The Gollywhopper Games

by Jody Feldman

  So was the volleyball they were playing with. Gil didn’t know if Golly sold this one yet or if they were watching today to see how it tested out. It was regulation white, until you hit it. Then depending on the spot, it glowed a different color. He couldn’t wait to see it at night.

  Gil got into the game fast. Set. Set. Spike. Dig. Set. Spike. Score! The rhythm of the game seemed as natural as breathing. He did miss sports. Even as hot as it was, he didn’t want to take the rotation out, especially because both Lonnie and Donnie were on the sidelines waiting for him.

  “Now what?” said Gil.

  “Lonnie told me you were here,” said Donnie.

  “And?” Gil said, putting on his best I-dare-you face.

  “And nothing. Just didn’t believe you existed anymore.” He looked at his brother. “He’s still got game. Shouldn’t be here, though.”

  Lonnie shook his head. “You know you shouldn’t be here, Gil.”

  “I checked the rules,” Gil said. “None of my relatives have worked at Golly for more than a year. I’m eligible.”

  Lonnie shrugged. “They should’ve added a Goodson rule, you creep. Let’s go, Donnie.”

  Gil felt sorry for the volleyball. Knew he’d smash the air out of it the next time it came his way. Set. Set. Spike it right at the twins. Score.

  Would this always be his life in Orchard Heights?

  CHAPTER 6

  The announcement came over a loudspeaker at 8:30 the next morning. “Ladies and gentlemen! Boys and girls! It’s Gollywhopper Day! All contestants and their guardians must be in line in five minutes. A team of Golly representatives will lead you to a designated registration area where we will issue the remaining tickets.”

  Gil jumped up. “This is it,” he said to his parents.

  His mom and dad had shown up early yesterday evening with carryout fried chicken—enough to share with Curt and Bianca—and for the rest of the night they ate, sat, talked, stared at the stars, listened to music, and watched the line grow longer and longer. Somewhere between two A.M. and dawn, Gil managed to doze off. Right now, though, he was too nervous to be tired.

  He rolled up his sleeping bag, and by the time he retied his duffel, a group of Golly workers was walking toward them. The Golly people led their section of the line to an enormous red-and-yellow banner over a long bank of tables with ten more workers stationed behind.

  Line Cards #5501–#6500

  REGISTER HERE!

  “All right,” came a voice over a bullhorn. “Please take a place in any of the ten lines here. No need to push. Our computers will scan your cards and tell us if we’re accepting your number yet. Just have your yellow line cards ready. We have room for some of you.”

  “How many?” Bianca shouted.

  “How many?” came the echoes that went unanswered.

  Gil wound up deep in one line with Bianca right next to him. An Orchard Heights High School cheerleader handed them each a registration form and Gollywhopper Games pen. “Fill this out before you get to the table.”

  It didn’t take long to reach the front of the line. “Good morning,” said the woman behind the table. “Your yellow cards and registration forms, please.”

  Gil and Bianca passed their cards and papers to her as if they were a team.

  The woman scanned the cards under a weird light. “We want to make sure you didn’t set up a little counterfeiting operation last night,” she said with a lilt in her voice.

  Gil knew she was trying to be funny, but…

  A light flashed green.

  “We’re in?” Gil asked.

  “You’re in.”

  “We’re in!” Bianca grabbed Gil’s wrists, and they jumped in circles.

  Gil hugged his mom, his dad. Bianca hugged Curt.

  The woman handed each of them a set of rules, a souvenir ticket, and a numbered square, like the kind Olympic runners wear. “Stick these on, then go over to Security. If you have any electronics, cell phones, PDAs, or other illegal items, you can check them there and retrieve them when you leave the stadium. About ten feet beyond that, we have room to store your camping equipment. Good luck!”

  “That’s my cue to leave,” said Gil’s mom. “Call me at work when you get home.” She hugged Gil’s dad, then ruffled Gil’s hair before she kissed him on top of his head. “Go get ’em,” she said, then made a face. “That was lame.”

