by Luke Sharpe
I’m not face-to-face with Tali DeCiso.
I’m face-to-face with my inventing rival NAT DEFINITE OF DEFINITE DEVICES!
Home, Sweet Home
NEXT TO NAT DEFINITE SITS Jada Parikh, her business partner. Together, Nat and Jada run Definite Devices.
I am stunned. I don’t have any idea what to say. In fact, I’m not even sure exactly what is going on here. None of this makes any sense. Tali DeCiso, Nat Definite, Jada Parikh, my missing math homework? What could these possibly have in common?
Manny is taken aback too. I think I even hear him gasp—which, if you know level-headed Manny, is big. Manny never gasps. But he recovers more quickly than me, and his mind works at the speed of light. It doesn’t take him long to figure out what’s going on here.
“You’re Tali DeCiso!” Manny shouts at Nat. “Of course. I should have known!”
“What?!” I ask. “So there is no Tali DeCiso?”
Before anyone can say another word, I turn to Manny.
“How should you have known that Nat was really Tali?” I ask, still completely bewildered.
Manny pulls out his cell phone and goes to a translation app. “Look,” he says. “ ‘Deciso’ means ‘decided’ in Italian—‘decided’ isn’t so different from ‘definite’!”
For some weird reason, in the middle of all this craziness, I think, Emily could sure use that app. Then I return to the situation at hand, and something else occurs to me.
Nat clearly did not expect Manny and me to find her. Her face turns pale.
“Um,” she starts to say, but I jump in, her whole DIABOLICAL PLOT beginning to come clear.
“You tricked my dad into thinking you’re some fancy art dealer! But you’re not an art dealer at all. You’re . . . you’re . . .” I think about it for a second, getting madder and madder. “My dad is going to be really upset. He has his heart set on painting for Tali DeCiso, and now she doesn’t even exist!”
Nat gets up from the bench and turns toward me.
“No, Billy, I really did offer your Dad a job!” she says. “And I still am offering him the job. His portraits are kind of kooky, but he’s the perfect artist to help brand the next Definite Devices product, the FUNNY GUMMY!”
She takes out a zippered bag with what looks like sour gummy worms.
Jada—sensing this as some free publicity for their new product—says, “Here, take one. The Funny Gummy turns you into a funny guy for nine whole minutes, perfect for stand-up comedians and kids who want to impress their friends.”
Manny shakes his head and waves her off. Manny trained Jada on how to be a good CFO, so I think he feels a little responsible for her ill-timed eagerness.
“You have really terrible timing, Jada,” I say, refusing to try the Funny Gummy.
Then I turn back to Nat.
“Why were you trying to make my dad move to Italy?” I ask her. “If you really want to hire him to paint, why can’t he work for you here? And . . . while we’re talking about strange stuff . . .” I glance at the Everything Locator. “Why do you have my math homework?”
Nat just looks down at her shoes. She doesn’t say a word. Nobody does. Then she opens her bag, reaches in, and pulls out a piece of paper—MY MATH HOMEWORK!
She hands it to me, still not making eye contact.
Manny speaks up.
“Let me take a guess, okay? Nat has proven before that she’ll do almost anything to work with me. So I’m going to guess that Nat tried to get your dad to move to Italy because I’ve made it clear that I’m not leaving Sure Things, Inc.
“But that doesn’t mean that Nat isn’t interested in joining us and working with me while you are away,” Manny concludes.
I can’t believe it! Could this whole thing just really be another plot to get Manny to work with her? I mean, I know Nat has a crush on Manny, but this is some really BAD STUFF.
Manny isn’t finished.
“I think Nat snuck into World Headquarters after turning herself invisible with the Invisibility Spray and slipped your math homework out of your backpack to distract you from inventing while you looked for it.
“That way Sure Things, Inc. wouldn’t have another successful invention, making her offer to work with me—which was sure to come after you left, Billy, if we hadn’t found Clayton—more appealing. Wasn’t that your thinking, Nat?”
Nat nods.
