Flip the Silver Switch

by Jackie Yeager

  “Of course,” says Seraphina with a laugh. “It will be even more important here at the Global Championships.”

  Each of us step off the bridge and see that the door is above our heads—way above our heads.

  “What are we supposed to do now?” asks Jillian.

  “Remember, Jillian: physical fitness promotes creativity,” says Gregor.

  “So we’ll climb up to the door. Follow me.” Seraphina slips off her heels and pushes the doorbell. Small rubber ledges pop out of the wall. She shimmies up to the top, one foothold at a time, with no problem at all. Ander jumps onto the first foothold next, and one-by-one we follow her up. But when we step inside the treehouse, I gasp. It’s nothing like I was expecting. In the center of the room is the floating playground from Camp Piedmont!

  Ander’s looks at me, grinning. “The bouncing blobs are here!”

  Seraphina flashes a purple lipstick smile. “Go on, have at it.”

  Ander and I race for the blobs. I get yellow, he gets blue. They bounce us throughout the room as high as the ceiling—up and down, up and down.

  Jillian climbs a winding ladder and steps onto a carpet. It shimmies for a second and then floats around the room above our heads. “Guys, look! I’m riding on a flying carpet!”

  Mare and Jax race on the obstacle course, climbing through airborne tires, up a floating rope wall, and over a spinning log. Jax attempts to climb up the slippery pole but slides back down. Mare pulls herself up easily and reaches the finish line first.

  I jump off my blob and climb up to the clouds. They toss me around like I’m in a tub of marshmallows. I peek over the edge, and Gregor is standing in the corner with his hands on his hips, as usual—only his crabby grimace has been replaced with the tiniest smile.

  “Well?” asks Seraphina. “What do you think?” She stuffs her hands in her pockets and walks over to the bottom of the winding ladder.

  We hurry over to her, all of us huffing and puffing and red in the face.

  “This is awesome!” says Ander. “How did you get this stuff here?”

  “Ah, the magic of science, young Ander. Nothing is impossible if you use the right tools.”

  “Oh, like hammers and nails.”

  “Not always. Sometimes you need your imagination.”

  “Well, yeah, I know that, but didn’t you just box up the playground from Meeting Room Twelve and ship it here?”

  Seraphina laughs. “What fun would that be? We recreated it all, right here by ourselves. If you remember, the items back in Meeting Room Twelve were made mostly of materials found in the Piedmont Pantry. This floating playground is made mostly of duct tape, commercial strength fishing line, and super glue.”

  Jax looks underneath the floating carpet. “But how did you get the carpets to fly?”

  “Hover gel . . . just like the substance you pour into your aero-scooters. We didn’t need to use fuel though, since they don’t go far.”

  We scurry like mice to get a closer look at the playground. I can’t believe it. The flying carpet, the clouds, the obstacle course—all of it is made of duct tape—probably like a thousand rolls!

  “You guys are fabulous,” squeals Jillian.

  “Thanks! Why should you guys get to do all the awesome stuff? We figured once the competition starts, we can’t help you at all, so we may as well get our creative fingers moving while we can.”

  “Do all the teams stay in treehouses like this?” asks Mare.

  “They’re staying in tree suites similar to this. But it was up to the preceptors to fill them with items they believed would help their teams be successful in the Global Championships.”

  “And you filled ours with the floating playground?” I ask.

  “Not just that,” said Gregor. “I believe you’ll want to see what’s upstairs. Follow me.”

  We follow Gregor and Seraphina to a fluffy staircase behind the floating playground, a stark contrast to the metal and shininess of the main floor. We reach the top and look over the railing at the playground below.

  “As you can see, the railing prevents you from falling to the floor, but if you think you can climb on top of it and make a swan dive for the floating clouds from up here, you would be mistaken. Plexiglas has been installed right on top of the railing. That way you won’t be tempted to turn the railing into a diving board.”

  “Aw, man,” says Ander. “That would be awesome.”

  Gregor turns away from the Plexiglas. “This floor has two large rooms: the Work Room and the Inspiration Room. This one is the Inspiration Room.”

