Olivia Bean, Trivia Queen

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Olivia Bean, Trivia Queen Page 1

by Donna Gephart




  ALSO BY DONNA GEPHART

  As If Being 12¾ Isn’t Bad Enough,

  My Mother Is Running for President!

  How to Survive Middle School

  This is a work of fiction. All incidents and dialogue, and all characters with the exception of some well-known historical and public figures, are products of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Where real-life historical or public figures appear, the situations, incidents, and dialogues concerning those persons are fictional and are not intended to depict actual events or to change the fictional nature of the work. In all other respects, any resemblance to persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.

  Text copyright © 2012 by Donna Gephart

  Jacket art copyright © 2012 by Michael Heath

  All rights reserved. Published in the United States by Delacorte Press, an imprint of Random House Children’s Books, a division of Random House, Inc., New York.

  Delacorte Press is a registered trademark and the colophon is a trademark of Random House, Inc.

  Visit us on the Web! randomhouse.com/kids

  Educators and librarians, for a variety of teaching tools, visit us at

  randomhouse.com/teachers

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Gephart, Donna.

  Olivia Bean, trivia queen / Donna Gephart.—1st ed.

  p. cm.

  Summary: After overcoming a number of obstacles, especially in the subject of geography,

  Olivia is on her way to Hollywood to appear on Jeopardy! and, she hopes, to reunite with

  her father who left the family two years ago.

  eISBN: 978-0-375-89940-9

  [1. Curiosities and wonders—Fiction. 2. Jeopardy! (Television program)—Fiction.

  3. Fathers—Fiction. 4. Divorce—Fiction.] I. Title.

  PZ7.G293463Oli 2012

  [Fic]—dc22

  2011006023

  Random House Children’s Books supports the First Amendment

  and celebrates the right to read.

  v3.1

  Contents

  Cover

  Other Books by This Author

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Epigraph

  Jeopardy! Round

  Who Is Not My Dad?

  Who Is the Boy with Two First Names?

  What Is the Name of the Fifth Ocean?

  What Is the Red Umbrella?

  Who Is Phil and Why Doesn’t He Wear Pants?

  What Is Getting Let Off the Hook?

  What Is the Ugly Black Sock?

  What Constitutes an Emergency?

  What Is Tucker Holding?

  Who Is Acting Like Cro-Magnon Man?

  What’s So Important About Getting on Kids Week?

  What Is Patience?

  What’s the Significance of Twenty-Four Years?

  Who’s a Poet and Doesn’t Know It?

  What’s So Funny, Tucker Thomas?

  Why Is Charlie Watching TV on a School Day?

  What’s Going On with Mom?

  Who’s the Mom Here?

  Is No News Bad News?

  What’s the Worst Phone Call?

  Are We in Jeopardy?

  What’s in the Red Envelope?

  Double Jeopardy! Round

  What’s the Worst Way to Save Money?

  Knock, Knock. Who’s There?

  What Do More Than Ten Thousand Kids Have in Common?

  How Can Olivia Afford a Trip to California and Normal Toilet Paper?

  Did They Call?

  What Do Wreaths Have to Do with Anything?

  What Is “I Don’t Know What”?

  What’s Not Under the Christmas Tree?

  How Many Keys Are on a Piano?

  What’s Happening for the First Time Since Mom Lost Her Job?

  Who’s on the List? (Part I)

  Who’s on the List? (Part II)

  What Do You Want to Be When You Grow Up?

  Who Is Not Alex Trebek?

  Who Controls the Buzzer?

  What Are the Odds?

  What’s in the Envelope?

  What Does Olivia Have to Tell Dad?

  Who’s Not Thrilled About Olivia’s News?

  Final Jeopardy! Round

  Which Planet Is Larger Than One Thousand Earths?

  Will Olivia Ever Be Ready?

  Did You Know About Sharks’ Teeth?

  Who Is Olivia Bean?

  How Many Head Hairs Do We Lose Each Day?

  What Question Is Too Hard to Ask?

  Who Wants Ice Cream?

  Who Is NOT the Red Umbrella?

  What Is $15,000?

  Who Is the Hula Hoop Queen?

