by Matthew Ward
In fact, the Whipples enjoyed themselves so much, that Arthur nearly forgot about all the harrowing ordeals he’d suffered before the awards ceremony had begun. That is, of course, until the award for Extraordinary Achievement in Records of Reaching High-Up Objects went to a certain Royston Goldwin.
Unsurprisingly, Royston was not available to accept the award in person—but Rex happily accepted the award on his son’s behalf, explaining that Royston was “traveling abroad at present” and that he expressed his regrets. Arthur and his family did their best not to lose their composure as they watched their rival lie through his teeth into the microphone.
Luckily, the next award was for Extraordinary Achievement in Records of Diverse Disciplines, presented to Arthur’s little brother George for Holding Records in More Categories than Anyone Else on Earth. As the Whipples applauded their youngest son’s accomplishment, their hearts grew lighter once more.
• • •
By the time the show’s closing segment arrived, Arthur’s family had amassed quite a substantial haul—larger, in fact, than they’d managed to collect at any previous competition. In trying to defeat the Goldwins, it seemed, they had become better competitors in general. It was only a minor consolation, but it did give them some comfort as they prepared themselves for what was to come next.
When all the other awards had been presented, Nonstop Norman approached the microphone one last time. “And now,” the host announced, “to present our final—and most prestigious—award of the evening: the World Record World Championship Cup, please welcome—star of Cleopatra’s Cats! and the upcoming Song of Salome—the World’s Highest-Paid Actress—Bianca Bainbridge!”
The audience applauded loudly.
Arthur looked down the row at his family and thought about everything that had brought him to this point.
As much as he had enjoyed himself that evening, it was difficult not to focus on his regrets. He wished he could have given his family that last world record they’d needed to win the Championship Cup. He wished he could have known the feeling of holding a world record trophy in his hand. He wished he could go back and do it all differently. . . .
Arthur stopped himself.
True, it had been the most horrifying, heartbreaking day of his life—but, somehow, it had also been the very best. Today, he had been reunited with a true friend, with whom he had outwitted a pair of highly skilled assassins bent on their demise. Today, his family had forfeited their own events to come and rescue him. Today, his father had been truly proud of him, in spite of his recordlessness.
Indeed, he had had more wishes granted in one day than he had ever had granted in his entire lifetime. How could he complain about that?
Up at the front, a long-legged woman in a diamond-studded gown strode onto the stage. Slowly, a giant golden trophy emerged from an opening at the stage’s center.
Perched on a broad wooden pedestal, the Championship Cup stood nearly four feet tall and measured thirty inches wide from one handle to the other. Its finish was so highly polished it appeared to be forged from a golden looking glass rather than any sort of metal.
Arthur’s jaw dropped at the sight of it, while the audience oohed and aahed in reverence.
When Bianca Bainbridge approached the microphone, every eye in the theater shifted to her. That the woman was not completely upstaged by the trophy beside her was a powerful tribute to her own beauty and elegance.
The moment she spoke, the crowd fell silent.
“For more than a century,” she began in her smooth, sultry voice, “the Championship Cup has been bestowed upon the single Family to Possess More World Records than Any Other Family on Earth. An elite group of persons sharing both a common goal and a common name, the recipients of world-record breaking’s highest honor must endure constant toil to earn their title. No competition is fiercer than this. Indeed, many families do not survive the race intact. For the winners, the resulting fame and fortune more than make up for the struggle; for the losers, there is only shame and regret. In the end, only one family can reign victorious.”
The woman held up an envelope.
“It is my privilege to be the first to congratulate them,” she smiled. “This year’s World Record World Championships champions are . . .”
She slid her slender forefinger under the envelope’s seal, revealing the embossed card beneath, amidst the obligatory drum roll.
Though Arthur had largely come to terms with his performance that day, the sound of the drum still managed to churn his stomach. It was hardly suspenseful. Everyone in the audience knew exactly whose name was on the card.
Bianca Bainbridge opened her mouth to speak—but then paused abruptly, squinting at the card in front of her.
Oh no, Arthur thought. Nobody’s told her.
Miss Bainbridge, being a friend to the Whipples, was clearly shocked to see another family’s name printed on the card.
While it was hard not to appreciate her sentiment, Arthur couldn’t help but wonder why the WRWC Commission insisted on hiring celebrity presenters who hadn’t the slightest interest in what they were presenting.
The actress stood staring at the card for an extended moment—then turned away from the microphone and walked inexplicably toward the wing at stage left.
The crowd murmured loudly.
Arthur slumped down into his seat. Oh, he groaned to himself, how embarrassing.
It was bad enough he had to live with being the one to lose the cup for his family, but now, to have his failure dragged out like this in front of thousands of people—it was absolute torture.
As Bianca Bainbridge neared the side of the stage, a flustered-looking man with curly gray hair and a purple sash stepped out from the wing to meet her. The pair exchanged alternating looks of concern as they whispered back and forth to one another. After a few moments of this, the actress closed her eyes and nodded. The man, smiling nervously, gestured to the microphone, then followed Miss Bainbridge back to the stage’s center.
