by Jody Feldman
“I do,” said Rocky.
“I bowled once at a birthday party in first grade,” Lavinia said. “It wasn’t that difficult.”
“Good,” said Thorn, sitting down. “This is the first bowling thing I’ve seen.”
“I’ve been bowling, but I’m terrible,” said Bianca. “Can I go first to get it over with?”
“Go,” Gil said. “It’ll be easier to knock down your five when all ten are standing. Then Rocky or I will take over after that.”
Bianca walked to the foul line with one of the five green balls and stuck her fingers into its holes. She swung the ball back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth. Then she released it. The ball sailed in the air and landed six feet down the lane with a thunk. “Oh, no!”
“What’s wrong, Bianca?” asked Gil. “Your ball’s going straight. Watch! Watch! Seven!”
“It’s not that. I broke a nail.”
“Big deal,” said Rocky, already posing, ball in hand. He took the classic four-step approach and thundered the ball down the lane, toppling two more pins. Not waiting for his ball to return, he picked up another and rolled it, wiping out the last pin.
“Great, Rocky!” Gil patted him on the back, then plopped a ball into Thorn’s lap.
Thorn turned it around a few times. “Which fingers go where?”
“No time for a lesson,” said Rocky. “Just get up and go.”
Thorn heaved the ball at the pins. It bounced twice and skipped into the gutter. He tried another. Gutter. Another. Gutter again.
“I’ve got a really, really good idea,” said Bianca. “Do it the kid way.”
“Excuse me?” said Thorn.
Rocky grabbed the ball from Thorn and thudded it behind the foul line. “Now straddle the ball, and shove it from behind.”
Thorn did, and the ball wobbled, creeping down the lane, trying to decide to go straight or veer left.
Before it got to the pins, Rocky thunked down a second ball. “Don’t wait. Go again.”
Thorn shoved it, too.
All five of them stood there for what seemed an eternity, waiting for the balls to strike.
“Hey, Rocky,” said Gil. “Something look strange to you?”
“Yeah. I’ve never seen a ball move that slowly.”
Gil shook his head. “I mean, down the lane. See?”
“I see he knocked down three pins. And that second one is gonna hit more.”
“Yay, Thorn!” Bianca said. “Six. You’re done.”
“My turn again.” Rocky grabbed the ball and rolled. By the time he hit three more, he had another ball in his hands.
“Wait,” said Gil. “Something looks strange.”
“Your face.”
Gil ignored him. “There’s tons of markings on the lane.”
“They always have those arrows so you know where to aim.”
“Rocky,” said Gil. “Look again.
This one has too many, and they’re circles, not arrows.”
“Let me see.” Rocky put down the ball and started running up.
“Stop!” Lavinia said. “You can’t go over the foul line.”
“The rules say don’t bowl over the foul line. You don’t see me bowling, do you?” Rocky skidded to a stop. “Hey! Some of these circles have lit-up letters. I’ve never seen anything like it.” He bent to inspect.
“Come back, Rocky!” shouted Gil. “I bet we get a letter for every pin we knock down.”
Rocky ran and skidded back. The second he stepped onto the right side of the foul line, Gil bowled one ball, then another. Thorn’s last pin, down.
“What letter did you get?” shouted Rocky.
“Forget the letters until we knock down all the pins. Go, Lavinia.”
She rolled the ball down the lane as if she had been doing it for years. Six pins fell.
When Gil finished off the other four—giving him the five he needed—Rocky was right behind him with a ball. He launched it as soon as the pins had reset. A strike.
“You’re on a roll, Rocky. Finish up,” said Gil, feeding him another ball.
Rocky rolled two balls in rapid-fire succession, wiping out all ten.
The team raced to the little circles on the lane. Each contained a lit-up letter.
“Perfect,” said Rocky. “If you read Swahili.”
“I’ve been there,” said Thorn. “Or rather, Kenya, where they speak it. That’s where I saw the zebras.”
“La-di-flaming-da,” said Rocky. “Someone translate this.”
“I can’t see all the letters at once,” said Bianca. “How do you expect me to read it?”