  “Yeah, it was,” said Gil.

  “How ’bout, try your best? Have fun? Think hard? Crush, kill, destroy?”

  “Don’t take any wooden nickels,” Gil said.

  “Look both ways before you cross the street,” said his mom.

  “Chew before you swallow.”

  “Don’t run with scissors,” his mom called, walking away with all their stuff.

  Once they passed through Security, Gil and his dad and Bianca and Curt settled on a bench near the twenty-yard line, and not a minute later, the university band marched in. With the band providing background noise, Gil read the instructions four times. If he understood them right, this part of the competition would be great for his legs that itched to run.

  Too soon, the band headed for the sidelines, but before the last marchers left the field, they yanked away some tarps covering a center stage. Underneath were microphones, amps, guitars, and drums. Four guys in jeans and T-shirts streaked onto the field. One more strutted after them.

  A couple people screamed. More and more did, too.

  “Do you know who that is?” Bianca jumped onto the bench. “I love you, Skorch!”

  The music started hard and loud with Skorch’s number one hit. A guy in front of Gil spun around. “If I lose,” he said, “I don’t really care now. I got to see the hottest concert in the world without paying for a ticket.”

  Gil and Bianca and almost everyone else sang at the top of their lungs and jumped and danced to each of Skorch’s songs until he played his final number and ran off.

  Instantly four men in neon green Golly vests took their places around the stage, precisely spaced as the four main compass points. Simultaneously each grabbed the end of an upright roll of orange plastic construction fencing that had been secured to the field. Then each man marched straight ahead, toward the seats, up through aisles, pulling the netting and clamping it to posts every four rows until they reached the very top. They came down, raced back onto the field, and staked four immense banners to the ground, labeling one section A, one B, then C and D.

  The stadium clock hit ten seconds, creating a contagious countdown.

  “Three! Two! One!”

  On cue, a booming voice resonated over the loudspeaker. “Ladies and gentlemen. Boys and girls. It’s what the world’s been waiting for. The Golly! Whopper! Games! Are you ready?”

  CHAPTER 7

  “Please!” the announcer boomed for the fourth time. “Ladies and gentlemen! Boys and girls! Please!”

  The shrieks and whoops began to fade.

  “I’m Randy Wright, your voice of the Gollywhopper Games, the ultimate competition, celebrating Golly’s fifty years in the fun-making business. So let’s make some fun!”

  The crowd cheered again.

  “I know! I know! You’re excited to get this party started, but first, important instructions.

  “Your rule sheet tells you this portion of the Gollywhopper Games consists of multiple choice questions. As I read the questions, they will appear on the scoreboard. Look up there now.

  “If we were to ask, for example: Which company is sponsoring this great event? A. Terrific; B. Gosh; C. Super; or D. Golly, your number one toy and game company in the entire world, you would all pick answer D, but how will you show your answer? Notice. The stadium is divided into four separate sections, each designated A, B, C, or D. When we’ve given the signal, you may get out of your seats, go into the concession area, and follow the arrows around the stadium, clockwise—that’s to your right—until you get to the section that matches your answer.

  “We guarantee you will
have enough time to find a place in your chosen section. For everyone’s safety (and this is vitally important): Do not run. Do not push. Do not climb over the nets. Do not go the wrong way. And always remain with your adult. Violators will be eliminated on the spot.

  “Also, adults. This is a competition for your eleven-to fifteen-year-olds. You must not help the contestants in any way.”

  “Yeah,” said Gil. “How many adults won’t help?”

  “At least one,” said his dad.

  “Good.” Gil was suddenly glad Bianca and Curt were along for his ride. They could be witnesses in case someone accused him of cheating.

  “When the concession area is nearly clear,” Randy continued, “we will start a five-minute countdown before the final buzzer. Then we will announce the correct answer. If you are in the right section, remain there. If you’ve chosen incorrectly, please find the nearest stadium exit. On your way out, you will receive a ten-dollar gift certificate toward the purchase of any Golly product plus a free copy of Skorch’s new CD.