  What Animal Is Found in the Swamps of Florida?

  What Is Olivia Bean Really Good At?

  Who’s Sworn to Secrecy?

  What Is Jeopardy! Trivia?

  About the Author

  “It’s fun to be smart, Livi!” —Charlie Bean

  If only …

  It’s 7:26 p.m., and you know what that means.

  Little Bother is upstairs in his room, ramming Matchbox cars into the furniture, each other and probably DJ, our orange tabby. Mom’s in the kitchen, washing dinner dishes. Neil’s in there, too, drying dishes. And singing.

  Conditions would be perfect for me to enjoy a quiet game of Jeopardy! in the living room by myself, except for Neil’s singing. It’s not like he’s crooning softly, either, and being considerate of other people in the house. Neil’s belting out an Aretha Franklin song like he’s auditioning for American Idol. And he’s completely mangling the lyrics.

  “What it is you want,” Neil practically shouts. “Baby, I got it.”

  Mom’s laughter rings out over the sound of running water.

  If it’s possible, Neil seems to be ramping the volume up even more. “All I’m askin’ of you, my lady,” he sings/shouts, “is just little bits of respect when you come home.”

  Mom chimes in, “Just little bits.”

  I can’t help but smile at the happiness in Mom’s voice.

  “Hey, my lady.” Neil’s voice ruins my mood.

  “Just little bits,” Mom sings.

  “Whenever you get—”

  “Stop!” I scream. “Jeopardy! is almost on!”

  Mom skids out of the kitchen into the dining room, a dish towel draped over her shoulder and a soup ladle clutched in her left hand—the hand that used to hold her wedding ring. She grins at me like this is a big joke and sings into the ladle as though it were a microphone. “Just little bits.”

  Neil stands behind her and puts his hands on her hips. “My lady!” he sings into Mom’s hair.

  She looks up at him and smiles. “Little bits.”

  They sway back and forth.

  Yuck. “Um,” I say. “Jeopardy! is about to start. Could you please take your little show on the road?” What I don’t say is: Our house used to be nice and quiet before Neil moved in one month, three weeks and five days ago. Not that I’m counting or anything.

  “Jeopardy!,” Neil says, and looks at Mom.

  She nods toward the living room. Toward me!

  My shoulders slump. I like it better when Neil has to work at the library until they close at nine. On those nights, it’s just me, Mom and Charlie for dinner—just like it was before he moved in. And I get to watch Jeopardy! alone.

  As Neil heads my way, Mom snaps him on the butt with the kitchen towel. Thwack!

  He leaps forward.

  “Adorable,” I mutter. “Barfingly adorable.”

  I strain to remember whether Mom and Dad ever acted that way when they were together. Maybe in the beginning when they first met, but not any time I was around
to see it. The only kind of music I remember Mom and Dad making together was loud fighting.

  Just then, I hear the Jeopardy! theme music, so I push Mom and Dad out of my mind and focus on the TV.

  “Mind if I join you?” Neil asks, pulling up a stool and sitting beside me without waiting for my answer. He leans forward and scratches his scruffy beard, which makes him look like a college professor … or a homeless person.

  I’m silent, hoping he’ll take the hint and go back into the kitchen with Mom. I want to say that there must be dishes that need drying, but I don’t. I want to say that maybe this time, they can sing “Over the Mountains and Far Away,” but I don’t do that either.

  Dad used to request that song when I learned to play violin in fourth grade. “Jelly Bean,” he would say. “Could you please play ‘Over the Mountains and Far Away’?” It took a bit of research to learn that Dad was teasing about my screechy playing. There is no song called “Over the Mountains and Far Away”; it was Dad’s fun way of asking me to practice somewhere else.

  Neil leans forward and rubs his hands together. “Ready, Olivia?”

  I slide away from him, like we’re repelling ends of magnets, and I don’t answer.

  Neil sighs, but stays where he is.

  Maybe that should make me feel guilty, but I can’t worry about hurting Neil’s feelings right now. It’s especially important that I focus on Jeopardy! tonight. The practice might help with tomorrow’s geography test.

