There are a few loose ends you’re probably wondering about. I’ll try to tie them up for you.
First, the day after the Winter Formal, I helped Orson build a snowman in the front yard. It was made completely of snow and had a black hat and a corn-cob pipe and a carrot for a nose . . . and glowing red eyes, and metal pinchers, and vampire teeth. My mom is praying for a heat wave.
Now, about Mr. Jolly. Reynolds found him. I guess that isn’t really a surprise because, well, Reynolds finds everything. He’s the biggest snoop in town. But he’s also got one of the biggest brains, which is something I don’t give him enough credit for.
You see, Reynolds figured out that Mr. Jolly had a problem — he couldn’t think. And because he couldn’t think, he just kept rolling when he should have stopped. Franklin, on the other hand, was a great thinker. In fact, since he didn’t have a body, thinking was about the only thing he could do. So Reynolds put them together.
I don’t mean to make it sound like it was easy. I’m sure it wasn’t. Fortunately, he had a lot of help.
“G-Force did most of it,” Reynolds said. “He’s kind of a genius with electronics.”
Actually, he kind of is. But it wasn’t just Gerald; it was all the BAs. They teamed up and worked on Mr. Jolly, partly because they felt bad about not believing me when I said I didn’t wreck Putt-Putt. Now that it was all over the news, everyone naturally assumed the smashers were responsible. And they were right — they just didn’t know that the smashers were robots, and Monster was their king.
So the BAs were more than happy to use what they knew about robotics to turn Mr. Jolly into a plump, plastic hugging machine. When they were done, Franklin had a Facetime connection and could see everything through the tablet’s camera. What’s more, he could control the snowman’s actions like some kind of an onboard remote control.
And, when the robots finally went on the rampage, Franklin did what he does — he came to the rescue.
As for what happened at the Winter Formal? Well, people are still trying to figure that out. Right after I left, Mr. Z met the police in the parking lot and led them into the gym. But all they found were some empty boxes, a few barrels, and other pieces of poorly made robot costumes. They called them “costumes,” because what other explanation could there be? I mean, cardboard boxes don’t just get up and dance all by themselves!
It was a mystery, all right. Even Mr. Z was stumped. Of course, he might have figured it out if there’d been even a trace of goo left inside the robotic remains, but there wasn’t. It was gone. So the official story was that, in the confusion, the smashers had shed their robo-skins and scurried out a side door. Sure, it was strange that no one saw a group that size getting away, but there were an awful lot of kids running around that night.
Besides, you have to expect this kind of thing during the Mega-Monster Film Festival. It attracts a lot of weirdos.
Speaking of the film festival, the riot downtown made the national news. There was a rumor that it started when someone sent real robots into the crowd. Of course, the theater owners denied it, but you know how rumors are — they die hard. Especially ones that are good for business.
They’re expecting twice as many people at next year’s Mega-Monster.
That leads us to Winnie McKinney. Needless to say, she was not a happy prombie. All she’d wanted was one night, just one, with everybody gathered together and the room decorated like something out of a fairy tale. I’d ruined that. It was a memory that I’d taken away forever.
I thought about that as I led her across the dirt road. She hadn’t wanted to come but when I have my heart set on something, I can be very annoying.
“It’s cold, Howard. Where are you taking me?”
“You’ll see.”
“Can I at least take off the blindfold?”
“In a second,” I said.
We stepped inside the big aluminum building.
“Now,” I told her.
She took off the blindfold, and there were fireworks in her eyes. I couldn’t give her back the memory I took away, but her smile told me that maybe, just maybe, she’d made a new one.
Skatesville looked like, well, Skatesville. What I mean is it looked like the Skatesville I remembered from when I was a kid. Only better because it was all dressed up with the decorations from the Winter Formal.
Everybody had helped. Reynolds, Gerald, the BAs — even the UPs. They’d all pitched in and cleaned up the place. Trevor couldn’t believe how many kids showed up. But it really wasn’t hard to get them there. It seemed like everybody remembered Skatesville, and they all wanted to see the place come back to life.
Gerald and Richard even got the old sign on the roof working. So Skatesville officially shined again.
“Well, you’re finally here!” Crystal screeched. “So are we going to skate or what?”
Winnie and I sat down and put on some skates. Then we carefully rolled onto the newly polished floor. Meanwhile, Mr. Jolly glided gracefully around us. I swear, even though the building wasn’t empty anymore, Franklin’s laugh echoed like he was skating through a cave. Josh, Missi, Joni, and Wendell formed a human chain and whipped past us. Dino and Kyle were ramming each other like roller derby stars. I saw Gerald skating backward . . . the big show-off. Reynolds was hugging the rail.
Winnie looked at me.
“So, do I still get that dance?” she said.
I gulped. After seeing my moves with the robots, I figured dancing would be the last thing anyone would want me to do. Ever! But you never know with girls, so I’d picked out a song just in case. I nodded at Trevor, and when the music started, Winnie smiled.
We skated out to the middle of the rink, and everyone else joined us.
We put our left hands in.
We took our left hands out.
We put our left hands in, and we shook them all about.
We did the Hokey Pokey and we turned ourselves around.
Because that’s what it’s all about.
The End