“Okay. It’s going to take sixteen moves. I’ll drive the green car south to the wall while you back up the fire truck to the top.”
“Got it!” said Soraiya.
The gluey syrup was up to their ankles and, with every step, it tried to suck the boots off their feet.
“This is disgusting!” shouted Soraiya, making her way to the fire truck.
Their feet made all sorts of rude noises as they slogged through the sticky bog.
“I’m in!” said Soraiya. “Guess what? The truck’s steering wheel is a chocolate-covered pretzel. With sprinkles.”
“Mine is the top of a lollipop,” said Simon as he climbed into the little green car. “Find the accelerator pedal.”
“You mean this thing that looks like an angled candy bar on the floor?”
“I guess so,” said Simon, his mouth full of chocolate and crunchy chunks of candy cane. “Mine’s made out of peppermint bark.”
After the first two moves were made, Simon talked Soraiya through six more while he made seven. They had to slog through the sludge and climb into every vehicle at least once.
When Simon hauled himself up into the cab of the blue truck, he pulled down on a licorice loop to toot its air horn. It felt awesome to be up so high in the big rig’s driver’s seat.
After fifteen moves, the little red car had a clear path to the exit. Simon and Soraiya hopped out of their vehicles and sloshed through the icky brown muck, ready to ride the red car out of the swamp.
They were nearly there when suddenly a fudgy, sludgy creature sprang up from the gluey lagoon.
Startled, Simon almost fell backward into the molasses.
Some kind of gloppy monster that looked like the poop emoji’s cousin was two feet in front of him. The thing was a lumpy mound of half-melted chocolate with a cherry-red tongue and the yellow candy eyes of a chocolate Easter bunny. It was also, for some reason, holding a Fudgsicle.
“That’s Gloppy!” shouted Soraiya. “Give him a hug!”
“What?” cried Simon.
“He may look like a monster, but according to the official Candy Land website, ‘He’s really a lovable glop of chocolaty goo.’ ”
That surprised Simon. “You’ve been to the Candy Land website?”
“It was my favorite game when I was three years old. Gloppy gets lonely sitting in this swamp all by himself. Hug him.”
“What?”
“Hug Gloppy!”
“Why don’t you do it?”
“You’re closer.”
“Okay, okay.”
Closing his eyes, Simon leaned forward and wrapped his arms around the animatronic, chocolate-dribbling creature. When he did, some kind of hydraulics whooshed and pulled the clicking-clacking monster mannequin down into the floor. The six-inch sea of syrupy molasses followed Gloppy down the sinkhole in a gurgling whirlpool of brown.
“Woo-hoo!” shouted Soraiya. “You drained the swamp. That’ll make it a lot easier to roll the red car out of here.”
“Let’s do it!” said Simon. The front of his shirt and pants were smeared with fudge sludge. It was very tasty. Fortunately, none of the goop had splattered on his fake nose or rubber chin.
“Look,” said Soraiya as she climbed into the passenger seat. “There’s a pair of clean tracksuits in the back. We can change out of these dirty clothes.”
“Let’s drive out of here first.”
“Good idea.”
Simon grabbed the Peppermint Pattie steering wheel and pressed down on the accelerator (this one was made out of peanut brittle). The red car scooted across the molasses-free parking lot and out the exit slot. When it was clear of the curb, a trumpet fanfare blared out of its radio while a confetti shower of sprinkles and jimmies fell from the ceiling.
“That was a blast!” hollered Simon.
“Yeet!” said Soraiya as she showed Simon how to fist bump.
While they laughed, a digital message zipped across the tiny car’s dashboard video screen.
“It’s our next riddle!” said Soraiya.
It was a short one:
WHO IS GLOPPY?
“How many words in the answer?” asked Simon as Soraiya swiped her finger across their lPad to wake it up.
“Eight,” reported Soraiya. “And one has an apostrophe!”
Soraiya slugged Simon playfully on the shoulder. “Ha! Now aren’t you glad I went to the Candy Land website?”