  When I was younger and told Dad how much I wanted to be on Jeopardy!, he shook his head and said, “Oh, Olivia, you wouldn’t do well on that show. There are a ton of geography questions, and geography just isn’t your thing.” Dad was right, of course. I am lousy at geography—it’s my weakest subject—but I hope that if I study hard and get better at it, I can be on the show someday.

  If I watch Jeopardy! now and hit the books later tonight, maybe I won’t completely bomb the test tomorrow.

  As Alex Trebek introduces the three contestants—Jenny from Oklahoma, Jack from Nevada and Asia from Michigan—Charlie, aka Little Bother, rockets down the steps, a Matchbox car in each hand. He stops in front of the TV. “Bet you didn’t know flamingos pee on their legs on purpose to cool off.”

  “Ew,” I say. “And get out.”

  Charlie doesn’t move.

  Neil glares at him. “Charlie Bean, we’ve talked about this. Jeopardy! is on and it’s Olivia’s special thing. You need to go somewhere else.” He leans close to Charlie’s ear and whispers loudly, “I have it on good authority your mom’s in the kitchen making brownies.” When Charlie doesn’t scoot, Neil adds, “With chocolate chips.”

  Charlie tilts his head like he’s thinking about which would be more fun, eating brownies with chocolate chips or bothering me; then he zooms into the kitchen like a race car. I hear him tell Mom the flamingo fact.

  It’s no surprise that Charlie got the Bean gene for collecting trivia, but unlike me and Dad, Charlie loves gross trivia. Yesterday, he shared with us that an emetomaniac is a person who always feels like throwing up.

  I’m pretty sure that little gem of information will not help me on tomorrow’s geography test. I just hope I don’t get so nervous when Ms. Lucas hands out the test papers that I become an emetomaniac in front of the whole class. Right now, though, I’m grateful Charlie’s in the kitchen.

  I can focus on Jeopardy!

  Neil hunches forward, his bushy eyebrows furrowed.

  Dad used to sit back while watching Jeopardy!, relaxed as Sunday morning. He’d answer about 90 percent of the questions, then wave his hand dismissively. “I should be on that show,” he’d say. “I could do better than those bozos. It’s easy.”

  Jeopardy! is not easy; Dad’s just really smart and can hold a lot of information in his head, like when he plays blackjack and can remember which cards have already been played. I’m a lot like Dad when it comes to remembering information … except most geography facts.

  Alex Trebek reads each category—“Elementary!, Quick Foods, Chairman of the Board, Famous Captains and ‘CAT’-astrophes.”

  A tingly shiver runs through my body.

  The game is about to begin.

  Once the game begins, Alex Trebek moves things along fast, like he’s a seasoned conductor leading his orchestra through three quick movements. He is seasoned; he’s hosted more than four thousand games. And he’s been hosting Jeopardy! since September 10, 1984. That’s way longer than I’ve been alive!

  “Elementary! for two hundred,” the first contestant says.

  Alex Trebek reads from a card. “This is the second element in the periodic table.”

  “What is helium?” Neil shouts at the same time as the contestant, but before I have a chance to open my mouth. And I knew the answer!

  “Elementary! again for four hundred, please.”

  Alex Trebek says, “Oxygen was discovered by this man.”

  “Who is Joseph Priestley?” Neil says, the tendons in his neck tight.

  I shake my head. I’ve got to pay more attention in science class. I can’t let Neil beat me.

  “Quick Foods for eight hundred.”

  It seems like Alex Trebek looks right at me and says, “Morgan Spurlock’s 2004 fast-food documentary.”

  “What is Super Size Me?” I say, giving myself a mental pat on the back.

  Neil puts up a hand for me to high-five him.

  I turn toward the TV and pretend I don’t see his hand. There will be no good sportsmanship when it comes to Jeopardy! Not today; not ever. Like my dad always says, if you’re going to play, play to win.

  Sometimes when I think about Dad and how much I miss him, I get a cramp in my stomach. I’m bent forward when the middle contestant chooses the next category.

  “Chairman of the Board for four hundred.”

  “On a Scrabble board,” Alex Trebek says, “the triple-word-score squares are this color.”

  I remember Mom and Dad playing Scrabble on the dining room table.