By this time, the unseen drummer was well on his way to achieving the World’s Longest Continuous Drum Roll—and Arthur was feeling every beat of it.
“Do pardon the interruption,” Bianca Bainbridge insisted as she returned to the microphone. “Just a bit of a shock, I’m afraid. But I now have official confirmation from Commissioner Helms. And so, with your permission, I shall now resume the announcement.”
She held up the card and raised her chin to the balcony.
“The Family to Hold the Most World Records on Earth, and thus, the WRWC Champions are . . .”
The Goldwins rose from their seats.
“. . . the Whipples!”
Rex Goldwin and his family had already begun waving at the crowd when the words actually sank in. The gratified expressions fell from their faces, leaving behind stunned outrage.
Arthur and his family exchanged bewildered glances. Mr. Whipple looked to his wife in shock.
Tepid, confused applause rose up from the audience.
Arthur’s father slowly rose from his seat and made his way down the row, his face wrinkled with confusion.
At the sight of Mr. Whipple starting for the front, Rex Goldwin leapt into the aisle and darted up the stage steps before his rival could reach them. He stormed onto the stage and charged straight for the man with the purple sash.
“There must be some mistake!” shrieked Rex. “It’s the Goldwins who have won the championships, not the Whipples—the Goldwins!”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Goldwin,” the commissioner replied calmly. “I’m afraid there is no mistake.”
“Look. You’ve got it wrong here—understand?”
“Mr. Goldwin, I’ll have to ask you to leave the stage now—or I shall be forced to summon security.”
Rex shaped his mouth into a snarl and took another step forward, then noticed the two hulkin
g men in dark glasses stepping out of the wings on either side of him. He halted his advance and straightened his jacket.
“Very well,” he seethed. “But if you insist on proceeding with this nonsense, you will soon find yourselves the target of the Largest Lawsuit Ever Filed! You won’t be fit to host a tic-tac-toe tournament by the time I’ve finished with you!”
With that, Rex spun around and stormed off the stage, knocking shoulders with Mr. Whipple as he passed him on the stairs. “This is far from over, Charlie,” he hissed over his shoulder.
Mr. Whipple, dazed and bewildered, stumbled up the steps and onto the stage, then walked cautiously to the microphone.
His face glowed in the spotlight as he slowly began. “I—I’m afraid I don’t know what to say. For once, it seems I am in agreement with Mr. Goldwin. Surely, the Goldwin family—not the Whipples—have won this year’s championships.”
Bianca Bainbridge touched Mr. Whipple’s elbow and said, “I’m as surprised as you are, Charles—but Commissioner Helms assures me your family is indeed the winner.”
“Please, Commissioner,” said Mr. Whipple, turning to the man with the purple sash, “I don’t understand. The Goldwins have clearly broken more records than we have. Indeed, we have already come to terms with our loss today and are actually quite satisfied with our efforts here this week—so if this is some kind of prank or a careless error of some sort . . .”
“I assure you, Mr. Whipple,” said the commissioner as he approached the microphone, “this is no prank. Perhaps Mr. Prim will be so kind as to explain.”
There was some fussing with the curtain, and an awkward moment later Archibald Prim stepped onto the stage. The certifier’s brow was so deeply furrowed, his expression could be read from the rear of the topmost balcony.
Mr. Prim strode up to the microphone, cleared his throat, and addressed the crowd. “Really, this is most irregular,” he protested. “I have never once been made to explain a decision publicly before. However, if the commission truly requires it, my explanation is thus . . .”
Mr. Prim dabbed his forehead with his handkerchief.
Arthur and his family leaned forward in their seats.
“Near the end of the competition,” the certifier began, “I became aware of an additional Whipple world record. Unfortunately, this record took several hours to certify, so an official award for it could not be presented prior to tonight’s ceremony. But since the record itself was indeed broken during an official event before the end of competition, it must be included in the standings for the overall championships. The record in question, of course, is for the Highest Number of Unsuccessful Official World Record Attempts, broken this afternoon by one Arthur Whipple.”
Arthur’s heart froze. What had Mr. Prim just said? The words turned to mush in Arthur’s mind. It seemed for a moment he had caught their meaning—but now, he couldn’t quite seem to put them together. Surely, Mr. Prim could not have said what he’d thought he had said.
Arthur felt Ruby’s hand on his arm. He turned to see a look of surprise and joy on the girl’s face.
Arthur’s heart jolted back to life. He turned again toward the stage as Mr. Prim continued.
