The Smartest Kid in the Universe Page 9

  “The answer is forty-eight.”

  “Correct.”

  Jake and Kojo fist-bumped. This was actually fun!

  But Hubert Huxley didn’t miss a beat, either. With two questions left to go in the round, the score was still tied.

  And Grace was still missing!

  “Okay, Sunny Brook, here is your second-to-last question,” said the host.

  “Or, you know, the penultimate one,” cracked Jake. All the brainy people in the audience, like Grace’s father and the district superintendent, chuckled.

  “For fifteen points, the concept that trace evidence is passed from one person to another during contact is known as what?”

  “The contact concept!” blurted Hubert.

  “Oooh, no. Sorry, that answer is wrong. Riverview? Would you like to answer this one?”

  Suddenly, Jake’s brain hit its first brick wall. Apparently, none of the jelly beans carried the chemistry he needed for the concept of “trace evidence.” Is it something about tracing paper? Or tracking footprints in the sand? Where the heck is Grace?

  “We’ll answer it, Max,” said Kojo. “Unless I’m wrong, which you know I’m not, that concept is known as Locard’s exchange principle. I learned that by watching every single one of those CSI shows.”

  “Is that your team’s final answer?”

  Jake nodded. “ ‘Locard’s principle’ is our team answer.”

  “You are correct. You are now in the lead by fifteen points!”

  “Oh yeah, baby!” shouted Kojo. This time, he and Jake slapped a high five.

  People in the stands started chanting, “Riv-er-view! Riv-er-view!”

  Jake’s mom was stomping her feet on the risers in total “We Will Rock You” rhythm, leading the thunderous crowd. Haazim Farooqi was stomping along with her.

  The Riverview Pirates hadn’t won the Quiz Bowl yet, but all the neighborhood kids and all the grown-ups who’d once been neighborhood kids were, for the first time in a long time, cheering for their tired, worn-down, beloved old friend.

  The school that once was and always would be theirs.

  All Jake and Kojo had to do was answer one more question correctly.

  “This thing isn’t over!” sneered Hubert Huxley.

  “You should’ve let me answer,” said Norah Nguyen, one of the smartest kids on the Sunny Brook team. “I watch CSI shows, too!”

  “Who loves ya, baby?” Kojo said with a wink when he heard that. “You want a Tootsie Pop? I’ve got grape.”

  Norah crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him.

  Max Myer checked his watch. “It’s time for the final two questions. These will each be worth thirty points. If Sunny Brook answers incorrectly, they lose. However, if Sunny Brook answers correctly, and Riverview does not, then Sunny Brook retains its title as Quiz Bowl District Champion. If both teams get their answers right, then, ladies and gentlemen, we will be crowning a new champ tonight: Riverview!”

  The cheers and foot stomping started up again.

  Max Myer raised his arms to quiet the crowd.

  “Okay, Sunny Brook. Here is your question.”

  “Excuse me.”

  Everyone turned to see Grace hobbling across the basketball court. Jake stood up like he wanted to go help her. Grace waved him off.

  “I’m better. Did I miss anything?”

  The crowd laughed.

  “Just the whole game,” said Kojo. “But don’t worry. We’re up fifteen points.”

  Grace gave a triumphant arm pump. “Yes!”

  “Can we kindly return to the game?” demanded Hubert. “Give us our question, Mr. Myer.”

  “Right you are, Sunny Brook. Here we go: What king defeated the Revolt of the Earls in 1075 and then, a decade later, ordered the composing of the Domesday, or doomsday, Book?”

  “Easy,” said Hubert. “My hero. William the Conqueror.”

  “You are correct! You are now in the lead.”

  “Because I am Hubert the Conqueror!”

  Jake rolled his eyes. So did both of Hubert’s teammates.

  “It all comes down to this,” said Max Myer. “One of these two teams will have the honor of moving on to the State Quiz Bowl competition. Okay, Riverview, for thirty points, in the Spanish version of what blockbuster movie did a wise character say, ‘Un gran poder conlleva una gran responsabilidad’?”

