The second he hit home he sat down at his mother’s kitchen computer. He attached his essay file to a “high priority” email addressed to Mr. Lemoncello at the Imagination Factory.
“What are you doing, Kyle?” his mom asked when she came into the room and found him typing on her computer.
“Some extra-credit homework.”
“Extra credit? School’s out at the end of the week.”
“So?”
“You’re not playing my Diner Dash game, are you?”
“No, Mom. It’s an essay. About Mr. Lemoncello’s amazing new library downtown.”
“Oh. Sounds interesting. I heard on the radio that there’s going to be a gala grand opening reception this Friday night at the Parker House Hotel, right across the street from the old bank building. I mean, the new library.”
Kyle typed in a P.S. to his email: “I hope at the party on Friday you have balloons.”
He hit send.
“Who did you send your essay to?” his mother asked. “Your teacher?”
“No. Mr. Lemoncello himself. It took some digging, but I found his email address on his game company’s website.”
“Really? I’m impressed.” His mom rubbed his hair. “You know, this morning, I said to your dad: ‘Kyle can be just as smart as Curtis and just as focused as Mike—when he puts his mind to it.’ ”
Kyle smiled. “Thanks, Mom.”
But his smile quickly disappeared when a BONG! alerted him to an incoming email.
From Mr. Lemoncello.
It was an auto-response form letter.
Dear Lemoncello Game Lover:
This is a no-reply mailbox. Your message did not go through. Do not try to resend it or you’ll just hear another BONG! But thank you for playing our games.
Heading back to school on Tuesday, Kyle knew he had to put on a brave face.
He smiled as he walked with his class toward the auditorium for a special early-morning assembly. The one where Mr. Luigi L. Lemoncello himself would announce the winners of the Library Lock-In Essay Contest.
“I hope he picked yours,” Kyle whispered to Akimi.
“Thanks. I do, too. But the lock-in won’t be as much fun without you.”
“Well, when it’s over, and the library is officially open, you can take me on a tour.”
“That’s exactly what I’m going to do! If I win.”
“If you don’t, I’m sending a flaming squirrel after Mrs. Cameron.”
For this assembly, the seventh graders, most of whom were twelve years old, were told to sit in the front rows, close to the stage. That made Kyle feel a little better. At least he’d get a chance to see Mr. Lemoncello up close and personal.
But his hero wasn’t even onstage.
Just the principal; the school librarian, Mrs. Yunghans; and a redheaded woman in high-heeled shoes who Kyle didn’t recognize. She sat up straight, like someone had slipped a yardstick down the back of her bright red business suit. Her glasses were bright red, too.
“That’s Dr. Yanina Zinchenko!” gushed Miguel Fernandez, who was sitting on Kyle’s right.
“Who’s she?” asked Akimi, seated to Kyle’s left.
“Just the most famous librarian in the whole wide world!”
“All right, boys and girls,” said the principal at the podium. “Settle down. Quiet, please. It is my great honor to introduce the head librarian for the new Alexandriaville public library, Dr. Yanina Zinchenko.”
Everybody clapped. The tall lady in the red outfit strode to the microphone.
“Good morning.”
Her voice was breathy with just a hint of a Russian accent.
“Twelve years ago, this town lost its one and only public library when it was torn down to make room for an elevated parking garage. Back then, many said the Internet had rendered the ‘old-fashioned’ library obsolete, that a new parking garage would attract shoppers to the boutiques and dress shops near the old bank building. But the library’s demolition also meant that those of you who are now twelve years old have lived your entire lives without a public library.”
She looked down at the front rows.
“This is why, to kick off our summer reading program, twelve twelve-year-olds will be selected to be the very first to explore the wonders awaiting inside Mr. Lemoncello’s extraordinary new library. You will, of course, need your parents’ permission. We have slips for you to take home. You will also need a sleeping bag, a toothbrush, and, if you please, a change of clothes.”
She smiled mysteriously.
“You might consider packing two pairs of underwear.”
