The New Champion (6 page)

The Night After

THE REGIONALS

B
ert Golliwop's stare lingered on each of the five executives gathered around his desk. Time to start. “Reports?” He should have asked in a friendlier way, but it had been a long day to end a very long week. “Please.”

In turn, the executives reported only minor glitches and malfunctions. A fight over a green coin had broken out at one arena. The audio system cut off for a minute in another. At his location Gil got so mobbed he needed extra security. Lavinia's hot-air balloon got stuck on a catwalk. Bianca kept going off script.

Bert Golliwop turned around to Danny. “You getting all this down?”

“Yes, sir,” Danny said.

Bert focused on the executives. “I placed our intern at the arena with Gil. Anything to add, Danny?”

Danny moved to the desk as if he belonged there. “I tried to blend in like an older brother acting as a guardian. You know, T-shirt and jeans, regular college clothes. The place was buzzing like you'd expect. It was great. Except . . .” He looked toward Bert Golliwop, waiting for the green light.

Bert nodded.

“What I noticed,” said Danny in a measured voice, “were funky happenstances.”

“Funky happenstances?” said Jenkins from Human Resources.

“Unusual activity. One girl tripped over a cord on the arena floor and gashed her head on a chair.”

“How is that unusual?” said Plago, from Toy and Game Creation. “Kids trip all the time, especially when they're riled up.”

“For one thing,” said Danny, “we'd arranged to go completely cordless in the seating area of all arena floors. For another, the cord was plugged into a socket at one end and wasn't attached to anything at the other.”

Jenkins shook her head. “Those temporary workers can get so lazy.”

“Which has nothing to do with it,” said Bert. “It wasn't one of our cords, and it didn't belong to the arena, either.”

“Doesn't matter,” said Morrison from Legal. “The girl's family can still sue us.”

“Got it covered,” said Bert. “We sent her straight to the stadium round.”

“Which would give us an extra contestant. We have rules,” said Morrison, “and with this being on TV, we'll have the FCC all over us. You know the government regulations.”

“Got that covered, too,” said Bert. “One kid showed a false ID. He's really seventeen, so we already disqualified him.”

Larraine inched forward. “Danny. You said happenstances. Plural. What else?”

“None would have been notable without the others, but Gil's microphone package went missing, power was cut to the control area, and I heard rumors that Golly had hand-selected the finalists, that the arena rounds were all for show.”

“Balderdash!” said Morrison.

“We know,” said Bert Golliwop. “Go on, Danny.”

“Like I said, it was easy to blend in.” He pointed to the ID on his wrist. “Some parents had received anonymous text messages outside the arena. The texts said the Games were all a sham, so someone either hacked into our system or had the technology to grab their cell phone numbers.”

“Beautiful,” said Morrison amid several gasps. “Who sent the messages?”

“We checked,” Bert said. “They were from a pay-as-you-go cell phone. No way to trace it. And yet they came from the same area code as our good friends at Flummox Corp.”

Bert gave them a minute to murmur among themselves.

“You know, Bert,” said Morrison. “We can't go around accusing Harvey Flummox of trying to sabotage our Games.”

“He's right,” said Tawkler. “He's not our only competitor. There's McSwell, Rinky Brothers, United GameCo—”

“But,” said Bert, “no one is as clever as Harvey Flummox.” He pushed at the air, trying to shove that thought away. “Regardless, we can't have anyone undermining what we do here. We need to raise our collective antennas and nip all this nonsense in the bud before mischief turns to disaster. Most important, we need to do what we do best. We need to rattle some brains and blow some expectations and put on the best show the world has ever seen! Unless we want to face ridicule.”

T
he whole way home Spencer gave a nonstop play-by-play like he owned the celebration. When he finally paused to breathe, though, their parents took over and teased Cameron. Cameron! How did he know about the red end of the arena? Had he always had ESP? Could he help them predict the next set of winning lottery numbers?

Cameron laughed at the jokes, relieved that he'd been right for two reasons: (A) that he'd bypassed the last arena round, but especially (B) that if he'd been wrong, Spencer would have grumbled forever about Cameron's stupid mistake and how it had made him work harder to outrun all the others, as no doubt he would have.

Instead, Cameron could sit there and smile each time Walker poked him in the arm and said, “Right here in this car are two of the nine hundred winners of the day. What do you have to say about that?” And he'd hold a pretend microphone up for someone to respond.

