The Prizewinners of Piedmont Place

by Bill Doyle

  Leslie and Emma took a bow. Emma was holding an extra-long blow tube. Cal realized she had been firing the spitballs.

  “In fact, it was my darling Leslie who helped me come up with today’s big surprise,” Mr. Wylot said.

  Uh-oh, Cal thought. Leslie was grinning straight at Cal, and she mouthed the words Ready for another joke?

  “And here to introduce the surprise is…” Mr. Wylot paused and then shouted, “Mr. Paddy Vance, Vice President of Fun at Wish Shoppe!”

  Mr. Vance bounced up onto the deck. Mr. Wylot stepped aside so he could use the microphone.

  “Hello, ladies and gents!” Mr. Vance cried, waving both hands at the crowd. “First I want to thank Mr. Wylot for having us here and for convincing Wish Shoppe founder King Wonder to have this elimination round in such a comfortable setting!”

  Cal couldn’t believe it. They were going to eliminate one of the families now?

  “What about the billboard?” he shouted. Mr. T. touched his shoulder. “Sorry,” Cal said more quietly. “What about the billboard, sir? I thought you were going to reveal the winners on Palmer’s Farm.”

  Mr. Vance gave him a wink. “Mr. Palmer decided he didn’t want the crowds to come back. And then Mr. Wylot made a generous donation to the, uh…Wish Shoppe…charity….”

  “In other words,” the fire chief, Mr. Carmody, grumbled, “Mr. Wylot paid money and got his way.”

  Pretending not to hear, Mr. Vance kept grinning. “Here’s what’s going to happen today. Three finalist families made videos about being the world’s best Wish Shoppe shoppers: the Wylots, the Rivales, and the Tal-Tal…?”

  “Talaskas!” Cal said.

  “And the Talaskas,” Mr. Vance said. “We’re going to show the videos they sent in…right now!”

  A large screen rose out of the deck behind him. “That’s the largest home video screen in North America,” Leslie said loudly to Mr. Vance. “Again, not bragging. Google it.”

  Mr. Vance nodded eagerly as if he would do just that. Then he announced, “The two families that get the loudest applause on the Audience Love Meter will move on to the final round of the Great Grab Contest. So get ready to clap your hearts out!”

  A second, much smaller screen slid up next to the first. This one had the words AUDIENCE LOVE METER over a dial that looked like a car’s speedometer.

  “King Wonder, owner of Wish Shoppe, is proud to announce the three finalist families in the Great Grab Contest!” Mr. Vance said. “The first video is from the Wylot family!”

  A deep voice blasted out of the speakers on the deck. “In a world filled with simple, average people, only one family can dominate and lead. Only one name can rise above all others. And that name is…WYLOT!”

  The screen filled with an image of the Wylots sprinting like action heroes down a store aisle. Emma pushed a shopping cart with Leslie crouched inside. All four wore full-length fur coats and had bandanas over their faces like bank robbers from the Old West.

  Leslie pointed, and lightning bolts shot out of her finger, knocking a giant cotton candy machine off a shelf and into their cart. Mr. Wylot raised both hands and lifted a washing machine into the cart—as if with his mind. Emma performed wild karate moves and chopped a mini refrigerator in half. Mrs. Wylot spun around and became a tornado that sucked in items from the shelves. Lamps, dog beds, stoves, an iguana—all magically flew through the air and into their cart.

  Cal’s stomach sank. His family couldn’t compete with this. It was like watching a Hollywood blockbuster.

  The video finished with a huge explosion. BLAM! The crowd gasped, and Cal thought he felt his hair blow back.

  Mr. Vance grabbed the microphone. “So, folks, what’d you think of the Wylots’ video?” he cried. “Remember, your applause will determine the winner!”

  A few people in the audience clapped, and the Audience Love Meter ticked up to 16 percent.

  “They can scare us into coming to the party,” an old man muttered, “but they can’t make us clap.”

  As if to prove him wrong, Mr. Wylot made a twirling signal with his hand. The waiters dropped their trays onto the grass, and they burst into cheers noisy enough to make cheerleaders cover their ears.

  The arrow on the meter ticked up to 65 percent. Mr. Mangan clapped and hooted even more loudly, and the Audience Love Meter rose to 72 percent.