Oh-kay, thought Kyle. That’s bizarre. Did the librarian really think seventh graders weren’t toilet trained?
“There will be movies, food, fun, games, and prizes. Also, each of our twelve winners will receive a five-hundred-dollar gift card good toward the purchase of Lemoncello games and gizmos.”
Oh, man. Five hundred bucks’ worth of free games and gear? Kyle sank a little lower in his seat. The next time someone gave him an extra-credit essay assignment, he’d turn it in early!
“And now, here to announce our winners, the man behind the new library, the master gamester himself—Mr. Luigi Lemoncello!”
Dr. Zinchenko gestured to her left.
The whole auditorium swung their heads.
People were clapping and whistling and cheering.
But nobody came onstage.
The applause petered out.
And then, on the opposite side of the stage, Kyle heard a very peculiar sound.
It was a cross between a burp and the squeak from a squeeze toy.
Over on the side of the stage, a shoe that looked like a peeled-open banana appeared from behind a curtain.
When it landed, the shoe burp-squeaked.
As a second banana shoe burp-squeaked onto the floor, Kyle looked up and there he was—Mr. Lemoncello! He had loose and floppy limbs and was dressed in a three-piece black suit with a bright red tie. His black broad-brimmed hat was cocked at a crooked angle atop his curly white hair. Kyle was so close he could see a sly twinkle sparkling in Mr. Lemoncello’s coal-black eyes.
Treading very carefully, Mr. Lemoncello walked toward the podium. The burp-squeaks in his shoes seemed to change pitch depending on how hard he landed on his heels. He added a couple of little jig steps, a quick hop and a stutter-step skip, and yes—his shoes were squeaking out a song.
“Pop Goes the Weasel.”
On the Pop! Mr. Lemoncello popped behind the podium.
The crowd went wild.
Mr. Lemoncello politely bowed and said, very softly, “Tank you. Tank you. Grazie. Grazie.”
He bent forward so his mouth was maybe an inch away from the microphone.
“Buon giorno, boise and-uh girls-a.” He spoke very timidly, very slowly. “Tees ees how my-uh momma and my-uh poppa teach-uh me to speak-eh de English.”
He wiggled his ears. Straightened his back.
“But then,” he said in a crisp, clear voice, “I went to the Alexandriaville Public Library, where a wonderful librarian named Mrs. Gail Tobin helped me learn how to speak like this: ‘If two witches were watching two watches, which witch would watch which watch?’ I can also speak while upside down and underwater, but not today because I just had this suit dry-cleaned and do not want to get it wet.”
Mr. Lemoncello bounced across the stage like a happy grasshopper.
“Now then, children, if I may call you that—which I must because I have not yet memorized all of your names, even though I am working on it—what do you think is the most amazingly incredible thing you’ll find inside your wondrous new library, besides, of course, all the knowledge you need to do anything and everything you ever want or need to do?”
No one said anything. They were too mesmerized by Mr. Lemoncello’s rat-a-tat words.
“Would it be: A) robots silently whizzing their way through the library, restocking the shelves, B) the Electronic Learning Center, with three d
ozen plasma-screen TVs all connected to flight simulators and educational video games, or C) the Wonder Dome? Lined with ten giant video screens, it can make the whole building feel like a rocket ship blasting off into outer space!”
“The game room!” someone shouted.
“The robots!”
“The video dome!”
Mr. Lemoncello raced back to the podium and made a buzzing noise into the microphone.
“Sorry. The correct answer is—and not just because of Winn-Dixie—D) all of the above!”
The crowd went wild.
Mr. Lemoncello whirled around to face his head librarian.
“Dr. Zinchenko? Will you kindly help me pass out our first twelve library cards?”
It was time to announce the essay contest winners.
Dr. Zinchenko placed a stack of twelve shiny cards on the podium in front of Mr. Lemoncello.
“Please,” he said, “as I call your name, come join me onstage. Miguel Fernandez.”
“Yes!” Miguel jumped up out of his seat.
“Akimi Hughes.”
“Whoo-hoo.”