  “Red!” Neil says, forgetting the question rule.

  “What is red?” I say, pointing out Neil’s mistake.

  “Oh,” he says. “You got me on that one.” Then Neil looks at me and gently touches my shoulder. “Olivia, you look a little uncomfortable. You okay?”

  I realize I’m still bent over and pull myself up, but my stomach still hurts. I want to jerk away from him, but I just nod. He must see the pain on my face, though, because he looks concerned.

  “Want me to get your mom?”

  I shake my head and focus on the TV. I just want you to go away. My stomach really does hurt, though, and not only because I’m thinking about Dad. I also can’t stop worrying about tomorrow’s test. I should probably go upstairs and study because there aren’t many geography categories tonight, but I never miss Jeopardy!

  Neil gets the next three answers right, which makes the back of my neck feel hot. We’re both clueless about the fourth. And before we know it, it’s time for the Double Jeopardy! round.

  By the end of the game at eight o’clock, Neil has kicked my trivia-loving butt by correctly answering way more questions, including Final Jeopardy!: “Mount Everest is on the border of Tibet and this country.” The correct question was “What is Nepal?” Dad would have gotten it, too, I bet. But I had no clue.

  Which only makes me more worried about tomorrow’s geography test.

  “Good game,” Neil says, and offers his hand for me to shake. Hair sprouts from his knuckles. He looks like a Chia Pet gone awry.

  I take a deep breath and shake his hand limply, but don’t say “Good game” back to him. But I also don’t say, “Maybe you should shave your knuckles, Monkey Man,” so I still feel like I’m being nice.

  “Who won?” Mom asks, standing at the edge of the living room.

  Pointing at himself with his hairy-knuckled thumbs, Neil says, “The winner and new world champ.” He nods and pretends to grab imaginary lapels. “I guess it’s safe to say I’m a legend i
n my own time.”

  Mom plants her hands on her hips. “You mean a legend in your own mind.”

  “Yeah,” I mutter, hoping only Neil hears.

  “Olivia,” Mom says. “I’m assuming you gave Neil a run for his money. I don’t want his head to swell so much he can’t walk through the kitchen doorway and help me get those brownies out of the oven.”

  I take a whiff of the sweet, chocolaty aroma and my mouth waters. “I could have done better,” I say, holding my stomach. “I was a little off tonight.”

  Mom slings an arm around my shoulders and squeezes. “Worried about tomorrow’s test? You’ve been studying, right?”

  I nod, even though all I did today was stare at my globe—eyes glazed—for about twenty minutes before dinner. I was probably gazing right at Mount Everest, but nothing about it actually registered. My brain’s like that when it comes to geography facts.

  “Great,” Mom says. “Then you’re ready to be crowned Olivia Bean, Geography Queen.”

  “Hardly!” I practically shriek, and press a fist into my stomach. “No matter what I do, I can’t remember all the rivers and cities. When it comes to geography, my brain is Teflon-coated. Nothing sticks.”

  “Oh, you’ll do fine,” Neil says.

  I look right at him. “No, I won’t. Dad says it’s my worst subject.”

  “But you’re so smart.”

  “At trivia,” I point out. “I’m not good at the important things that would help me in school, like geography.”

  Mom gives my shoulders another squeeze and tilts her head toward Neil, which probably means Forgive my daughter’s rudeness. Mom makes that gesture a lot. “Besides,” Mom says. “You have something most kids don’t.”

  In my mind, I run through the list of things I have that most kids don’t. What is a father who lives three thousand miles away? What is no best friend? Who is my mom’s really annoying live-in boyfriend? What is a little bother who puts his racing cars into my cereal bowl? What is—

  “You have this,” Mom says, and kisses the top of my head.

  “Hair?” I ask. “You think the other kids in my class are bald?”

  Neil laughs.

  Mom glares at me. “Livi, you know what I mean. You have a big, beautiful brain.”

  The human brain weighs three pounds, I think, and is 75 percent water. “Mom, all those kids have brains, too.” I feel stupid saying it. “Big, beautiful brains. But some of those brains can actually hold facts about landmasses and state capitals, unlike your daughter’s.”

 

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