by Luke Sharpe
“We can incorporate a micro device that gives directions,” Clayton says. “There should be enough room inside to work that in.”
“Especially if you only use ten paper clips!” Manny says, not even bothering to turn around.
He doesn’t have to. I can tell that he’s smiling.
And that is reason #15 why I am going to miss working here in the office with Manny once I move to Italy. We can basically READ EACH OTHER’S MINDS.
Clayton and I get started, working with the correct amount of paper clips for the device and the micro device Clayton mentioned.
I must admit it, Clayton and I have become a pretty good team. Sometimes when building a new invention, four hands are better than two.
A little while later we’re ready for our first test. I plug the new prototype into my phone and power it up. Ding! Ding! Ding! It flashes and beeps.
“So far, so good,” says Clayton, showing a toothy smile. “What should we ask it to find?”
My first thought, of course, is to ask it to find my missing math homework, since, you know, out of everything the first locator found, it didn’t seem to find that! But I figure we should start off with something simple.
“How about my favorite sneakers?” I say, looking down at my flip-flops and thinking of Dad’s latest paintings. “They’re in my closet at home. They should be fairly easy for the device to find.”
“Okay,” says Clayton. He leans in close to the device and speaks. “Find Billy’s favorite sneakers.”
Beep! Beep! Beep!
“I think it’s working!” Clayton shouts.
Just like that, the screen on my phone lights up and displays a map leading from the World Headquarters to a store called Shelley’s Sneaker Spectacular!
“Well, it found sneakers, only not your sneakers, Billy,” Clayton says, less excited now.
“Hmm . . . let’s make a few adjustments,” I say, turning back to the device.
After a few more tweaks I’m ready to try again.
“This time, let’s look for my space helmet,” Clayton says. “I think my mom put it up in our attic.”
I hold back from asking Clayton why he has a space helmet. If he has plans to travel to Mars, he certainly hasn’t told me about them. But I guess he can tell from my expression that I’m wondering about this.
“I used to want to be an astronaut when I grow up,” Clayton explains. “So my mom got me a space helmet. When I told her that I changed my mind and that now I want to be an inventor, she packed the helmet away. It still would be cool for Halloween costumes, though, if we find it.”
I nod, then switch on the prototype.
“Clayton’s space helmet,” I say into the device.
Beep! Beep! Beep!
Again, the screen blazes to life. This time it shows a large map leading from the World Headquarters of Sure Things, Inc. . . . right to the International Space Station!
“I’m sure you’ll find lots of space helmets there, Clayton,” I say. “Just not the one in your attic. Back to work.”
After a few more adjustments, we try for a third time. I’m starting to get a little discouraged. What if our last hurrah invention is one big, giant FAILURE?
Manny, who has been quietly analyzing sales figures, speaks up.
“How about testing it with something simple and close by?” he suggests.
“How about Philo?” Clayton says.
“Okay,” I say, bringing the device up to my chin. “Philo,” I say clearly into it.
Beep! Beep! Beep!
The screen lights up and shows a path leading directly from my workbench to Philo’s doggy bed, where he is happily curled up, snoring. Zzzz!
“Success!” I say. “Now let’s try to find something outside the garage. Hmm, I know! My bike.”
More beeping. This time, the screen shows a path leading out the front door right to my bike!
“I think we’ve done it, Clayton!” I say, giving him a high five.
Just then I hear more beeping coming from my phone.
“Is there something wrong with the Everything Locator?” Clayton asks, looking worried.
I look down at the screen. Thankfully, it isn’t the Everything Locator app—it’s just my normal, regular phone.
“I’m getting a text,” I explain.
The screen flashes and I see the contact who sent the message. Mom.
B, you need to pack. We are moving very soon!
A feeling of dread washes over me. My mom never, ever sends demanding texts like this, but she’s right—I’ve been procrastinating, and I don’t have a whole lot of time left.
“Mom wants me to come home and start packing,” I say glumly.