  Jake and Kojo both looked to Grace. They had terrified expressions on their faces.

  Grace smiled.

  “Spider-Man. Uncle Ben says it to Peter Parker.”

  Grace turned so she could say it to Jake.

  “ ‘Con un gran poder viene gran responsabilidad.’ Or, in English, ‘With great power comes great responsibility.’ ”

  “That is correct!” shouted Max Myer.

  “Sí,” said Grace. “I know.”

  “Patricia?” said Dr. Rosalia Lopez, the district school superintendent, after she found the Riverview principal in the bleachers. “First of all, congratulations on your victory.”

  “Thank you, Dr. Lopez.”

  “But, if I may, why are your hallways filled with trash? Why are your bathrooms such a mess?”

  Mrs. Malvolio blinked repeatedly and smiled blankly as her brain scrambled to come up with a suitable answer. She couldn’t find one. She had no choice. She had to blurt out the truth.

  “I fired the janitor.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Frankly, Dr. Lopez, I don’t think having someone whose sole job is to clean up after the children sends the right sort of signal.”

  “Interesting theory, Patricia. But please rehire your custodian. Immediately. I, for one, don’t enjoy the fragrant aromas of ripe garbage and raw sewage.”

  “Of course, Dr. Lopez. I’ll send a text. He’ll be back on the job first thing tomorrow morning.”

  “Excellent. And, Patricia, I must say I am impressed. Your students are brilliant. Especially that Jake McQuade…”

  “Yes, Dr. Lopez,” Mrs. Malvolio replied, trying her best to sound delighted and cheerful and super-duper proud. Unfortunately, her face was not playing along. She looked like she’d just sucked a sour lemon. “He’s something, our Jake. Really something.”

  People in the crowd started chanting, “Jake! Jake! Jake!” Then “Kojo! Kojo! Kojo!” And “Grace! Grace! Grace!”

  Mrs. Malvolio thought she might be ill.

  Dr. Lopez shielded her mouth with the side of her hand so she could speak confidentially.

  “As you know, Patricia, because of budget cuts, one middle school in our district will need to be shut down at the end of the year. But after your showing tonight, I don’t think it will be yours. I can’t wait to see how your team fares at the State Quiz Bowl competition!”

  “Me neither,” said Mrs. Malvolio. She was smiling so hard, her face hurt.

  Down on the gym floor, Jake, Kojo, and Grace were being mobbed by friends, family, and camera crews from the local TV stations.

  “If you’ll excuse me, Dr. Lopez, I need to go congratulate my students.”

  “Looks like they’re turning into quite the celebrities,” said Dr. Lopez. “My, what a marvelous trio of academic ambassadors for the district! Kudos to you, Patricia. Kudos indeed!”

  “Yes. Marvelous. Kudos. Woo-hoo. Excuse me.”

  Mrs. Malvolio made her way down to the hardwood floor and listened to her “academic ambassadors” talk to the press.

  “We owe it all to Riverview Middle School,” she heard Grace Garcia tell one of the TV reporters.

  “Why does the school look so run-down?” asked the reporter.

  “Because it is,” said Kojo. “I’m not gonna lie to you, people. This place could use a major face-lift. Maybe some new lockers. And a new refrigerator to keep the c
hocolate milk from curdling.”

  “Would your viewers like to know the five basic components of the refrigeration cycle?” asked Jake.

  The reporter chuckled a very TV-ish chuckle. “Heh, heh, heh. No thank you, Jake.”

  “The compressor—”

  “That’s a cut,” said the reporter. The camera operator lowered his rig.

  “Thanks, kid,” he said to Jake. “We got what we need.”

  “Will this be on the Sleuth channel?” asked Kojo.

  “Maybe,” said the reporter. “You kids were so amazing, I wouldn’t be surprised if media outlets all over America picked up this story.”

  “That’d be awesome!” said Grace.

  Oh joy, thought Mrs. Malvolio. Now the school and its resident geniuses are going to be on national TV? We’re never going to be able to tear this place down!

