Escape From Mr. Lemoncello's Library Page 9

  There was a beep and the door opened.…

  “Where is he?”

  Andrew Peckleman barged into the room waving his antique magazine—something called Popular Science Monthly.

  “Who’re you looking for?” said Kyle.

  “Mr. Lemoncello. I heard him. Is he in here?”

  Kyle pointed toward the frozen Lemoncello doll sitting in the carnie booth. “It’s a dummy.”

  Peckleman whipped his head around from side to side. “Is there a camera in here?”

  “Right over the door.”

  Peckleman spun around to face it. Kyle, Akimi, and Sierra formed a human shield to hide their Bibliomania box.

  “I want to use a second lifeline!” Peckleman shouted at the camera. “I want to talk to an expert!”

  “Very well,” said a calm voice Kyle immediately recognized as belonging to Dr. Zinchenko. “With whom do you wish to speak?”

  “The guy who wrote this stupid magazine article about cracking open bank vaults in the 1930s!”

  “I’m afraid we cannot arrange that for you, Andrew.”

  “Why not? The guy’s a moron. He didn’t tell me anything about how to open the front door, which is what my Google search said this magazine would do!”

  “We told you the way out isn’t the way in.”

  “That was just a red herring! A trick, to throw us off course.”

  “No, Andrew. It was not. What is the title of the article?”

  “ ‘Newest Bank Vaults Defy the Cracksman.’ ”

  “Ah. Well, that should have been a hint. Apparently, the reporter concluded that thieves could not break open the vault doors. When doing Internet research, it is important to—”

  “Let me talk to the stupid idiot!”

  “I am sorry. That magazine was published in 1936. The reporter is dead.”

  “Well, then, I want to talk to Mr. Lemoncello!”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I want to talk to Mr. Lemoncello!”

  “This is highly irregular.…”

  “And so’s this game. You people have it rigged so Miguel Fernandez will win. I know you do! That’s why Mr. Lemoncello is afraid to talk to me.”

  Kyle heard the carnival booth dummy clatter back to life.

  “Hello, Andrew. How may I help you?”

  This Lemoncello didn’t sound prerecorded. Apparently, the real deal was using the dummy to do his talking.

  “Your library stinks!” shouted Peckleman.

  “Oh, dear. Have you boys been playing that castle sewer game again?”

  “No! But this stupid article should’ve given me the stupid answer but the stupid writer didn’t write what he should’ve written.”

  “I see. And can you rephrase that in the form of a question?”

  “How many can I ask you?”

  “Just one. And then we’re done.”

  “Okay. You’re the expert on this stupid new library game. So where’s your favorite contestant? Where’s Miguel?”

  “Is that your final question?”

  “Yes!”

  “Assuming our video monitors are correct, Mr. Fernandez is on the other side of the third floor, doing research in the Art and Artifacts Room.”

  “Thanks!”

  Andrew bolted out the door.

  The Lemoncello puppet bucked and drooped into its “off” mode.

  Kyle sprang up from the table. “Come on,” he said to Akimi and Sierra.

  Akimi sighed. “Now where are we going?”

  “To make sure Peckleman doesn’t do something stupid that gets Miguel kicked out of the game.”

  “And why would we do that?”

  “Because Miguel’s our friend.”

  Akimi glanced at her floor plan. “The Art and Artifacts Room is on the other side of the circle.”

  “Sierra—stay here and guard the game box. Come on, Akimi.”

  Kyle and Akimi looped around the third-floor balcony to the other side. Kyle glanced at his watch. It was almost three p.m. They really needed to start focusing on The Game and not all this other monkey junk.

  As they neared the Art & Artifacts Room, there was a shout, and the door flew open. Andrew Peckleman came running out.

  Behind him were a woman with the head and tail of a lioness, and a Pharaoh in a cobra headpiece.

  The Pharaoh stopped. “May onions grow in your ear-wax!” And a series of holographic hieroglyphics danced across the air.

  Andrew Peckleman raced to a staircase, grabbed both handrails, and hurried down to the second floor. The Egyptians vanished.

