME AWAY FROM HOME.

  Kind of.

  If my home had superstar celebrities waltzing around!

  I spot Gemma Weston walking down the hall toward us.

  She has a big smile on her face, and she’s waving her hand broadly over her head.

  Wow! I didn’t realize that Gemma would be so happy to see me again. That’s pretty cool.

  Gemma is only a couple of feet away now. I’m about to say hi when she lets out a loud squeal.

  “Em!” she shrieks.

  A voice from behind me shrieks back: “Gem!”

  I spin around and see Emily rushing into the building. Before I can even start to wonder how she got here, I see that she has selected her most outrageous hat to wear to the TV show. And that’s saying something. It is bright purple with ribbons all over it . . . and some CRAZY giant googly eyes extending from antennae coming out of the top! But no bird theme this time. Interesting.

  Emily rushes past Dad, Manny, Manny’s parents, and me, and gives Gemma a big hug.

  “It is sooooo great to see you, Gem!” Emily exclaims. “Thank you so much for inviting me!”

  “You look fabulous, Em!” Gemma says. “I absolutely love that hat! You have to tell me where you got it.”

  “And you have to tell me how you got here—” I start to say, genuinely curious, when all of a sudden a CHAUFFEUR walks inside, wearing a uniform and all!

  “Miss Emily, you forgot your handbag,” the chauffeur says, handing Emily a bright purple handbag with ribbons and googly eyes all over it.

  Emily takes it and smiles.

  “Thanks so much for picking up Emily, Hector,” Gemma says. “You’re the best.”

  Hector nods, then walks back outside . . . to where a GIANT limo is parked!

  Hold up. I help Emily get ungrounded, and she’s the one who gets to arrive in a fancy car?

  I don’t have time to complain though, because Gemma turns to the rest of us. “Come on. I’ll take you on a tour of the studio before we get started,” she says. “I know you’ve all been here before, but studios adapt to whatever show is taping that day. Showbiz is anything but boring.”

  Gemma leads all of us through the large studio where the show will take place. Production assistants scurry everywhere, pushing large TV cameras, dragging thick wires, and hanging huge lights.

  Gemma takes us into a conference room. There, a small teenage girl with straight dark hair sits at a piano.

  “Everyone, I’d like you to meet YAMUNA STONE,” Gemma says. “She’s the musical director of the TV show, and she’ll be writing brand-new original songs for every contestant.”

  Yamuna smiles at all of us, and takes a long look at Emily’s hat and bag. If she thinks they’re weird, she doesn’t say anything.

  I didn’t think we could meet any celebrity bigger than Gemma Weston, but wow—Yamuna Stone! Her face has been on the cover of every music magazine there is. This just keeps getting better and better!

  “I love your music,” says Emily. If she’s star struck, she doesn’t show it. But I guess now that Emily is friends with the likes of Gemma Weston, nothing else can faze her.

  “This is Manny Reyes, one half of Sure Things, Inc.,” Gemma says.

  Manny and Yamuna shake hands.

  “V
ery nice to meet you,” says Manny.

  “And this is Billy Sure,” Gemma says, gesturing to me.

  I shake Yamuna’s hand. “I am a big fan,” I say.

  “So am I, Billy,” says Yamuna, much to my surprise. “I have one of the first edition ALL BALLS. I still like to toss it around with my songwriting partners when we get stuck creatively.”

  I’m picturing a bunch of celebrities using some of Sure Things, Inc.’s inventions. Maybe the famous Jelsen twins have tried the SIBLING SILENCER on each other. Or Yamuna Stone could write eleven copies of a new song at once with the 11-in-1 Pen!

  “I’m really looking forward to writing for both of you,” Yamuna says to Manny and me.

  “Thanks,” I say automatically.

  Then I think for a moment. Why is Yamuna talking about writing for us? Maybe she wants to write a jingle for Sure Things, Inc.’s next commercial? Hmm, that must be it. Maybe Manny was able to swing that in one of his many marketing e-mails. Awesome.

  “Okay, gang, let’s keep moving,” says Gemma.

  She leads us into the green room, which is where performers wait before they go on the air.

  Sitting in the room on a long couch are the contestants who will be competing on the program.

  I see Dad’s eyes open wide.

  “This is Arthur Ling,” Gemma says. “He’s a—”

  “Famous TV chef!” Dad finishes her sentence. “I’ve gotten some of my best recipes from watching his show!”

  Arthur is a tall teenager who gives Dad a big smile.

  “Wait until you see what I’m starting to do with PICKLED ANCHOVIES!” Arthur says. “It’s fabulous!”

  “Oh boy,” says Dad. “I’ll have to watch and then work them into my next meal.”

  Emily, Mom, and I all exchange looks, but, of course, we say nothing.

  “Are all of you part of the show?” asks Arthur.

  “I’m Emily, and I’m Gemma’s personal friend,” Emily explains, emphasizing “personal friend.” “These are my mom and dad; my brother, Billy; his business partner, Manny, and Manny’s parents. Billy and Manny are going to be part of the show.”