  The camera crews packed up their gear. Grace, Kojo, and Jake were still shaking hands and hugging all their friends, family, and admirers.

  Mrs. Malvolio shoved her way to the front of the line.

  “Excuse me. Principal. Coming through.”

  “Oh, hi, Mrs. Malvolio,” said Grace, narrowing her eyes down to angry slits. “Those brownies were…different.”

  “Old family recipe. Surprisingly marvelous performance this evening, kiddos. Very surprising.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Malvolio,” said Jake.

  “Yes, Mr. McQuade. You were the most surprisingly marvelous of all.”

  “The three of us can’t wait to move up to the state competition,” said Grace.

  “Riv-er-view!” chanted Kojo, pumping his fists over his head. “Riv-er-view!”

  Before long, everybody in the gymnasium had picked up the chant again.

  Well, everybody except Mrs. Malvolio.

  She was too busy trying to figure out how to sabotage the three little geniuses before they ruined all of her and Mr. Huxley’s plans.

  So much garbage had piled up in his brief absence, Mr. Schroeder, the school janitor, had to haul it out of the building in giant rolling trash bins.

  “It’s good to be back on the job!” he said cheerfully to all the teachers and kids who welcomed him.

  “You see that handle on the trash bin?” Jake asked when he saw Mr. Schroeder pushing another load up the hallway.

  “Yeah?”

  “If you were to tilt the barrel backward and hook that handle to the trailer hitch on the electric golf cart you use for outdoor maintenance, I project you could cut your lugging time by fifty-three point nine percent. Maybe more. You also won’t strain your back.”

  “Thanks, Jake!”

  After classes, between bells, Grace, Kojo, and Jake signed a ton of autographs.

  “You guys?” said Grace. “We should practice for the state competition today during lunch.”

  “No can do,” said Kojo. “Jake and I have an off-campus appointment.”

  “It’s a doctor thing,” said Jake. “Well, he’s not really a doctor. Not yet, anyhow. But I need to see him.”

  “Oh-kay,” said Grace. “We still on for seeing Papi after school?”

  “Totally,” said Jake.

  “You sure you two don’t want me to come with you after school?” said Kojo.

  “That’s okay. Papi just wanted to have a little chat with Jake.”

  “Okay,” said Kojo. “But I could help your pop fix his fashion mistakes, Grace. I mean, what’s up with the turtleneck and tweed look? It’s so last millennium.”

  Grace laughed. “Good luck with your non-doctor doctor’s appointment. See you guys later. And, Jake?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Thanks.”

  “For what?”

  Grace shrugged. “I dunno. Everything?”

  Smiling, she practically skipped down the hall.

  “So,” said Kojo after Grace glided around a corner, “when are you two getting married?”

  “We’re not getting married, Kojo. Under current law, the minimum age of marriage in this state is eighteen. We’re both twelve. Case closed. Do you have your note from your mom and dad?”

  “Yeah. I told them I needed to go with you to the doctor because you’re afraid of needles and your mother is busy working a luncheon buffet at the hotel.”

  “Good cover story. Did you call it needle phobia or aichmophobia? Because both terms can be used to describe the extreme fear of medical procedures involving injections.”

  “I just said you’re afraid of needles, baby. Come on. We need to go see Haazim!”

  Jake and Kojo took an express bus downtown to Warwick College.

  They quickly followed the paths that would take them across the campus to Corey Hall and Mr. Farooqi’s subbasement chemistry lab.

  “I’d love to talk with you and relive the glory of your performance at the Quiz Bowl last evening,” Farooqi said when he let them into his lab. “But this is the one afternoon when I have to teach a class. Well, actually, I don’t teach it. I monitor the lecture hall while the undergraduate students listen to a televised lesson from a very distinguished professor, whom, of course, I hope to meet someday.”

  “Sorry,” said Jake. “This was the only time we could leave school.”

  “We just need to ask you a few questions,” added Kojo, trying his best to sound like the detective he hoped to be one day.

  “Very well. But my time is limited. I can’t be late to class.”

