Mr. Lemoncello's Great Library Race: Chapters 1–10

For the first time since Mr. Lemoncello’s famous library escape contest, he was up against his old nemesis, Charles Chiltington.

“Surrender, Keeley!” Charles jeered from three spaces ahead. “Chiltingtons never lose!”

He stuck his hand in and out of the laser grid to blare a gassy fanfare to the tune of “Happy Birthday to You”: BLATT-BLATT-BLATT-BLATT, FWUMP-FWUMP!

“Shut it down. Need to iron out that glitch.”

Instantly, the ten wedge-shaped, high-definition video screens lining the library’s colossal cathedral ceiling started shimmering as the dome went from black to its swirling, full-circle kaleidoscopic mode.

He cleared his throat and warbled, “Mr. Raymo is a brilliant brain-o! What he does is hard to explain-o!”

Mr. Raymo nodded. Tapped his tablet again.
“Duly noted.”

The Krinkle brothers owned a huge game company that, in Kyle’s humble opinion, made extremely boring board games and dull generic stuff like Chinese checkers, pachisi, and dominoes.

Since Kyle (along with all the other “champions” from the recent Library Olympics) was now on the library’s board of trustees, he once suggested that Charles (plus the rest of the Chiltington family) be banned from the building.

“Not to be as nosy as Pinocchio,” Mr. Lemoncello said to Sierra, “but you seemed more interested in reading your book than in marveling at my latest holographic extravaganza.”

Dust clouds billowed up behind the holographic horses’ dirt-churning hooves.

Thanks to its high-speed processor and enormous database, the Nonfictionator can generate historical holograms capable of conversing with our library patrons.

“Careful, dear,” trilled a voice from the second floor.

He handed out flashy business cards with an address printed on them.

The “respondents”—children ages ten through fifteen—and a research moderator were on the other side of the glass, seated around a long conference table.

“I’m hearing you. Let me topline these notions.”

“Bad luck? It could ruin us!” Frederick was seething.

“That ludicrous lunatic has been a boil on our backsides long enough.”

After the Library Olympics ended, Mr. Lemoncello had converted the main building of the Blue Jay Extended Stay Lodge, which had been Olympia Village, into a fully renovated mansion (adding a forty-foot-tall glass ceiling over the whole thing so he could see the stars at night).

He kept the motel’s outlying guest chalets so out-of-town trustees and their parents would always have a nice place to stay when they came to Alexandriaville for official meetings and events.

Kyle and his mom hurried to the front door, where instead of a doorbell or knocker there was a shiny brass plaque engraved with these words: “To enter, look in the mirror and say ‘emases nepo.’"

“I hereby declare this meeting of the Lemoncello Library board of trustees officially open. I also do declare,” he added in a genteel Southern accent, “that I loved that lemon chiffon pie! Now then, as you may have noticed, Julie of the Wolves isn’t here tonight, and neither is Dr. Zinchenko. Julie is on a shelf at the library and Dr. Z is in Domodedovo, Russia, where she is celebrating her mother’s birthday with pickled fish, fried cabbage dumplings, and birthday pie.”

“Apparently, they needed her help organizing the magazine racks at the Library of Congress. Speaking of tidying things up, I would like to personally commend local board members Miguel Fernandez and Andrew Peckleman, who earlier this week helped us with some archival items in the library’s basement.”

Several gyrating satellite dishes the size of quarters rotated on the sides.

Violin music wafted out of the ceiling speakers.

“It can control every electronic device in the house!”
“Simple infrared technology, actually,” said Mr. Raymo modestly.

The ghostly image of a very somber-looking man draped in black robes appeared next to Mr. Lemoncello at the head of the table.

Justice Holmes continued: “Do solemnly swear or affirm that I will never reveal any of the secrets I am privy to as a member of this esteemed board of trustees. Cross my heart and hope to die, stick a booger in my eye.”

Justice Holmes continued: “Do solemnly swear or affirm that I will never reveal any of the secrets I am privy to as a member of this esteemed board of trustees. Cross my heart and hope to die, stick a booger in my eye.”

A fourth and fifth 3-D emoji simultaneously materialized over the game board: a hamburger and a lollipop.

He brandished a rolled-up tube of blueprints.

“And these are the incredibletastic new game’s complete design schematics.”

You will be paired up in two-person teams as we endeavor to see who amongst you is most like Mike Mulligan with his steam shovel and knows how to dig, dig, dig.

Our fleet of bookmobiles will be at your disposal—as will my corporate jets, airplanes, and helicopters.

You make most of the dominoes, marbles, pachisi, and Chinese checkers sets sold in America and Canada. You are considered Mr. Lemoncello’s chief domestic rivals in the toy and game-manufacturing sectors of the United States economy.

“So?” bristled Frederick. “Are you going to toss us out of the loony old bat’s loopy library just because we’re his main competitors?”

You may access the upper levels of the library via the spiral staircases, the elevator, or—if you have the proper mountain-climbing gear and will sign a liability waiver—the hover ladders.

“I think presentation software helps to augment and enrich what could otherwise seem exceedingly tedious and dreary if presented in the somniferous mode of a traditional oral report.”

“I think presentation software helps to augment and enrich what could otherwise seem exceedingly tedious and dreary if presented in the somniferous mode of a traditional oral report.”

She was one of the teachers who totally fell for Charles’s smarmy routine and loved all the big words he used.