  We peek into a long space filled with the sound of rushing water. “It’s divided into sections. This end, with the waterfall, is called the Quiet Area. It’s full of pillows, books, and windows that look out into the forest. If you need a quiet place to read, think, or brainstorm, this is the area to find it.”

  “Can I take a nap in there if I want to?” ask Mare.

  I roll my eyes. “We’re not going to have time for naps, Mare. We have a competition to win, remember?”

  She scowls at me, but I don’t care. How can she think we have time for naps?

  “The area at the other end, separated by soundproof Plexiglas, is the Harmony Area. Some of you may do your best thinking when music is playing in the background. Musical instruments are at your disposal, but there is also recorded music—if you’d rather listen than play.”

  “Oh, cool, they have a saxophone,” says Jax.

  “You play the sax?” asks Ander.

  Jax nods. “Yeah, I do.”

  “Cool, I did, too, for a while.”

  We walk to the Work Room. “Inside the Work Room,” says Gregor, “you’ll find the tech area. It’s filled with air screens, desks, and wall-sized monitors. It’s set up to handle any research you may want to do.”

  “I know where Jax will be hanging out,” Mare mutters.

  “We may all have to hang out in here to work on our Ancestor App,” I say.

  “True, I’m just saying that I won’t spend my free time in here; I’ll be napping in the other room.”

  “Stop talking about naps! We’re only here for two weeks! How much free time do you think we’re going to have?”

  Mare looks right at me. “I see you haven’t gotten less uptight lately.”

  I huff out a breath and whisper to Ander. “I might have to invent a stay-awake machine for Mare. That way she won’t need sleep.” He tries his best to stifle his laugh.

  Seraphina leads us to the other end of the Work Room—a colorful area with a long table full of fabrics and crafting materials. “Okay, now this is heaven!” squeals Jillian.

  “It’s like a mini Piedmont Pantry,” explains Seraphina. “All the materials you need are here. I know you already have costumes, but if you need a quick fix, supplies are available.”

  “But wait,” says Jillian. “Can we be in these rooms even if we don’t have a particular reason to be? Like can we just come in here to make stuff?”

  “Of course,” she answers. “This tree suite is designed with imagination and inspiration in mind.”

  Jillian smiles so big, I can see every tooth in her mouth. Oh my god, if she has her way, she’ll spend the whole two weeks making dresses or something. Now I have to worry about Mare taking naps and Jillian going sew-crazy.

  Gregor heads to the door. “Do you want to see where you’ll be sleeping?”

  “Um, yeah!” says Mare excitedly.

  “Alright,” says Seraphina. “Up to your tree chambers we go.” We walk to the center of the tree suite in between the two rooms and climb another set of steps colored in pink, yellow, dark blue, light blue, and green. Our team mantra phrases are written across them just like they were on the wiggly bridge. We reach the top, and a tall window looks out into the forest.

  “Before we split up into
the girls’ tree chamber and the boys’ tree chamber, I want to give you these.” Seraphina reaches into her pocket and pulls out five watches, all in different colors. “These are your Piedmont Watches. Gregor and I have them too. They allow us to see where each of you are at all times, within a matter of inches, so you’ll never get lost. You can give the number to your families too in case they want to call or message you.”

  She hands me a yellow watch, and I put it on my wrist.

  “Yay, pink!” says Jillian. “Thank you.”

  Mare gets light blue, Ander gets dark blue, and Jax gets green. Gregor’s is gray and Seraphina’s, of course, is purple.

  “Make sure you wear them at all times. They’re waterproof.”

  “Can we play games on them?” says Ander.

  “No,” Gregor replies. “These watches do not have that capability. Besides, if they did, you’d most likely spend your time playing games instead of interacting with your teammates and other kids here at Globals.”

  Good. Our team doesn’t need any distractions!

  “This is where we split up,” Seraphina continues and leads Jillian, Mare, and me to the Girls Tree Chamber on the left as Gregor leads the boys to the Boys Tree Chamber on the right.

