Mr. Lemoncello and the Titanium Ticket

by Chris Grabenstein

  With her free hand, Soraiya bopped a button on the appliance’s control panel. “Time to bake the potato!” she shouted.

  “Oooh,” said a bunch of the vanquished players who knew more about Fourth Knight than Simon ever would. “She’s baking the potato!”

  “Pull her plug!” shouted one of Jack’s buds.

  “I can’t!” Jack shouted back, sounding totally frustrated. “She upgraded to a battery-powered microwave!”

  “Because I’m a smart shopper,” taunted Soraiya.

  “Oooh,” said the crowd, enjoying the smackdown.

  The microwave DINGed. The oven door popped open. Jack’s sizzling war hammer was a shriveled lump of melted plastic.

  It was also his final weapon.

  While Jack’s knight stood there, literally steaming, Soraiya’s avatar leapt back into her rhino saddle and did a dance called the Uncle Wiggly. Finished, she dashed off to the sandcastle, where she quickly knocked King Ludwig off his throne (a golden toilet) just as he was about to give a royal flush.

  “Not before you knight me!” Soraiya shouted.

  “Very well!” cried the animated king, as nobly as he could from his bathroom perch. “You, Soraiya Mitchell, are hereby declared the Fourth Knight!”

  The crowd in the tent cheered.

  Mrs. Coffin, the game supervisor, gave Soraiya ten points on her scorecard. Jack McClintock got five for second place. Simon received zero.

  “You were fantastic, Soraiya!” Simon exclaimed.

  “Thanks. I play every day after school. And Dad says I’m wasting my time. Ha! Okay, we each have one preliminary game left. I’m thinking about doing Math Mania. How about you?”

  Simon tugged the crumpled games pamphlet out of his back pocket. He glanced at the one o’clock offerings. “Rock ’Em Sock ’Em Rebuses sounds fun,” he said.

  “Cool,” said Soraiya. “I’ll meet you afterward at the ice cream sandwich hut.”

  “Are those free, too?”

  “Of course! Word of advice? Go for chocolate or vanilla. Stay away from ham and roast beef.”

  “Right,” said Simon, urping a little at the thought of meat-flavored ice cream.

  “Have fun!” Soraiya took off for her tent while Simon went looking for his.

  And, of course, when he finally found the rebus tent, Jack McClintock was already inside.

  “Get ready, gamers!” said the woman in charge of the rebus game from her perch on the stage.

  A giant video screen behind her was filled with a Rock ’Em Sock ’Em Rebuses graphic, which spun in and out of a puzzle version of the same phrase with a rock, a sock, a pair of “M” candies, and a clump of buses labeled “Re.”

  “Fire up your devices, everybody, and go to Lemoncello-dot-i-t. This game will be played Kahoot!-style. If you don’t have a phone, grab an lPad from one of my colleagues in the yellow vests.”

  Simon quickly learned that lPads were like iPads, but without the dot.

  “Here you go, son,” said the friendly guy holding a stack of them. “It’s already open to the web page.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Choose a user name and enter game code one-seven-four-five,” said the game host.

  Thumbs tapped glass as all the players typed in their user names and the code.

  The screen showed how many players were signing in. Twenty. Thirty. Sixty-three. Simon had chosen “Simon Says” for his screen name. He figured “Killer Jack” was Jack McClintock.

  “Okay, gang,” said the host through her head mic. “I’m getting a space alert. We’ve reached our maximum number of players. Sign-up is now officially closed. There will be a final game at one-thirty. We’re going to do five rebuses, each with four possible answers. You have ten seconds to make your selection. Lemoncello-dot-i-t will instantaneously calculate your score and post a leader board listing the top ten players. You will earn points based on the speed and accuracy of your answer. You want to be fast but, more importantly, you need to be correct.”

  “This is your game, bro!” Aiden shouted at Jack.

  “Hooah!” Jack shouted back.

  They chest-bumped.

  “Everybody set?” asked the game host, surveying the crowd. “Devices up! Here is your first puzzle.”

