by Jody Feldman
He couldn’t lift the main piece up yet. He needed the end cap.
Zane lapped the room again. Nothing. He stood in the fourth corner and surveyed the room. Then he bolted to the middle, to the shallow silver cup that had held the main rod upright. He should never have taken it off.
Zane reattached the end cap and picked up the contraption. With all the attachments, it still may have been light, but it was totally unbalanced. He took two shaky steps up the rungs of the ladder, which brought him eye level with one of the hooks. He positioned the first hook between the green and blue spools, laid the rod on the hook, then lifted the far end of the rod high enough to position it on the other hook, between the banner and the red spool.
Clock: 3:18. 3:17.
Why hadn’t it stopped? The banner.
He moved the ladder, climbed back up, and turned the crank. The banner unrolled more and more and . . .
2:44.
Chapter 23
Leore was already in the model room when Zane got there. It made him wonder how horrible her previous two rounds had actually been.
Estella pointed to Leore. “One hundred five points.”
Thorn pointed to Zane. “Two sixty-four.”
Was Leore glaring at him through her hair? Didn’t matter. Three challenges, three wins. Zane discreetly pumped his fist. “Hey, Thorn, did everyone find the ladder?”
“You did,” Thorn said.
“Quickly, huh?”
“You got two hundred sixty-four points, right?”
“Oh, man,” said Zane. “No scoreboard, no answers, no nothing?”
“We’ve been well coached,” Thorn said.
“You trying to get information from him?” Estella said. “It’d be easier to get oil from a cucumber.”
“Something else I haven’t heard,” Thorn said. “Where’d you get that one?”
“Just made it up.”
They hung around for a few minutes, returned to the starting room at the same time as Ryder and Becky, and headed to their assigned corners. Josh was already in his, sitting backwards, chin resting on the chair’s back, fingers running up, across, and down the cut-out rectangle near the chair’s seat. Next to him, Berk was apparently feeling pretty good about himself, the way he was leaning way back, legs sticking straight out and hands folded across his belly. In the chair to Zane’s left, Leore sat stone still, expressionless. If she were leading by ten thousand points, she’d probably still look depressed.
Ryder had settled in, hands clasped, elbows on knees, bouncing his heels. That mirrored Zane’s own posture, minus the bouncing. It wasted too much energy.
Becky had the seat next to Ryder, and on the diagonal from her was Hanna. Talk about opposites. Hanna, black hair; Becky, white-blond. Petite; athletic. Smiling with confidence; glaring with intensity. Hanna seemed all meadows and bunnies, but Zane sensed she had a killer rabbit tendency underneath. And Becky’s stare reminded him of Jamaal—nicest guy ever until he got on the field. Then it was crush, kill, destroy.
Then there was his own opposite, Elijah, staring into space, which probably meant his mind was racing a million miles per hour.
The last challenge posted.
Zane knew he’d be paired with Elijah, but he wished they’d changed it.
“Before you get up,” said Carol, “some good news. This is the last of these challenges, so once you’re fully inside your separate hallways, the cone of silence has ended. Discuss away.”
They weren’t a step inside their hall before Zane started discussing. “So gloat, buddy. You left your three people eating dust, right?”
Elijah shook his head. “I destroyed the Gloop. My Eyeball time would have been better if these short legs could run faster. But I never found the ladder. I am in serious trouble.”
“You?”
Elijah nodded. “For the first time, I’m concerned.”
“You shouldn’t be,” Zane said. “Ryder got zero on Gloop. Leore barely squeaked by on Doohickey, and I’m practically positive she failed something else. Don’t give up.”
“Josh flunked his Eyeballs, and I did beat Hanna, but now I’m going against you.”
Zane shook his head. “It’s not really one-on-one; it’s you getting your best time.”
They rounded the corner toward their room. “And look, we’re ending with Gil and Clio. The winners. That’s you or me. Okay?”
“Okay.” Elijah sounded sure, but the fingers on his right hand were tapping the side of his leg, one after another, pinkie to thumb and back to pinkie again.
