The New Champion (13 page)

“Let's say you're right,” said Jig, “but how will that spell JinxTrap or LionPaws or DoomTomb?”

“Remember,” said Clio, “eight pictures and eight letters. How do we turn each picture into a letter?” She looked at Dacey. “Let's keep going with your specifics. So, birds.”

“We should skip that one for now,” said Estella, “or we'll be here all day naming species. For the microscope. Scientist? Researcher?”

“Or really specific,” said Clio, “an eye. And from the teacup, there's no tea. Tea. Eye.”

That was it! “Jay,” said Cameron.

“Like a blue jay!” Clio shouted.

“What?” said Estella.

“The missing object is spelling out the choice,” Clio said. “Jay like a blue jay in the nest. An eye for the microscope.”

“What's with the chicken then?” Dacey asked.

“It's a hen. An
N
,” said Jig. “And ‘eggs' sounds like
X
. JinxTrap!” He grabbed it.

Estella clamped her hand on his wrist. “Wait. Take two seconds. Spell the rest out.”

“
T
in the cup. ‘Arm' sounds like
R
. ‘Hay,' like
A
. And a pea is a
P
.”

Estella let go. “Open it!”

 

Stunt #2

* * * * * * * * * * *

First, it was pigs; now it's the mice.

We promise, you'll only see animals twice.

The rodents have rabidly jumped from their cages

And need to be stopped or they'll throw violent rages.

Don't touch them, we warn you; their bites all can kill.

Use the sticks or the tongs or the fork or the drill.

You can use any tool that you find on the ground,

then keep trapping mice until each one is found.

 

“I saw the trap,” said Dacey. “It's somewhere near a pencil.”

“This way!” said Clio. She led them past the giant school supplies. How could she remember without a map?

“Hey, Dacey,” said Jig, “if you knew JinxTrap was here, why didn't you say so?”

“Because it's also near a tomb and a lion. Just because I'm blond doesn't mean I'm stupid.” She turned left. A domed cage towered in front of them. Its wide-set bars curved about ten feet upward to a point on the top, and it had fifteen oval indents in its brass base.

“That's three mice apiece,” said Jig. “Where are they?”

“And where are the tools we need?” Dacey asked.

Close to the cage were a collection of tombstones, a basket of oversized food, four bedroom dressers stacked on top of one another, a lion lying on a small cave, and a crazy amount of other objects.

It was like one of those picture search-and-finds. Where's the necktie in the jungle scene? Or the mop on the ocean floor? And here, in real time, where were the mice in the warehouse? It could make a person dizzy.

Cameron opened one of the dresser drawers. Nothing. Another. Yeah! There was a mouse the size of a giant wedge of Swiss cheese. “Found one!” he called.

The others raced over.

“So that's what they look like,” said Clio.

“What are you waiting for?” said Estella. “Get it in the cage.”

There had to be some tool near here, something he could use to pick up the furry gray thing. He opened another drawer. No mouse, no tool. Another drawer. A hammer! He reached in, then shut the drawer fast.

The instructions said they could use any tool they found on the
floor
. But where on the floor? Maybe over in the—

Bzzzz!

The mouse in Cameron's drawer lit up red with the words,
You touched me. 5-minute penalty. Ha-ha-ha!

“Look what she did!” said Dacey. “How lazy can you be, Estella! You cost us!”

“I forgot. I'm sorry,” said Estella. “You turned away, Cameron. I thought you were too squeamish to touch the thing. I just wanted to help. To hurry. I'm sorry.”

Clio rushed over and gave her a quick hug. “It's okay.”

“This is not the love and comfort show,” Jig said. “Just go! Everyone. Find mice! Find tools! And touch only the tools on the floor or I'll kill you.”