  One look, and Simon immediately knew the answer.

  He waited for the four multiple-choice answers to fade into view and quickly tapped the third option, neon lights, because the puzzle showed the word “knee” on top of “lights.”

  The ten-second clock ticked down. The computer did its math. Simon waited. He glanced over at Jack McClintock, who was smirking, big-time. A bell DINGed. The answer was highlighted in Lemoncello yellow. Simon was correct.

  Simon Says was on the leader board in third place.

  Killer Jack was in first. Apparently, he’d been even quicker on the answer tap than Simon.

  “Here’s your second rebus!” announced the host.

  Simon chose the second answer, the one next to the triangle graphic: sitting duck.

  The ten-second clock turned into a string of zeros. The computer calculated everybody’s speed and accuracy.

  Simon Says and Killer Jack were tied for second. Someone called Rebus Driver was in first, but not by much.

  “We’ve hit the halfway point,” said the host. “Here comes your third puzzle.”

  Simon focused on the screen.

  Easy. Four ones inside the words “my life.” He tapped the second choice, For once in my life.

  Nine seconds later, he was in the lead!

  Rebus Driver had dropped to ninth place. Killer Jack was in second.

  “Two more,” said the host. “It’s still anybody’s game. Remember, it’s good to be fast, but it’s better to be correct. Puzzle number four. Here we go.”

  The game was moving so swiftly, Simon didn’t have time to swipe away the sweat trickling down his forehead.

  A new puzzle appeared on the screen.

  It showed the word “turn” but without the letter “U.”

  Easy.

  No U-turn was one of the answers. Simon selected it as quickly as he could.

  The timer ticked down to zero.

  No U-turn started to glow yellow. Simon had answered correctly.

  He’d also ended up in first place! Killer Jack had dropped to third. Someone who went by the name Egg Head had squeezed into second.

  “Wow,” said the host. “What a tight race. Simon Says is in the lead, but the scores are so close, anybody could win with our final puzzle.”

  Simon felt someone staring at him.

  He turned to look.

  It was Jack McClintock. He was glaring at Simon.

  Up came the final rebus.

  Simon, of course, immediately knew the answer. It had been a vocabulary word two weeks earlier at school. It meant “a statement or proposition that seems self-contradictory or absurd but in reality expresses a possible truth.”

  Like “Winning this rebus game could be the worst thing ever to happen to Simon Skrindle.”

  Because if Simon defeated Jack in front of the whole town, sure, he’d be a winner, but Jack would make his life miserable for years to come.

  Plus, Simon might not need to win this rebus competition to move on to the sidewalk board game and then the secret building behind the factory. He’d earned all those bonus points playing Kooky Kujenga. He might still squeak into the next round.

  He knew the answer was “pair of docs,” or “paradox.”

  But should he play it?

  He hesitated.

  The countdown clock didn’t. It kept ticking. It spun through its digits and locked down everybody’s answer.

  Except Simon’s.

  Because he had fretted so long, he didn’t have time to
tap one in. When the scores for the final question were tallied, Simon Says was no longer on the leader board.

  He’d dropped out of the top ten.

  Jack McClintock had won.

  Simon met up with Soraiya at the ice cream sandwich stand.

  “How’d you do?” she asked.

  “Not so good.”

  “Who won? McClintock?”

  “Yeah.”

  “But you’re better at solving rebus puzzles than he is.”

  Simon shrugged, as if to say “whatever.” But he knew Soraiya was right. He could’ve won. He should’ve won. He just needed to get out of his own way and do it.

  “How was your Math Mash?” Simon asked, hoping to change the subject.

  “Excellent,” said Soraiya. “I came in first. Even aced the trick question where they asked what number you would get if you multiplied all the numbers on your cell phone’s number pad.”

  “That sounds hard.”

  “Nah. It was easy. Because there’s a zero. And zero times anything—or everything—gives you zero. I racked up another ten points, which, of course, pushes my total to twenty.”

