by Jody Feldman
“No,” whispered Rocky. “What I mean is, there are people who know your dad didn’t do it. I think they might even know who did.”
Gil felt the color drain from his face. “Who? You gotta tell me. Who?” He grabbed Rocky’s arm.
Rocky tugged away.
“You’re lying,” said Gil. “It’s your guarantee.”
“Maybe. Or maybe I do know something.”
Gil tried to follow Rocky to his door. Felt a push at his back. Might have heard Rocky wish him luck in the maze. Might have nodded when Carol asked him if he was all right.
Blong!
Gil froze. Squeezed his eyes closed. Shook it off. Rocky’s guarantee? Rocky’s guarantee would have to wait. Gil had been dealing with The Incident for eighteen months. Maybe for nothing. Rocky was going down. Rocky’s dad, down. Gil swung the door open. Took one step in, then stopped in his tracks to grab the dangling white envelope. He ripped it open.
The words danced in front of his eyes. Focus. He shook his head. Focus. He read.
WELCOME TO THE RAINBOW MAZE
Weave in and out and in and out and up and down and round about. You’ll see so many paths to choose—from reds and yellows, greens and blues. Unless you want to pay the price, be sure to follow this advice: In roaming through the Rainbow Maze, heed all the color wheel ways. For if you don’t, you’ll doubtless find that you’ve been left way far behind.
BUT…
Don’t go too fast, don’t move too quick. On each right path, you’ll find a stick. For each you hold when you are done, We’ll take five seconds off your run.
Gil breathed in. Looked back at the paper. Okay. He could do this. Concentrate. Fact one. This was a maze. Fact two. Gil needed to find his way out. Fact three. If he collected sticks along the way, it would cut his time. But what did the rest of the puzzle mean?
Heed all the color wheel ways.
What was a color wheel? Colors on a wheel? Steering wheel? Pinwheel? Forget “wheel.”
Rainbow Maze. Rainbows. Spectrums. The colors always appeared in order of that guy’s name. Roy G. Biv: red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, violet. This might work. Let the colors lead him through the maze.
Gil stood in a green hallway now. He shoved the puzzle into his pocket and ran forward as far as possible, pulling out a stick the size of a thick pencil from a holder on the wall. Here was his first choice. He could walk up three stairs to the blue area on the left or go up the ramp to the orange passage on the right. Closest to green on the spectrum…
“Red, orange, yellow, green, BLUE!” Right next-door.
He shot up the three steps toward the blue area and meandered around a passageway. A stick! He was on the right path. He ran forward, two sticks in his hand. Another choice: violet or yellow. Neither was next to green. Which was closer?
He dug the puzzle and the pen from his pocket and wrote R O Y G B I V. Aah! Both were two colors away. He needed to try a path. Okay. Yellow.
He trotted up a flight of yellow stairs, around the bend, and smacked into a dead end. No stick. It had to be the other way, but why? Did it matter? What if he just ran? Turned around at dead ends? No. Rocky was probably doing that, and Rocky could run faster.
Why violet? Why? He looked at his color choices again. What exactly was indigo? Blue-violet? What if he removed it? He rewrote his color choices: R O Y G B V.
That made things easier. Down the violet path. Stick! Yes! This led to a choice of yellow, green, or red. He took a quick glimpse at the paper. If the letters circled back around, red would be right next to violet. Up the red stairs, three sticks in his hand. Faster, faster. Make up for the mistake, for the slow start. Faster. Faster. Grab stick number four. Add it to the—
“Aah!”
The four sticks tumbled down a flight of stairs behind him. Each worth five seconds off his time. Gone. Could he get all four back in less than twenty seconds?
No. Forget the sticks. Go! Move twenty seconds faster than Lavinia. Twenty seconds smarter than Rocky. Move. Move. Move.
Gil used every bit of his brain to focus. He ran deeper and deeper into the maze, able to decide quicker and quicker. With each step, the maze grew more spectacular. Shining, glowing, beaming with intense color. He was in a rhythm now. Run, decide, stop, grab sticks. Up the steps, around the bends, down the ramps, up the ramps. Circling. Climbing. Hoping.