“I have been tracking the Whipple boy’s failed attempts as a matter of procedure ever since I was assigned to his family one month ago. Astounded by the boy’s extraordinary number of failures, I decided to conduct further research—and discovered him to be quite close to breaking the late Tad Biltmore’s record in the same category. When the Whipple boy failed his attempt at knife-block speed stocking earlier today, he officially broke Biltmore’s record of 6,391 Official Failures—adding another record to his family’s total and tying the Goldwins’ score in the competition. Being the boy’s first world record, however, this also gave the Whipples the distinction of becoming the Family with the Most World-Record Holders, with all fifteen of their family members holding records, as opposed to the Goldwins’ total of fourteen. It was this record that broke their overall draw with the Goldwins, further distinguishing the Whipples as The Family to Hold the Most World Records on Earth, and naming them this year’s World Record World Championships Champions.” Mr. Prim shook his head. “Honestly,” he grumbled, “it’s so simple, it hardly requires explanation.”
Arthur’s heart was pounding so hard now, it seemed his ribs would be unable to cage it any longer.
There was a brief moment of stunned silence—and then, the audience erupted into tumultuous applause, the likes of which Arthur had never heard before.
A rush of cool water washed over the boy’s soul.
He turned to Ruby. She flung her arms around him and kissed his cheek.
The next moment, he found himself hoisted onto the shoulders of his siblings and paraded into the aisle.
“Arthur! Arthur! Arthur!” they chanted.
The theater leapt to its feet. Smiling faces and clapping hands swirled around him. Arthur’s heart soared.
As he neared the stage, a warm, familiar face caught his eye.
“You’ve done it, lad!” his uncle Mervyn called from the edge of the aisle, eyes sparkling with tears. “You’ve done it!”
Arthur smiled and waved to his godfather—but was promptly whisked up the stage steps and onto the stage.
The Whipple children set Arthur down at the stage’s center, where their father waited beside the giant golden trophy.
The crowd hushed.
Mr. Whipple beamed down at Arthur. “Well, my son,” he said, “it seems your strengths are rather more quantifiable than I had imagined. And here is the proof.” He hoisted the Championship Cup off its pedestal. “This . . . belongs to you.”
He offered the trophy to his son.
Arthur’s hands trembled as he wrapped them around the cup’s curved handles. Mr. Whipple released his hold, and Arthur felt the full weight of the cup in his arms. This was no dream.
His father stepped back and gestured to the microphone.
Arthur stepped forward, doing his best to keep the towering trophy from toppling sideways. He rose to his tiptoes and pressed his mouth against the microphone as he looked out at the audience. After a suspenseful pause, Arthur’s distorted voice echoed over the loudspeakers.
“Thank you,” he said. Then he lowered his heels and stepped away from the microphone.
The crowd roared.
Arthur’s father clutched him by the waist and lifted him off the ground, then sat him on his shoulder. Amidst the clamor, Arthur’s mother and siblings gathered around them.
“Well done, my darling!” Mrs. Whipple cried as she embraced her son.
“You did it, Arthur!” shouted Beatrice.
Ivy and her matching toy bear, Mr. Growls, traded high fives with Arthur from their perch on Simon’s shoulder. “Wurld wecord! Wurld wecord!” chirped the littlest Whipple.
Cordelia clutched Arthur’s ankle and smiled. “It’s just like you to wait till the last second to save our skins, isn’t it, Arthur?!”
“Better late than never, Brother!” cried Henry. “For the first time in my life I was actually content with losing—but how much better is this?!”
Arthur grinned and looked into the audience.
Amongst the thousands of cheering spectators he spotted many of his heroes and past competitors—all applauding him. The Cannibal King, Jump Johnston, the Nakamotos. Even Bonnie Prince Bobo was grinning a big chimpanzee smile and slapping his hairy hands together.
Arthur’s gaze then fell on the empty row where his family had sat only moments before. On the far end, Ruby stood on her seat, clapping her hands wildly and whooping at the top of her voice.
Arthur’s eyes glistened in the spotlight. All of his dreams had come true. Everything was perfect.
It was then that the stage exploded.
Trophies & Catastrophes
There was a blinding, deaf
ening blast. The next thing Arthur knew he was flat on his face under a blanket of splinters and soot. He gasped for breath as a fifty-pound stage light crashed into the floorboards five feet from his head.
“Everybody up!” his father’s voice bellowed behind him. “Off the stage—now!”
The audience, momentarily stunned by the explosion, now broke into a chorus of screams and shouts as they raced one another for the exits.
“Not again!” cried Nonstop Norman Prattle as he scurried down the stage steps and into the crowd, knocking over an elderly woman on his way.
Arthur glanced behind him to see a massive hole where the rear quadrant of the stage had been. Smoke and flames poured from the chasm.
Arthur picked himself up off the floor and turned to his family. His parents and older siblings struggled to help the octuplets to their feet amidst fits of coughing and crying. Arthur noticed Charlotte lying on the floor to his right. He grabbed her under her arms and helped her up.
“Come on!” shouted their father. “Let’s—”
Another blast shook the theater, knocking the Whipples back to the floor.
“Help!” called a small frightened voice.
Arthur opened his eyes. Clinging to the front edge of the stage before him were two tiny sets of fingers.