The Potato Chip Puzzles: The Puzzling World of Winston Breen by Eric Berlin Read Free Book Online

perhaps playing Dungeons and Dragons or Magic: The Gathering with the kids when business was slow. Simon was overweight—indeed, he was downright fat—and his black beard was scragglier than in the picture on the potato chip bags. He was also fantastically happy.
    “Hello!” he said. He all but skipped to the podium, his arms wide as if he planned on giving everybody in the room a hug.
    “Whoa,” said Jake.
    Mal laughed and said, “That’s exactly what I imagined a guy who makes potato chips for a living would look like!” Mr. Garvey glared at him and told him to shush.
    Simon leaned on the podium with his considerable body weight and beamed out at his audience as the applause tapered off. “Do you kids like puzzles?” Simon shouted, which brought the cheering back to a full boil.
    Simon laughed. “Me, too. All right, let me see. . . . Here’s one I like. . . . What’s the longest word you can think of that spells another word backward? Anybody have any guesses?”
    (Answer, page 240.)
     
    They spent some time on that, and then Simon said, “Ahh, you kids are in for a treat today. A grand adventure! Congratulations to all of you for cracking the code and making it here today, and thank you to all the great teachers who are accompanying you.” Simon clapped his hands, so everybody else did, too.
    The large man looked around at all of them, smiling, in no apparent rush to get the event started. “Just ten teams,” he said. “You know, I sent out forty of those secret messages to schools all around the area. I thought maybe half those schools would crack the code and send a team. Shows what I know! I was off by a bunch.” He laughed, as if his miscalculation was the best joke of the day. “All right,” he said when his laughter had subsided. “Let’s take care of the paperwork part of the festivities, shall we? And then we can get the show on the road.”
    Simon pulled a folded piece of paper from his back pocket and smoothed it out on the podium.
    “Let’s see if everybody made it,” he said. “Who’s from Brookville Junior High?”
    Those were the Brookville Brains. Upon hearing their name, their teacher jumped from his chair and whooped as if they had already won a prize. He tried urging his three students into showing some enthusiasm but got nowhere—all three of them were embarrassed rocks.
    Simon laughed and said, “All right, there’s some spirit! Cross Street School? Where are you?”
    These were three boys Winston had noticed earlier and dismissed as goofballs—they had spent their waiting time not chatting or strategizing but wrestling and roughhousing until their teacher had to bark at them to sit down and keep quiet. Even now, the three boys all cupped their hands to their mouths and yelled “Here!” at the top of their lungs, then collapsed into snickering. Their teacher got redfaced again and smacked the nearest one on the back of the head. Who had sent this group after a fifty-thousand-dollar prize?
    Simon read from his list again. “Demilla Academy?”
    Ah, that was probably a private school. That explained the outfits—the two girls were each wearing a starched white blouse and a stiff blue skirt, and the boy a fancy white shirt and tie. They looked like they were on their way to cater a wedding. Their teacher, who stood up and acknowledged their presence with a grave nod, was wearing a three-piece suit.
    “Where’s the funeral?” Mal whispered.
    “Shhh,” Jake said, but he couldn’t help laughing.
    Simon consulted his list again. “Greater Oaks Junior High?”
    That was the all-girl team. “We’re here,” said their frizzy-haired teacher. She started to stand, but thought better of it. Then she realized that other teachers had stood, so maybe she should, too. She stood back up. “We’re here,” she said again, and sat back down. She was a bundle of nervous energy. Her three students glanced at each other, and Winston could see them rolling their eyes.
    Despite