“You haven’t started?” Manny asks.
“I’ll get it done,” I say. “It’s just been . . . it’s been hard, that’s all. I gotta go. I’ll see you guys later.”
I start biking home. Philo trots alongside me. As I pedal, I feel kinda mixed-up. I’m thrilled that we now have a working prototype of the Everything Locator. I’m happy that Clayton was such a big help.
But I can’t push off the fact any longer—ten days from today we are leaving, going thousands of miles and a GREAT BIG OCEAN away. I have to go home and pack. I try to focus on that, separate from everything else it means.
I walk through our front door and find myself up to my eyeballs in boxes. The house hardly looks like our house anymore. Most of the furniture has been wrapped up in padded blankets. The walls are bare, except for the black smudgy lines showing where the paintings used to hang.
I head up to my room, which is filled with boxes—empty boxes, but boxes nonetheless. Mom must have put them in here when I was gone.
I open every drawer in my dresser and in my desk. I fling open my closet door and sigh, looking at all the stuff I’ve crammed in there over the years. I can hardly see the floor, and the shelf up top is sagging from the weight of my comic books and baseball cards, which are neatly stored in boxes stacked on top of one another.
As my mind races and I think about all of the things I’m going to miss, a stack of empty boxes starts sliding toward me.
KA-RAAAASH!
And that’s when the boxes tumble down, scattering around my room. And there stands Philo, who had been hiding under the boxes.
I start laughing and drop to the floor, rolling around with Philo, who barks and licks my face as we play-wrestle, just like we’ve done since he was a little puppy.
And I start to feel like maybe all this might not be so bad. After all, Philo will be there with me in Italy. I’ll still have my pal by my side, and that should help make wherever I am feel like home. Who says we can’t play-wrestle in Italy, too?
I go back to my packing with a renewed burst of energy, feeling like somehow this is going to be okay.
Field Test
THE NEXT MORNING, I REALIZE it’s my second-to-last Sunday at home. So I decide to have a little fun. I text Clayton and Manny.
Breakfast this morning at Waldo’s World of Pancakes?
I remember the moment just after my last birthday when Mom and Dad told me that I was finally old enough to go out to a restaurant without them—as long as it is less than a ten-minute bike ride, and that I promise to have my cell phone out on the table so I’m sure to not miss their phone call.
Seemed like a pretty good deal to me—all except for the phone on the table part. The first time I met Manny for pancakes at Waldo’s I spilled maple syrup all over my phone.
Have you ever seen a phone covered in maple syrup? Well, I hope you never do. It’s a sticky situation. But at least it smells delicious!
My phone beeps a few seconds later. It’s Manny:
Sure, sounds good . . . Don’t forget to bring a plastic bag for your phone.
I can see now that I’m never going to live down the infamous maple-syrup-on-the-phone incident.
Then a text comes in from Clayton:
Sorry, Billy. Can’t. Band practice. Have to wo
rk on my sousaphone solo.
Attached to Clayton’s text is a photo of him playing his sousaphone. I giggle a bit at the sight of Clayton surrounded by this huge brass instrument that wraps around and towers over him.
A few minutes later I’m biking my way toward Waldo’s World of Pancakes. It takes less than ten minutes to arrive. Inside, Manny is already waiting at our favorite booth—also known as “THE TABLE CLOSEST TO THE TOPPINGS BAR,” where you can pile everything from bananas to chocolate chips onto your pancakes.
“Too bad Clayton couldn’t make it,” Manny says as I slip into the booth. “I’ve been thinking a lot about how he can help us when you’re away.”
“Yeah, me too,” I say.
Our waitress comes over.
“What can I get you boys?” she asks.
“I’ll have a big stack, please,” I say.
“Same for me,” says Manny.
“Clayton is busy,” I say, once the waitress has left with our order. “He’s got his schoolwork, and he runs the inventors club, and he’s in the band, too. I worry a little that he might not have as much time as he needs to devote to working with you at Sure Things, Inc. And I don’t want him to feel overwhelmed, either.”