  “I have twenty, too,” said Simon. “From the Kooky Kujenga game.”

  “Where you were awesome.”

  “Or lucky.”

  “Luck had nothing to do with it, my friend,” said Soraiya. “You just have mad skills.”

  That made Simon smile.

  “You want an ice cream sandwich?” asked Soraiya, gesturing toward the menu board.

  “They can really make ice cream that tastes like bacon, lettuce, and tomato?” Simon marveled.

  “Yep. It looks like Neapolitan. Only it’s pink, green, and red instead of chocolate, vanilla, and strawberry.”

  “Soraiya?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Can I show you something?”

  “I guess.”

  Simon reached into his back pocket and showed her the engraved invitation from Mr. Lemoncello.

  “Wow,” said Soraiya. “Excellent calligraphy.”

  “Why does he want me to play these games so much?”

  “Probably because you’re the one kid in all of Hudson Hills who’s never had the chance to enjoy any kind of Lemoncello fun.”

  “My grandfather says that years ago Mr. Lemoncello did something horrible to our family.”

  “Highly doubtful.” Soraiya’s watch started beeping. “We need to run. They’re going to announce who’s moving on to the Slippery-Sloppery Sidewalk Board Game in two minutes.”

  “Don’t you want an ice cream sandwich?”

  “We’ll grab one later,” said Soraiya. “To celebrate winning the next game! Let’s go.”

  Simon and Soraiya hurried across the park and headed into the very crowded registration tent.

  “Welcome back, gamers,” said Dr. Zinchenko. The world-famous librarian was standing on a stage in front of a giant video monitor. “Our computers are currently finishing their tabulations. In just a moment, the names of the twelve contestants moving on will appear on this screen!”

  “And that moment is now,” said Mr. Lemoncello, appearing on the screen before any names did. “Computing the top scores was quite a complex task, much like doing the Chicken Cha-Cha-Cha at your cousin’s wedding. Here, then, are the names of the twelve top scorers—all of whom are in for a messtacular afternoon!”

  Trumpets sounded a fanfare. Drums rolled. Spotlights swung around the tent.

  “Soraiya Mitchell!” boomed Mr. Lemoncello, as his image was replaced by swirling graphics spelling out names as he announced them. “Jack McClintock!”

  “Booyah!” shouted Jack, somewhere to Simon’s right.

  Mr. Lemoncello kept going. “Shatar Shogi! Katie Grace! Carolyn Hudson! Skip Bo! Simon Skrindle!”

  Yes! thought Simon. He even did an internal arm pump.

  But on the outside he just looked shocked.

  “Hey,” said Soraiya, laughing, “do the math. If I made it with twenty points, then you had to make it, too!”

  “Oh, right.” Simon smiled. He was feeling pretty great.

  Until he heard somebody over near Jack McClintock scream, “Simon Skrindle is the village idiot!”

  “Oh, dear,” said Mr. Lemoncello, reappearing on the screen. “Did I just hear an outburst of unsportsmanlike conduct from the young man in the backward baseball cap standing next to Jack McClintock? Blockhead move, Aiden. You were going to be our next contestant but, zertz! You are officially disqualified. Rude outbursts are against the sidewalk board game rules.”

  The rule book scrolled onto the screen.

  One line was highlighted in neon green:

  No rude outbursts permitted, Aiden.

  “Now then, back to our contestants,” said Mr. Lemoncello. “Zachary Koelsch! Quinn Connor! Ndeji Dibinga! Sofia Segura! And, last but not least, Piya Sarkarati!”

  “Yes!” screamed Piya. “Yeeeeesssss! I’m in!”

  Piya’s enthusiasm made Simon, Soraiya, and just about everybody else in the tent laugh. Even Mr. Lemoncello was laughing when he opened the center section of the TV screen as if it were a door in the middle of his face. He stepped through his own video image to join Dr. Zinchenko on the stage.

