The Gollywhopper Games by Jody Feldman Read Free Book Online

five hundred fifty. Which one? His dad had been closerbefore, but would it be cheating to use his number? Doubtful. It’s not like they knew that their guesses would be part of the Games, but Gil didn’t want to take a chance. Only one way to go. He added the two numbers and divided by two. Then he wrote his answer. “696.”
    The number of spots on a pair of dice.
    Too easy. He wrote “42” on his paper.
    He added the six numbers. He added them again and a third time, then wrote, “1,314” on a clean piece of paper. Time for the final part.
    The number of different toys and games Golly introduced in its first year of business.
    How many? This was the most important question of all, the multiplier.
    Gil closed his eyes and mentally opened the first notebook. Page three, at the bottom. He’d read those words a million times. “In the first year, introduced one new product each month.”
    Gil set up the equation, did his multiplication three times, then punched the number into his keypad. 15768. Enter.
    He leaned back and allowed the tiniest smile tobrush his lips. He knew the exact answer for each question except one. And no one knew that answer unless…
    Why did Rocky keep darting his head toward the stands?
    Mr. Titus was there, moving his stare along the desks at the far end of the field. He turned his head straight forward, whipped out a pen and paper and scribbled something. Then he rubbed his nose and touched his chin and pulled his ear like baseball managers do when they flash signals to their players. He stopped and nodded.
    Rocky entered an answer into his keypad then reclined in his desk chair, crossing his arms over his chest like he had just finished Thanksgiving dinner.
    Gil couldn’t look at Rocky anymore. He shifted his gaze away.
    About eight yards up, that rich kid, Thorn, was digging a finger in his ear. Gross. But it was like looking at roadkill. Gil couldn’t tear his eyes away. Instead of a sticky ball of wax, Thorn removed a flesh-colored blob. A hearing aid? So the rich kid wasn’t perfect. Thorn examined the earpiece, flickedit twice then replaced it in his ear. Wait a minute! Who needed a hearing aid to think?
    All Gil could do was laugh or else he’d scream. Here he was, worried about borrowing some random number from his dad and those two…
    Forget them. He still had a chance. A good one.
    A couple minutes later, the keypads went dead; the microphone came alive. “Please stay seated and silent,” said Randy. “We’ll be back to you in a matter of minutes.”
    That’s all the time it took. Bert Golliwop strode to center stage, holding an envelope and a microphone.
    “I’m Bert Golliwop, your host for the Gollywhopper Games, and…”
    “Stop the happy talk,” Gil said under his breath. “Say something important.”
    “Inside this envelope,” Mr. Golliwop said, as if reading Gil’s mind, “are the numbers of the semi-finalists, the ten who came closest to our number: 15,900.”
    Gil did some quick figuring. Missed it by only 132. That had to be close enough. Had to.
    “We will call contestant numbers starting with theclosest to the correct answer. If I call the number on your shirt, please join me on the stage.”
    “Come on. Say my number. Two forty-six eighty-two. Say it,” said Gil under his breath.
    “Here goes.”
    “Say it. Two forty-six eighty-two. Say it.”
    “Number one seven eight two seven.”
    Some guy from the other side of the field shouted and bounded onto the stage.
    “Number zero-zero-zero-zero one.”
    Big surprise. Thorn ambled up, like his mom called him to dinner. And he wasn’t hungry.
    “Number zero three seven oh two.”
    A short boy came from behind him. The kid looked eight years old.
    “Number one eight six four three.”
    Rocky’s father figured it right. Rocky galloped up with fists punching the air.
    “Number one zero zero three five.”
    A shriek came from somewhere. Man, that girl was cute.
    “Number two four six eight