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  The Next “Next Big Thing”

  MY NAME IS Billy Sure. I’m an inventor. My company, SURE THINGS, INC., has come out with all kinds of stuff, ranging from the ALL BALL—our first product which is a ball that can transform into different kinds of sports balls—to our latest product, GROSS-TO-GOOD POWDER. It makes anything—and I mean anything, even frog legs wrapped in stinky cheese—taste good.

  Okay, full disclosure. Credit for a lot of the development for the Gross-to-Good Powder goes to my big sister, Emily. She’s fourteen. When Sure Things, Inc. began, few people could have shown less interest than Emily did, either in me or in my activities, even when those activities included starting a SUCCESSFUL BUSINESS at age twelve.

  But something has started to change between Emily and me recently. Oh, don’t get me wrong. It’s not like a “we’ve become best buds, let’s hang out, you’re my favorite person in the world” kind of change. It’s more like an “I no longer wish you lived on another planet” kind of change.

  Let me explain. I go to Fillmore Middle School, where I’m in seventh grade. I’m also the president of the Fillmore Inventors Club. I help students with ideas for inventions. It adds one more thing to my ridiculously busy life—school, running a business, homework, spending time with my dad and my dog, Philo—you get the idea. But with this club, I really have helped kids develop their ideas, and even more importantly, have helped to give them a place where they feel they belong.

  But I’m getting off topic, which is something I do a lot!

  Not long ago, the inventors club had been trying—unsuccessfully—to come up with a way to make spinach taste good. Then Emily showed up unexpectedly at a club meeting with a powder she had created that actually worked. Sprinkle a little of Emily’s powder on your spinach, and spinach is no longer to be feared! But then we had the idea to expand the powder’s powers. Together, Emily, Manny, and I tweaked her invention to make it work so that everything you sprinkle it on tastes good.

  But who’s Manny, you might ask?

  Manny’s my business partner in Sure Things, Inc. And I do mean business partner. Manny handles the marketing, packaging, advertising, getting people to invest in our products, and on and on. If it has to do with numbers or selling, Manny is all over it.

  He’s also my best friend, which he was long before Sure Things, Inc. came about.

  Anyway, since Emily’s help with the now WILDLY SUCCESSFUL Gross-to-Good Powder, she’s shown much more interest in the company, and we’re getting along better than we ever have.

  Today, Emily has joined Manny and me in the Sure Things, Inc. office, located in the garage at Manny’s house. She doesn’t come here often. In fact, until she came up with her powder not long ago, she had never actually bothered to step inside. I’m at my workbench, a.k.a. the Mad Scientist Division of Sure Things, Inc., cleaning up a bit following the frenzy—and mess—that always happens when I’m in the throes of inventing. And by “cleaning up,” I mean shoving piles of wires, switches, bulbs, knobs, and a rainbow-colored wig (don’t ask) off my worktable into a nearby drawer. Which leaves only about four layers of stuff on top of the table.

  Manny is hunched over his keyboard, as usual, tracking up-to-the-minute sales figures on all of our products.

  Emily is sitting next to me. Every time she looks at the mess on my workbench, she shakes her head and turns away.

  “What’s the latest on the Gross-to-Good Powder?” Emily asks Manny.

  Manny continues to tap away on the keyboard.

  “Uh, Manny,” Emily continues, “when someone asks you a question, the polite thing to do is to answer it. At least that’s how it works with NORMAL HUMANS.”

  Okay, so maybe Emily doesn’t want to ship me off to Saturn anymore, but I can’t say the same for my best friend. . . .

  Manny whirls around in his chair to face us.

  “Numbers are great. The Midwest is leading the way with a forty-seven percent rise in sales over the last three weeks,” he reports.

  “I would have thought that our house was leading the way, since we put the powder on every single thing Dad cooks!” Emily jokes.