  Kyle and Akimi entered the Art & Artifacts Room and found Miguel seated at a desk with what looked like blueprints.

  “You okay?” asked Kyle.

  “Yeah, man. I’m fine. Thanks.”

  “Those guys chasing Andrew. Where’d they come from?”

  “Holograms from the giant Lego Sphinx and Pyramid exhibit.”

  “So why’d they turn on Andrew?” asked Akimi.

  “I don’t know. One minute he’s yelling at me. The next, the Pharaoh and Sekhmet are yelling at him.”

  “Sek-who?” said Kyle.

  “Sekhmet,” said Akimi. “The Egyptian lion goddess and warrior. Haven’t you read The Red Pyramid by Rick Riordan?”

  “It’s on my list,” said Kyle. Or it would be. He definitely needed to start a reading list soon so he could catch up with everybody else.

  “I bet the security guards in the control room fired up the Egyptian holograms when they saw Andrew going berserk in here,” said Akimi.

  “Good,” said Miguel. “A library is supposed to be a place for peaceful contemplation.”

  That was when Sierra Russell rushed into the room.

  “You guys! Right after you left! The Mr. Lemoncello dummy spit out a bonus card!”

  “Very clever,” said Charles, pulling another silhouette card out of a book.

  This cover had been easy to find. It was the third book on the top shelf of the Staff Picks display. The image on the front was a bright yellow yield sign. The title? Universal Road Signs by “renowned trafficologist” Abigail Rose Painter. Charles had found the matching book in the 300s room on the second floor. The 300s were all about social sciences, including things like commerce, communications, and—ta-da!—transportation.

  The image also fit nicely with the pictogram he had found in the 700s room in a book called The Umpire Strikes Back. That baseball book was the first cover on the second shelf in the display case and had given Charles a card with the classic pose of an umpire calling an out.

  Reading the images from left to right, then down—just like you’d read a book—Charles knew he was on the right track. The traffic sign book gave him “walk” and the umpire book gave him “out.”

  Put the two picture words together and he had “walk out.”

  Clearly, if he could find all twelve silhouettes, the Staff Picks display would tell him how to “walk out” of the library (although he had absolutely no idea what the first image he had found, the quarterback tossing a pass, had to do with escaping the library—not yet, anyway).

  “Three down, nine to go,” said Charles, winking up at the closest security camera. “And, Mr. Lemoncello, if you’re watching, may I just say that you are an extremely brilliant man?”

  Charles had never sucked up to a video camera before. He figured it was worth a shot. Maybe Mr. Lemoncello would send him a bonus clue or something.

  Instead, when Charles stepped out of the 300s room, somebody sent him Andrew Peckleman. The goggle-eyed library geek was sputtering mad as he rushed down the steps and stomped around the second-floor balcony.

  “Stupid library. Stupid Lemoncello. Stupid sphinx and Sekhmet.”

  “Why so glum, Andrew?” Charles called out.

  “Because this game stinks. Mr. Lemoncello just sent a bunch of holograms hurling hieroglyphics after me. He could put somebody’s eye out with those things.”

  “Really? With a hologram?”


  “Hey, they’re made with lasers, aren’t they?”

  “Indeed. Say, speaking of hieroglyphics, where might I find a book about picture languages?”

  “Ha! Why should I help you?”

  “Because Kyle Keeley is working with Akimi Hughes and Sierra Russell. I imagine it is only a matter of time before your friend Miguel Fernandez joins their team, too.”

  “Miguel isn’t my friend! Besides, I’m better at navigating my way through a library than he’ll ever be.”

  “I know. That’s why I want you on my team.”

  “Really?”

  Charles smiled. Kids like Andrew Peckleman were so easy to manipulate.

  “Oh, yes. Work with me and I guarantee you the world will know that you should be the head library aide at Alexandriaville Middle School.”

  “The four hundreds!” blurted Peckleman.

  “Pardon?”

  “That’s where you’ll find books on hieroglyphics and all kinds of languages. If you want secret codes, those are in the six hundreds room. The six-fifties, to be exact.”

  Charles shot out his hand. “Welcome to Team Charles, Andrew.”