Cameron raced to the cave. Inside were a mouse and one of those big barbecue forks. It would be too homicidal maniac to stab the mouse, so he used the fork to push it against the cave wall; then he slid the tines underneath and lifted it inch by inch. The mouse wasn't all that light, and it didn't come close to fitting on the fork, but Cameron had it well balanced. He took three small steps, and the mouse fell off.

“Hey, buddy,” said Jig, running by with a mouse between a pair of tongs, “the rules don't say anything about carrying it.”

“Right.” Cameron leaned over and used the fork as a hockey stick, letting the mouse slide as far as each shot would take it, being careful not to slap it into someone's foot. He didn't need another five-minute major penalty.

It took nine swipes to get the mouse to the cage, then a solid prodding to get it onto the inch-high base and into one of the indents. Jig's and another were already in place.

It was good to spread out, not be in one another's faces. But now where? Had anyone taken the lit-up mouse from the drawer? No.

Cameron flipped the mouse out and pretended he was gliding down the ice for the game-winning goal. “He shoots, he scores!”

Six mice in. Back to the dressers.

Each one had two drawers on the bottom, three in the middle, and three shallower ones on top. He checked the other drawers in the lowest dresser and the bottom two rows in the second one. Nothing but another decoy tool. He wasn't tall enough to see inside the higher drawers, and he didn't want to reach in, feel around, and accidentally touch a mouse.

He opened the lowest drawers and used them as steps. Nothing in the next tier. He tried climbing higher, but it felt unstable.

Cameron cleared his throat. “Anyone see a ladder?” he called.

No answer. He'd find something himself.

Jig whipped around with another mouse between his tongs. “I found this one in the lion's mouth,” he said. “No ladder, but Humpty Dumpty's behind the cave. You can probably stand on his wall.” Jig raced toward the cage. Cameron went the other way.

Nothing in the rules about knocking Humpty off, but what if they needed him later? Cameron placed the egg on the ground and tested the stone wall to see if it would move. The stones were plastic or something. He pushed the wall to the dresser and hoisted himself up. No mice in the third dresser. None in the bottom two rows on the fourth. In the last drawer, yes!

Cameron flicked that mouse out with his fork. Again he played mouse hockey and sent it over the cage bottom with a mighty slap shot. A little finesse put the rodent in its groove. He turned to see Estella stretched under some bushes near the tombs. “Are you okay?”

She lifted her head. “There's one here. Can't quite reach it. Trade my chopsticks for your fork?”

They made the swap just before Dacey and Clio came with a mouse each. That would be twelve and thirteen. Estella's would be—

“Can you believe this?” Dacey pointed to Estella.

Estella was now on her stomach, her head resting on one arm, the fork an inch from the mouse.

“Jig!” Dacey called.

He came around. “You found it.”

“No,” Dacey said. “I found this.” She pointed again. “First, she's so lazy, picking up the mouse with her hands, and now, napping at a time like this.”

“No,” Cameron said. “She's getting a mouse.”

His words, though, were drowned out by Dacey, who hadn't stopped talking. “Fine, Serio. You take your little siesta. Leave us to do the work. I swear, all of you are so lazy.”

Estella scooted out from the bushes and bolted up. Her face was redder than anyone's Cameron had seen before. She balled up her fist. “All of you, who?”

“Catfight!” Jig called.

Clio jumped between the two and grabbed Estella's hand. She kept it in her grip as she turned to Dacey. “Tell me I didn't hear you right. Tell me you weren't labeling her or her family. Tell me you're not that ugly.”

Dacey's nose twitched. “Seriously? You think that's what I meant?” she said sweet as syrup. “I didn't mean anything by it. I swear. If delicate people like Estella need to take a rest instead of faintin'—”

“You think we're that stupid?” said Clio. “Maybe we should ask Bill to roll back the footage to see if I need hearing aids or you need major attitude training.” She took a step back. “This is how it's going to work. This team is going to win. And that's going to happen because you, Dacey, are going to cut the comments and the bickering and focus on what we need to do.”

Dacey held back most of a gasp.