“It’s true,” she says. “Though I wouldn’t be too worried about the homework, Billy. Most of it was wrong anyway.”
Wrong? I look down at the papers. It seems that Jada and Nat have corrected some of my numbers using a purple gel pen. I look closely at two or three of the answers they changed. In each case, they were right and I was wrong.
On second thought maybe I shouldn’t hand this homework in to Mr. Kronod.
Nat continues. “And yes, Jada and I would love to be at Sure Things, Inc.—working with Manny, of course.”
I realize at that moment that Jada hasn’t said anything in a while. Something tells me she’s not totally on board with this plan and is just going along because Nat said so.
So now what? Do I have to call Dad and tell him Tali DeCiso isn’t real, or do I focus on the fact our biggest competitor has a really cool new invention, or . . . or . . .
And then the big takeaway really hits me.
“So, this means that the Sure family is NOT moving to Italy?” I say. I phrase it like a question, but it’s definitely a statement.
“Well, not to work for Tali DeCiso, anyway,” Nat says, flashing me a half smile.
“You know,” I tell her, “as much as I really don’t want to move to Italy, I also really don’t want my dad to be disappointed. He was excited to be commissioned to paint. And he’s going to very disappointed to learn that Tali DeCiso is a fake. After this, I highly doubt he’ll agree to do the painting for the packaging of the Funny Gummy.”
To my surprise, Nat looks genuinely upset.
“Does he have to know?” she asks. “I did go to his show at the art gallery, Billy. I thought it was cool. Perfect to help us design the Funny Gummy packaging and brand, and honestly, I’d really love to see what he can do. If you want, I can get in touch with him as Tali DeCiso and tell him that it’s okay for him to work from home instead of Italy. We’ll still pay him the same amount—minus the moving fees, of course.”
This is a tough one. Once again Nat’s plots and lies have tricked us. How can we let this go again? I look over at Manny for advice.
“It’s your decision, partner,” he says, shrugging.
Bam!
Then I get an idea.
“All right, Nat. Here’s what you’ve got to do if you really want Dad to work for you on this project,” I begin. “One, you’re going to tell him that Tali DeCiso doesn’t need him to move to Italy but that she still wants him to work for her. You’re right. There is no reason he has to know that Tali DeCiso isn’t real.
“And two, you have to double your payment offer to him. That’ll make him feel really good.”
Jada opens the calculator app on her phone. Her fingers flash across the touch screen. She looks at Nat and she points to the screen.
“It’s going to be tough, but we can swing that,” she says.
Nat nods.
“One more thing,” Manny adds. “Nat, you have to promise that you’ll never try to break up Sure Things, Inc. again. Same for you, Jada.”
“I promise,” Nat says immediately.
“Me too,” says Jada. The four of us shake on it.
Then Jada, in true trained-by-Manny fashion, opens the zippered bag.
“Now would you try a Funny Gummy, Billy?” she asks sweetly.
I take a deep breath.
“Well, I guess if Dad is going to be involved with this invention, I might as well see if it works,” I say.
I pop a Funny Gummy into my mouth. It tastes pretty much like regular gummy candy, only a little . . . funnier?
A few seconds later a joke
pops into my head. From out of nowhere!
“Do you know what I would do if I saw Philo eating a dictionary?” I ask. No one replies. “I’d take the words right out of his mouth!”
I start giggling.
Am I the only one who thinks that’s funny? Come on, that’s FUNNY! Why is everybody groaning?
And then another joke pops into my head.
“What gets wet when it’s drying?” I ask. Okay, this time no one is even trying to think about the answer. “A towel! Get it. A towel gets wet when it’s drying. See?”
“Well, Billy, that’s actually a riddle, not a jo—” Manny tries to stop me, but the jokes just keep on coming.
“Speaking of ‘Billy,’ ” I say. “What belongs to you, but is used more by others? Your name!”
This is great stuff! What’s wrong with everyone? Why aren’t they laughing?
“Billy, I think we should call Clayton and fill him in on all this,” Manny suggests.
“Sure,” I say, whipping out my phone. I get Clayton on the line.