“I’m not worried,” Manny says.
Of course not. Manny is never worried.
“Here’s how I figure it,” Manny says. “The big ideas will still come from you, Billy. And from time to time you may still have to sleep-invent.”
Manny continues. “I see Clayton’s role as the guy who tinkers with your ideas, builds, and reworks prototypes at HQ. I’ll be working beside him on the marketing and business side. And we can video-chat you in if Clayton gets stuck with the hands-on stuff.”
As our conversation continues, my mood really starts to pick up. I am leaving Sure Things, Inc. in good hands, and I won’t be gone completely. I can join in on the conversations at World Headquarters any time I need to—or want to, for that matter.
“This all seems to make a lot of sense, Manny,” I say. “Clayton can give us as much time as works for him. And speaking of time . . . it seems to be taking an awfully long time for our pancakes to arrive, right? I wonder where they are?”
Maybe I’m just hungry, but it feels like it’s been hours since the server took our order!
“Well, if we had an Everything Locator, we could find out!” Manny says, smiling.
I laugh.
“Oh, wait, I just happen to have one here!” Manny says in his cheesy marketing voice. He opens up his backpack, pulls out the prototype, and plugs it into my phone.
“Everything Locator? Where are our pancakes?” I say into the device.
Beep! Beep! Beep!
The prototype starts beeping and blinking. After a few seconds a map appears on the phone’s screen. It shows a path leading right from our table to the kitchen!
“Well, that makes sense that our food is in the kitchen,” Manny says. “In fact, I’d be concerned if it was hanging out outside. But it still doesn’t explain what’s taking so long.”
I look around the restaurant. It doesn’t look crowded. At least not more crowded than every other time we’ve come here. Then I notice something.
“Hey, look, the blinking light on the map is moving,” I say, pointing at my phone’s screen.
“It’s coming toward us,” Manny says. “Mmm. Looks like breakfast is on the way.”
A few seconds later the blinking light is right next to our location.
“Our pancakes should be here now!” I say.
“Would you like me to put them on the table?” says a voice that startles us both. Our eyes have been so focused on the phone screen that we didn’t even notice the fact that the waitress is standing right next to us.
“Thanks,” I say, a bit embarrassed.
The waitress places an enormous stack of pancakes in front of each of us. They smell delicious.
“What’s that thing?” the waitress asks, pointing at the Everything Locator. “Some kind of CRAZY NEW SMARTPHONE?”
“Have you ever lost anything?” Manny asks her.
“Are you kidding? Every day!” she replies, setting the maple syrup down next to our plates. “In fact, just this morning, after I got here, I lost my car keys. I don’t know how I’m going to get home later. In fact, that’s why it took me so long to bring out your pancakes. I’m really sorry about that. I was searching the whole kitchen for my keys, but no luck.”
Like magic, as soon as the waitress says the words “car keys,” the Everything Locator lights up! It starts beeping and, lo and behold, a new map appears on the screen! A path pops up leading from our table back into the kitchen. A window within the screen shows a close-up map indicating the keys’ exact location.
“I think you’ll find your keys on the right front corner of the stove in the kitchen,” I say, feeling proud of how specific the Everything Locator has become.
The waitress looks at me like I’m a little nuts. And who can blame her? I’m here with a weird-looking contraption, and I somehow can magically tell her that I know where her lost keys are? She shrugs and returns to the kitchen.
Manny and I head to the toppings bar, where I load up my big stack with chocolate-covered peanuts, strawberry jam, and crunchy peanut butter. Then it’s back to the table to cover it all with syrup. We dive right into the mountain of food in front of us.
I’ve hardly had a chance to swallow my first bite when the waitress comes hurrying from the kitchen. In her hand she holds a napkin.