  I love my dad. He’s a great artist and gardener, but he is, hands down, the world’s worst cook. Dad wasn’t always the only family chef. My mom travels a lot as a scientist doing research for the government, and about nine months ago she left for her longest trip yet. She wasn’t much better at cooking either, but Mom loved to order in pizza. Dad? Well, Dad likes pizza, but with his own additions. Asparagus, kale, codfish, chia seeds, stinky cheese instead of regular cheese . . . Dad’s cooking is really gross.

  Only he doesn’t think so. Fortunately, Emily filled our salt shaker at home with the Gross-to-Good Powder, so now Dad can keep thinking he’s a great cook, we don’t have to hurt his feelings by telling him otherwise, and we can stand to eat his cooking every night.

  As for my mom, I miss her a lot, although we e-mail all the time and video chat when possible.

  And so, at least for the time being, Emily and I have one of Dad’s bizarre concoctions to look forward to each night at dinnertime. In fact, Dad is so proud of his cooking that his latest painting project is a series of still lifes based on the strange dishes he’s come up with. It’s a little weird. I mean, who would want to buy a painting of JELLIED TUNA?

  “That’s fantastic, Manny,” I say after hearing the rundown of our sales figures.

  “Absolutely,” replies Manny. Then, without missing a beat, “So, what’s next?”

  That’s my partner. As soon as one invention is selling like crazy, Manny is ready to jump into what we’re going to do next.

  “I have a file of ideas we’ve rejected,” I say. “Maybe we could rethink one of those.” I grab a cardboard file box out from under my desk and pull off the lid. Okay—maybe I’m not the most organized. The file has rejected inventions in it, but it’s also got doodles of my favorite baseball team, the Hyenas, and the math homework I forgot to hand in last week.

  “Let’s see . . . there’s the pen that turns into a jet pack . . .” I begin, reading off the correct paper. “Nah, getting the engine that small could take years.”

  “What about another product like the SIBLING SILENCER?” Emily asks. She smiles smugly. Emily loves using Sure Things, Inc.’s second product on me. Last week she silenced me when I was talking about superheroes. Just as I was about to tell her about how I’d love to be invisible, ZING! I couldn’t talk any more. Note to self: Install a “Billy Immunity” option on future models.

  “Actually, I didn’t invent that,” I say. “That came out of our Next Big Thing contest where other young inventors submitted their ideas on our website. We picked the one we liked the best and helped the inventor make it a reality.”

  “So, why not do that again?” asks Emily.

  I turn to Manny, who seems to be half listening and half answering his e-mails, even though he’s the one who started this conversation.

  “What do you think, Manny?” I ask.

  Manny doesn’t react. Make that one-quarter listening, and three-quarters answering e-mails.

  “I don’t think he heard you, Billy,” says Emily. “Working with someone like
this every day would drive me—”

  “What if we took the contest ONE STEP FURTHER?” Manny says suddenly, turning to look right at us. “What if we turned the Next Big Thing contest into a TV show?”

  Emily shoots me a look that I can only interpret as: Okay, maybe working with this guy is not so bad after all.

  “A TV show?” I ask.

  “Yeah. Well, more like a TV show special, where young inventors present everything from rough ideas to preliminary sketches to first-pass prototypes. Then the judges—I’m thinking the three of us—vote. It won’t be about who has already made the best invention, but who has the best idea. Just like with the Sibling Silencer, the winning inventor would share in the profits, and the TV show would be marketing in itself!”

  “That would be way cooler than just sending your idea to a website,” says Emily.

  “But how do we even do that?” I ask. “I mean, a TV show? Where do we start?”

  “I’ll get in touch with Chris Fernell,” Manny says. “He should be able to point us in the right direction.”

  Chris Fernell is the host of ‘BETTER THAN SLEEPING!’, the TV show where I was interviewed just after the All Ball hit big. He’s somewhat of a friend, or as much of a friend as a TV host can be with a kid, and that’s pretty cool.

  “This is fantastic,” I say. “Doing a TV show again, and helping a young inventor, and coming up with Sure Things’ NEXT BIG THING! Wow!”