  Seraphina practically skips down the hallway. “The bathroom is here on the left. It’s like the one at Camp Piedmont with three of everything, except the shower. You’ll have to share that. And across from it are your cubbies, a section for each of you.”

  Mare nods. “So even Jillian should be able to fit her clothes neatly.”

  Jillian shrugs. She doesn’t seem to mind at all that she can’t keep her clothes neat or that Mare is ribbing her about it.

  Seraphina continues. “And you’ll each have your own sleeping eggs.”

  “Do you mean sleeping bags?” I ask, trying to catch up to her.

  “No,” she laughs. “I mean sleeping eggs.”

  “Here at the end of the hall is your nest, complete with sleeping eggs—where the best ideas are hatched!” Three colorful egg-shaped beds, arranged like a U, are built into twig-lined walls.

  “We’re like baby birds!” says Jillian.

  “Birds who invent things,” I say.

  Mare climbs into the one in the center. “Um no, maybe birds who sleep all day.”

  “Not so fast,” says Seraphina. “But I do hope you like them.”

  “I’ve always wanted a treehouse,” I say.

  “So, your tree suite is close enough?”

  I laugh. “Definitely!”

  “Good. I’ve left dresses in your cubbies—for the Piedmont Gala.”

  “Wait, what?” I ask. “What do you mean—Piedmont Gala?”

  Jillian looks at her, wide-eyed.

  “Well, this is the Global Championships, and you’re about to meet kids from all over the world, so don’t you think it makes sense that we’d have a gala to attend? I’ll meet you downstairs in thirty minutes. Oh wait, one more thing. Next to your wall of cubbies is a mini elevator—for items, not for people. If you open it up you’ll find your travel cases, got it?”

  “Got it,” says Mare.

  Jillian is spinning in front of the sleeping eggs. “First a craft room, and now a gala? Can you believe it? I didn’t think this could be any better than Camp Piedmont!”

  I open up the elevator and pull out my suitcase. “I thought we were here to showcase our invention—to do our skit. The information packet about the Global Championships didn’t say anything about going to a gala. What do you do at a gala?”

  Jillian grabs her suitcase out next. “Don’t be such a worrier, Kia. I don’t know what we do at a gala either, but I hope we get to dance.”

  Mare pulls her pillow close. “I hope we get to take a quick nap before we go.”

  “Ugh,” I tug at the zipper on my suitcase. “I just hope we have time to practice when we get back.”

  THE PIEDMONT GALA

  For the gala, we’re all supposed to dress in our country’s traditional clothing. So I swish down the hall of our tree chamber in a yellow dress, adjusting the puffy sleeves. Mare and Jillian swish down after me in dresses just like mine, except that Mare’s is light blue and Jillian’s is pink. It feels weird not wearing our normal matching t-shirts and shorts, and I can’t imagine that American girls in the 1700s wore giant dresses like this.

  “Kia,” Jillian calls. “You forgot your bow.”

  I take the yellow ribbon from her and twist it around in my fingers, but when I fumble with it for too long, she grabs it back from me. “Never mind, I’ll do it.”

  She pulls the sides of my hair up into a half ponytail and secures it with a band. Then she wraps the ribbon around it and turns it into a bow.

  Mare fluffs out the bottom of her dress. “I told you we’d all be dressed the same.”

  “But we’re so fabulous, Mare. Look at us!” says Jillian. She grabs us by the hands and spins us around in circles. Mare resists for a second, but soon she laughs with me as we spin along the tree chamber hallway.

  “I feel like Martha Washington,” she says.

  “All the kids are going to be dressed in their country’s traditional clothing,” Jillian reminds her. “I can’t wait to see what they’re wearing.”

  “Everyone else will probably be wearing shorts, and we’ll be the only ones dressed up like this,” says Mare. “If that happens, I’m out of there.”

  We hear voices, so we open the door to the main hallway. Ander and Jax appear in front of the window wearing old-fashioned suits—Jax in green and Ander in blue. “Just call me Thomas Jefferson,” says Ander. “Like our breeches and waist coasts?”

  “What’s with the shoes?” asks Mare.

  I laugh. “Buckles?”