“Estella, take a breath. Get that mouse. It's almost out of the bushes.”

Estella closed her eyes, took a very deep breath, and dropped back to the ground.

“And Jig, I heard you telling Dacey your little plan to slack off early so you can swoop in and be a big hero in the end. Forget it. Go find that last mouse. P.S. You may want to work on your whispering skills.” Clio ran off.

Jig smiled and shrugged.

Cameron almost wished Spencer were here instead of Jig. He couldn't make that happen, but he could find the last mouse. The others had spread away from the cage. He stayed close and circled, focusing on the ground. Circled again with focus at knee level. Focus, shoulder level. Focus, higher. There!

“Jig!” he called, his voice feeling more powerful since Clio had spoken up. “Need your height. The last mouse is on top of the cage.”

Footsteps. But it was Clio, then Dacey, then Estella with a skewered mouse on the fork. “Still have the chopsticks, Cameron?”

He held them out to her just as Jig ran up.

Jig pointed to Estella. “Mouse kebab! And this from someone who didn't want to kick a fake pig.”

“I was picturing something other than a helpless animal.”

Dacey gave her the fakest smile Cameron had ever seen.

“Ha!” Jig stepped onto a giant strawberry Clio had thought to drag underneath the last mouse and reached a screwdriver through the bars of the cage. “Not long enough. I'll need that fork, Estella.”

Estella used the chopsticks to pry the mouse off the fork and handed it to Jig. “Clear out,” he said. “I'm going to shove it. If it touches you, it's your fault.”

Within five seconds he'd poked that mouse off the top and it had fallen through the cage's bars. Estella ran in with the chopsticks and moved it to the last groove.

Lights flashed. “Exit the trap,” said a woman's voice. “Exit the trap. Clear the area.”

They stepped back. Clamps rose from the ground and bolted down the mice. The cage's bars lifted. Where was the puzzle, though? Not up from the floor. Not down from the ceiling.

Then Cameron saw it, something white curled inside one of the holes where bars used to be. “Please be Puzzle Number Three,” he whispered.

C
ameron dug the curled envelope from the hole while the others were still sort of spinning in circles.

“Got it,” he said.

They gathered around.

 

Puzzle #3

* * * * * * * * * * *

I Sue Pret hurt some needy weak puzzle doers

(Your choices are behind the cave.)

 

“Where behind the cave?” said Jig. “I was all over it.”

Behind them, clear as day, was a blue-lit table with their choices: RetroWars, Super Sneeze, and Supreme Dazzlers.

“This table was not here before. I swear.”

“It wasn't,” said Clio.

“Bill?” Jig called to the air. “You carry this thing in?”

Cameron knelt on the floor and ran his finger around the corner of a hairline seam. “The floor opens,” he said. “Like how they bring things up onstage.”

“He's right.” Bill came from behind a creepy clown face. “But don't spoil our secrets, okay? Anyway, bad penalty, huh, Estella?”

She hung her head.

“You'd be better off without it, but the mouse on the cage landed on an Orange kid's head. So you're even there. The problem is, the Orange Team isn't talking smack, which, most likely, is why you're six minutes behind. Play smart, play nice, okay?” He turned and disappeared into the clown's mouth.

“He's right,” said Estella. “My fault. Some of it. I'm done with that.” She pointed. “The puzzle. What do you think?”

“I think it's a confession.” Jig cleared his throat. “I, Sue Pret, do guiltily admit that I hurt some nerds.” He laughed at his own lameness.

“C'mon, Jig,” said Estella. “You heard Bill. You trying to lose this thing?”

“He's not,” Dacey said too fast. “Your sense of humor take that vacation? Or did your brains?”

“Oh, no,” said Clio. “Just stop.” She pointed to the words
I Sue Pret hurt some needy weak puzzle doers
—it didn't even look like a sentence.