  “Of course,” said Jake. “I think Shakespeare said it best in act two, scene two of his play The Merry Wives of Windsor: ‘Better three hours too soon than a minute too late.’ ”

  “Huh,” said Kojo. “Wonder which jelly bean that little tidbit was hiding in.”

  Jake kept going. “Shakespeare also wrote: ‘I wasted time, and now doth time waste me.’ ”

  Kojo threw up his arms. “Wasting time is what you’re doing right now! Come on, Jake. Cut to the chase, baby. My man Haazim needs to go monitor a TV lecture.”

  “Right. Sorry.”

  “Now, then,” said Farooqi, making a big show of rocking his wrist to check his watch (which Jake could tell needed a new battery since it wasn’t anywhere near nine). “What’s so urgent?”

  “We have another Quiz Bowl competition in two weeks,” said Jake. “Two weeks from Wednesday.”

  “That means we have twelve days,” added Kojo. “See? I haven’t eaten a single magical jelly bean but—BOOM—I’m doing that kind of math in my head.”

  “The smartest kids from all over the state will be there,” said Jake. “The event takes place in the grand ballroom of the Imperial Marquis Hotel!”

  “That’s where Dr. Blackbridge was speaking,” said Farooqi.

  “It’s also where my mother works. And she’s been so proud of the smarter version of me….”

  “You shouldn’t worry, Jake,” said Farooqi. “You did quite well last night. I feel certain you’ll do equally as well in this next competition.”

  “But,” said Jake, “what if it wears off?”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “You said the jelly beans might wear off!”

  “I did?”

  “Yes! How long do the effects of your Ingestible Knowledge capsules last?”

  “How should I know? You’re Subject One, remember? That means there haven’t been any other subjects. No other research. We’re flying blind here, Jake. Coming in on a wing and a prayer. It’s touch and go.”

  “Mr. Farooqi?” said Kojo. “If you ever open an airline, remind me not to fly on it.”

  “You might stay smart forever, Jake,” said Farooqi. “Or it might all disappear tomorrow.”

  “Why tomorrow?” said Kojo. “Tomorrow’s Saturday. Does being smart take the weekend off?”

  “I was just making a hypot
hetical statement,” said Farooqi. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m needed in Bumgartner Hall. My TV lecture class. Those students aren’t going to monitor themselves. That would be bedlam. Chaos…”

  “Are you making more jelly beans?” asked Jake, a hint of desperation in his voice.

  “Yes. I’m still working on the Spanish-language formulation. Tweaking the protein mix.”

  “Can you make more like the ones you made before?”

  “Maybe. I don’t know. I’m under pressure, too, Jake. I have to document my research. Then I have to write a very long paper about all that research—with footnotes! I also need to do my laundry. I’m almost out of underpants. And on top of all that, I have expenses, Jake. Yes, this is my dream, but biochemical breakthroughs like the ones I’m attempting don’t come cheap. And I don’t have any research grants or—”

  Jake nodded and held up his hand. “We get it. We understand.”

  “We do?” said Kojo.

  “Yes. Miracles can’t be rushed.”

  After school, Grace took Jake to visit her dad at Warwick College, where he was the dean of the Education Department.

  It was the same college where Haazim Farooqi was a research assistant. But the building where Professor Garcia worked was way nicer.

  “He’s finishing up a meeting, Grace,” said his secretary, “but you can wait in his office.”

  “Thanks.”

  “By the way, I saw you kids on the news. You’re both brilliant!”

  “Gracias!”

  Grace and Jake entered Professor Garcia’s cluttered office. Grace pointed to one of the dozens of framed photographs decorating the bookcases crowded with books.

  “You see that young woman in the picture with Papi? You met her at the Quiz Bowl. That’s District Superintendent Rosalia Lopez back when she was just, you know, Rosie Lopez, college student.”

  “Another fine product of Riverview Middle School,” said Professor Garcia as he strode into the office. “Just like you two. Great to see you again, Jake.”

  Professor Garcia was wearing another turtleneck sweater under a different tweed blazer. His handshake was very vigorous and made Jake feel like a water pump—the variety known as the suction-and-lift hand pump.