“Who has a pencil?” Gil asked, digging in his pocket for the bowling rules.
“We left everything in the conference room,” said Thorn. “Everything.” He glared at Gil.
Ancient history. “Rocky. Run to the conference room,” Gil said. “Find anything to write with. That way, past the flamingos. Hurry.”
Rocky zoomed, dodging a full-sized pink Cadillac, disappearing behind a counter from an old-time diner, returning faster than possible with a pad of paper and a fistful of pens.
“I’ll yell out the letters,” said Bianca.
After she finished, Gil stared at his paper.
“This has to make sense,” Gil said.
“Could it be an anagram?” asked Lavinia.
“No,” said Gil. “They wouldn’t make us rearrange fifty different letters. Besides, one’s a pound sign.”
“Cryptogram?” she said. “Where letters of the alphabet stand for different ones?”
“No way,” said Rocky. “Carol said one puzzle, one stunt. We did our puzzle. We did our stunt. We want our next puzzle. Hey, Carol! Where’s puzzle number…What puzzle’s next?”
“Number three,” said Thorn. “Only number three.”
“Hey, Carol lady! You need—”
“Forget it, Rocky.” Gil smiled. “I got it.”
“Can you share it with the class?”
Gil didn’t waste his time with a dirty look. “We wrote down the letters backward. We should’ve started at the bottom with the letter closest to us.”
Lavinia read, “You’ll find an envelope with puzzle number three under the letter Q.”
They raced up the lane.
“How do you get underneath a letter?” said Rocky.
Lavinia knelt by the Q. “Ah. It’s a pull tab like cans have.” She pawed at it.
Bianca scooted Lavinia’s hand over. “You’ll have to thank me double if I sacrifice another fingernail.” She popped up the Q, and along with it came an inch-thick plug of wood the size of a silver dollar.
Inside was a tiny green envelope.
CHAPTER 13
Rocky lunged for the envelope in Bianca’s hands.
She whirled around. “I got it out. It’s mine to open.” Bianca cleared her voice, pulled out the paper, and held it up. “It’s a poem thing and some numbers. Here.” She gave the paper to Gil.
Puzzle #3
Winds batter palm trees,
scatter splinters everywhere.
The island renews.
20, 9, 17, 26, 1, 3
(Your choices are on table #3, in back of the
bowling pin setter.)
They bolted to the back of the bowling lane and almost banged into Carol and a cameraperson. “You’re making me one happy camper,” Carol said. “You gained a few seconds.” Like a bat, she disappeared into the shadows.
“I wish she’d stop wasting our time,” said Rocky.
“I heard that!” Carol’s voice echoed from somewhere.
“You’re the one wasting our time, Rocky,” said Bianca.
Gil tried to ignore the quibbling. “Here are our choices: Hurricane Island, Strewn, or I’m a Poet! (Don’t I Know It!).”
Rocky slapped the table. “These puzzles have no directions. They make no sense,” he said. “I’m gonna sit here and watch the clock. After five minutes, I’m opening something.”
�
��You can’t make that decision for us,” said Bianca.
“You heard the lady. We did good last time. I bowled great, I ran fast, and we gained what? Like ten seconds? We’ll do it my way unless you solve it in”—he looked at the clock—“four minutes and twelve seconds, nine, eight…”
“Please stop,” said Lavinia. “I can’t think when you’re counting.”
“Then let me think for you,” said Rocky. “If that poem had a name, it would be called Hurricane. So that’s my choice in three minutes and fifty-one seconds.”
Bianca glared at him. “Listen to what you said. ‘If that poem had a name—’ Poem. Why shouldn’t the answer be I’m a Poet?”
“Looking at it another way, the poem speaks of splinters scattering everywhere,” said Lavinia. “That brings to mind the word strewn.”
“What about the numbers?” Gil said. “We can’t leave those out.”
“He’s right. The numbers.” Lavinia looked down at the puzzle. “The highest number is twenty-six, so the numbers could correspond to letters of the alphabet.”