“You need to shrug it off, buddy. Odds are this challenge is made for you. You’re gonna go in there and crush it because I need you on my team, the top team. Okay?”
“Okay.” And this time Elijah looked Zane in the eye.
“Sounds like you’re ready,” said Gil.
“Oh yeah,” said Zane.
“Good,” said Clio, “because we’re ready for you.” She snapped her fingers.
Rising from the center of the floor came a huge version of Golly’s AlphaWheel. Of all the games he and his mom and Zoe had played before football took over his life, they played this the most. It had been his mom’s favorite growing up. Their old game was so beat up, though, the alphabet spinner stopped mostly on K, R, X, or W, so he and Zoe had devised another system with a deck of playing cards. Zoe and his mom usually beat him, but only usually. Today was for money. Today was for glory. Today he’d get his points and get out of there.
“I’ve seen that come up four times today and four more during rehearsal yesterday,” said Clio, “and it never gets old.”
Gil gave the wheel a strong spin, and its pointer tick-tick-ticked as it ran through all twenty-six spaces. “So here’s the deal. You need to collect six letters and spell a six-letter word. Then you will eliminate one of those six letters and rearrange the remaining letters to spell a five-letter word. Then eliminate another letter and use those four to spell a four-letter word. Repeat the elimination process again to spell a three-letter word, then a two-letter word, like this.” He snapped his fingers.
An example appeared on the wall.
PRICES
PIERS
RISE
SIR
IS
“In this example,” said Clio, “more than one way works.” She snapped her fingers and a second list appeared:
PRICES
PRIES
PIES
SIP
IS
“Once you’ve made one word list, you’ll get six new letters and do it a second time.” Clio looked over to Gil.
“In Friend mode,” he said, “you will spin the wheel four times and play with those four letters, plus any two you choose. You will have six minutes.”
“In Foe mode,” said Clio, “you’ll have nine minutes. You will spin the wheel to collect all six letters. And before you ask the logical question—what if my letters don’t spell anything?—don’t worry. The AlphaWheel has its own dictionary. With every spin, it will show only those letters that would finish fairly common words.”
“Fairly common?” asked Elijah.
“You don’t know all the words in the dictionary?” Zane said.
Elijah shook his head. “I’m getting there.”
“So now it’s time to decide,” Clio said. “Friend or Foe?”
“Do you mind if I take Friend, Zane? I’m still concerned.”
“No problem.” This challenge was something he’d unintentionally studied for.
“If we awarded points for the easiest decision,” Gil said, “you guys would win.”
Clio took hold of Zane’s elbow and positioned him next to the AlphaWheel. “We’re staying here. See you, Gil! See you, Elijah!”
They disappeared around the light wall.
On the opposite wall, rising through the floor, came a huge stand with six monitors, each flashing a different letter. On the stand were four labeled buttons: Backspace, Scramble, Eliminate, and Enter.
�
�As you spin, your letters will appear on the touchscreens. When you know which word you want to spell, touch the letters in order. Watch.”
Four monitors lit up with letters: A, E, N, Z.
“If you want to spell your name,” said Clio, “you would hit the Z first.” She did, and the Z jumped to the first screen. The A, E, and N slid to screens two, three, and four. “The red light around the Z means it’s ready to be locked in. If you change your mind, though, hit Backspace.” She hit it, and the light disappeared.
“If you’re stuck, hit Scramble, and the letters will randomly rearrange.” She did and they came up N, E, Z, A. Again: E, N, A, Z. Then Clio tapped, in order, Z, A, N, and E, and they rearranged themselves in order, each letter bordered with a red light. “When you’re ready to lock in your answer, hit Enter. If it’s a word, you’re good. If it’s not a word, fifteen seconds flies off the clock. So far so good?”
“Yep,” he said. “But what’s Eliminate?”