  “Not a bad score!” Mr. Vance said. “Next up, we have the video from the Rivale family!”

  Cal looked for the Rivales. They were right next to him, dripping wet in their swimsuits and standing perfectly still.

  “Good luck,” Cal said, and they nodded at him in unison.

  The Rivales’ video popped up on the screen. It showed a single can of corn in a spotlight in a dark tent.

  So that’s what the Rivales have been up to inside their backyard tent! Cal thought.

  With their slicked-back dark hair and black unitards, the Rivales surrounded the can of corn and just stared at it. Slowly…very slowly…they each moved one hand in little circles around the can at exactly the same time.

  Then the screen went black except for the single word FIN.

  The video ended.

  People were stunned. Mr. Vance snapped himself out of some kind of trance and finally said, “Let’s hear applause for the Rivales!”

  There was nothing. Not even from the Rivales. Finally, Cal gave a little clap. That started a small ripple, and the arrow on the Audience Love Meter turned to 46 percent.

  “Thank you for coming, Rivales!” Mr. Vance cried dramatically. The Rivales didn’t move a muscle. They were like synchronized rocks.

  “Did someone switch them off?” a little girl whispered to her dad.

  Mr. Vance announced, “And the third and final video is from…the Talaskas!”

  “Here it comes,” Imo said. She sounded panicky about being up on the big screen. She added, “I’m sorry, Cal. Especially because watching Leslie boss Alison around has changed my mind about things.”

  Sorry? Why are you sorry? Cal almost asked. But he didn’t want to miss a thing.

  The world around Cal seemed to slow down, and his heart pounded. Mrs. T. must have known he was about to burst. She put a hand on his shoulder. “Easy.”

  Cal couldn’t wait for everyone to see the video of his perfect family shopping like experts. Instead, something completely different appeared on the screen.

  His ears reacted first.

  “What’s…with the…extra P!” Cal heard his mom say in the video. Then Mr. T. said, “Let it flow! Set it free!” When he heard Imo say, “What rhymes with free, Dad? It starts with a P!” Cal started feeling queasy.

  Still, it took a second for him to figure out what he was looking at. He and his family were in a heap on the muddy ground in their backyard, a giant pile of arms, legs, a tail, and six laughing heads.

  Then Cal heard himself say, “The Butler did it!” He saw the expression on his own face in the video—and his wet pants.

  “What am I doing?” Cal asked out loud.

  Mr. Carmody overheard him. “Hmm,” he considered. “I’d say you’re trying not to pee your pants. And I’m not sure you’re succeeding.”

  For twenty seconds, the video showed the Talaskas laughing their heads off. Then, without warning, the screen went blank.

  Once again, the audience was stunned. This time, not even Mr. Vance could recover. The Talaskas were frozen. Cal felt his face burning with embarrassment. The Audience Love Meter sat at 0 percent.

  Leslie gave Cal a nasty smile and chuckled. The microphone picked up her laughter, and it went out to the crowd.

  The sound was like a stick of dynamite blowing up a dam.

  As if they had been waiting for the okay, people opened their mouths, and a flood of laughter and clapping filled the air.

  Then the Audience Love Meter arrow shot up to 45 percent.

  People were smacking each other’s backs and reliving the video.

  “What’s with the extra P?
” howled John Salmona, who lived down the street from the Talaskas. “Set it free!”

  Next to John, Ms. Graves dabbed her wet eyes. “Holy moly,” she said in a most unteacherly way. “The Butler did it! That’s just awesome!”

  “What’s happening, Dad?” Cal asked. “Did they like it?”

  “I’m not sure what’s with all the racket,” Mr. T. said. “But laughing is like a cold—you can catch it.”

  And it was true. The noise of laughter only grew. The dial on the Audience Love Meter raced to 70 percent. Cal could see Leslie looking around furiously. Even Mr. Wylot was starting to get worried. When the arrow approached the Wylots’ score of 72, he grabbed the microphone.

  “All right, all right, I think that’s enough,” Mr. Wylot said, putting up a hand. “Let’s all calm down.”

  The crowd’s laughter died down to chuckles, and Mr. Vance took the microphone back. “Well, that was something,” he said. “Looks like we have our two finalist families! The Wylots and the Talaskas!”