What would Cameron have to say about that if they faced a wall of reporters and cameras when they turned down their street? Not that there'd be any today, but if one of them won, definitely. The national news had shown Gil's house for three days straight.

When he got home, of course, there wasn't a news truck in sight. The next day, though, Channel 7 was gushing about
another
finalist from his regional as if she'd already won the thing. Cameron's mom said the family had probably sent out press releases. His dad said they'd probably known someone at the TV station. Spencer said she probably paraded around with liver-scented perfume to attract a pack of dogs. It's not that Cameron was looking for publicity, and their mom said it was better if they flew under the radar; but it might have made these Games feel real if the newspaper had run more than one measly paragraph that lumped together all nine winners from their regional.

At least Cameron had the piece of paper to prove it was real.

For the rest of the week Cameron filmed the note in at least a dozen places—on his pillow, tacked to their house, on the playground slide, wherever he went—always zooming in on the words “
it could be you!
”

Chances were, though, he'd be sent home with the first wave, slapped aside with a flyswatter, squashed like a bug under a steamroller or under Spencer's big shoe. But for now he was headed to Orchard Heights!

And for now he was in a limo, leather seats and all, that Golly had sent to take them to the airport. Cameron even got a window, but that was basically a slam dunk. Spencer and Walker had barged in first and taken the windows in the rear-facing seat. His mom took the middle in his.

His brothers did somehow claim the two window seats in the plane, but Cameron found he could get better interior footage from the aisle. And Spencer only nudged him twice when he leaned over to get a few outside shots. After a minute of being inside the clouds, he had enough fog footage anyway. He doubted, though, he could ever shoot enough of the man near the baggage carousel holding two cards, one with his name and the other with Spencer's.

“How cool is this?” said Spencer. He turned to their parents. “How cool is that? Can I have that card?” he asked the driver as they neared the van.

Jim (his name tag said) handed it over, then gave Cameron his. “Know what, Cameron?” said Jim. “I have a big brother, too. So I'm asking, What's your pleasure? Backseat or up front with me, where your camera can see more?”

Cameron looked at his parents.

“Your decision,” said his mom.

Cameron smiled. Maybe things were different in Orchard Heights.

O
n his view screen University Stadium looked small and unimportant, but once Cameron took the videocam down to see it with his own eyes, the stadium came alive.

Standing behind velvet ropes were throngs of people craning their necks to get a view inside a series of huge white tents sprouting flags and banners. Dozens of mini hot-air balloons drifted in the hot breeze. Walls of video screens flashed colorful pictures of toys and games and moments from last year's competition. Every few seconds a shower of firework sparks soared up and floated down, never really landing anywhere, never seeming to be a danger to anyone.

Jim, the driver, brought the van to a stop on another side of the tents, away from the crowds. A woman wearing a Gollywhopper Games polo shirt immediately opened his door. It was as if she'd known exactly where he was sitting. “Cameron!” She opened the back door. “And Spencer!” she said. “Welcome to Orchard Heights! I'm Sharryn, and I'll be showing you around this place. Derek here will take care of your family.”

“You mean we don't get to go with them?” said Walker, climbing out of the van.

Sharryn shook her head and led them to a small lean-to out of the blazing sun. “But we'll treat you like gold; feed you, set you up in a comfy tent, and let you see everything as it happens.” She fastened a wristband on each of them. “No one escapes without the other four. You're our prisoners.”

“Really?” said Walker.

Sharryn ruffled his hair. “Nah. We just don't want you going where you shouldn't, Walker Schein.”

“You know my name!”

“I know lots of things—like . . . Cameron?”

He jumped. “Huh?”

“You'll need to leave your camera here. Nothing comes in except you and your clothes.”

“Are you gonna frisk them?” asked Walker.

Sharryn laughed. “No, but every contestant will go through a body scanner like the ones at airports.”

“You know they can see underneath your clothes,” said Spencer. “Everything.”

“Spencer!” said his mom.

Too late. Cameron suddenly felt totally naked. And his face grew totally hot.

Sharryn laughed. “If they could see everything—and I am guaranteed they cannot—they'd see it on you, too, Spencer.”

“Works for me!”

Cameron shook his head.

“If you're ready, guys,” Sharryn said, “say your good-byes.” She took Cameron's videocam and handed it to his mom. “Unless you want Derek to store it in a secure room with your luggage?”