“Hey, Clayton, do you know what lawyers wear when they go to court?” I ask. “Lawsuits!”
“I think maybe I should handle this,” Manny says, taking the phone from my hand. He leans over to Jada. “How long did you say the Funny Gummy lasts?”
“Nine minutes,” Jada says.
Manny rolls his eyes. He fills Clayton in on what just happened, leading up to the fact that I’m not going to Italy after all.
“But we’d love it if you were a CONSULTANT FOR SURE THINGS, INC., Clayton,” Manny tells him in a kind voice.
As it turns out, Clayton is actually relieved at this news!
“He says that your shoes are way too big for him to fill anyway,” Manny says. Manny hands my phone back to me.
“And speaking of shoes,” I say, thinking yet again of Dad, “What do you call a shoe that looks like a banana?” I see Nat and Jada giggle to each other. “A slipper! A SLIPPER!” I shout.
“Time to go home, Billy,” Manny says.
In about two minutes and eighteen seconds, the Funny Gummy wears off, and I no longer find any of those jokes funny.
• • •
I arrive home a few minutes later. Dad is in the living room, practically jumping up and down from excitement.
“I just got a call from Tali DeCiso,” says Dad. “She wants us to stay right here, but she still wants me to paint for her! And she’s doubled her offer!”
Well, at least Nat was true to her word.
“That’s wonderful news, Bryan!” says Mom, giving Dad a big hug. “Italy would have been fun, but this is our home.”
Huh. For some reason, I’d never taken into account the fact that Mom and Dad would be sad to leave our house behind too. That kinda makes me feel a little better.
Only Emily is bummed out. Or, at least, I think she’s bummed out. She’s doing all her complaining in Italian—though I can’t say I’m very surprised.
“This makes me so giallo,” says Emily, stomping her foot.
“This makes you so yellow?” Dad asks. Then he shrugs it off.
“The Sure family is staying put,” Dad says. “Right here in our own house.”
I’m beaming. I can’t believe that after all of this, I’m still going to get to work with Manny and get to be at Sure Things, Inc. All of this happiness is awesome.
“This house—that reminds me,” Mom says suddenly, with a stern look on her face. “Billy, why is there a big PILE OF JUNK in the garage?”
Uh-oh!
Summer Vacation in the Sandbox
My name is Billy Sure. As of today, I can officially say I am no longer a seventh-grader at Fillmore Middle School. No, I’m not moving—though my family almost moved to Italy not too long ago (long story). I can say that because I’m now an eighth-grader at Fillmore Middle School!
Well, as my sister Emily might tell you, I’m not technically an eighth-grader yet, because it’s still the summer before eighth grade, but I’m going to go ahead and call myself that anyway. You’ve got to celebrate the small things, right?
Anyway, it feels like just yesterday was the first day of seventh grade, when I went back to school after my first invention, the All Ball, went on sale. For as long as I can remember, I have always been coming up with invention ideas. It used to be a hobby, but together with my best friend Manny, we founded an invention company—Sure Things, Inc. I do the inventing, and Manny does the marketing, sales, and a whole lot of other cool stuff I don’t really understand. That’s how it’s always been, and how it’s always going to be!
Still, it’s kind of crazy to think it’s been almost a year since Sure Things, Inc. started. And it’s also kind of crazy to think that today, summer vacation has started! Which means I can spend my days relaxing, taking my dog Philo on long walks, and, oh yeah, being a normal thirteen-year-old kid.
Just as I’m thinking about all of this, Ping! there’s a notification on my laptop screen. I have an important e-mail to read.
Oh no, I think. I hope everything is okay with the Everything Locator. The Everything Locator is Sure Things, Inc.’s newest invention, and I think it’s going to be our biggest hit yet.
I sign into my account and brace myself. But phew. The notification wasn’t from Manny saying that our invention is doomed. It’s from the makers of Sandbox, only the very best video game in the world!
Dear Billy Sure,
Congratulations! You are now officially set up with a player account for Sandbox, everyone’s favorite action-packed adventure. Please download the game at the link below. Have fun, and remember, in this game it’s good to have your head in the sand!