  Cal launched into the air and pumped his fist. “That’s me!” he yelled at the top of his lungs.

  “That’s us!” Imo yelled even louder. She sounded as excited as he was to have won. Mr. and Mrs. T. didn’t seem nearly as happy. Cal knew they had thought the video round would be the end of the contest for them.

  “We’ll see both families at the brand-new Wish Shoppe in two weeks, at nine AM sharp,” Mr. Vance said over the hubbub. “If either the Wylots or the Talaskas fail to show up for the Great Grab, the Rivales will take their slot. So be on time! Remember, there will only be one winning family that day. One family will be allowed to keep everything they grab and will appear in our national ad. Stay tuned for more!”

  Mr. Wylot did not look pleased. But he had a fake smile on his face and clapped. “Everyone is free to grab a plate and eat now! Enjoy!”

  The velvet ropes were moved and the crowd stampeded to the barbecues, with the Rivales and Mr. Vance rushing to the head of the line.

  “Not you, Mr. Vance,” Mr. Wylot said. “I want to have a word with you.”

  He pulled Mr. Vance through the patio door into the house.

  As his heartbeat slowed down, Cal’s brain had a chance to catch up with what had just happened. He knew Wish Shoppe planned to put the winning videos online and on its billboards. The whole state…maybe the whole world…would see them.

  “Why did you send that part of the video, Imo?” Cal asked. “I thought you were going to edit it.”

  “Sorry, there wasn’t time.” Imo shrugged. “In my opinion, though, it showed our family at our best. And it worked.”

  Cal wasn’t so sure. He looked around, expecting to find Leslie Wylot sneering at him. But the Wylots had already gone inside, as if bored with the company.

  Cal wanted his family to win the contest so they could get whatever they’d like. But he also wanted the world to know that the Talaskas were the perfect family. Rolling around in the mud might not be the best way to show that.

  Still, Imo had a point. The video had worked, and the Talaskas were finalists. They were going to the third round of the Wish Shoppe Great Grab Contest!

  With the naming of the two finalist families, the small town of Hawkins exploded with Great Grab fever.

  A few junior high kids who lived down the street rolled on the ground every time Cal went by on his bike. The kids acted like they were laughing so hard, they were about to pee their pants. As Cal pedaled away, they would call after him, “The Butler did it!” Cal had to admit it was kind of funny.

  Still, something bothered him. He wasn’t sure if their video had succeeded because people thought it was great—or because it was just a big joke.

  Neighbors dropped off Wish Shoppe catalogs to give the Talaskas ideas for what to grab when they ran through the store. Jenny Vincent, a six-year-old from Brightmore Road, thought Cal should grab a life-sized ceramic ostrich. Other people circled sports equipment, jewelry, and car mats.

  Dan MacGuire, an eighth grader from across the street, stopped Cal on the sidewalk. He’d drawn a star next to a roller coaster in a travel magazine.

  Cal said, “Uh…I don’t think that ride would fit in a shopping cart, Dan. Unless the cart was the size of Detroit.”

  “Yeah, but imagine the fun I can have—” Dan said, and then stopped. “Did I say I?” he asked, flustered. “I mean you! You as in me!” Finally, he gave up and said, “The Butler did it!”

  Not everyone was as open about giving them ideas. When they stopped at Moylan’s Gas Station, Mrs. Moylan left a note under one of the Flying Monkey’s windshield wipers. The Talaskas found it when they got home. It read, “Get yourselves a new car! And thank you for standing up to them.” By them, Cal knew Mrs. Moylan meant the Wylots.

  Other people were nervous about openly rooting against the Wylots, too. The twin Weber girls snuck up to Mr. and Mrs. T. outside the library. Looking around as if the Wylots might see them, the twins gave them a list of lawn mowers.

  While some of the ideas were pretty amazing, Cal still had his sights set on the Wonder World Video Game System. He’d be able to control the world around him! And owning a game that usually only hotels could afford would be a great way to prove how special the Talaskas were.

  At school, Ms. Graves wrote LESLIE, IMO, and CAL on the board under the word CONGRATULATIONS!