She typed in the answer without missing a beat: He’s really a lovable glop of chocolaty goo!
The screen dissolved into the seventy-six-letter phrase and automatically filled in twenty more circles:
“Whoa,” said Simon. “This is like the longest version of hangman ever played. But, I’m starting to see some words. ‘Great.’ ‘Dedication.’ Maybe ‘success’…”
“We need to move on to the next game.”
“There’s a pair of changing booths over there,” said Simon.
They grabbed the clean clothes, jumped out of the little red car, and dashed over to the tents.
“Where do we go next?” Simon yelled once he was inside his changing booth.
“A game that rhymes with rattle-hip!” Soraiya called from hers.
“Um, cattle-lip?”
Soraiya was silent. For five full seconds. “For a supergamer, you really don’t play many board games, do you?”
“Just the ones I make up.”
“Well,” said Soraiya as she and Simon both stepped out of the changing tents in fresh clothes, “this one is called Battleship! It’s another of my dad’s favorites. Come on.”
“I’m right behind you,” said Simon. “I just hope this battleship isn’t floating in a sea of something worse than molasses!”
Mr. McClintock watched Soraiya and Mario race out of the Candy Crush Hour room and head to the Battleship exhibit.
He glanced over to monitor number thirteen to check in on Haley Daley and Carolyn Hudson. It seemed they were finally tired of singing karaoke and doing dance routines. Zooming in on their lPad, Mr. McClintock discovered that Haley and Carolyn were slated to play Battleship, too.
“That means they’ll be going up against Soraiya and Mario,” Mr. McClintock mumbled, making notes on the legal pad he used to track the players’ positions.
Jack and Andrew were still stuck in the nursery rhyme zone, wrestling with a final floating emoji rebus:
Frustrated, Mr. McClintock covered his face with his hands.
“It’s ‘rub-a-dub-dub, three men in a tub’!” he muttered, and realized that when Jack was a baby, he probably should’ve read him fewer bedtime stories about famous battles and more nursery rhymes.
Upstairs on the fourth floor, Akimi and Piya remained bogged down, hooking up a caboose to their choo-choo train.
If things stayed the way they were, Soraiya and Mario were going to win.
Unless something slowed them down, too.
Mr. McClintock stood up from the control desk and headed for the door. He needed to be Oscar Mike, on the move. He needed to leave his gingerbread house command post and do something, anything that might give Jack and Andrew an edge when they finally emerged from their struggle with the floating emoji.
Mr. McClintock had no idea what that something might be.
But it was time to go looking for it!
Simon and Soraiya found the Battleship exhibit.
A yellow submarine was docked near the side of a large indoor pool under a steamy atrium. Gentle waves rippled across the water.
“Good,” said Soraiya. “No more syrup.”
“Is the water gross?” asked Haley Daley as she and Carolyn Hudson drifted into the room. “Because these shoes are brand-new. Oh, hi, Mario. How’s it going?”
Simon didn’t answer. For half a seco
nd, he forgot who he was supposed to be. When he remembered, he puffed up his chest and thrust out his fake chin.
“I’m awesome, Hales,” he said. “How you two doin’?” He tried to say it like a cool guy he’d seen on TV once.
“Groovy. Carolyn doesn’t really care about inheriting Mr. Lemoncello’s factory.”
“I’d rather go to Hollywood and make movies,” Carolyn explained. “It’s why I’m glad I met Haley. It’s why I tried so hard at the sidewalk board game.”
“Carolyn’s a smart and driven young woman,” Haley said with a wink. “Just like me.”
“So, Mario,” said Carolyn, “do you go to the same middle school in Ohio that Haley used to go to?”
“Um, yes. I think so.”
“Uh-oh, wait a second,” said Haley, studying the yellow submarine bobbing in the water. “Are we supposed to climb inside that thing?”