“This is fine.”

“Great then,” said Sharryn. “Everything's set. Off you three go with Derek. And you two, this way. Ready?”

“Oh, yeah,” said Spencer.

Cameron nodded.

They weren't walking that quickly, but Cameron had the sensation that everything was passing in a blur: the tents, the stadium entrance, the concession area—but wait. He brushed his hair from his eyes and looked up. Where were the people? Where was everyone else? He'd seen only about ten other contestants and three other vans. After all that travel, he couldn't be early, and he wasn't late or they wouldn't have let him in.

“You look puzzled, Cameron,” said Sharryn.

“What else is new?” Spencer said. “I sometimes think he lives at the corner of dazed and confused.”

Sharryn laughed. “Maybe,” she said, “but I get the impression there's lots more going through his mind than he lets on. Like maybe he's in shock that one thousand contestants are competing today, but you've barely seen any.”

“How'd I miss that?” said Spencer. “Where
is
everyone?”

“No worries,” Sharryn said. “I guarantee everything's according to plan.”

She led them through the concession area, into a small, carpeted room, and onto one of two elevators.

“Where are we going?” Spencer asked.

“All in good time,” Sharryn said. It seemed like her voice lit the button for the fourth floor and closed the elevator doors.

“Is the elevator programmed to do that?” Spencer asked.

“I'd answer,” said Sharryn, “but our lips are sealed. Not that the workings of an elevator will give you an unfair advantage, but one comment can lead to another and another, and suddenly the Games self-destruct.” She winked.

The elevator opened to a hallway with a bunch of doors. Inside the seventh door down, past a kitchen area, past a couple of TV monitors, past a set of tables and chairs, five other kids were spread out over three short rows of stadium seats. They sat, totally silent, facing a heavy black curtain with a Golly logo.

“Hey, hey!” said Spencer. “So this is what a luxury suite looks like! But what's with the curtain? Why can't we see the football field?”

The other kids turned and looked at him as if he'd committed the crime of the century.

“It's okay,” said Sharryn. “You're allowed to breathe.”

A few of the kids sighed.

Sharryn laughed. “As for the field, all in good time. Meanwhile, as soon as we collect a few more contestants, you will start the next chapter of your Gollywhopper Games adventure, and that should happen in five, four, three, two, one.”

Just a beat later the door opened, and three girls came through.

Sharryn waved at the Golly person who'd led them in. “Thanks, Wanda.” Then Wanda was gone.

Sharryn directed Spencer and Cameron and the girls to their seats, then sat on a large cube to the side of the front row. “Let's do this!” she said. “You probably noticed this stadium round isn't like the Gollywhopper Games of last year. This is a kind of first-come, first-play competition. Some contestants have already been eliminated. Some are still arriving at the stadium. But none of that is important. What is important is this.” She stood, opened the cube, and pulled out a bunch of Gollywhopper Games gear bags. “In each of these are pens, paper, a sheet of instructions, and a GollyReader; in fact, it's the GollyReader8, which won't come out for another week. And you get to take that home, but I digress.”

Sharryn passed out the gear bags. “First, I will make sure you all know how to use your GollyReader, so no fears if you don't.” She demonstrated the basics.

“On my signal, your GollyReaders will come to life. First, you will see an introductory screen with two tabs: Play and Answer.” She held up a GollyReader to show them. “Your challenges will be under the Play tab. Solve the challenges, and switch to the Answer tab to enter your solutions. You may go back and forth between the tabs as often as you need.

“Once you are happy with all your answers—there will be five of them—make sure you hit Enter.” She showed them. “Then you are done.

“This is a timed challenge. In fact, you are competing directly with the clock and not with anyone in this room. We have preset a time you need to beat in order to advance to the next round. Don't bother to ask what that time is; it's our little secret. But it is possible that none of you will continue. It's also possible that all of you will. It boils down to this: Only those who answer all five questions correctly might move on. Just work as quickly as you can.

“When you have finished, please remain silent and in your seat. Your GollyReader is loaded with some games, just for fun, to keep you busy. In addition, the pens and paper have no hints or information of any kind, but feel free to use them as you'd like. And that's all you need to know for now.”

No, it wasn't. How and when would they know if they moved on? What if his GollyReader malfunctioned? What if he himself did?

