The New Champion (10 page)

This felt good. This felt natural. This is what he wanted to do with his life. No matter if he was first to get kicked out, made a total fool of himself on national TV, or otherwise messed up, it wouldn't need to permanently mark him, not when there was the rest of his life and a world full of cameras to use.

He backed out of the room, walked a few doors down, the wrong way. He retraced his steps and waited near the bathroom for Sharryn and whatever the Games would hand him.

Cameron was ready. He could do this.

S
harryn rounded the corner just seconds later. “I hope I didn't keep you waiting.”

He shook his head. He almost asked her about the TV room but didn't want to get in trouble for wandering.

“You certainly look different. Throw up?”

“No,” said Cameron. “I decided I can do this.”

“Of course you can.” She handed him his videocam and led him back the way they'd come. “If you couldn't, you wouldn't be here. Our challenges are designed to weed out people who can't do this.”

“Really?”

“Really. And how does that make you feel?”

“Even better.”

“Then my job here is done.” Sharryn stopped at a door. “Your journey continues inside.” She squeezed his shoulder. “It was a pleasure, Cameron. You can do this.”

He smiled and held up his camera. “Can I record that?”

“Of course.” She planted her feet and looked straight into the lens. “You can do this, Cameron. And even better, you finally know you can. Now, go in there.”

Cameron kept recording, his hand turning the doorknob, the vestibule inside, the blue door and the orange door opposite him, the faces. Faces? The guides!

“Cameron!” said Carol.

“Welcome!” said Bill. “Whose team do you want to be on? Mine or hers?”

Cameron held the videocam as a barrier between him and his answer. Did he really have to—

“No doubt,” said Bill. “He wins for the most alarmed reaction so far.”

Carol put a little pressure on Cameron's arm. He lowered the camera. “You don't have to choose,” she said. “Not that way.”

Cameron breathed.

“It's the luck of the draw,” said Bill. He held up a large wooden block with three jester heads sticking out. There was also one hole where apparently a jester used to be.

“Here's the drill,” said Bill. “Boys pick from my block; girls, from hers.”

Carol's block had four jesters remaining. “If your jester's wearing an orange shirt, you're on the Orange Team with me.”

“And if your jester's wearing a blue shirt, you're with me on the Blue Team,” said Bill. “Choose wisely.”

Cameron's hand hovered over the jester in the far corner; then he grabbed one in front.

“Oh, yeah,” said Bill. “I have my first boy!” He opened the blue door for Cameron. “Go ahead in. I'll be with you in a few.”

Inside the blue door and above a large table was a ceiling full of balloons, and around him were walls with fun-house mirrors and giant toys.

A girl with bouncy reddish blond hair stood behind a chair. She carried herself like she planned to be the next Bianca, except her eyes weren't as, um, well, he didn't know what the right word was. They actually looked a little mean. “Who are you?” she said to Cameron. “Kid or camera crew?”

“Kid,” said Cameron.

“And what's this on your camera?”

Cameron felt his head start to sweat. “Bianca signed it.”

“
The
Bianca?” said the girl. “Seriously? I so want to be her. I'm Dacey, by the way.” She looked him up and down. “And you are . . .”

“Sorry. I'm Cameron.”

“Well, if that's not cute as all get out—Cameron with the camera.” Maybe it was supposed to sound “cute,” but her tone matched her eyes. “How'd that happen?”

Cameron ran his free hand over a chair back. He wanted to shrug and keep filming, but he needed to start this team thing off right. “When I was born, my grandmother misheard my dad, thought he'd said my name was Camera. I mean, who names a kid Camera?”

“My middle name is Table.”

Oops. A girl with a ponytail had come through the door.

“Just kidding,” she said. “I'm Estella. And behind me is Clio.”

Clio came in with a big smile. It was good to see her.

But Dacey was staring them down, especially Estella, as if they'd done something to ruin her party. Then Dacey stepped closer to Cameron and gave him a fake grin. “So, cute little Cameron here was explaining why his name matches what appears to be his third arm.”

Just when he thought he'd escaped Spencer's sarcasm,
she
had to show up.

“I think it's cool,” said Estella. “Finish your story.”

Cameron tried not to breathe an audible sigh of relief. “That day my grandmother bought me a camera to remember her mistake. I started using it, my mom says, before my second birthday, and I've pretty much had a camera in my hand ever since.”

“So they're lettin' you film this whole thing?” asked Dacey.

“Doubtful.” But he had his camera now and focused on the door as it opened.

America's alternate, Jig Jiggerson, swaggered in and almost seemed to pose. He still had the great smile he'd flashed at the camera no matter how frustrated he must have been on the sidelines last year.

Almost on Jig's heels, Bill came bounding into the room. He pretended to sneak up on the life-sized polar bear; then he turned it around, unzipped its back, reached in, and pulled out five blue Gollywhopper Games T-shirts. He threw one at each of them. “These should be your sizes. If you prefer to change in the bathroom, we can arrange it.”