  “Yup,” he replies. “Revolutionary shoes with buckles. Would any of you ladies care for an escort down the stairs?”

  Mare gives him the stink eye. “No, thanks. I can walk by myself.” She grabs the railing and swishes her way down.

  I think about my giant puffy dress and the chance that I’ll roll all the way down to the bottom. “I would.”

  Ander nods and holds his elbow out toward me. I grab onto it, and together we follow Mare.

  “Well, I guess that just leaves you and me,” Jillian says to Jax in a mock-Southern accent. She swishes behind me, and all I can do is hope she doesn’t trip and send me rolling all the way down to the first floor.

  Seraphina and Gregor appear from behind the floating playground. Seraphina looks like a movie star in her bright purple dress with her hair piled up on top of her head.

  Ander whistles. “Wow, Seraphina. Now that’s what I’m talking about.”

  She laughs. “I think that’s a compliment, so I guess I’ll just say, Thank you, kind sir.”

  Gregor, wearing a gray suit, walks to the door and opens it wide. “Gentlemen, I’m glad to see you know how to dress yourselves. Ladies, you look lovely. Shall we proceed to the gala?”

  My butterflies stir as I walk through the door. An aero-cart, almost like the one we rode in on the way to Piedmont Pantry, is parked outside. Gregor opens the cart door for Seraphina while the boys hop into the back row. Then he holds the middle door open as the girls and I scoot into the second row, stuffing our dresses in as well as we can. As much as I hate to waste time at this gala, I do like riding there in style.

  Gregor drives the cart along the uneven bricks. Soon, we lift above the trees and soar over the other tree suites. Instead of feeling excited like I usually feel when flying through the air, my stomach suddenly feels sick. I’m not too sure about this gala. What am I supposed to do there?

  We’re barely out of sight of the tree suite colony when I feel a tap on my shoulder. “Hey KK, look!”

  Our aero-cart descends and just ahead is a cluster of buildings—fancy white buildings with tal
l peaks. Seraphina spins around. “Welcome, Crimson Kids, to le Universite de Creativite!”

  I scan the massive campus before us. This place is incredible!

  Gregor lands the cart, we pile out, and Seraphina gathers us around. “Impressive, huh?”

  I can’t look away, even for a second.

  “When we get inside the Imagination Centre you’ll see the other teams that are here for the Championship. This is a really great chance for you to meet kids from all over the world, including the other teams from the Unites States. Be sure to be say hello to them. They’ll be dressed just like you, so they should be easy to find.”

  “Where are the other American teams from? I forgot,” asks Jillian.

  “Pennsylvania, Texas, Idaho, and Maryland.”

  “As long as that nasty team from Michigan isn’t here, I’m happy.” I picture Witch Girl whipping her braid around at us.

  “You’re safe, Kia. The Michigan team didn’t place in the top five at the National Finals to qualify.”

  “What do we do at this gala?” asks Jax.

  “That much we’ll find out when we get inside. Everybody ready?”

  “Yup,” says Ander. “We’re ready.”

  We proceed up a long sidewalk lined with low brick walls and lamp posts as the twilight sky emerges, and the lights flicker to life. A man in a suit pulls open a heavy door for us. “Good evening, New York team. Welcome to the Piedmont gala.”

  We enter the Imagination Centre, and it feels like we’ve stepped into another country—only I’m not sure which one. “Ander, this ceiling must be a thousand feet high!”

  “Imagine the juggling I could do in here.”

  “There must be a thousand kids here,” I reply. Girls walk by wearing Indian saris and Japanese kimonos. Boys joke around in languages I don’t understand, some wearing Mexican sombreros and others wearing German lederhosen. Kids just like us, but not quite like us at all.

  We walk cautiously around the room, nodding and smiling. Not all the kids speak English, so we won’t be able to talk to some of them. Part of me wishes we could talk to everyone here at this gala, but then I remember we’re competing against them. Only three of the inventions will get chosen. That’s not a lot. So I smile at everyone I see but decide that I won’t become friends with any of them. It’s never smart to underestimate the competition or let your guard down.