“I'd ask if there are any questions, but I cannot give you any answers except yes, no, yes, yes, no, and no.” She laughed. “Just a very little humor. Sorry.

“Everything I've said is repeated on the instruction sheet inside your gear bag. Take a minute to look it over.”

Cameron read through the instructions. Nothing new.

Sharryn cleared her throat. “As always in the Games, we're watching you. No talking, no standing, no neck craning. You won't have time for that anyway. You need to finish fast. But no pressure.”

They all laughed.

She held up her hand. “On my count, you will begin. Five, four, three, two, one!”

Cameron's GollyReader flashed “Go!”

He touched Play. There were five questions and a list of twenty-one possible answers.

 

TO TYPE IN YOUR ANSWERS, TOUCH THE ANSWER TAB.

1. RHYMES WITH A SYNONYM FOR “MORE ANGRY.”

2. PARTY FOR A CERTAIN RODENT, PERHAPS?

3. HOMOPHONE FOR A SPECIFIC LANGUAGE OR NATIONALITY.

4. METHOD A STAGEHAND MIGHT USE TO MOVE A HEAVY PROP ONTO THE STAGE.

5. (A) THIS WORD IS IN ITS PLURAL FORM; (B) THIS WORD DOES NOT CONTAIN THE 18TH LETTER OF THE ALPHABET; (C) THE LAST LETTER OF THIS WORD MATCHES THE FOURTH LETTER OF THE ONLY OTHER WORD THAT FITS BOTH (A) AND (B).

 

ANSWER CHOICES:

CAULIFLOWER

CLING

COPPERHEAD

CRASH COURSE

DRAGON

DREGS

ELEVATOR DOOR

FINISH

FLAGS

FROGS

GEESE

GRAPES

HAMSTER BALL

HOGTIE

LADDER

MOUSETRAP

ODORS

PRONGS

STRESSED

TEMPERATURE

ZIPPER

 

There was only one way to tackle this. One question at a time. Number one:
synonym for “more angry
.” The only synonym he could think of without really thinking: mad. Madder? Was
madder
there? He skimmed the list. No. Wait. Rhymes with . . .

He looked again. Ladder!

Should he type it in or solve the next? What would take less time? Obviously not worrying about what would take less time. He glanced at question two—
party for a certain rodent, perhaps
—and let that roll around in his mind while he switched to the answer screen.

Rodent party? And what did the “perhaps” mean?

Cameron typed L-A-D-D-E-R faster than he thought he could, which was a good thing, because simultaneously typing one thing and thinking about another? Not working.

Okay, next. Rodent party. He scanned the list for animals. Dragon (fictional, but still), frog, geese, mousetrap. A mouse was a rodent, right? But the trap was no party for mice. Copperhead? Wasn't that an animal? Snake, maybe. Hamster. Rodent? Yeah. Hamster ball. Like those clear balls with doors for hamster exercise. His friend Timothy had one, and his hamster seemed to have a ball in that ball. Was that like a hamster party?

Wait. What about the other definition for “ball”? A dress-up-and-have-a-bow-tie-choke-you party? That was it! Double meanings. That's why “perhaps.” The hamster ball could be the pet toy, but it could also be a bunch of rodents whooping it up. Or if a pig went to a hamster ball, he could wear a hogtie, ha-ha! Hogtie. Hamster ball. Puns!

He typed in H-A-M-S-T-E-R B-A-L-L
.

Number three:
homonym for a specific language
. For the first time Cameron was so glad his sixth-grade teacher, Mr. Reading, had practically bashed in their skulls drilling in the difference among homonyms and homographs and homophones.

This would be easy. He looked at the list, taking it one word at a time.

 

cauliflower

cling

copperhead

crash course

dragon

dregs

elevator door

finish

flags

frogs

geese

grapes

hamster ball

hogtie

ladder

mousetrap

odors

prongs

stressed

temperature

zipper

 

Cauliflower, cling, copperhead, crash course, dragon—

He was just reading. Not concentrating. Cauliflower, no. Cling. Did anyone speak cling? Could a person be described as Clingish like British or Clingan like American? Nah. Copperhead. A nation of people with copper-colored hair? Nope. Crash course, no. Dragon? Sounded closer to American, but he'd never heard of the country Drago unless it was in a sci-fi story. Dregs, like bottom dwellers. Doubtful. Elevator door? That would be funny. Finish. He wished he were finished and on to the next round. Flags—