Hiya, Miller,” Mrs. Noyes says. She’s sitting at the entrance to the youth exhibit drinking a Holmsbury Library lemonade. “Way to go on your entry this year!”
I smile, but since Mrs. Noyes would say “way to go” even for a “nice try” ribbon, I don’t get my hopes up. For extra luck, I decide to look at everything else before I check out my Theory of Everything “collection.”
Penny, Andrew, and Lou-Ann scatter to look for their entries. “Stay right here in this building until my dad and Andrew’s mom get here,” I call after them.
Since the youth exhibit is one long barn with a divider in the middle and only the one door, Lou-Ann can’t disappear in here. And since there are no moving parts in the barn and there’s nothing to eat, even Andrew ought to be able to keep himself in one piece. I can’t believe I made it through this whole, mostly awful Fair day without losing one member of the Pest Pack, but I did it. I let out a big, long breath.
“Want to see my entry?” Lewis asks.
“Sure,” I tell him. “You did photos, right?”
“Well, I wanted to print some stills off of my last movie but we were out of photo paper. So I picked wildflowers at the last minute.”
We walk over to the flower display, a wall of long shelves right near the front of the youth exhibit. Lewis shows me his entry, a tall vase exploding with flowers in every shape and color. There’s a blue ribbon next to it and a purple rosette with purple and gold ribbons streaming down from it.
“You got a first place and a special!” I thump him on the back. “Good going!”
“Can you believe that?” Lewis grins. “So where’s your Theory of Everything? I looked for it this morning, but I couldn’t find it with the sculptures.”
“It’s not in the sculptures,” I say. “I’ll show you when we get to it. Let’s just start from here and walk around the barn.”
We examine the tinfoil constructions, the dioramas, and the toilet-paper-roll robots. Lewis pans along the row of decorated pumpkins set up at the foot of the artwork wall.
“I like those three white pumpkins stacked to make a snowman.” I point. “And the one that’s a chicken.”
“I had this great idea for decorating a pumpkin,” Lewis says. “I was gonna cut out the insides and make it into an aquarium, with blue cellophane and papier-mâché fish you could see from the outside.”
“But you can’t cut or poke the pumpkins or they’ll rot during the Fair,” I tell him. “I read that in the Fair handbook.”
“Yeah,” Lewis says, “that’s why I didn’t do it. Hey—your sister’s drawing got a red!”
“That’s good. She did work pretty hard on it.”
Lewis cranes his neck, peering around the corner. “A kid down there is giving a whittling demonstration—looks like he’s making a walking stick. That would make a good close-up. Want to come?”
Woodworking is a lot closer to the collections than we are now, and even though I’m not superstitious like Lewis, I don’t want to jinx my project by going out of order. “I’ll be there in a bit,” I say.
“Okay. I’ll be back.” Lewis walks away.
“Miller! There you are!”
Andrew’s mother hurries over to me all out of breath. My watch says a quarter to six, my brain says adult baking exhibit, and I start breathing faster myself.
“What a day I’ve had!” she exclaims. “First that terrible migraine. Then I took this new medicine that knocked me flat. I can’t believe I slept the whole day away. And you walked all the kids to the Fair by yourself! How did you do it? How have things been going here?”
“Okay,” I say, speaking for Andrew and the others, not for myself. “We—”
“It was such a challenge getting here,” she goes on. “The traffic is backed up all the way to Wellstown. I had to park at the lower shuttle bus lot. Thank goodness I feel so much better now. And thank you for your note, and for stepping in like you did. Where are the little guys? Lou-Ann’s mom couldn’t get here, so I’m bringing Lou-Ann home, too.”
Yahoo! Two down, and one to go! “They’re here,” I say, “looking at their—”
“It’s too bad your mom had that emergency today, Miller,” Andrew’s mother says. “She missed the whole day at the Fair, just like me. Oh wait.” She rummages around inside her gigantic yellow purse. “Here’s Lou-Ann’s ten dollars. You must have paid for her ride bracelet. Or your dad did. So nice of you. I was holding it for her and I forgot all about it. I blame that migraine headache. What a day!”