Gil did some quick figuring. “They could if T-IQ-Z-A-C spelled a word.”
“Six letters,” said Lavinia. “Strewn has six letters.”
Thorn pointed to the box. “I was thinking Strewn myself.”
“He speaks,” said Bianca.
“Why, Thorn?” asked Gil.
“Totally different reason. I’ve never seen Strewn, and I have every Golly video game. This would be the perfect opportunity for Golly to start advertising a new product. When my father’s company launches a new product, they—”
“I don’t know,” said Gil, cutting him off, watching Rocky watch the clock. “You might be right, but we need to solve the puzzle.”
“It may help,” said Lavinia, “if we’re all quiet for a moment.”
Rocky pointed to the clock. “You got two minutes and forty moments.”
Gil looked at the clock, looked at the puzzle. Clock. Puzzle. Clock. Puzzle. Cameraperson. Clock. Puzzle. Then at Lavinia, leaning against an eight-foot rubber duckie, her hand shielding her eyes. Maybe she would come up with something again—at least something that would get one of them to think in the right direction.
“I can’t stand the silence,” said Bianca. “Maybe we should do it Rocky’s way.”
“We still have almost a minute and a half,” said Gil.
Lavinia tapped him on the shoulder. “Do you think it matters that the poem is a haiku?”
“High what?” said Rocky.
“Haiku. Japanese poetry form. Three lines, five syllables in the first and third lines and seven in the second.”
“Doubtful,” said Gil. “That adds up to seventeen, and the numbers go up to twenty-six. Any other ideas?”
“Ooh,” Bianca said. “Maybe this a bad idea. But the first puzzle’s answer was in the second box. And the second puzzle’s was in the third box. So maybe this one’s in the first box.”
“Three, two, one…First box it is.” Rocky ripped open Hurricane Island.
“Rocky!” Bianca’s face matched her nail polish. “We didn’t all agree. If it’s wrong, we’re suing you for a million dollars apiece. What fun is it if you decide?”
“Too late now.”
Gil wanted to smack the smug look off Rocky’s face, but Rocky had one thing right: It was too late.
“Says here we go to the trees.”
They sprinted left to the palm trees poking into the warehouse sky.
Rocky had the envelope opened before Thorn brought up the rear.
Stunt #3
Five different climbers
must each fetch a coconut
from one of five palm trees.
When you have all five, open them.
You’ll find what you need for your next puzzle.
“I’ve never climbed a tree,” said Bianca.
“They’re not really trees,” Gil said. “See? They’re utility poles with hooks jutting out. It’s as easy as climbing a ladder.”
“I’ve never climbed a ladder,” said Thorn.
“Me either,” said Bianca, “but I’m going up anyway.”
Gil left the drama, scrambled up his tree, grabbed his coconut, and scampered down.
Lavinia was a step behind Gil. She could climb. She could bowl. She could think. “That was great,” she said, catching up to Gil. “I’ve been wanting to go to a climbing wall, but Mother’s leery about heights. At least this was close.” She let loose a huge smile.
It was infectious. “You were quick, Lavinia,” Gil said. “And I don’t mean this in a bad way, but you don’t seem athletic.”
“I do other things besides academic events. I’m the center on my school’s field hockey team. Colleges like multifaceted applicants.”
Gil pictured her weaving down the field in shin guards and a plaid skirt. She’d almost be—
“Gil!” Rocky was purple, and he was standing with Thorn at the base of Thorn’s tree.
“What?”
Rocky pointed. “This yellow-bellied butthead won’t climb.”
Gil looked up. Thorn’s coconut was still at the top. “You didn’t go up?”
“I don’t do heights,” Thorn said, his permanently red cheeks growing redder.
“C’mon,” said Bianca, clutching her coconut. “I thought Dewitt-Formeys always land on top. Here’s your chance.”
“That’s not—”
“Here’s the deal, Thorn,” said Gil. “If you don’t do this, we stand here like total idiots until the other team wins. You want the world to see that on TV?”
Thorn stood stone still, his lips now a funny shade of gray.