“Excuse me,” said Dacey, her nose sort of twitching. “But do we need to wear this? I mean, my mama and I shopped for days to find the right outfit. And this color blue clashes with the blue in my jeans.”

“No,” said Bill. “You don't have to wear it. We can always get the first alternate in here.”

“Maybe they should,” Estella whispered.

Dacey didn't seem to hear. “Fine,” she said. “Bathroom?”

Cameron and Jig changed in the room. Then Cameron sat at the table and filmed Jig punching a bounce-back alien until Bill and the girls returned.

“I've told a certain young woman who's unhappy with the wardrobe,” said Bill, “that a certain camera most likely captured her in all her fashionable glory. If she agrees, Cameron, might you post that later for the world to see?”

“Sure.”

“But for now . . .” Bill reached for the videocam.

Cameron paused, then handed it over.

“Ooh, that face,” Bill said. “Don't worry, my man. We won't lose it. Promise.”

“Thanks,” he said.

“Dacey, Jig. Cell phones, please.”

They handed them over.

“Don't worry, Dacey. It'll be safe with your clothes and your purse. And now I believe,” said Bill, “that's all for your electronics, right?”

Dacey reached to her waist and took off a little black box. “Pedometer,” she said. “I'm workin' on one million steps before school starts. Can I—”

Bill shook his head. “Sorry. Anyone else before our detectors embarrass you?”

Jig gave a low whistle. “Man, you are strict this year!”

“We are,” said Bill. “And you especially should appreciate that. Our alternates are waiting for any of you to make that one fatal error. Now, have a seat around the table.”

Each of them grabbed a seat, fast.

“Ha!” said Bill. “Threats work. So fifty lashes or danger of being disqualified if you don't listen to these instructions. Ready?”

They nodded. So did Bill.

A monitor showing Carol came down from the ceiling. “To ensure you receive the instructions in the same way,” she said, “you get us both. Our team has me in the room and you on the screen, Bill.”

“My team likewise, except you on-screen,” said Bill. “Now, in a few minutes we will send each team to identical but separate Golly warehouse rooms like the ones you probably saw on TV last year.”

High fives went all around.

“Once you're there,” Carol said, “you'll go through a puzzle-stunt sequence with a twist or two thrown in. To start, you'll find an envelope with your first puzzle. The answer to that puzzle will be represented by one of three Golly products. And those will be conveniently located on a nearby table. Each choice table will also hold pens and paper to use however you need. With us so far?”

They were.

“Okay,” said Bill. “When and only when you've decided on the correct answer, open the corresponding product. Inside will be directions for a stunt. If you perform the stunt correctly, you will receive a new puzzle. If you opened the wrong Golly product, it will have you perform the wrong stunt, and you will receive the puzzle you thought you'd already solved.”

“Oh, and we're so generous here,” said Carol. “We will generously add a five-minute penalty to your score on top of the time you wasted doing it all wrong.”

“The reason for that—”

Dacey raised her hand.

“Yes, Dacey?” said Bill.

“I want to tell you the reason.”

Ehhh!
Bill's buzzer impersonation was perfect. “I'm sure you do, Dacey, but we have to be the ones to tell you. And I can tell you, we threaten to shower you with penalties to ensure that you work at solving each puzzle. We have the whole place wired for sound and picture. We're like Santa Claus. We know what you're doing every single millisecond. Not only will you get a five-minute penalty for opening the wrong package, but you'll get an additional twenty-minute penalty if you open any product without having a logical reason.”

“It all boils down to this,” said Carol. “The team with the fastest time advances to the next round.”

“We will be lurking in the shadows if you need us—first-aid kits, bathroom passes, hoorays and huzzahs, and all that jazz. But outside of telling you where you stand in comparison to the other team, you're strictly on your own.”

“We wish we could help you,” said Carol. “Or I wish I could help
my
team, because Bill and I have another side bet this year.”

Bill rubbed his hand over his short hair. “It grew back after Carol graciously shaved it for me, but I'd have little to lose if we kept the same bet this time.”

“Instead, the bet is maid service,” Carol explained. “Once a week for a year. Either he comes to my house to clean or I come to his. So Orange Team, do for me what Green did last year. Win!”

“Or not,” said Bill. “Her house, I understand, is a pigsty.”

“And his, I understand, puts the term ‘pigsty' to shame. So there you have it,” Carol said. “Work hard for us. Oh, please, Orange Team, work hard for me, but more important, work hard for yourselves, play hard for yourselves, and above all, have fun.”

“And this ends our joint instructional session,” said Bill. “See you, Orange Team.”

“See you, Blue!” Carol said.

The screen went blank, then rose back into the ceiling.

Bill thrust a bunch of papers into the air. “And now, for your reading pleasure, written instructions.” He handed a stapled set to each of them. “It's what we just said, but in official language. So read. Absorb. Sign. When you're all done, talk. Get acquainted. Then we'll get these Games started.” He left the room.

Cameron somehow found the attention to read the rules. As Bill had said, nothing different, except maybe more about cheating. Cameron signed his and sat back.