  “Good luck, contestants. And now…the moment you’ve all been waiting for. Let the Gollywhopper Games begin!

  “Question! Number! One! How many letters plus punctuation marks are in Golly Toy and Game Company’s first advertising slogan?

  “A. 27; B. 28; C. 29; D. 30.

  “Okay…GO!”

  Most kids lunged for the aisles.

  “Where are we going?” asked Bianca.

  “I can’t exactly go anywhere until I figure it out,” Gil said. It wasn’t the slogan that slowed him down. Golly still printed it on every package. Gil counted the letters on his fingers once, then twice. Twenty-five, both times. Now for punctuation.

  The slogan always came with a balloon-style exclamation point. Twenty-six. Still not enough letters and marks to match any of the answers. Gil took his new Golly pen from his pocket. On the instruction sheet he scribbled: If it’s fun it’s by Golly, by golly!

  One comma? Yeah. Gil was sure. Twenty-seven. Okay, okay. Section A. Wait. The apostrophes! “I say section C.” Gil handed the paper to Bianca. “Double-check my numbers.”

  She counted, then stood. “Let’s go.”

  The four of them wormed their way up the aisle. Gil had to believe it’d be easier to move down five seats and jump the net than go three-fourths of the way around the stadium, but when they stepped inside the concession area, it wasn’t the mess he expected. It was more like an orderly game of musical chairs.

  They fell into step, passed the rest of section D, all of A and B, then entered the sunlit areas of section C with two minutes to go. Clambering over the feet and knees of a dozen people who had already hogged the spaces hugging the aisles, Gil moved down to the netting separating C from D. The backs of his legs were a millisecond from hitting the bench when Bianca grabbed him by the shoulder and whirled him around to face her.

  “Are you sure about the answer? Absolutely, positively, down-to-your-very-soul sure? If we got the very first question wrong, I think I’d crumple up and die.”

  “Yuck,” said Gil.

  “No, really.”

  “Really, Bianca? If I thought I was wrong, I’d be racing like a wild man. Instead, I’m going to sit on this nice, hot bench.”

  “Then why are more people over there?” Bianca pointed toward an overflowing section B.

  Were they right? Had Gil imagined the comma? Was there really an exclamation point?

  Buzz!

  Gil jumped. Too late to move now.

  “If,” Randy’s voice boomed, “you’ll cast your attention to the scoreboards, the wrong answers will disappear, one by one, until only the correct answer remains. Hit it!”

  The crowd rose. Wild cheers thundered. All four answers on the scoreboard flashed off and on, flickering faster and faster. The board went black then lit back up with answer A, gone.

  Groans rose from that section.

  The flashing began again. Answer D, gone. It was down to B and…

  “Ahh!” Some kid had scrambled under the flexible fencing, banging into Gil’s ankles, toppling Gil onto his dad. “Security!” screamed Gil, but his voice tumbled into the cheers from his section because only answer C remained.

  The nearest guard, two rows below, was staring forward. The one three rows above was tending to some man who had a cut on his head. Gil looked for another—

  But his dad grabbed him from behind and lifted him up and down. Bianca gave him a hug. Curt whacked him on the back.

  The cheater and his adult were leaping, slapping high fives, blending in. Guiltless. The kid turned to Gil for a high five.

  Gil blinked and looked again. Shuddered.

  The kid did a double take. He pointed at Gil. “Hey!” He laughed. “If it isn’t the son of a crook!” It was Rocky Titus.

  “And you’re talking because you’re Honest Abe?”

  Rocky puffed his chest. “Prove I’m not.”

  Gil couldn’t. “Just go away.”

  “We already did. Left this boring town for the big city.” Rocky grinned. “You should see our new house. Huge pool. Floor-to-ceiling TVs. Video games like you wouldn’t believe.” He elbowed Gil. “You still living in that ugly house?”