“Besides the fact it's missing a bunch of punctuation—”

“Like Lavinia noticed last year,” said Dacey. “She was such a geek, but so smart. Did you see her at regionals? She's prettier than I thought she could ever be.”

“And the reason that's important?” said Estella.

Clio shot her a look.

“Sorry,” Estella said. “
Now
I'm done. Punctuation? I say no. They wouldn't give us a rerun from last year.”

“Agreed,” said Jig. “But it's still weird. What kind of name is Sue Pret? They didn't pick it out of nowhere.”

Obviously. Or maybe it was obvious only to Cameron. “They made up that name so they could spell the choices.”

Clio leaned into the puzzle. “He's right! You're right!” She pointed and spelled at the same time: “R-E-T-R-O-W-A-R-S.” All the letters were in the sentence, in order. “Wait. Supreme Dazzlers and Super Sneeze are in order, too!”

“Which is a major big problem,” said Dacey, “because we're no closer than we were ten years ago.”

“Sure we are,” said Clio. “It gives us a place to start.”

Dacey shook her head. “What if it's coincidence?”

“They don't give us puzzle instructions,” said Jig, “so they have to give us something.”

They stood around the puzzle. Not even Dacey was thinking out loud.

The silence, though, let Cameron think. All the letters of each choice were in order, but not in any noticeable pattern. Not every other letter or every third letter or anything like that and—

“All I know,” Dacey said, breaking the silence, “if it's Supreme Dazzlers, I'll rock the stunt. Every year when the new version came out, I'd beg my mama to buy it. And she did. But my luck it'll be Super Sneeze and we'll have to crawl into some snot-filled nose.”

Jig laughed. “The nose is over in that far corner. I saw it.”

“Gross.”

“But none of that brings us closer to the answer,” said Estella.

“Right,” Clio said. “So all the letters of all three choices . . .”

Cameron started to raise his hand, but that was stupid. “Um.” He scratched his head instead. “I was trying to see if every third letter or sixth letter or something like that spelled out one of the choices, but I don't see a pattern yet.”

Jig tapped his finger on the puzzle paper. “Okay, okay.”

Cameron looked again.

I Sue Pret hurt some needy weak puzzle doers

“Thank goodness we're not looking for hidden meanings in the words,” said Dacey.

Cameron tried to ignore her or anything that didn't push them forward.

“There are thirty-six letters in this wonky sentence,” Jig said, running with Cameron's thought. “If we number the letters, in order from one to thirty-six, maybe we'll find something.”

“I have good penmanship,” said Dacey. “I'll write it down.” She spaced the letters across two rows. Below them, she wrote the corresponding numbers.

Meanwhile, Cameron wrote the numbers that corresponded to the letters in RetroWars: 6, 7, 8, 11, 14, 24, 35, 36.

Clio stood right next to him. “What's this, Cameron?”

“RetroWars with its corresponding number form, but I don't see a pattern.”

“Explain,” said Estella. “Why did you use seven for the
E
? The four is an
E
, and so are the sixteen and all those others.”

“The choices are all spelled out in order,” said Cameron. “So the
E
we use has to come after the first
R
and before the first
T
. Otherwise, we'd be jumping all over the place.”

“Right,” said Clio. “Okay, everyone. So Cameron wrote the numbers that correspond to RetroWars. Look for some pattern while we write the numbers of the other two.”

Cameron took on Supreme Dazzlers: 2, 3, 5, 6, 7, 15, 16 (or 18 or 19), 24, 28, 29, 31 (or 34), 35, 36.

“I don't see anything here,” he said, “but it's confusing. Two of the letters can have different numbers.”

“And Super Sneeze has options for the last four.” Clio slid her paper to him: 2, 3, 5, 7, 11, 13, 17, 18/19, 19/23, 28/29, 31/34

“RetroWars is the only one with exact letter-number matches, right?” said Estella. “You think that's anything?

Silence.

