TJ and the Quiz Kids

by Hazel Hutchins

  “Alaska!” said Seymour.

  I went back to the laundry room. A tail was hanging out of the dryer. Alaska had climbed right inside to sleep on the warm clothes. It gave a whole new meaning to the term “fluff dry.”

  I lifted her out, shook cat hair from the T-shirts as I removed them, and put in the last load to dry.

  “Telephone!” said Seymour.

  Maria phoned twice to make sure we knew to be at school by noon. Rashid phoned to complain about Maria phoning. And then Gran phoned. Hurrah!

  “The clothes are almost done,” I told her. “Shall I put them in the suitcase?”

  “Yes, please,” she said. “And just leave it open. I’ve got some things to add when I get there. You’ll have left the house by then, but I’ve got my key. It’ll be a bit of a rush.”

  “I wish I could go with you to the airport to say good-bye,” I told her.

  “And I wish I could be at Quiz Kids and go to Belize,” said Gran. “But we’ll catch up on everything when I get back. The plane takes off about fifteen minutes before you go on stage. I’ll shout ‘go, TJ, go’ as we fly over the school.”

  “Shout it quietly so you don’t get kicked off the plane,” I said.

  “Right,” laughed Gran. “Good luck, TJ.”

  “Have a great trip, Gran,” I said.

  After that, Amanda phoned to tell me that Elizabeth wanted to wish me good luck too. How did Elizabeth know I was on the team? And how did Amanda know Elizabeth? There wasn’t time to find out. It was almost noon and the truck from Treasured Antiques had only just pulled up out front.

  Luckily they took one look at the desk, decided it was genuine and carefully carried it to their truck. I threw the last of the clothes in the big suitcase, and Seymour and I raced to school, thinking everyone else would already be on stage.

  Surprise—Mr. Phelps only wanted us there early for sound checks! Still two hours to go. Sound checks didn’t take long at all, and then Mr. Phelps gave us strict instructions to wait in a classroom until we were called.

  Waiting around in a room with a personal trainer and three other team members, including a girl named Maria who really, really, really wants to win, is a good way to destroy the nervous system. Seymour finally left because he said it gave him stage fright even though he wasn’t going on stage.

  At long last it was almost showtime, and we were called into the hallway to wait to go onstage.

  “TJ?”

  I turned in surprise. People had been arriving, but they’d come in at the other end of the school and gone straight to the gym. Now here was Dad beside me.

  “I just saw Seymour. He sent me back here. Are you going onstage? I thought you were the alternate.”

  “I thought you were helping Tony,” I said.

  “I was, but we ran into a couple of snags, so…” Instead of finishing his sentence, Dad clammed right up.

  “What?” I asked.

  “Nothing,” said Dad. “If you’re here and Seymour’s out front watching, then you’re on the team. I’ll go and sit with Seymour and cheer you on.”

  “Wait,” I said. “What’s wrong? Why did you come?”

  “It was nothing important,” he said.

  But there was something in Dad’s face that said otherwise.

  “You wouldn’t have come if it wasn’t important,” I said. Suddenly I felt cold all over. “Is it…is it Gran? Did something happen to Gran’s plane?”

  Right away Dad shook his head.

  “No,” he said. “Gladys’s husband phoned. They got away just fine a few minutes ago. They’re in the air.”

  “Is it Mom?” I asked.

  “No, TJ. She’s fine.”

  “Tell me,” I said.

  “But you’re about to go onstage…”

  “Tell me,” I said.

  “Okay, but don’t worry. She’s probably just asleep somewhere. You know how she loves to sleep.”

  “Sleep? You mean Alaska?” I asked.

  Dad grimaced.

  “We ran into a snag on Tony’s job, and I had to go back to the house to pick up some tools. I decided I better check the cats before I left. I found T-Rex, but I couldn’t find Alaska. And then I saw the desk was gone…”

  For a second my heart did a flipflop. Alaska sound asleep in one of the desk drawers, rolling down the highway with Treasured Antiques. Who knows where she’d end up! But it was only for a second.