Twenty seconds. He had to make up twenty seconds.
His lungs worked overtime. His legs whined for rest. They must have propelled him a mile. Uphill. Just during this puzzle.
Up a green ramp. Up three blue stairs to a violet straightaway. Up half a flight of red stairs and into an orange corridor that looked like it ran forever.
He took step after step through this one passageway, the orange growing even more brilliant. He came to the end of the orange. To his left, violet. To his right, green. Gil looked at his sheet again. They were both two colors away.
A movement caught his eye in the next maze over. Lavinia! She made a tentative right turn. No time to waste.
Green or violet? Green or violet? Violet. Better to make a mistake than stand there like a deer caught in headlights.
Gil bounded toward violet, then stopped. Everything had a logical explanation. So what explained the glow from that junction? What caused the light to radiate stronger than at any other place inside the maze? It concentrated low, then shimmered up and all around.
Low. On the ground. He raced back and looked down. Yes!
The floor at that crossroads wasn’t orange. It was yellow, a yellow trap door that shone like rays of a noonday sun.
Gil grasped the golden ring in the floor and pulled it straight up to reveal a sparkling, golden chute. He sat at the edge of the trap door, dangling his feet until they reached the surface. He lowered himself to a small platform. Held on to the sticks. Scooted down. Laid back. Whoosh!
Down he went, gliding by multicolor segments with increasing speed. Then the tunnel turned blind black. His body twisted to the left, then lost speed.
“Aah!”
He felt himself plunge. Another twist left. One to the right. A slowing straightaway, another drop drown. He twisted. He turned. He slid faster and faster.
“Yeah!”
This was the best ride of his life, better than any roller coaster, better than the monster slide at the water park. It felt longer and twistier and almost faster, like a downhill speedway without a seat belt, without a seat.
The next spiral almost tumbled him upside down, but he righted in time for a breakneck straightaway, then a turn to the left. Gil started slowing, seeing shadows, then shapes, then the end of the slide.
Out the chute he came, landing on a red square of carpet in a small room, empty except for two other chute ends and two other squares of carpet. No people, no cameras, no doors.
If he had messed up by going down the chute, he was dead meat. But what a ride!
Gil sat for a second to catch his breath, half expecting to hear a “sorry” come over some loudspeaker. Nothing.
Well, he wasn’t going to sit there all day. Only one thing to do.
Gil turned around, stuck his head into the chute, and saw what he must have missed in a blink. He crawled three feet back inside, opened the little orange door, and slithered out, feet first, to the sight of Carol and TV cameras. And Rocky, holding sticks.
CHAPTER 20
“One one thousand, two one thousand, three one thousand…” Gil counted to himself. If he could make it to twenty, he’d have a chance.
“Nine one thousand, ten one thousand, eleven…”
Still no Lavinia.
“Fourteen one thousand, fifte—”
Her door opened. She handed a bundle of sticks to the officials standing there. “I feel like such a fool. Did anyone else miss the orange door?”
“You all did,” said Carol. “Then Rocky…”
Gil couldn’t listen. Could barely breathe. Maybe Lavinia didn’t have all her sticks. Maybe she
’d dropped some on the slide. Maybe…
The officials counted. They conferred. They looked at Gil. “Sorry,” said a woman. “We saw you drop those four sticks. If you had only dropped three…”
Gil didn’t know if she’d let her voice trail off or if he stopped hearing. Less than five seconds. One stick. Or Rocky’s guarantee. Guaranteed to work. Guaranteed to rattle Gil enough to pause five seconds.
It wasn’t the lost money. It wasn’t even the deal with his dad. He’d let Rocky beat him.
Gil leaned over, fists on his thighs.
Carol put a hand on his back and gave him a bottle of water. “You okay, Gil?”
“Dizzy from the slide, I guess.”
“You’re not the first,” she said, walking him to a chair against the wall. “You should’ve seen me—major brain roll. So sit and de-fuzz before Bill takes you to the After Lounge. Cameras are off you for a few minutes.”