  As usual, Manny has the answer. Reason #988 why I’m glad that he’s my best friend and my business partner.

  The Game Plan

  I’LL BE HONEST. There’s more than one reason I’m excited about the TV show contest.

  You see, my BIRTHDAY is coming up—March 28. In the past, I’ve had awesome birthday parties: ice skating, laser tag, the movies, more laser tag, you name it. But this year I’ve been so busy that I haven’t had time to plan anything. And if I turn thirteen all by myself with only Philo for company . . . well, that would be really ruff. (See what I did there?) But with the TV show, I might have time to start thinking about what to do on my big day, since I won’t be busy inventing.

  The next morning before school I shoot off a quick e-mail to my mom. Mom always knows how to cheer me up. Like I said, I really do miss her. One thing that’s helped a bit is that we’ve started to have more video chats. Seeing her face always makes me feel better.

  I plop myself down at my computer, rub the gunk out of my eyes, and type:

  Hi Mom,

  I wanted to catch up, so here goes! The Gross-to-Good Powder—the stuff that Emily helped us invent that makes even Dad’s cooking taste good—is doing really well. I guess Dad’s not the only terrible cook in the world.

  Are you ready for a shocker? Emily has been stopping by the office. She actually seems interested in what we’re doing there. It’s kinda cool, although sometimes I wonder if spies have kidnapped her and replaced her with a robot double who’s been programmed to be nice to me.

  The really, really exciting news is that Manny is trying to set up a TV show for us so we can hold a contest to help pick Sure Things’ Next Big Thing. Which means I might get to be on TV again! If anyone can set this up, it’s Manny. Anyway, gotta get to school. Do you have time for a video chat tonight?

  Love you,

  Billy

  I hit send, then hurry off.

  After a pretty uneventful day at school, I scoot home, grab a snack, pick up Philo, and head to the office. I walk through the door to find Manny on the phone. It doesn’t take me long to figure out who he is talking to.

  “That’s right, we would be the judges . . . what? I guess we could get some other judges if you think that would be better . . . a big name, huh?”

  A BIG NAME? On our show? Who would we ask? I start to think about the celebrities we could invite . . . Dustin Peeler, the pop star, is a big fan of the All Ball, but he’s gone off the grid lately. Gemma Weston? She’s an actress-turned-humanitarian who was caught using the Gross-to-Good Powder at a restaurant last week. As I said before, our inventions are pretty popular. Hmm.

  “So if we get him, you’re on to produce? Deal? Deal! Thanks, Chris. I’ll be back to you in a flash. Later, babe.”

  Manny hangs up.

  “ ‘Back to you in a flash’? ‘Later, babe’? Don’t tell me you’ve gone all Hollywood on me now,” I say, unable to hold back a smile.

  “You gotta speak their language, Billy,” Manny says, trying to sound serious but fighting back a smile. “So here’s the deal. Chris Fernell loves the idea of doing a TV show to help pick our Next Big Thing.”

  “I can’t believe it’s that easy.”

  “It isn’t.”

  “Oh.” It never is.

  “He loves the idea and has even agreed to produce the show himself, through his production company, Big Time TV,” Manny continues.

  “I hear a big fat ‘but’ coming up,” I say.

  “Here it is,” says Manny. “Chris will produce the show, but only if we can get a big-name sponsor to be our partner and participate.

  “Chris suggested reaching out to Carl Bourette and the Hyenas baseball team! He remembered how excited both you and Carl were to meet each other when you appeared on his show. What do you think?”

  Okay, that’s a way better idea than Gemma Weston! I’ve been a fan of Carl Bourette’s since his rookie year. I even have his rookie trading card. It was an amazing thrill to meet him when we were both on ‘BETTER THAN SLEEPING!’ And the weird thing about that was that Carl was as excited to meet me as I was to meet him. Turns out Carl and his Hyenas teammates are big fans of the All Ball!