  “It’s okay,” I said. “Alaska and T Rex both watched out the window while the desk went down the front walk. I remember telling them that I’d build something even better. I’m sure of it.”

  “Perfect,” said Dad. “She’s in the house somewhere. Everything is okay.”

  “Just don’t turn on the dryer without looking inside first,” I said. “And she likes to sleep in the clean towels in the closet, but don’t tell Mom. And there’s some clothes I kicked under my bed kind of by accident. And…”

  Someone touched me on the shoulder.

  “Time to go, TJ,” said Mr. Phelps.

  The others were already standing at the doors to the music room.

  “I’ll be out in the audience,” said Dad. “Everything’s fine.”

  Elizabeth was standing at the other door to the music room with her team. She gave Amanda and me a big wave. Maria looked at both of us suspiciously.

  “Focus,” she said.

  Amanda took a deep breath. Rashid went into quiet mode, but with a smile that held a hint of anticipation…like Alaska when she’s about to pounce on a spider.

  As for me, a funny little refrain began to play in the back of my brain. Something’s wrong. Something’s wrong. Something’s wrong.

  I checked my fly. Nope. That wasn’t it.

  The music began to blare.

  “And now…from Riverside Elementary School…it’s The Quiz Kids TV Spectacular !”

  CHAPTER 11

  Physicists have all sorts of theories about time, but I don’t know if any of them allow for how time becomes completely unpredictable when hundreds and hundreds of faces and three separate TV cameras are all staring at you.

  Out onto the stage we went. It seemed to take forever to reach my spot at the podiums. It seemed to take an eternity to get through the introductions. Even the first question, which was multiple choice, just as we’d always practiced, seemed to come out slow, slow, slow.

  “The process by which plants convert sunlight to food is known as: a) sublimation, b) res—”

  Bzzt.

  It was way too easy of course. Both teams hit the buzzer at almost the same time, but it was Amanda’s light that lit up.

  “Photosynthesis.”

  “Correct. The term that describes the process by which water changes from a liquid to a gas is known as a) oxidization, b) fre—”

  Bzzt.

  This time it was Fairview’s light, and their captain answered correctly. “Evaporation.”

  After that, questions came steadily, and time began to fly. Riverside. Fairview. Riverside. Fairview. Name the country with the largest population. Name the type of rock that is formed in layers. I knew some of the answers, but I couldn’t ring in nearly fast enough. The action had been kicked up a notch. Things were moving really fast. I felt like I was being left in the dust and my confidence was doing a total nosedive. Ask about oceans. Ask about lightning. Ask about sweating hippos.

  It didn’t happen. And all the time, softly but persistently, the refrain kept playing in the back of my brain: Something’s wrong. Something’s wrong. Something’s wrong.

  We were halfway through individual questions.

  “TJ, your question is: what two tributaries of similar name contribute to the River Nile?”

  I knew it was in Egypt. I knew it flooded. I knew it was called the longest river in the world. I had no idea at all what its tributaries were.

  “Nile One and Nile Two?”

  It was so obviously a guess that the moderator smiled.

  “Incorrect.” H
e turned to the other team. “Anyone on Fairview?”

  “The Blue Nile and the White Nile,” said a kid named Garrison.

  Not fair! They’d probably all been to Egypt on a class trip! Okay, even I knew their school didn’t have that much money. But for half a second it made me feel better. I needed to feel better!

  More questions. Riverside. Fairview. Riverside. Fairview.

  Something’s wrong. Something’s wrong. Something’s wrong.

  “We now pause for a station break.”

  We all stepped back from the microphones. Mr. Phelps brought us water and told us we were doing just fine.

  “It’s definitely a stronger competition than last year.” Talk about being comfortable on stage—Elizabeth Jessop had walked in front of everyone to talk to us!

  “Garrison said we’d beat you before the first break. I told him he was over-confident,” she continued. “Ooops…I’m getting daggers sent my way.”

  She scurried back to her side.

  “Beaten before the first break!” said Rashid. “We’re practically tied with them!”