  “Hearty and splendiferous congratulations to you, our twelve top-scoring contestants. You will now compete in this year’s new and improved version of the sidewalk board game. Spoiler alert: It’s going to be wet and wild. And, as you may have heard—unless you have waxy buildup in both of your ears, in which case, open a candle shop—the four winners of that game will be the first to see the marvels and wonders awaiting inside my amazamous new building behind the factory and have a chance to win a titanium ticket. But, I’m getting ahead of myself, which I sometimes do when I eat hard-boiled eggs before boiling water. Messy? Oh, yes. The yolk’s on me. Dr. Zinchenko? Kindly explain how this year’s sidewalk board game will be played.”

  “My pleasure, sir. This year, it’s the Slippery-Sloppery Sidewalk Board Game. The object? Collect six flags.”

  “One of my favorite amusement parks, by the way,” added Mr. Lemoncello.

  “As in the past,” said Dr. Zinchenko, “sections of sidewalk lining both sides of one block on Main Street have been painted to resemble board game squares.”

  “Thank you, Gameworks Factory Art Department!” Mr. Lemoncello said with a tip of his top hat.

  A sly grin crossed Dr. Zinchenko’s lips. “But, this year, we have added a few, shall we say, obstacles to the course.”

  “Of course we shall say that, Yanina, for that is what we have done!” said Mr. Lemoncello, waggling his bushy eyebrows. “You must land on all six red squares and complete the challenges awaiting inside their neighboring buildings. You have to pass the challenge to earn a flag.”

  “Each contestant will be assigned a different color,” added Dr. Zinchenko. “Once you have collected six flags of your color, you must race up the middle of Main Street, through a Zoom Zone of rotating windmill blades, a bouncy house, the swinging rubber hammers of doom, and a chocolate volcano, to plant all of your flags in one of the florist foam islands floating in the center of our putrid putting green, which is only green because it is actually a pool of slime.”

  Simon gulped. And wondered what he’d just won his way into.

  “Don’t worry,” whispered Soraiya. “It’ll be fun.”

  Simon nodded and giggled nervously.

  Dr. Zinchenko looked down at the contestants, who’d clustered at the lip of the stage. “The first four players to plant their six flags in the putrid putting green will be declared the winners and receive instructions about tonight’s event inside the new building.”

  “Where,” said Mr. Lemoncello, “you will have your chance to play another game and win the biggest, most stupendem
ous prize I’ve ever even thought about giving away. In fact, today’s final game will be so intense, you’ll need to partner with a world-class gamester to play it. Therefore, I have invited four of the sharpest gamers in all the land to join us today. They should arrive here in Hudson Hills…”

  He glanced at his Mad Hatter–sized pocket watch.

  “Right about…now!”

  Simon heard the boom of a jet doing a flyby, the way they do before big football games. He and the eleven other contestants raced to the edge of the tent so they could watch the jet zoom across the sky and do a few air show stunts.

  The plane was bright yellow.

  It was also shaped like a banana!

  “OMG!” said Soraiya. “That’s Mr. Lemoncello’s private plane. That’s his banana jet!”

  Mr. Lemoncello threw both of his arms up and addressed the crowd.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, friends and families, on that jet heading for the nearest landing strip—and probably tossing their cookies because they weren’t expecting a barrel roll or a loop the loop at such a low altitude—are four of my hometown heroes. You’ve seen them in my holiday commercials. You’ve watched them on the Kidzapalooza Network’s All-Star Breakout Game show. You might even own their lunch box with the handy soup thermos. I know I do. Please welcome to the twenty-fifth annual Gameworks Company picnic the Lemoncello corporate jet carrying my fellow Buckeyes from Ohio—Kyle Keeley, Akimi Hughes, Andrew Peckleman, and, of course, the one, the only, Haley Daley!”

  The crowd went wild.

  “Each of the four sidewalk board game winners,” explained Dr. Zinchenko, “will be teamed up with one of the Ohio players for tonight’s high-stakes game inside the new building.”

  “I hope I get Kyle Keeley,” whispered Soraiya. “That guy knows how to win.”