“When you go from your six-letter word to your five-letter word, and your five to your four and so on, you’ll need to get rid of a letter. When you’re sure which letter needs to go, tap that letter, then hit Eliminate. It will disappear. Forever and ever. You cannot get it back.” She looked at him with her big, brown eyes.
“Got it.”
“All the instructions will be projected onto the wall if you need them. Lucky for you, this Foe mode is straightforward. I won’t stare at you or freak you out or otherwise throw any monkey wrenches into the works. Your time will start with your first spin of the wheel. And the wheel must go around at least once each time. Good luck.”
“Thanks, Clio.”
Of all the contestants in all the seasons, she might have been his favorite. She was smart and cute, and she was nicer than he ever could have been. But he couldn’t start crushing on her now. He had words to spell. Ten of them in just nine minutes.
He put his hand at the edge of the wheel to give it a strong spin, but paused. The harder he spun, the longer it would take for the wheel to stop.
“Here goes.” He gave the wheel a medium spin, and it went around at least five times. R. Great start!
He spun it much easier this time. T. Yes!
O. Good. It already spelled “rot.”
U. “Rout.” With letters like these, he could rout the competition. Next!
Q. Seriously?
He went to spin again, but the wheel was dark.
“What’s—”
The sixth monitor now had an E. That had to be the only letter he could add to make a six-letter word. Reading the letter from each monitor, the list read R T O U Q E.
Having the Q was actually a positive. It would be Q-U regardless. He tapped those two, hoping a six-letter word would jump out at him. The monitors read Q U R T O E. Nope.
He’d need a vowel next. He tapped the E, but didn’t lock it in. Q U E R T O. He didn’t know that word. Or “quetor” or “querot.” Maybe he needed to swap the E for the O.
Zane hit Backspace, then tapped the O. Q U O E R T. And if this word ended in –E R, it’d be “quoter.” Was that a word? Like, someone who quotes someone else. That had to be it unless the word didn’t start with Q U.
Every instinct told him to lock in “quoter.” He did. The red borders gave way to green borders, which flashed very fast, then disappeared.
Time for a five-letter word. “Quote” was most obvious, but he didn’t see a four-letter word in it. He eliminated the Q. The letters came back up U O T E R.
If he could find the five-letter word, he’d already figured out the four, three, and two while he was collecting letters.
The –E R ending had worked once. Zane wanted to lock those two letters on screens four and five and scramble the other three, but they gave him no button for that. He’d have to do it in his head, scramble O T U. T O U. O U T. Out! Outer!
Zane locked that in. Then “rout.” And “rot,” not “rut.” He needed the O to spell “or” or “to.”
He entered “to,” and all five monitors flashed, then came back with the same message: Congratulations, Zane! Spin the wheel to get six new letters.
He had the spinning motion down. The first spin went around only twice. It landed on H. He could work with that.
Next, R. Even better.
E. He had a two-letter and a three-letter as long as “her” worked with the next three.
Y. Not what he had hoped. But “her” could also be “hey” now.
He cheered the wheel like it was a teammate. “Good letter! Good letter! Gimme a good letter!” P. Was that a good letter? No time to think. The wheel would think for him. This time it only had C, S, and Z.
S would have to be easiest. “C’mon, S.”
Z? Seriously? The letters on the monitors looked hopeless, but they had to make a word or the AlphaWheel wouldn’t have given him H, R, E, Y, P, and Z.
Clock. He was down to 3:49 and counting. He just needed to get his hundred points.
He hit Rearrange. E Z Y P R H. Nothing backwards or forward. Rearrange. Z P H E R Y. Nothing. Rearrange. Y E P R E Z. Rearrange. Z H Y P E R. There it was! The five-letter word just past the Z—“hyper.” Without the R, “hype”!
Zane had everything but the six-letter.
2:28.
Did he even know this word? Was there such a word as “hyperz”? Doubtful. What about “phryze.” You want some “phryze” with that burger? No time to joke.
2:14.
Rearrange. Z Y P H E R. No. P H Y Z E R. No. And neither spelled anything backwards.