“Yeah,” said Estella. “I didn't think so, either.”

“Anyone want to trade number sequences?” Jig asked. “I got nothing here.”

Cameron didn't want to. There was something about this one, about Super Sneeze. It started with seven no-choice numbers: 2, 3, 5, 7, 11, 13, 17. All odd except for the 2. Then came four numbers with choices, but one option was always odd. If only he could get rid of that stinkin' 2. He slammed the paper to the table.

“What?” said Clio.

“Super Sneeze? All the numbers could be odd except they had to throw in that two to spoil everything.”

Clio turned the paper toward her. “You're good,” she said. “He's good,” she said louder so everyone could hear.

“He got it?” Dacey asked.

“He got me to get it. Look,” said Clio.

And Cameron saw it, too. “Prime numbers,” he said. “Super Sneeze can be made with all the prime numbers in the sentence.”

“That's a math thing, right?” said Dacey.

“Yeah,” said Estella. “Prime numbers: any numbers higher than one, divisible only by one and its own self.”

Cameron waited for some rude comment, but nothing came.

“But what about the option numbers in Super Sneeze?” Dacey said. “Y'all think we can ignore those?”

“I say we go with it. Make up some time. Hey, you Golly people!” Jig looked toward the ceiling as if they'd be there. “We logically think the letters in Super Sneeze correspond to prime numbers. If we're wrong, don't give us a penalty. Okay?”

Silence.

“You expected an answer?” Dacey said.

“Why are you trying so hard to get on everyone's nerves?” Jig opened Super Sneeze.

 

Stunt #3

* * * * * * * * * * *

Primed for passing?

Yes? No?

The nose knows.

 

“It's the giant nose,” Jig said in Dacey's face. Then he took off toward the far corner.

There it was. A nose taller than Cameron, its nostrils like twin tunnels. To the side was another card over a playpen of footballs.

 

Stunt #3

* * * * * * * * * * *

It's really quite simple a stunt.

You don't need to run or to punt.

Just pass ten of those

through our very big nose,

then stand three feet out from its front.

 

***Additional rules: (1) Each person must pass one ball into each nostril from behind the blue line; to count, the ball must remain fully inside the nostril. (2) When you've accomplished that, stand three feet from the nose in the marked green area. (3) You should soon know what to do next.

 

Jig already had a ball in each hand. “Let's throw snot balls into the nose. Blue line's way back here.”

It was at least twenty feet away. Cameron grabbed two balls, and so did the others.

“Holy gracious me!” said Dacey. “I need to throw a football all the way there? I can do lots of things, but holy gracious me.”

“It's better than searching inside a snot-filled nose,” said Estella.

Dacey laughed. “Sure as spit.”

“We'll figure out a way to help you,” said Clio.

Jig got behind the line. The others watched. “I'm not the sideshow,” he said. “Someone throw to the other nostril.” And he launched a perfect spiral into his.

Clio heaved back and got hers in, too. “It's a huge target. Just go for it.”

Jig made his second, and Cameron stepped up from behind him. He took a big heave and launched the football too high in the air.

“Not so much adrenaline,” said Jig, running to fetch the ball.

Clio got her second one in, and Estella stepped up next. “Don't watch,” she said. “I throw like a girl.”

“You are a girl,” said Dacey.

“Still doesn't mean I want to throw like one.”

Cameron put his second ball down so he could get a better feel for this. He took a look at his target and visualized the way Spencer might throw the ball. His pass came off a little wobbly, but it hit the mark.

Estella's fell short.

“Throw your second one, Estella,” Clio said. “We'll get you another.”

Jig was already chasing after it.

Estella threw, this time underhanded. The ball arced up and up and came down just in time to clear the opening.

Cameron stepped from behind her and got his second in. He moved aside to make room for Dacey.

“Don't laugh, y'all,” she said. She twisted her whole torso to the right and seemed to throw the ball with her body. No extension of her arm.