“Mommy!” Andrew squeaks. He trips into his mother and throws his arms around her. “Come see my go-kart!”
Penny and Lou-Ann want her to come see their entries, too.
“Okay,” she says. “Once around and then it’s time to go home. Except for you, Penny. When we’re done looking, you’ll stay here with your brother.”
They move off down one side of the youth exhibit so that now I’m completely not in charge. Finally. I pump my fist in the air. I should go have a look at my project, but, putting it off, I backtrack to get a closer look at the decorated cakes.
One cake looks like a swimming pool. It has a cookie diving board and blue Jell-O in the middle for water. The cake next to it is a realistic-looking hamburger cake with lettuce, tomatoes, and mustard made of colored icing. Unlike a “physics collection,” a decorated cake is a regular entry category in the Fair handbook. I should try that category next year—Dad can teach me how to bake, and the decorating part seems fun. That’s if Dad still loves to bake after today. I gulp.
Andrew appears at my elbow. His mom and the others are standing behind him.
“Thanks for taking me to the Fair,” he mumbles.
“Tell Miller what you told me, Andrew,” his mother prompts.
Andrew stares straight ahead and recites, “If I had to have a big brother you wouldn’t be a bad one.”
“That’s what you think,” Penny says.
Lou-Ann smiles at me, then looks at her pink boots.
“Let’s go, kids,” Andrew’s mother says. “Thanks again, Miller, and please thank Lewis again for us, too.” She hustles Andrew and Lou-Ann through the doorway. “Bye-bye!”
“You’re welcome,” I say, even though they’re already out the door.
Penny runs after them. “I’ll give you your prizes tomorrow,” she calls. She comes back. “I won A LOT of ribbons,” she tells me.
I glance down at my watch. Ten minutes to six. “Why don’t you go look at them again while we wait for Dad?” I suggest.
“Good idea!” She hops away along the row of display cases.
Now that I’ve taken care of Penny for the next six hours, I check out the rest of the displays, working my way toward the collections. I don’t see Lewis near the whittler so I figure he must be shooting somewhere else. I look at other kids’ entries while I try to come up with something convincing to say to the adult baking judges. I have nine minutes.
At the far end of the building, I see a girl climb up the railing that protects the entries from the hordes of Fair-goers in the youth exhibit. I’m sure whoever is watching that kid will tell her to get down because you’re not supposed to be on the railings. Then I realize the climber is my sister.
Unbelieveable! Nine minutes left to solve the pie problem and I have to waste them worrying about Pain-elope. I stomp one step toward her, then stop. Actually, I don’t have to take care of this problem. There are always committee members watching the exhibit, so I’ll just let someone from the youth committee get Painy off of the railing. No one even knows I’m with her. I turn around and start to walk the other way.
“MILLER!” she yells. “MILLER YOU HAVE TO COME HERE RIGHT NOW!”
No, I don’t! I’ve spent all day keeping track of Painy and her friends, and I’m not going over to her now. In fact, I’m not even staying in the building with her. I barge around the divider the other way and up to the front entrance. When I get outside, I fold my arms and face uphill with my back to the youth exhibit. Dad can’t get here soon enough for me.
People are moving in and out of the horticulture building, the photography building, and the crafts building in a thick, steady stream. There are probably lots of people in adult baking, too, I realize. How long it will take me to find the judges? What if they’re not even there anymore?
I look back at the door to the youth exhibit. Lewis is in there shooting video. Penny knows Dad is on his way, and she’s waiting to show him her ribbons. Adult baking is just up the hill, so why should I wait until I have to race Dad there at six? I can check out the pie situation and try to find the judges right now, instead of during my time off. That way, when Dad gets to the youth exhibit I’ll be free and clear—my pie worries will be taken care of, Dad can go see his entry, and Lewis and I can do the rest of the Fair on our own like every other Holmsbury sixth grader. Finally!