“Yep,” said Soraiya. “There’ll be another submarine on the other side of that dividing wall.” She glanced at her watch. “We need to hurry, you guys. Okay. You two will be over here, Mario and I will be over there. We’ll position our sub someplace where we think you won’t be able to find it. You’ll do the same. Then we’ll take turns calling shots.” She pointed to the bottom of the pool, which was marked off in a ten-by-ten grid. One side was marked with the letters, the other with numbers. “You know, A-one, C-nine, stuff like that.”
“Actually,” said Haley, hoisting a wobbly water balloon out of a battleship-gray crate, “I think we’re just supposed to toss these over the wall at each other.”
“Cool,” said Simon. “That sounds way more fun.”
Suddenly, turbulent waves started churning across the water, rocking the submarine. A siren A-OOGAed.
“Battle stations,” announced a stern voice in the ceiling. “Battle stations!”
“This is going to be so awesome!” said Soraiya. “Come on, Mario!”
They hurried to the far side of the wall, grabbed a double armload of water balloons, and climbed into the two open hatches on top of their bobbing submarine.
“Let’s drive it over there,” whispered Soraiya.
“Good move,” Simon whispered back. “I think Carolyn is buying my Mario act.”
“Totally,” said Soraiya.
“Um, I’ve never been in a boat before.”
“Don’t worry! I have. Found the gas pedal!”
And the small boat bounded across the surging surf.
“Do you get seasick?” asked Soraiya as the tiny sub cut across the waves.
“I hope not,” said Simon.
“Me too,” said Soraiya. “Because I’m sitting in front of you. Okay. We’ll park here.” She piloted the submarine to a spot very close to the dividing wall.
“Oooh,” whispered Simon. “Clever move.”
“You guys ready over there?” Soraiya cried out.
“Totally!” shouted Carolyn. “You guys toss your balloon first!”
Simon lobbed a wobbly water balloon up and over the wall.
Two seconds later, there was a splash.
“Miss!” shouted Haley and Carolyn.
“Our turn!” said Carolyn. “Here it comes!”
Simon looked up.
And saw a blubbery blue balloon wobbling through the air. It was coming down straight at him.
Before he could duck or cover his head, the balloon smacked him right in the face and exploded.
He was drenched.
His shirt was soaked.
“Direct hit,” he said with a laugh, swiping away some of the water.
Soraiya gasped.
And it didn’t take Simon long to figure out why.
Going cross-eyed, he looked down and saw his rubber nose dangling off the tip of his real one.
His fake chin?
Stuck to his shirt.
“How’d we do?” hollered Haley.
“You got us good,” said Soraiya as she tried to help Simon reattach his rubbery disguise.
Simon heard footsteps on the other side of the wall. Someone ran into the room.
“You two done? We got next.”
It was Jack McClintock. He was out of breath.
“It’s all yours,” said Haley.
Simon heard Haley and Carolyn climb out of their sub and exit the exhibit.
“I need glue!” he whispered to Soraiya.
“You need to fix your wig, too. Hurry!”
More footsteps.
It sounded like Jack and Andrew were coming around to Soraiya and Simon’s side of the pool.
“So,” said Jack, “you guys should probably switch sides for this next match like they do in volley—”
He did not finish that thought.
He was too busy staring at Simon, who was sitting in the submarine holding his nose, his chin, and his hair in his hands.
“Excuse me, sir,” said Mr. Raymo, tapping Mr. Lemoncello on the shoulder. “I hate to interrupt your enjoyment of the jug band’s clog dancing routine, but Jack McClintock is in the atrium, yelling at your interactive oil painting.”
“Oh, dear. Is there some problem?”
“Apparently.”
“It might be best if you had a word with him,” coached Dr. Zinchenko.
“Very well,” said Mr. Lemoncello. “Bring me the portable portrait-cam!”
Mr. Raymo rolled a black cube with a pair of velvet curtains at one end over to Mr. Lemoncello. Video cables dangled out of the opposite side. Mr. Lemoncello pulled back the curtains and stuck his head inside the box, which was equipped with a holographic camera linked to the talking portrait in the museum’s atrium. There was also a miniature monitor so Mr. Lemoncello could see who was talking to him.