1:49.
Why had he agreed to Foe so easily? He wasn’t going to give up. Rearrange. P E R H Y Z. Rearrange. R Y H P E Z?
1:01 left.
He had to try something. What, though, what? Fine. The backwards version of the last one.
He tapped in Z, E, P, H, Y, and R. Might as well lock it. Green? Green! That was a word? Didn’t matter now. He knew the rest from here.
Z. Eliminate.
“Hyper.”
R. Eliminate.
“Hype.”
P. Eliminate.
“Hey.”
Y. Eliminate.
His screens went blank.
Chapter 24
Zane didn’t ask what happened. Clio’s face said it all. He needed to hear it, though. “Zero?”
She nodded. “When you got ‘zephyr,’ I thought you might do it. No one pushed those buttons faster. My heart’s still thumping.”
This was worse than the overtime loss against Carlton, when his momentary brain burp allowed their mediocre wide receiver to catch the ball in front of Zane. So why did Zane know “mediocre” but not “zephyr”? “Did everyone know it was ‘zephyr’?”
Clio shook her head. “I figured it out, but Gil didn’t. Neither did the producers working with us. And they’re adults.”
“What does it mean?”
“We think it’s a type of wind.”
“Yeah. And it blew me right out of the sweet spot.”
Elijah ran up to him as soon as they rounded the corner. “Zane! Zane! Thanks! I—” He stopped. His eyes widened.
“I must look really bad,” Zane said.
“You don’t look good.”
“So if we’re together in the bottom, we’ll just use our different strengths to crush the other team. Recalibrate.” Recalibrate? Why’d Zane know a word like that, but not—? Forget it. That play was over. He focused forward.
They were first in the meeting room, but theirs had been the shortest challenge. Carol and Bill motioned them over.
“Elijah!” she said. “A minute thirty-three for your spins and only fifty-nine seconds to solve. You’re the man!”
“Seriously?” Zane said. “You are the man.”
“This won’t make you feel any better, Zane,” said Bill, “but half of us didn’t get ‘zephyr.’ Not only was it the toughest word all day, it was the toughest in all our trial runs. You’re a competitor, though, and this thing isn’t over for you
.”
“I know.”
“You’ll know soon. In fact . . .” Bill spoke into his headset. “Light it up.”
With that, writing projected on one of the beams.
Elijah XXX
Zane XXX
Hanna XXX
Becky XXX
______________
Josh XXX
Berk XXX
Ryder XXX
Leore XXX
“Nothing like a scoreless scoreboard,” Zane said. “I’m assuming Elijah and I are on top because we’re the only ones who finished all four rounds?”
“Yep, but I don’t want to talk about that now,” said Bill. “Let’s talk about your biggest comeback.”
Now? “Why not,” said Zane. “We were down twenty-seven to three. First play of the fourth quarter, I intercept the ball and run it in. Twenty-seven, ten, and it’s like we’re all amped up. We stop them after three plays. We get the ball, and our running back immediately takes it to the house. It’s twenty-seven, seventeen.”
“How much time left now?” Bill asked.
“Six forty-two.”
“I love how you guys know that. Keep going.”
“Then nothing much happens until they punt with two minutes, ten seconds left—a really great punt, forty-two yards—but he outkicks the coverage, and our guy runs it back. Touchdown. Twenty-seven, twenty-four.”
“You stop them in three, score, and win?”
“It wasn’t that easy. They’re driving, picking us apart, eating the clock. It’s third and fourteen at our twenty-yard line, with fifty-eight seconds left. We call our last time-out. If they make a first down, game over. So Coach reminds us to cover the end around—they’ve been beating us with that all day—but I’m thinking they’ll fake the end around and the quarterback’ll take it up the gut. So I say something. Coach revises our defense, and it turns out I’m right. Our two tackles converge on the quarterback, cause a fumble, and one of them picks it up and takes it back to their thirteen-yard line. We score with seven seconds left on the clock. Final, thirty-one, twenty-seven.”