I weave through the solid wall of people in front and push past the horticulture building toward the fence. If I slip behind the buildings I can make better time.
Near the fence, a tall, skinny figure is leaning against a light pole.
“Enjoying the Fair, Murray?”
I stop short.
“Um … sort of,” I tell Rip. Questions start to ping around in my brain. Why does he keep turning up? And is it just a coincidence that he’s next to the fence that separates the Fair from the old graveyard?
“Only sort of enjoying the Fair? Well, well.” Rip peers at me from under his white eyebrows. He chuckles. “And how about those flying death heads? Seen any of those lately?”
A chill prickles down my spine. Lewis was right! Rip is trying to get me into the old graveyard! Is Lewis right about him being a ghost, too? I wish Lewis was here so we could try to collect more ghosts-on-video data. But he’s not. So what should I do? My mind races.
Ghost matter shouldn’t feel like regular person matter. And if ghosts exist in a different dimension then you shouldn’t be able to feel them at all.
I take a step toward Rip, reach my hand toward his arm, brace myself, and—
A trumpet fanfare blares over the loudspeakers.
“That’s my cue.” Rip strides up the hill. “See you later, Manley.”
Just before Rip disappears into the moving mob, I see the woman in the long dress join him. Then they’re gone.
“Miller,” I mumble, slumping against the light pole.
I have no new data for Lewis, and now it’s three minutes to six. It’s too late to make it to adult baking and back in time. My last and worst pie plan is all I have left. The second I see my dad, I’ll blast off for adult baking.
I go back into the youth exhibit to tell Lewis he was right about Rip trying to get me into the graveyard. When I pass the collections display, I stop. I never checked to see what the judges thought of my entry. First, I see a collection of pencils with all of the names of the states on them. It has won a red ribbon. There’s a collection of miniature train engines with a blue ribbon. There are bottle caps (yellow ribbon), fancy toothpicks (yellow ribbon), foreign coins, and stamps (red and blue).
I find my “physics collection” hanging on the side wall just above the railing. It has not won any ribbon at all. None. Not even a light green “nice try” ribbon. How could the judges do that? I know my Theory of Everything isn’t a collection, but I worked so hard on it. And I added all of those extra-great models—the pompom bow, the garnet rock, the dead June beetle, Albert—
WHAT?
I lean over the railing. I’m staring at an empty space on my corkboard. Where is Albert Einstein? Maybe he fell off. I check the bottom shelf of the display case. There are other collections and lots of ribbons. But my bendable Albert Einstein is gone!
Painy! I saw her climb on the railing. She could have taken him then. I start a slow burn. She was also in the car with my project by herself last night before we left for the fairgrounds. I never even looked inside the box when I handed in my entry. No wonder I didn’t get a ribbon. My project is missing its best part!
“What’s wrong?” Lewis asks, coming up.
“Have you seen my sister? I need to talk to her right now.”
He shakes his head “Uh-uh. I’ve been shooting near the back.” He taps his camera. “She must be farther down the row, or on the other side of the building.”
“You go that way, I’ll go this way.” I point. “Meet me at the front when you find her.”
I run through one side of the youth exhibit. There are tons of kids and parents here. No Penny. When I get to the front, Lewis is there. By himself.
“She’s in here somewhere,” I say through gritted teeth. “Try again. Full circle each.”
We don’t find her.
“She took Albert Einstein off of my project!” I exclaim. “She didn’t just disappear!”
Lewis thinks back. “I saw her near the whittling. After that I shot the doorway action for a while.” He snaps his fingers. “If she left the building, then I should have it.”
He flips out the camera screen and hits fast rewind. We scan the replay of people coming and going through the wide youth exhibit entrance. Nothing. Lewis runs it back and plays it again.
“There!” he says. He stops the camera, rewinds, and plays it in slow motion.
People move in and out of the youth exhibit at one-quarter speed. A big jam-up clogs the entrance for a second or two. Then a splash of Fair ribbons weaves through the clog and out of the building.
My worry meter starts to flicker.