  The new teammates stepped into the 400s room. For some reason, it was pitch dark and smelled like pine trees.

  “Bienvenida! Bienvenue! Witamy! Kuwakaribisha! Welcome!” boomed a voice from the ceiling speakers. “This is the four hundreds room, home of foreign languages. Here, CHARLES and ANDREW, you can learn all about your American heritage.”

  A bank of spotlights thumped on.

  Charles and Andrew were face-to-blank-face with a row of four featureless mannequins. An overhead projector beamed a movie onto dummy number two, turning it into a perky woman who looked like a flight attendant.

  “Hello, and welcome to your American heritage. I’m Debbie. Let’s begin your voyage!”

  “That’s okay,” said Charles. “We’re rather busy.”

  “Let’s begin your voyage,” the mannequin repeated.

  Charles sighed. Obviously, there was no way to turn this silly display off. He might as well speed things along by telling the dummy what it wanted to hear.

  “Fine. But can we go with the abridged version? We’re in a bit of a rush.”

  “Yeah,” added Andrew, “we have to escape before noon tomorrow.”

  The woman, whose body remained frozen while a movie made her face and costume spring to life, reminded Charles of the graveyard statues from the Haunted Mansion ride at Disney World.

  “While we research your family trees,” she said, “please enjoy this short and informative film.”

  “Is this part of the game?” Andrew whispered to Charles.

  “Possibly. Pay attention for any bonus clues.”

  “Okay. What do they look like?”

  “Who can ever say?”

  A screen behind the life-size dummies leapt to life with all sorts of scratchy images of people huddled together on the deck of a boat near the Statue of Liberty.

  “For decades,” narrated the ceiling voice, “public libraries have proudly served America’s newest citizens—the immigrants who flock to these shores yearning for the freedom to build their own American dreams.”

  Charles really wasn’t interested in this kind of stuff. His ancestors were all Americans; the only language they spoke was English.

  “Yes, the library is where many new arrivals journey first. To learn their new homeland’s language. To keep in touch with the world they left behind. To search for the gainful employment that will make them productive residents of their newly adopted home!”

  The movie dissolved into blackness.

  “Thank you for your kind attention,” chirped the cheerful Debbie. “We have completed your American family tree. Let’s meet your first American ancestors!”

  Two mannequins sprang to illuminated life, both of them dressed in traditional Thanksgiving pilgrim costumes.

  “I know who they are already,” said Charles. “That’s John Chiltington and his wife, Elinor. They came to Plymouth Colony on the Mayflower. Can we move on to Andrew’s family? Please?”

  “Of course,” said Debbie.

  The mannequins quickly went through Andrew Peckleman’s ancestry. Apparently, the family name had originally been Pickleman, because they made pickles. After a prolonged parade of pickle people, the dummies took on the guise of Andrew’s most famous ancestor, a guy in hornrimmed glasses and a tweed sports coat named Peter Paul Peckleman.

  “I appeared on the TV game show Concentration in 1968,” he announced, “and won a roomful of furniture and wood paneling for my rumpus room.”

  Charles smiled. He knew the TV game show Concentration was very similar to Mr. Lemoncello’s Phenomenal Picture Word Puzzler, one of the games he had picked up at the toy store. Peter Paul Peckleman’s claim to fame was further confirmation that piecing together the picture puzzle would show Charles how to escape from the library.

  He’d been right.

  The dummies had just given him a bonus clue.

  Excited by the sudden appearance of a second bonus card, Sierra read it out loud:

  “ ‘Two plus two can equal more than four. Put two and two together and you’ll be closer than before.’ ”

  Akimi raised her hand.

  “Yes?” said Sierra.

  “You do realize that Miguel here isn’t on our team?”

  “Oh. Right. Sorry.”

  Miguel turned to Kyle. “You guys are a team?”

  “Yep. You want to join?”

  “Maybe. Not sure. Check back with me later, man.”

  “No problem,” said Kyle.