  “We would be tied if I hadn’t blown my question,” I said.

  “I didn’t know the answer,” said Amanda.

  “I did,” said Maria.

  “Teams…ten seconds and counting.”

  “Focus,” said Maria.

  Focusing didn’t seem to be doing me a whole lot of good. I looked out into the audience and happened to see Seymour. He gave me the thumbs-up sign. I had to keep trying.

  The questions began again and the score remained tied, with correct answers splitting evenly again. Fairview. Riverside. Fairview. Riverside.

  “The subject is words and definitions,” said the moderator. “Name the term that describes a word that reads the same forward and backward.”

  “Evil olive,” answered Garrison.

  His answer came so fast that you knew he’d had it ready just in case. Being that well prepared, however, had worked against him. He hadn’t listened carefully enough to the question.

  “Incorrect,” said the moderator. “Riverside?”

  “A palindrome,” said Rashid.

  We’d regained some ground. I didn’t know if it was enough to make up for the points I’d missed, but it would help.

  “Name the plural of ox.” “Oxen,” answered Elizabeth. “Name a homophone that means both a carpenter’s tool and an area of flat land.”

  Bzzt.

  All of a sudden everyone was looking at me. Why were they looking at me? Why was my hand on the buzzer? I didn’t know what a homophone was. I’d only rung in because there was a word in my head that fit the definitions.

  “TJ?” asked the moderator.

  “A plane and a plain,” I said. “Except they’re spelled differently.”

  “Correct,” said the moderator.

  I’d got one. I’d actually got one. All on my own. Just keep trying, I told myself, just keep trying. Now the subject was math. I missed two questions by hesitating the slightest fraction of a second. The third time I didn’t hesitate.

  “One hundred and one,” I answered. Don’t ask me how I knew that 101 was the first prime number after one hundred, but I did.

  The questions kept coming. I kept trying, but I could tell that my brain was beginning to zone out. Amanda, Rashid and Maria, however, just kept going. Answer for answer, they matched the Fairview team right up until the very last section.

  “Congratulations, both teams,” said the moderator. “A hard-fought battle, and the score is tied. And now it’s time for the final bonus round…right after this break.”

  This time, Elizabeth stayed with her own team. They were discussing something with an intensity that could be felt even on our side of the stage.

  “Don’t worry about the huddle over there,” said Mr. Phelps. “It’s part of their strategy. They’re trying to psych you out.”

  It was working. Maria was biting her lip. Rashid had grown very solemn. Only Amanda seemed to be maintaining her cool.

  “Teams…ten seconds.”

  Everyone got into position.

  “Welcome back to Quiz Kids, where the score is tied, and we are entering the final portion of the competition,” said the moderator. “These are open questions. Either team may answer. The team that answers correctly will then have the opportunity for bonus points.”

  “True or false. Marsupials are mammals.”

  Bzzt.

  The buzzer rang just as the moderator began the first “m” in the word “mammals.” The timing was perfect. Fairview had been able to hear the entire question without leaving us even the tiniest split second to sneak in before them.

  “True,” answered Garrison. Self-confidence radiated from him like a heat wave.

  “The bonus opportunity goes to Fairview,” said the moderator. “Name five marsupials for ten bonus points each.”

  Fairview was allowed a five-second huddle.

  “Opossums,” came the answer. “Kangaroos, wallabies, koalas and… and…duck-billed platypus.”

  “Four correct answers,” said the moderator. “Duck-billed platypus is incorrect. Fairview, you are now in the lead. Riverside, there is still room for you to tie or win. Again, a true-or-false question. Bats…”

  Bzzt !

  Amanda had hit the buzzer faster than a fly changing direction.

  There was complete silence in the auditorium. Everyone thought Amanda had jumped the gun. She’d rung in so fast we didn’t even know the question.

  Everyone thought that was the case, that is, except Seymour. Out in the audience, Seymour was smiling. It was exactly what he would have done. As far as Seymour was concerned it was one of those school-type questions that you could see coming a mile away. And Amanda knew it too.