  “Are you kidding?” I say, practically jumping out of my skin. “A chance to see Carl Bourette again, much less work with him on a TV show? Nah, I think I’ll pass.”

  Manny’s eyes open wide.

  “GOTCHA!” I say. “Of course I want to do this!”

  “I’ll call the Hyenas’ office and see what we can work out,” Manny says, smiling. But I smile bigger.

  “I have a better idea,” I say, pointing to the bulletin board above my workbench. Every square inch is covered with papers, sketches, photos, napkins I’ve scribbled on . . . you get the idea. But prominently displayed, right in the center of this ever-changing collage, is a printed copy of the Hyenas’ baseball schedule. “The Hyenas have a preseason game this afternoon. Why don’t we go and see if we can talk to Carl in person?”

  “Play ball,” says Manny, closing his laptop and heading for the door.

  • • •

  “Three tickets, please,” I say, stepping up to the window at Hyenas Stadium. Manny’s dad agreed to take us to the ballpark on super-short notice. I can feel my excitement building. I always get happy when I see a baseball game, and today I have the added excitement of seeing Carl Bourette, and maybe getting the chance to work with him again.

  The stadium is a beautiful sight. I smile when I get my first glance at the field. As busy as my life is, I have got to find a way to go to more Hyenas games.

  Before we sit down, Manny and his dad head to a food stand. They’re not nearly as big baseball fans as I am, even though they are always willing to join me at a game. I actually think that Manny’s favorite part of the game is the food. The three of us share a tray filled with four giant hot dogs, a mountain of fries, and two large sodas.

  Yup, it’s definitely the food.

  As I munch on a hot dog, a voice booms from the stadium’s loudspeaker:

  “Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Hyenas Stadium for today’s game between the Mighty Oaks and your hometown heroes, the Hyenas!”

  A roar goes up from the crowd.

  “And now . . . it’s time . . . to PLAY BALL!”

  With that, the Hyenas take the field.

  “THERE’S CARL!” I shout, pointing to the player running out to take his position at shortstop.

  The game begins. I settle into the easy rhythm of pitches, hits, strikeouts, walks, and the rest. Manny jumps ou
t of his seat . . . on his way toward his third hot dog.

  The game is close and exciting. When the top of the ninth inning rolls around, the Hyenas trail 2–3, and things look like they are about to get worse for the home team. The Oaks have the bases loaded with two outs. And to make matters worse, their best hitter strides to the plate.

  A nervous buzz passes through the crowd, shifting to the ever-familiar chant of:

  “Let’s go Hyenas, ha, ha, HA!”

  The Hyenas’ pitcher goes into his motion just as Manny returns with another hot dog. The pitcher delivers his pitch.

  The batter swings and smacks a sharply hit ground ball toward short. Carl hustles to his right, slides onto the outfield grass, and makes a backhanded grab of the ball. Popping back up to his feet, Carl turns and fires the ball across the diamond. It slams into the first baseman’s mitt with a loud crack!

  The umpire signals that the batter is out. The crowd cheers wildly as the Hyenas trot toward their dugout.

  “Yeah, Carl!” I shout. “What a fantastic play,” I say to Manny, who nods and mumbles through his full mouth.

  Bottom of the ninth. The Hyenas’ catcher leads off. Carl steps into the on-deck circle. He’ll be batting second this inning. The Hyenas have to score, or they’ll lose the game.

  The Hyenas’ catcher lines the first pitch into left field for a single. Carl walks up to the plate.

  “Come on, Carl, end this game!” I shout.

  Carl measures out his swing. The first pitch is outside. Ball one. The next pitch flies right down the middle of the plate. Carl swings and drives the ball deep to right field . . . going . . . going . . . GONE! A two-run, walk-off, game-winning home run!

  YEAH!

  The crowd stands and cheers as Carl trots around the bases. His teammates are all at home plate jumping up and down.

  “What a game!” I say as we head from our seats.

  “Now we can talk to Carl about the TV show,” says Manny, letting out an enormous belch.