With his elbows on his knees, he hung his head. Not fair. He should be exhilarated, energized. Instead, he needed to suck it in and pretend he was. For the cameras. He took a deep breath and looked up.
Lavinia was standing next to him, her eyes glazed with tears. “I wanted you and me to be last. I wanted it to be a real contest.”
Gil looked over at Rocky. “Win for me, Lavinia. Just beat him.” He struggled to his feet and gave her a hug. Then he turned to Carol. “Where’s Bill?”
Gil didn’t wait for her answer. He spotted Bill lurking outside the door. “Get me out of here,” he said, walking past him without stopping.
“This is the worst part of my job,” Bill said, catching up with him. “You get so close to the end, and you think, ‘What if?’”
Gil nodded. But that wasn’t exactly it. No one would understand except his mom and his dad. “Where is this Losers’ Lounge?”
Bill gave a chuckle. “Why does everyone want to call it that? The After Lounge is a floor above the spectator area. I’ll take you to see your parents. After that, you’ll join Bianca and Thorn, and you can watch the action live or from any monitor you want.”
Gil nodded. Continued the walk to the spectator area in silence, thankful Bill wasn’t trying to cheer him up with happy talk.
His mom and dad were waiting right by the door. Gil hadn’t needed a hug like this in a long time. “Sorry,” he said, taking a small step back.
“Sorry?” his dad said. “There is nothing, nothing to be sorry about. We’re so proud.”
His mom nodded, tears streaming from her eyes. “Are you okay?” she managed. “We were so worried. At the entrance of the maze. You froze. Were you sick? Nervous?”
Gil ached to tell them what Rocky had said, but he didn’t want to cause a scene right here. Rocky would deny it. “Nervous, I guess,” he said instead.
His dad draped a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t know if this will make you feel better or not, but I’ve been thinking about our deal ever since we made it.”
Gil looked at him, waited.
“We can start figuring a way to move out of town if you still want. It might be good.”
Gil had been waiting for months to hear those words, but they didn’t bring even a whisper of relief. Maybe he was too tired, too disappointed. Too angry. Gil tried a smile.
“Yeah,” said his dad. “We’ll talk about that later.”
Bill came up to them and pointed toward a projection on the wall flashing 5:00 off and on before it started counting down. “That’s our cue. Say your good-byes. You’ll see one another soon.”
Gil’s dad gave him another hug. So did his mom. “Even if you don’t believe it, I couldn’t be prouder,” she said.
Gil nodded.
At the four-and-a-half-minute mark, Bill escorted him up a flight of stairs to a near replica of the area where his parents were. “There’s just one rule we have up here. No talking during the competition. Whispering only. Go ahead in and relax.”
Bianca rushed up and threw her arms around him. “Gil, I’m so glad to see you. I mean, I’m sorry to see you, but I’m glad you’re here.”
Her energy put the first smile on his face. “I guess you can’t win ’em all.”
“I don’t think I can win anything,” she said. “At least I’ve never won anything. But it’s sort of cool up here. You see everything. Like when you dropped those sticks? I got so sick to my stomach and—”
“Be back in a minute,” Gil said. He couldn’t take a play-by-play right now. He went over to Thorn, who was sitting with his back to the Games. “Hey.”
Thorn handed Gil a piece of paper.
1. Where does onion dip come from?
2. How do you make grilled cheese sandwiches?
3. Where can I learn to climb?
4. How do my clothes get clean?
5. Who can teach me to bowl?
6. How do you set up a computer?
Gil laughed. Handed the paper back to Thorn.
“At least it’s a start,” Thorn said. He wrote a number seven.
Gil drifted back to Bianca. “So where’s the best place to sit?” he asked.
She grabbed his wrist, pulling him a quarter way around the lounge. “They move the rooms over here so we can see everything. Except for that maze puzzle. We had to use the monitors to see most of it. Are you gonna watch?”
“Yeah,” Gil said. “If the next game is a puzzle, I’m going to try to work it. I need to know if I would have beaten Rocky or Lavinia if I hadn’t messed up.” Gil took a stadium seat at the rail and looked down into a pair of muted blue rooms. Each one had a large work desk at the rear, then twenty-five smaller desks, arranged five by five. Those desks each supported a computer monitor with a different screen saver. “When do we get the puzzle?” Gil asked.