  “False,” said Amanda. And then just for good measure she added, “The statement ‘bats are blind’ is false.”

  The moderator let the moment of suspense linger as long as possible.

  “Correct,” he said at last. “And now, for a possible win, for ten points each, name five categories of food eaten by bats.”

  Our turn to huddle. Insects. Fruit. Nectar. Blood. One more. One more.

  Out in the audience, Seymour closed his eyes and placed his spread fingers carefully on either side of his temples. He was doing the Vulcan Mind Meld. He knew the answer. With all the babbling he’d done at me, I must know the answer too. Somewhere in my brain I must know it…but where? If only he’d acted it out!

  And then all of a sudden I saw it. He had acted it out, flapping his elbows like skinny little bat wings and doing a clawing thing with his hands as he skimmed low over the surface of the carpet to pick up his dinner. I remembered because Alaska had looked at him like he was crazy from where she was sniffing the suitcase Mom had left open to air on the sofa. I’d been wondering if Alaska would climb inside to sleep, but I guess an empty suitcase wasn’t soft enough for her. Oh no! I could feel myself going cold all over. The suitcase hadn’t been empty this afternoon. I’d filled it myself. And the cat who loved to burrow and fall asleep had watched me…Oh no—this was awful!

  Amanda had already started giving our answer.

  “Insects, fruit, nectar, blood and… and…”

  “Fish!” I shouted. “And Alaska’s on her way to Belize!”

  The siren rang to end the contest as I raced from the stage to explain things to Dad.

  CHAPTER 12

  Sunday morning at nine o’clock there isn’t a lot happening at our small local airport. Dad, Mom, Seymour and I had already been there for an hour, though, just in case.

  “We found her, TJ!” Gran had called from the huge international airport late the previous afternoon. “She’s okay.”

  An open suitcase and a fluffy bed of warm, soft clothes—how could Alaska resist? Just like Dad, Gran had been in a hurry, quickly putting her own bag of clothing and notebooks on top and closing the lid. Gladys’s husband hadn’t thought twice about how much the suitcase weigh
ed when he carried it to the car.

  The two hours right after Quiz Kids— with Dad phoning the airlines and the baggage people and the neighbor’s niece’s best friend’s father and trying to reach Gran and waiting to hear back from her—were the hardest hours I’ve ever spent.

  “She’ll be fine,” Seymour had kept reassuring me. “A cat once flew in its owner’s luggage from Paris to Montreal and it survived just fine. They opened the suitcase at a Montreal hotel and—surprise!— there was the cat. It’s true. I’ve got the newspaper clipping.”

  Please be fine. Please be fine. Please be fine.

  And then Gran had phoned with the good news.

  “Is she really okay?” I asked.

  “Yes,” said Gran. “We have her wrapped in a blanket and she’s purring. You can listen.”

  I listened. Even long distance it sounded like purring.

  “Did you hear her?”

  “I did! I heard her.”

  “We’re already working on a plan to get her back to you,” said Gran.

  Six Degrees of Separation, or at least four degrees, was coming to the rescue. The best friend’s father’s sister had offered to help. She wasn’t traveling, but she’d been at the airport and she liked cats. A proper traveling case, a trip to the vet to be extra sure all was well, a good home overnight, and this morning Alaska was flying home under the seat of a cat-loving flight attendant—which is first class for a cat.

  “What time is it?” I asked Seymour. We were standing at the windows, hoping to see the plane come in.

  “One minute later than the last time you asked,” he said. “And I sure hope that’s Amanda, her mom and what’sher-name who owns the dog walking toward us because you could definitely use some distraction.”

  What were they doing here?

  “We decided it was an occasion worth celebrating,” said Amanda, handing me a pouch of kitty treats.

  “Don’t tell Frooie or he’ll be jealous,” said Elizabeth, handing me a tin of gourmet cat food.

  “I don’t get it,” I said. “How do you two know each other?”

  “We’re in the same swim club,” said Amanda. “Aqua Racers includes kids from all over, including a lot of kids from Fairview. That’s how I knew about them being so competitive. Didn’t you know?”