Remember when I said I want to be a normal thirteen-year-old kid? Well, scratch that! I’m not a normal thirteen-year-old kid—I’m a thirteen-year-old kid with access to Sandbox!
Yes!
I’ve been on this video game’s wait list for months, and I can’t believe it’s finally my time to play.
Just as I download it and the game starts to install, I hear a voice from outside my door.
“Billy!” says the voice.
That’s my mom.
“Billy, have you finished unpacking?” Mom asks, peeking into my room.
I groan. Yeah, unpacking. Remember when I said that my family almost moved to Italy? Well, we cut it pretty close. My dad is an artist, and he was offered a job to do a series of paintings over there. We had everything packed and ready to go—until Manny and I discovered that the art dealer wasn’t a real art dealer, she was actually the head of our rival invention company, Nat Definite, and it was all a ruse to get me out of the inventing biz! Thankfully we made a deal with her—she still had to commission Dad for some art, but he could do it right here at home. Case closed, right?
Not so much. Because thanks to Nat’s alter ego, “Tali DeCiso,” I now have a huge chore ahead of me—unpacking.
“I’ll start that now, Mom,” I say, looking sadly at my computer screen. How can my inventing rival still be messing up my life?
I spend some time emptying the last few boxes and put stuff back where it belongs. My dog, Philo, curls up on a pile of stinky socks that I unpack. I’m not sure why the socks are stinky and I definitely don’t understand why Philo wants to sleep on them. Thanks for the help, Philo, I think.
I go throughout the house putting things back, like my bathroom towels in the bathroom.
In the kitchen I see Dad’s artist’s lamp sitting on the counter in the exact spot where the blender should be. So what’s in Dad’s art studio? I think.
Curiosity gets the better of me and I head out of the house to his art studio, which is conveniently located in the garden shed.
Aha! Neatly poised above Dad’s drawing board is the missing blender!
I guess Dad got a bit confused while he was unpacking. Oh boy!
I head into the house and back up to my room. As I pass the bathroom I see a spatula sitting in the toothbrush holder.
Oh no, I thin
k, realizing Dad made breakfast earlier today. What did he use to cook with?
Finally, after an hour of unpacking, I settle down in front of my computer and enter the world of Sandbox!
The game starts off simply enough. I get to create my avatar, which of course looks just like me only . . . Sandbox-like.
I build my house—which looks a lot like a medieval castle—and walk around until I run into a GIANT SAND MONSTER who charges right at me!!!
I race to the water and dive into the ocean. Knowing he will be instantly dissolved if he follows, the sand monster roars in anger, waving his dusty fist at me. Unfortunately, I know that the game won’t let me stay in the ocean forever. After a few more seconds a giant wave approaches from behind.
If I stay in the water I’ll get crushed by the wave. If I go back out onto the beach, the sand monster will get me. There’s only one thing to do. I must control the huge wave of water and direct it onto the sand monster.
Just a video game, I remind myself. Nothing to be afraid of.
I start hitting the arrow keys on my keyboard, and I don’t think my reflexes have worked this fast ever. Up, down, up, left, left, across, side—
I hardly notice the time, but suddenly two hours have passed.
“Billy! Dinnertime!” Dad calls from downstairs.
“I’m not hungry,” I call back, pausing the game midbattle. I don’t even want to imagine what toothbrush-infested food Dad has managed to cook up.
Then I hear my mom’s voice.
“It’s Chinese takeout,” she calls.
Chinese takeout? Well, that’s an eggroll of a different color. There are very few things more important than defeating a giant sand monster. Chinese takeout is one of them!
Leaving the game paused, I scramble downstairs. On my way to the kitchen I pass through the living room and see that the vacuum cleaner is sitting on the TV stand. I wonder where the TV could be?
Shrugging, I head to the kitchen and take a seat. Boxes of Chinese food are spread out across the table. I grab the biggest box, dump a huge helping of lo mein onto my plate, and start shoveling noodles into my mouth.