“Halloooo!” he shouted into the camera lens. “How may I be of assistance, Jack?”
Inside the atrium, all the contestants had gathered under the jumbo-sized portrait of Mr. Lemoncello.
“What seems to be the problem?” asked the holographic painting.
“This cheater isn’t Mario the supergamer from Ohio!” screamed Jack. “He’s a local joker named Simon Skrindle!”
“Whoa, ease up, rude dude,” said Akimi.
“What’s Simon Skrindle doing here?” Jack demanded.
“He’s playing with me,” said Soraiya.
“Kyle Keeley is sick,” Haley tried to explain. “We needed someone to take his place.”
“So we gave him a slight disguise,” said Akimi.
Jack turned on Andrew. “Did you know about this?”
“Yes,” said Andrew proudly. “I did.”
“This is so illegal!” shouted Jack. He wanted Simon out of the game. Mostly because he knew, better than anyone in Hudson Hills, what a skilled gamer the guy actually was. If Jack could get Simon ejected, he’d eliminate his number one threat.
“Look,” Jack said to the Lemoncello portrait, “the rules of this game were pretty clear. Each winner of the sidewalk board game would be teamed up with one of the gamers from Ohio. Simon Skrindle doesn’t live in Ohio. Therefore, Soraiya is disqualified. She needs to leave here, now.”
“Not so fast, Jack,” boomed Mr. Lemoncello. “You are, of course, correct. Those were the official rules when the game began. But, Mario—I mean, Simon—tell me: Did you at any point during your game play today pick up, oh, let’s say a bonus card?”
Simon nodded. “Yes, sir. We did pretty well on the Connect Four game and—”
“No you did not!” said Jack. “What a liar. Andrew and I beat those two.”
“It’s true, sir,” said Andrew, looking up at the painting. “We did.”
“But then we had to play a second game,” said Soraiya. “Simon gave four answers when we only needed to give one!”
“And for tha
t,” declared Mr. Lemoncello, “he was presented with a bonus card made out of rubber, is that correct, Simon?”
“Yes, sir.” He held up the wobbly rubber card.
“Ah, yes!” said Mr. Lemoncello. “That’s a bendable bonus card if ever I’ve seen one, and I’ve seen a billion, right next door at the factory on rubber-molding day! That card, Simon, is good for bending one rule. Would you like to cash it in?”
“Yes, sir,” said Simon. “I would.”
“Very good. And which rule would you like to bend?”
“Um, the one about partners having to be from Ohio. I want to finish the game with Soraiya!”
“That’s what I want, too!” said Soraiya.
“Very well, Soraiya. But I am duty-bound to inform you: Should you win, you will have to share your titanium ticket and your slot in the tournament finals with Simon Skrindle, since he is also a resident of Hudson Hills. Do you find these terms acceptable?”
“Yes, sir. I do.”
Simon felt adrenaline rush through his body. He had a chance to win a titanium ticket and take over Mr. Lemoncello’s whole game-making empire with Soraiya? That would be so much fun. She could be the big cheese. He’d dream up all the games. What had been the worst day of his life might turn into the best!
“Very well,” announced Mr. Lemoncello, “that rule has been bent, but like a stout-hearted willow tree in a stiff breeze, it is not broken. Play on, contestants! Play on!”
“B-b-but…,” Jack sputtered.
“Jack?” said Mr. Lemoncello. “You’re sputtering when you should be playing. The clock is ticking. The sand is shifting. It’s seven-ten. It’s time to start gaming again!”
“You let him spend the day at the company picnic?” huffed Simon’s grandfather as he hiked up the factory hill with Simon’s grandmother.
“Take it easy, Sam,” said his grandmother. “It’s no big deal. I just wanted Simon to get out of the house and have a little fun.”
“We should’ve discussed it first, Sophia!”
“Why? You would’ve just said no. Honestly, Samuel, you have to let go of your anger. Making life miserable for Simon won’t bring Stephen back!”
Mr. Lemoncello and the Titanium Ticket Page 13