  “As your oh-so-hip English teacher, I’m not a fan of the old-world spelling of Wish Shoppe,” Ms. Graves said. “But I’m very proud of the contest finalists in our class!” The rest of the students clapped, and the three took bows.

  Imo and Cal managed to keep their distance from Leslie, and they just ignored any nasty comments she sent their way. Which wasn’t always easy. Leslie had taped two sheets of paper on the wall outside the cafe-teria. One was labeled TALASKA FANS at the top, and the other read WYLOT FANS. Leslie had been using scare tactics to get kids to sign the Wylot page.

  So Cal was surprised when they came out of English class to find the Talaska Fans page completely filled in. Names scrawled in bright-purple ink covered the paper.

  “Who signed this?” Leslie demanded angrily.

  Cal stepped closer to see, and he laughed. “Some very important people.”

  “Like who?” Leslie snapped. “Wait until I mention them to my father.”

  “You should do that,” Cal said. “I think George Washington, Teddy Roosevelt, and Abraham Lincoln will be very sorry.”

  “What does that mean?” Leslie peered at the Talaska page and snorted when she saw the names. They belonged to all the U.S. presidents and Canadian prime ministers. Leslie tore the sheets off the wall and stomped into the cafeteria, shouting for Alison to follow her.

  “Who would dare do this, my fellow Americans?” James asked, perfectly copying the voice of the current president.

  “Maybe the Butler did it?” Alison answered with a wink. She stuck her hands in her pockets and rushed after Leslie, but not before Cal saw the purple ink stains on her fingers.

  That night, Cal called Grandma Gigi for the third time to tell her the amazing news about being contest finalists. She lived thirty minutes away. He got her answering machine again.

  “I’m out and about, but leave me a shout,” Gigi’s greeting said. “And I’ll call you back, without a doubt.” Not the best poetry, Cal thought, but it was a clue as to why his dad rhymed when he got excited or nervous.

  Even so, the good news kept coming. Ms. Donegan, who owned the Donegan Diner, had started dating James’s dad. James helped out there for a couple of hours a week. He called to tell Cal that Ms. Donegan had created two new sandwiches in honor of the Wylots and the Talaskas.

  Perfect timing. Cal’s family needed all the encouragement they could get to keep going with the contest. Especially his parents.

  Mrs. T.’s business was suddenly in trouble. The Olympic swimmer, the diver, and the linebacker who were supposed to speak at Wylot Auditorium next month all canceled on her. The athletes gave fake-
sounding excuses, like still being dizzy from changing to daylight saving time or having a sick goldfish. Mrs. T. had already sold tickets to the events, and she would lose a ton of money when she had to send refunds.

  Cal had an itchy feeling that Mr. Wylot was behind the athletes’ not showing up. “It’s called Wylot Auditorium, after all,” he told his mom.

  “No one is that awful,” Mrs. T. said. Then, after thinking about it, she added, “But it is true that Mr. Wylot has been tough on your dad since that video elimination.”

  Saying tough in this situation was like saying the sun was slightly warm. Mr. Wylot was making Cal’s dad’s job at the factory almost impossible. Without warning, Mr. Wylot had taken away Mr. T.’s office. Now Cal’s dad was stuck sitting in the hallway at a desk smaller than Cal’s at school.

  What did all this add up to?

  Mr. and Mrs. T. were even less excited about the Great Grab Contest than before. “It’s been kind of fun, Cal,” Mrs. T. had said. “But we need to keep our eyes on real life and real jobs for a while.”

  That did not sound like a good plan to Cal.

  A sandwich named after them could be just what they needed to get back on track! Cal convinced his family to head down to the diner for lunch, and the Talaskas hopped in the Flying Monkey. They drove to Main Street and parked close to the diner.

  A chalkboard menu in front of the diner announced:

  Come on in and try a…

  Wylots’ Maximum Force

  or

  Talaskas’ The Butler Did It!

  They’re both a wish come true….Grab a great one TODAY!

  “We’re famous!” Cal said. “Come on, let’s try a Talaska!”

  “Those sandwiches are eight bucks,” Mr. T. said. “We’re not the Moneybag family, buddy.”

  “I got this one,” Cal said, shaking his piggy bank, which he had brought from home. It sounded a little lighter than he remembered. “Well, we might have to split it, but it will be fun. Come on.”