Kyle was thrilled to see his two friends be the first ones called to the stage.
“Andrew Peckleman, Bridgette Wadge, Sierra Russell, Yasmeen Smith-Snyder.”
Yasmeen squealed when her name was called.
“Sean Keegan, Haley Daley, Rose Vermette, and Kayla Corson.”
Ten kids, all the same age as Kyle, were up onstage with his idol, Mr. Lemoncello. He was not. Only two more chances.
As if reading his mind, Mr. Lemoncello said, “Only two more,” and tapped a pair of library cards on the podium. “Charles Chiltington.”
“Gosh, really?” He dashed up to the podium and started pumping Mr. Lemoncello’s hand. “Thank you, sir. This is such an honor. Truly. I mean that.”
“Thank you, Charles. May I have my hand back? I need it to flip over this final card.”
“Of course, sir. But I cannot wait to spend the night in your library, or, as I like to call it, your athenaeum. Because, as I said in my essay, when you open a book, you open your mind!”
Finally, Charles the brownnoser let go of Mr. Lemoncello’s hand and went over to line up with the other winners.
“And last but not least,” said Mr. Lemoncello, “Kyle Keeley.”
Kyle could not believe his ears. He thought he was dreaming.
But then Akimi started waving for him to come on up!
Dazed, Kyle made his way up the steps to join the others onstage. Mr. Lemoncello handed Kyle a library card. His name and the number twelve were printed on the front. Two book covers—I Love You, Stinky Face and The Napping House—were on the back.
“Let’s all pose for a picture, please,” said the principal.
When everybody moved into position for the photographer, Kyle found himself standing right next to Mr. Lemoncello.
He swallowed hard. “I’m a big fan, sir,” he said, his voice kind of shaky.
“Why, thank you. And remind me—you are?”
“I’m Kyle, sir. Kyle Keeley.”
“Ah, yes. The boy who proved what I’ve always known to be true: The game is never over till it’s over. BONG!”
Kyle couldn’t wait to tell his family the good news.
“I won the essay contest!” He showed them his shiny new library card.
“Congratulations!” said his mom.
“Way to go!” said his dad.
His brothers, Curtis and Mike, were more interested in Kyle’s other card: his five-hundred-dollar Lemoncello gift card.
“It’s good for twelve months,” said Kyle.
“But you need to use it now,” said Mike. “We need to go to the store tonight so you can buy me Mr. Lemoncello’s Kooky-Wacky Hockey.”
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“I have to show my library card at the store to cash it in.”
“And?”
“Um, I’m grounded, remember?”
“You know, Kyle,” said his dad, looking at his mother, who nodded, “since you worked extra hard and did such a bang-up job on your essay, I think we might consider suspending your punishment.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
Kyle’s mom and dad smiled at him.
The way they smiled whenever Mike won a football game or Curtis won the science fair.
After supper, all five Keeleys piled into the family van and headed off to the local toy store.
“Lemoncello’s hockey game is awesome,” said Mike as they drove to the store. “Especially when the penguins play the polar bears.”
“I’m hoping to find a classic board game,” mused Curtis. “Mr. Lemoncello’s Bewilderingly Baffling Bibliomania.”
“Is that about the Bible?” asked their dad from behind the wheel.
“Not exactly,” said Curtis, “although the Bible, especially a rare Gutenberg edition, may be one of the treasures you must find and collect, because the object of the game is to collect rare and valuable books by—”
“The penguins in Kooky-Wacky Hockey aren’t from Pittsburgh like in the NHL,” said Mike, cutting off Curtis. “They’re from Antarctica. And the polar bears? They’re from Alaska.”
Kyle had decided to divvy up his gift card five ways. To give everybody—including his mom and dad—one hundred dollars to play with.
As soon as they entered the toy store, the family split up, cruising the aisles with their own shopping carts. His mom was going to upgrade to Mr. Lemoncello’s Restaurant Rush. His dad was looking for one of Mr. Lemoncello’s complicated What If? historical games: What If the Romans Had Won the American Civil War?
Kyle hung with Curtis and Mike for a while. Being the one with the gift card made him feel like he was suddenly their big brother.
Mike quickly found his PlayStation hockey game and Curtis was in geek heaven when he finally found Bibliomania.
“They only have one left!” he gushed, tearing off the cellophane shrink-wrap and prying open the lid. He sat down right in the middle of the store and unfolded the game board on his lap. “You see, you start under the rotunda in this circular reading room. Then you go upstairs and enter each of these ten chambers, where you have to answer a question about a book.…”
“Um, I think I hear Mom calling me,” said Kyle. “She must need the gift card. Enjoy!”
And Kyle took off.
“The store will close in fifteen minutes,” announced a voice from the ceiling speakers.
Kyle flew up and down the aisles and grabbed a couple of board games he didn’t own yet, including Mr. Lemoncello’s Absolutely Incredible Iron Horse—a game where you build your own transcontinental railroad, complete with locomotive game pieces that actually puff steam.
As Kyle was doing some quick math to see if he’d spent his one hundred dollars, Charles Chiltington rolled up the aisle with a cart crammed full with five hundred dollars’ worth of loot. Games stacked on top of games were practically spilling over the sides. Mr. Lemoncello’s Phenomenal Picture Word Puzzler, one of Kyle’s favorites, was teetering on the top.
“Hello, Keeley,” said Chiltington with a smirk. He looked down at the three games sitting in the bottom of Kyle’s shopping cart. “Just getting started?”
“No. I shared my gift card with my family.”
“Really? Well, that was a mistake, wasn’t it?”
Kyle was about to answer when Chiltington said, “So long. See you on Friday.” Kyle wasn’t 100 percent sure but Charles might’ve also muttered, “Loser.”
Since the store was about to close, Kyle headed toward the checkout lanes. When he passed the customer service department, he saw Haley Daley.
“No,” Kyle heard Haley say in a hushed tone to the clerk working the Returns window. “I do not want to return these items for store credit. I would prefer cash.”
Kyle finally found his family, showed the cashier his library card, and paid for everything with a single swipe of his gift
card.
“You know, Kyle,” said his dad as the family walked across the parking lot, “your mother and I are extremely proud of you. Writing a good essay isn’t easy.”
“Maybe you’ll be an author someday,” added his mom. “Then you could write books that’ll be on the shelves of the new library.”
“Thanks, little brother,” said Curtis, practically hugging his Bibliomania box.
“Yeah,” said Mike. “This was awesome. Way to win one for the team!”
“Best ‘family game night’ ever,” joked their dad.
Kyle was enjoying his rare moment of glory, playing Santa Claus for his whole family. As the week dragged on, Friday night and the library lock-in started to remind Kyle of Christmas, too: It felt like they would never come.
Then, finally, they did.
“Now this is what I call a party,” said Kyle’s mother as she helped herself to a bacon-wrapped shrimp from a tray being carried by a waiter in a tuxedo.
Kyle and his parents were in the crowded ballroom of the Parker House Hotel for the Lemoncello Library’s Gala Grand Opening Reception. The Parker House was located right across the street from the old Gold Leaf Bank building and the cluster of office buildings, craft shops, clothing stores, and restaurants called Old Town.
“I’m going to see if I can find Akimi,” Kyle said to his mom and dad.
“Give her our congratulations!” said his mom.
“We’re proud of her, too,” added his dad.
Kyle made his way through the glittering sea of dressed-up adults.
Even though his parents had put on fancy clothes for the reception, Kyle was wearing “something comfortable to go exploring in,” as instructed by the Lock-In Guide he’d received on Wednesday. He’d packed a sleeping bag and a small suitcase with a change of clothes, toiletries, and yes, as requested, an extra pair of underpants.
Kyle saw Sierra Russell all alone in a corner near a clump of curtains. It didn’t look like her mother had come to the party with her. Sierra, of course, had her nose buried in a book. Kyle shook his head. The girl was about to spend the night in a building filled with books and she was skipping all the free food and pop so she could read? That was just nutty.