  He fist-thumped his chest. Miguel fist-thumped his. They were flashing each other peace signs when Sierra said, “I think this means we should all play together as a team. Remember what it says on the fountain down in the lobby: ‘Knowledge not shared remains unknown.’ ”

  “Maybe,” said Miguel. “Like I said—let me get back to you guys. I’m workin’ on a few angles of my own. Flying solo.”

  “Sure. No problem.” Kyle was about to do the whole fist-chest-bump-peace-sign thing again when he had a brainstorm. “Miguel? Quick question. What’s on your library card?”

  Miguel shrugged. “My name and the number one.”

  “Anything else? Like on the back?”

  “Nothing really. Couple of books.”

  “Two?”

  “Yeah.”

  “What’re their titles?”

  Miguel bit his lip. “Don’t want to say.”

  “Because you think they might be clues?”

  “Not saying what I might or might not be thinking, bro.”

  Kyle nodded.

  “There are two different books on the back of everybody’s library cards,” said Akimi, thinking out loud. “ ‘Put two and two together and you’ll be closer than before.’ The book titles are some sort of clue. My books are One—”

  “Um, Akimi?” Kyle shook his head. Nodded toward Miguel.

  “Right. Sorry. My bad.”

  “Oh-kay, Miguel,” said Kyle. “If and when you decide to team up with us, you can show us the two books on the back of your card; we’ll all show you ours. We’ll also split the prize four ways. Deal?”

  “Deal.”

  “Come on, guys.” Kyle gestured toward the exit.

  “Where are we going?” asked Sierra.

  Kyle dropped his voice. “The Electronic Learning Center.”

  “You want to play video games?” said Akimi. “Now? Seriously, Kyle, we may need to rethink your status as team captain.”

  “I don’t want to play video games. I want to check out the discard pile.”

  “Huh?”

  “The cards the players who went home early dumped into that goldfish bowl!”

  “I’m comin’ with you guys,” said Miguel. “I’ve been thinking about those extra cards, too.”

  “Fine,” said Kyle. “Whatever.”

  When they entered the game room, they saw
Clarence, his arms folded across his chest genie-style. He was standing guard in front of the discard pile.

  “May I help you?” he asked.

  “Um, yeah,” said Kyle. “We want to check out the cards in the bowl.”

  “Sorry,” said Clarence. “You can’t have them.”

  “But,” said Mr. Lemoncello, his face suddenly appearing on every video screen in the room, “you can win them!”

  Dressed in a polka-dotted bow tie and snazzy jacket like a game show host, Mr. Lemoncello had one arm resting on a slender Plexiglas podium. Behind him, Dr. Zinchenko—all decked out in a sparkly red minidress—looked like the models that point at prizes on TV.

  “Are the four of you ready to play Let’s Do a Deal?” When Mr. Lemoncello said that, he pushed a big red button in his podium. A prerecorded studio audience whistled, cheered, and applauded.

  “Um, what’s Let’s Do a Deal?” asked Kyle.

  “My first game to ever be turned into a TV show. Brought to you by lemon Pledge!”

  Dr. Zinchenko started singing: “Lemon Pledge, very pretty. Put the shine down, lemon good …”

  “Thank you, Dr. Z!” said Mr. Lemoncello, bopping the button to make the audience cheer again. “Now then, kids, here’s the deal: Solve one simple picture puzzle and you four win the five library cards in the bowl.”

  “And if we lose?”

  “Simple. Each of you loses his or her library card and adds it to the discard bowl for our next lucky contestants to try and win.”

  He banged the red button again. The audience cheered exactly the same way they cheered before.

  Kyle turned to the others. “What do you say, guys?”

  “Let’s go for it,” said Akimi.

  Sierra nodded.

  “Miguel?”

  “I’m in, bro.”

  “You’re joining our team?”

  “Absolutely.” They knocked knuckles to seal the deal.

  Mr. Lemoncello must’ve whacked his button again, because the canned studio audience started cheering.

  Kyle wondered what the sound effects would be if he and his friends lost their library cards playing Let’s Do a Deal.

  Probably groans.

  And weeping. Lots and lots of weeping.

  “Now then,” said Mr. Lemoncello, “are you ready to play Risking Everything for Five Little Library Cards?”