  “It’s better than your face.” Gil turned his back to Rocky and watched his own dad talk to Mr. Titus.

  Gil had always thought Rocky’s parents were nice people, so it never made sense that their son was the biggest creep in the Midwest. Now that Mr. Titus had cheated right alongside Rocky, Gil was beginning to understand.

  “So,” Rocky whispered into Gil’s ear, “maybe you’re worth following. Did your old man steal the answers before they arrested him?”

  Gil stared at the scoreboard, felt his toes clench and release the soles of his flip-flops, tried to forget the jerk was here. Impossible. So he stared some more, jittered his knees, waited to start playing again.

  Finally Randy’s voice reverberated over the speakers. “Question number two! Golly’s very first board game—like many Golly games since—depended on a roll of the dice to keep the game moving. Using that first game as a clue, when were dice widely believed to have been invented? At the same time as:

  “A. The presence of the Shang Dynasty—before 1000 B.C.; B. The expansion of the Roman Empire—around 257 B.C.; C. The age of knights during the Middle Ages—around 1010 A.D.; or D. The cultural movement of the Renaissance—around 1410 A.D.”

  What was Gil supposed to be, a walking encyclopedia? He looked at his dad and shrugged. His dad shrugged back. So did Curt.

  “I wish I knew,” Bianca said. “I really want to help.”

  Gil smiled at her, but he doubted it.

  “Where to, Gil?” said his dad.

  “You know this one, don’t you?”

  His dad’s expression didn’t change.

  All those facts Gil had studied, all that information about business structure, stock options, insurance providers—that all meant nothing if he couldn’t figure out when dice were invented.

  He looked at the question again. “Using Golly’s first game as a clue,” Gil said, reasoning out loud. “Okay. Their first game was The Incredible Treasures of King Tut and—”

  “King Tut?” said Bianca. “I know him. What do you want to know?”

  “You’re kidding, right?” said Gil.

  “I’m crazy about him, Double G. He was the kid king who ruled for nine years and had more gold and jewels than, than…Well, he just had tons. They buried him with it. Cool and gruesome. Ask me anything.”

  “Do you know when he died?” said Gil.

  “Not exactly…”

  Gil’s stomach sank.

  “But I know he was born like in thirteen forty B.C., because thirteen forty is my locker number at school. That’s how I remember history. You gotta love history. So he must’ve died—”

  Gil grabbed Bianca’s hand and pulled her into the aisle. “You can follow me anywhere,” he said.

  She beamed. “I did good?”

>   “You did great.”

  Inside the concession area, Gil didn’t need to look back to feel Rocky lurking behind. He wanted to turn around and slug the guy, but Gil just walked harder and faster and tried to feel lucky that he’d still be in the Games after answers B, C, and D disappeared. And when the scoreboard finally started flashing, C was gone! D, gone! Then…

  B? The right answer was B? No!

  The section next to them cheered.

  Gil sank to his knees and pounded the bench in front of him.

  Rocky screamed something obscene.

  Bianca sobbed on Curt’s shoulder. “I know history. I really do.”

  Gil’s dad put a hand on his back. “I would’ve been wrong, too, but…No. You’re right. They’re—”

  “HOLD ON!” Randy’s voice pierced through Gil’s gut. “No one leave!”

  The people around Gil stopped as if caught in a freeze-frame.

  “We’ve had a malfunction. The scoreboard has the wrong answer. The wrong answer!”

  The scoreboard went black. Gil held his breath and closed his eyes until he heard the crazy cheers from the contestants surrounding him.

  “Sorry for the mix-up, folks,” Randy said. “The correct answer is now on the board. Those of you in section A, please remain where you are. To those of you in other sections, we apologize for the mix-up and ask you to exit quickly. You’ll receive an autographed copy of Skorch’s CD and a twenty-dollar Golly gift certificate.”

  Gil’s breath came in gulps. He put his head in his hands and wished he could go home, sleep for a while, and come back tonight. But he was here, and most kids were gone.