Bianca pointed to the arm of his chair. “It’s so cute. When the chimes ring, it pops open, and the puzzle’s inside.”
“Pencils? Paper?”
“On the table back there.”
The clock on the wall showed forty-three seconds until the next puzzle.
Gil got something to write with, sat back down, and watched Carol lead Lavinia and Rocky to two doors.
Carol’s voice came through speakers in their area. “In a minute,” she said, “you’ll go through your door and head to the large desk in the back of the room. Your puzzle will be there.”
“Yeah,” said Bianca. “You get to hear Carol and anyone with her, but if you want to hear Rocky and Lavinia, you need these headphones.” She pointed to a pair near his knee.
He wouldn’t be using those. He wanted quiet. And definitely not all this coughing. “Is there any way not to hear Mr. Titus?”
“Is that who it is? He’s so annoying,” said Bianca. “He was coughing all during the menu puzzle, then I thought he was gone or dead because he was mostly quiet during the maze. But I guess he’s back. Prepare to be annoyed.”
The cough came again. Carol and Rocky looked up. Lavinia stayed focused on the door.
Blong!
The arm of Gil’s chair popped open. He pulled out the puzzle, then shut the arm. He wouldn’t look at it yet. Wouldn’t look at it until Rocky and Lavinia both got to their desks.
Rocky sat. Ripped open his envelope. Then Lavinia did. Gil opened his.
There’s much in a name, so they say.
You’ll find out without much delay
If you choose the right one
Before you’ve begun.
Go on now; get ready to play.
Add “pole” to my first name nickname.
Cut my second part short in this game.
Both give you a clue.
Now discount the two,
And mix up the name that remains.
When you’ve straightened this jumbled-up rhyme,
You’ve practically finished your climb.
Just choose the right screen
With the right picture scene,
And enter your answer in time.
If Gil were down there, he’d be panicking agai
n. Eventually, he’d push past his pounding heart and sweaty palms, and remember to take this puzzle one step at a time. But up here, he had nothing to lose. He’d never truly know how he would have finished.
Forget it.
He put on the headphones, tuned in to Rocky’s microphone, and looked at the close-up monitor of his desk. He was doodling. Tapping his pencil and doodling. And humming.
Gil switched to Lavinia. She was silent, but she’d written NAME? at the top of her paper.
If Gil were doing it, he’d have two names up there: Golly Toy and Game Company and Thaddeus G. Golliwop. This was another company question, the first of today.
Which name would Gil start with?
The puzzle said: Add “pole” to my first name nickname. Companies don’t have nicknames. People do. Gil would go with Thaddeus G. Golliwop.
“Quwaah. Qua-qua-quaah…”
Someone give Mr. Titus a cough drop.
“Qu-qu-qua-kur…”
Gil switched the headphones back to Rocky, who stopped humming and started writing some words next to the lines in the poem. His hand, though, blocked what he’d written.
Aah! Gil couldn’t just sit there, watching nothing. He grabbed his pencil and listed the pictures on the twenty-five computer screens.
By the time he finished, Lavinia had finally written Thaddeus G. Golliwop at the top of her page.
Gil wasn’t even trying, and he was still one long step ahead of her. He looked at the puzzle again. Add “pole” to my first name nickname….
Easy. They told him the nickname for Thaddeus in the Xenia’s Café puzzle. Tad. Tadpole.
Whatcha doing, Lavinia? It’s not Thad. Or Thaddie. Or Deus. Tad. It’s Tad.
“Quaah. Qu-quaah. Qu-queeh…”
“Will someone please take that man to the hospital?” whispered Bianca.
“Bah-ahchoo. Kah-kah-kah-quoh.”
Rocky didn’t seem to worry. He wrote more, and the camera, now at a different angle, showed everything.
Next to There’s much in a name, so they say, Rocky had written: Golly Toy and Game Company = stock market symbol = GOLTAGACO, which made some sense. But the words after four other lines made no sense: