“What I do is for your protection—it’s where most of our money goes,” the Professor explained. “If I could get proof for my theories . . . I could save my funding . . . our home . . .”
“I don’t get it. Why is your research for our protection?” Dylan broke in. “You’re always using those binoculars. How many rare birds are you going to spot in downtown New Rock? And seriously, a shark cage? What are you really looking for?”
All the birds in the apartment began to squawk and tweet and rattle their coops.
“I’ve said all I can say,” the Professor concluded. “We have to leave by Friday.”
“Where are we going to go?” Emma asked. “What are we going to do for money?”
Then Dylan saw the Professor do something he had never seen her do.
She began to cry.
* * *
That night, as usual, Dylan couldn’t sleep. Three thousand windows were open in his head. It was bad enough he didn’t have a family—now, pretty soon, he wouldn’t have a place to live. He flicked on the TV just to get his mind off how his life had become an epic fail.
The Professor hated it when he watched TV because she thought it contributed to his lack of focus. She had stopped paying the cable bill a few months back. Now they only had four channels. Two if it was raining.
All the channels were carrying reports about the Game Changers.
“. . . video game Xamaica. Players take on the role of a mythological beast and explore forty-four different levels. Now game-maker Mee Corp. is picking forty-four children for the Tournament of Xamaica . . .”
“. . . winner will get what’s billed as a Grand Major Triple-Secret Prize. But parents complain the game is already too addictive, and has caused some players to run away from home to spend more time . . .”
“. . . sold out all over the city. Analysts worry that Mee Corp. will not be able to keep up with demand . . .”
Dylan stopped on the last channel where there was a commercial for Mee Corp. The head of Ines Mee, the daughter of the company’s founder, filled the screen. Her face was as pale and perfectly oval as an egg. She had a shadowy gaze and wore her long dark hair swept over her right eye like a black curtain. She was in all of Mee Corp.’s ads, and the company sold a lot of stuff, everything from potato chips to computer chips. She was only thirteen years old but she had her own reality show—Mee2—where she was always having some adventure in some far-off place—partying, skydiving, skiing, partying some more, sarfari-ing (if that’s even a word), auto racing, skydiving again, shopping, and it never ended. In each situation she was using some Mee Corp. product.
“It’s gonna be beyond awesome,” Ines purred. “So come to the Mee Convention Center tonight—and see if you made the list of Game Changers!”
Ping!
What was that?
Ping!
Someone had thrown something against the kitchen window. The cockatoos in the kitchenette began to squawk; Dylan gave them crackers to shut them up before they woke up Emma or the Professor. He looked out the window and spotted Eli, one flight below, in his wheelchair on the sidewalk. He was shivering in his snuglet.
“What’s up?” Eli called. “I’ve been throwing rocks for twenty minutes!”
“Ever heard of a doorbell?” Dylan shot back.
“Ever heard of paying your phone bill? Anyway, I didn’t want to wake the Prof.”
“What’s going on? Are you and Anjali okay?”
“We’re cool. I can’t say the same about Anjali’s French horn.”
“Why are you here?”
“The Xamaica tournament, man! It’s gonna be epic! We gotta go!”
“What do you mean we? I thought you hated Xamaica—and Mee Corp.!”
“I still want their prize money, yo! Let’s see if our names are on the list!”
Dylan didn’t know what to say. He was pretty certain he was one of the best players around, but what if the people who were selecting the top players found out why?
Just then, Dylan heard a bed creak behind him.
Emma was up, clutching the lady pirate doll she always slept with, and she came over to the window. “Don’t tell me you’re going to the tournament!”
“Buenas tardes, señorita,” Eli greeted Emma.
“Hey, Eli,” she replied sleepily.
“Eli—why do you always get all español around my sister?” Dylan griped. “And Emma—have you not learned your lesson about bringing that doll out in public?”
Emma crossed her arms and looked at Dylan. “What about your condition?”
“His seizures?” Eli asked. “He’s a Loopy. We all have issues.”
“You didn’t tell Eli what triggers them?”
“Shut up!” Dylan snapped. “Didn’t you hear the Professor? We might lose the apartment! We need money. If I have a shot at the tournament, I have to take it!”
The cockatoos began to squawk again.
“Then I’m going too,” Emma declared.
“Why? Do you think we need you to watch us?” Dylan complained. “Do you think you’re smarter than us or something?”
“She is smarter than us,” Eli pointed out. “Like multiples. She won the state science fair and the state spelling bee.”
“Shakespeare once said, The fool doth think he is wise, but the wise man knows himself to be a fool,” Emma remarked.
“I have no idea what that means,” Dylan said.
“It means she’s coming along,” Eli laughed. “Vamanos, muchachos!”
* * *
Every kid in the city was outside the Mee Convention Center in midtown New Rock and there were loads of TV cameras and reporters too. The scene was like a Hollywood movie opening crossed with a football homecoming. Spotlights crisscrossed the air, and a stream of black limos dropped off VIPs. A line of kids, some with tickets, others hoping to score some, snaked around the outside of the building.
“Disgusting,” Eli seethed, as he and Emma and Dylan got out of a taxi, and the driver got his wheelchair from the trunk. “Look at all the rich kids cutting the line!”
“I guess they got special invites,” Dylan said. “We couldn’t afford tickets even if there were any available. How are we going to get in?”
“There’s a saying that when one door closes, others open,” Emma chimed in.
“And what philosopher said that?” Dylan asked.
“Bob Marley.”
“Well, he had it right,” Eli winked. “And I have a plan.”
Dylan groaned. “Is it better than your science fair plan from last year? We got two weeks detention for that one.”
“Totally undeserved,” Eli replied. “And not one of those armadillos was hurt.”
Eli motioned Dylan and Emma over to the wheelchair entrance; the guard took a look at Eli and waved all three kids inside. “One advantage of being in a wheelchair,” Eli confided, as they slipped into the building.
“Are there others?”