Rocky picked up Thorn and threw him over his shoulder. “Admit I’m strong.”
“Oh, no,” said Thorn. “You’re not carrying me up.”
Rocky put him down. “I just wanted you to see you can trust me. I’ll hold on to you,” he said, putting on the team face Gil remembered. “Can you take two steps up?”
Thorn did.
Rocky latched onto his calf. “I’m right behind you. Take one more step. I will, too. I’ll hold on to you the whole time. Ten steps, grab your coconut, and drop it so you have both hands free to climb down.”
Just then, Carol didn’t show up, but her voice did. “The red team is about to start puzzle number four. No penalty seconds.”
Thorn took a third step. Then a fourth. “How many more?”
“You’re almost halfway,” called Gil.
Thorn glanced toward him.
“Don’t look down,” said Gil. “Look to your goal.”
Thorn and Rocky chugged up and, within a minute, Thorn dropped his coconut at Bianca’s feet, breaking it open.
The trip down took even less time, and when Thorn put his second foot on the ground, he gave his first real smile and shook Rocky’s hand. “I did it. I actually did it.”
Gil patted Thorn on the back, then spun around.
Rocky had already climbed back up one of the poles with two coconuts. He dropped them down, and they broke. Gil slammed the other two to the ground with the same results.
“I have envelope number one,” said Gil, pulling out the paper. “Says, ‘Winds batter palm trees.’”
Lavinia continued, “‘Scatter splinters everywhere.’”
“Oh no,” said Bianca. “It’s puzzle number three again. Rocky!”
Gil’s stomach dropped faster than coconuts to the ground. “Back to table three. And we need to get serious.”
“I’ve been thinking about the puzzle the whole time,” Lavinia said as she ran alongside Gil. “It’s in the numbers and how they relate to the poem.”
“Keep going.”
“If the first number, 20, is the twentieth letter of the poem…”
“I hope you’re right,” said Gil.
Gil grabbed the puzzle when they reached the table.
Winds batter palm trees,
scatter splinters everywhere.
The island renew
s.
20, 9, 17, 26, 1, 3
“I think Lavinia figured it out,” Gil said. “Give us a second. You count the twentieth letter in the poem, Lavinia. I’ll count the ninth.”
“Twentieth is S.”
“Ninth is T, and it’s obvious the last two are W and N. Open Strewn, Rocky.”
Stunt #3
Welcome to the world of Strewn, Golly’s newest video game. Not only did Captain Savage’s disabled ship wash onto the sands of a deserted island, but the ship exploded, scattering bits and pieces of important items around that island. As he and his surviving crew of four investigate, they find this isn’t the first time survivors have been stranded here. The island is strewn with other potentially lifesaving objects. You’ve found a stockpile of useful tools, but unfortunately a beast guards them. It’s your mission to search the island for the five swords you need to slay the beast. Find the island, find the swords, slay the beast. Go.
“Anybody see an island?” asked Bianca.
“Not since Fiji,” said Thorn.
Gil climbed onto the table, couldn’t see much but…“I heard water earlier. Hear that?”
Bianca pointed. “It’s coming from this direction.”
Gil leaped from the table and started running. Past an orange pickup truck, over a sleeping hippopotamus, around a ten-foot blue zucchini, through the mouth and out the tail of a whale.
And there it was. Tiny waves rippled from the floor and spilled onto sand. The shoreline edged a jungle with a waterfall and caves and live trees and real flowers.
They jumped over the three feet of ocean, onto the beach, and into the jungle.
“Everyone spread out,” said Gil. “Look for swords. Find the beast.”
Gil swiped his way through enormous leaves, working toward the deepest point of the island, examining flower stems, running his hands up and down tree trunks, climbing over boulders. Over boulders? What about under?
Gil put his shoulder to one, tried to move it. It budged. Tried another. Stuck solid. Back to the first. Push. Push. Again. It tipped half an inch. “Rocky! Over here. I need more muscle.”
Rocky ran through the jungle brandishing a blade. “I found this against a tree. Whaddaya need?”