“THAT THING IS AMAZING!” she says, pointing at the Everything Locator. She holds out the napkin, and there, sitting in the middle, is a set of car keys covered in what looks like green goop.
“There is a pot of split pea soup cooking on the right front burner of the stove,” she explains. “I made that soup when I got in this morning. Sure enough, in the bottom of the pot were my car keys. They must have fallen in as I was putting the soup together.”
Manny and I look at each other and smile. This thing works better than I thought.
“I want to thank you boys,” the waitress says. “Not only did you help me find my keys, but you prevented one of my lunch customers from getting a big surprise in their soup later! Can I get one of those FINDER THINGS?”
“It’s called the Everything Locator,” Manny says in his best marketing voice. “And we’re very close to a deal that will have this device in every major store by next month.”
“Well, you’ve got one customer, for sure,” says the waitress. “Now I have to go make a new pot of soup. Thanks again!”
“Nothing like a real field test,” I say when the waitress has left.
“And real-time customer satisfaction,” Manny adds. “This one could be big, Billy. Just like we wanted for our last hurrah.”
Ah—just like that, my mixed feelings about moving come spiraling back. Working on this invention lifted my spirits and took my mind off the move (for the most part). But now the Everything Locator works, and in only a few days I’ll be leaving.
It’s strange how my brain flits around sometimes. Here I am thinking about all this stuff, but what pops out of my mouth is, “And I still need to find my missing math homework!” After all, that is what started this whole thing. Even though I won’t be in Mr. Kronod’s math class much longer, I kind of want to redeem myself to him!
As I say “math homework,” the Everything Locator lights up and starts beeping. A new map pops up on the screen. It shows a path leading out of the restaurant directly to a nearby park!
“I forgot this thing was on!” I say. “But this has to be a mistake. Why would my math homework be in the park?”
“Well, the Everything Locator has been right so far,” Manny points out. “Let’s go find out.”
We both shovel the final forkfuls of topping-and-syrup-smothered pancakes into our mouths, pay, and hurry from the restaurant, eager to see what the Everything Locator has, well . . . LOCATED.
We follow the path past
a line of stores, through a residential neighborhood filled with kids riding their bikes and playing ball in the street. (I think I recognize the ball as the All Ball, but I’m not sure.)
About five minutes later we enter a busy, crowded park. It’s a beautiful, sunny Sunday and it seems as if everyone is out strolling, flying kites, picnicking—the place is packed!
“How are we supposed to find my math homework in this crowd?” I ask.
“Trust the Everything Locator,” Manny says. “This prototype hasn’t been wrong yet.”
Yet?
I decide not to point out the fact that the first working prototype has been around for less than twenty-four hours. We wind our way through the crowd.
As we approach a group of benches, the locator starts beeping loudly. A tiny circle flashes on the screen.
“According to the Everything Locator, my math homework is right over there,” I say, pointing to the bench just ahead.
This is weird. Did my math homework get up out of my backpack, walk around town for a few days, and then decide to take a stroll in the park?! Something is off. But what?
As we approach the bench from behind, I spot two girls sitting on it. The closer I get, the faster the circle on my phone flashes. I move close enough to look over the girls’ shoulders. I see that one of them has a laptop. Looking more closely, I discover that the laptop is open to a website, and it’s not just any old website—it’s Tali DeCiso’s website!
Tali DeCiso! The Italian art dealer? How can that be? This can’t be a coincidence. The odds would be nearly impossible for some random stranger in the park to just happen to be looking at Tali DeCiso’s website and have my math homework.
And that’s when I see that she is not only looking at the site, but she is actively editing it! This girl is editing Tali DeCiso’s website! Which means . . .
She might be Tali DeCiso!
I have to get a better look. Manny and I make our way around to the front of the bench. I’m ready to ask her what she’s doing in town without telling my dad, or even ask why she needs my dad to move to Italy. All I know is that I need to talk to her. I get to the front of the bench, bracing myself, and look up.