Billy Sure, Kid Entrepreneur Read online

  He’s confused. “What whole thing?   ” Then he looks excited. “Is that your next invention? THE HOLE THING? Does it fix holes, like in pants? Or buckets? What about holes in hoses? There are so many possibilities!”

  I shake my head. “No, it’s not my next invention. I mean this whole business thing. Sure Things, Inc.”

  Manny looks worried. “What about it?   ”

  I take a deep breath. “I’m not sure I can handle all this. It was okay over the summer, but now with school and people coming up to me all the time, it’s too much.”

  Manny looks relieved. He picks up a small All Ball and starts tossing it up, letting it fall, and catching it. He tosses it almost all the way up to the ceiling of the garage. I’m tempted to secretly change the ball with the remote, but we’re having a serious conversation.

  “You probably just need a few days to adjust,” Manny says. “Today was only the second day of school. It’ll get better.”

  “Will it?   ” I ask, getting up and pacing around. “I thought today would be better. That everyone would’ve gotten over it and start obsessing over something else. Like how Mr. Frankenwald shaved the shape of a chicken into his buzz cut over the summer.”

  Manny laughs, thinking about the sixth-grade art teacher’s new haircut. “Yeah, not sure what he’s going for there.”

  “But today even more kids asked me questions!” I continue. “Everyone wants to talk to me about their ideas for inventions. It never stops. I don’t know if I want to do this anymore. Can’t we just do it later, when we’re older?   ”

  Manny looks alarmed. He obviously doesn’t want to just put the business on hold. “Billy, lots of people are depending on Sure Things now. They’re working for the company, and it’s their job. You can’t just take their jobs away! And who knows if people will still buy the All Ball later. Things change! Fast!”

  “Yeah, I noticed,” I say, thinking of how my life has changed over the summer.

  Manny thinks for a minute.

  “You know, people telling you their ideas, that part doesn’t really sound all that bad.”

  I think about it. “I guess you’re right. It’s fun hearing other people’s ideas, but I just don’t want them interrupting me all the time.”

  Manny nods. “That makes sense. I can see how that could start to drive you crazy. Maybe next time someone starts bugging you, you can think of a way to let them down easy. It never hurts to stand up for yourself.”

  He walks over to his chessboard and moves a white bishop. He smiles. Then he walks around to the other side of the board and frowns. I guess it was a good move for white and a bad move for black.

  He looks up. “Let me think about it. Maybe there’s something we can do to make things better for you. In the meantime, don’t give up on Sure Things just yet. And keep thinking about a way to make the Candy Brush work! I still think that’s a great idea.”

  He sits back down at his computer, so I wake up mine and check my e-mail. There’s one from my mom:

  Hi, Billy,

  Wow. Mud Pie Seasoning. Cool idea. What other inventions are you working on? I’d love to hear more about how your business is going. Tell me all about it! When you do, send me lots of details. That way it doesn’t seem as though we’re so far apart.

  Love,

  Mom

  P.S. Go, Hyenas!

  I reply right away, telling her about how I’m working on the Candy Brush. Then I write about the Hyenas’ chances of making the play-offs, even though their chances are pretty much zilch minus zero. Same as every other year.

  • • •

  By lunchtime the next day I’m beginning to think that things are getting a little better. I only got five loan requests this morning. Other than the kid who followed me into the bathroom to beg me to invent jet packs, it’s been a pretty normal day.

  Then I hear the announcement over the loudspeaker. “Will Billy Sure please report to the principal’s office?   ”

  “Ooh!” say all the kids around me, assuming I’m in big trouble, especially because this is the second time I’ve been called down there in three days. Maybe this time I really am in trouble.

  As I walk as slowly as possible through the halls, I think about the announcement: “Will Billy Sure please report to the principal’s office?   ” Why do they always say “report?   ” Am I supposed to walk in with pages in a binder? Ready to give a speech on Huckleberry Finn or the Greek gods? You never “report” to anything good. “Please report to the carnival.” “Please report to the water park.” “Please report to your birthday party.”

  When I sit down in Principal Gilamon’s office, it’s pretty obvious I’m not in trouble, because he’s got a huge smile on his face. “Billy!” he says. “Just the man I want to see!” He says this as though I just dropped into his office to surprise him, not because I was summoned over a loudspeaker.

  “I want to show you something,” he says. “I think you’re going to like it.”

  He reaches behind his desk and holds up a poster. Across the top it says, You’d better believe you’re gonna achieve! There are lots of stars and rainbows and fireworks. And the bottom two-thirds of the poster are filled with a picture of me.

  As if that’s not bad enough, it’s not even a good picture of me. It’s my school picture from sixth grade. The photographer was trying to make me smile, so he stuck his tongue out. But instead of smiling, I look weirded out.

  So even though the poster says, You’d better believe you’re gonna achieve!, in the picture I look like I don’t believe it for a second.

  I’m not sure what to say.

  “Well,” Principal Gilamon says, “what do you think?   ”

  “What’s it for?   ”

  “It’s our poster for Achievement Day!” he says. “Week after next, we’re going to have a day dedicated to achievement. And I was hoping you might be willing to give an inspirational speech to your fellow students.”

  “What would I say?   ”

  He chuckles. “Well, I was hoping you’d talk about your own achievements with the Everything Ball—”

  “All Ball.”

  “Right, the All Ball, and about some of the qualities it took for you to reach that achievement—drive, discipline, dedication . . . hey! Those all start with D! That could be your speech! The Three Ds! Or you could call it Achieving in 3-D! We could hand out 3-D glasses! Oh, this is great!”

  He starts scribbling down ideas on a big pad of paper. He looks so enthusiastic that I hate to burst his bubble.

  But I have to. I take a deep breath and then the words just start tumbling out of my mouth.

  “Mr. Gilamon, I’m finding all the attention I’m getting really distracting. It makes it hard for me to concentrate on my schoolwork and my . . . work work. I’ve got a lot on my mind. If I had to write a speech to deliver in front of the whole school, I think I’d go crazy. Achievement Day sounds like an okay idea, but I don’t want my picture on the poster. And I don’t want to give a speech. I kind of wish I could just be a normal student that day, instead of the one everyone’s staring at and wanting to be like or borrow money from or punch.”

  I stop speaking and take another breath.

  Mr. Gilamon looks concerned. “Has anyone punched you?   ”

  “No,” I say. “Actually, everyone’s been pretty nice. But I’m afraid giving a speech might make some of them want to punch me.”

  The principal sits there for a moment, thinking. Then he smiles and nods. “I understand, Billy. Of course I don’t want to do anything that’ll interfere with your schoolwork—that’s the most important thing. And I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

  He stands up. So do I.

  “Maybe we’ll just put Achievement Day on hold for now,” he says. “Don’t worry about it. It sounds as though you’ve already got plenty to think about.”

  Whew. Principal Gilamon is actually a really cool guy.
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  • • •

  After school, when I get to the office with Philo, Manny’s excited. “I think I’ve got a solution to your problem.”

  “Which one?   ”

  “The one where everybody wants to tell you their ideas for new inventions.”

  “Headphones? Bodyguards? A force field surrounding me at all times?   ”

  Manny actually considers my last suggestion for a second. “Interesting,” he says. “Personal force fields. I like it. Maybe it could shoot out of your belt or something. We could call it the AVOID STUFF BELT—”

  “But what’s your idea?   ” I interrupt.

  “The Internet,” he says proudly.

  “But, Manny, the Internet already exists.”

  Manny paces around, moving his hands through his dark hair. He does that when he’s excited. Philo follows him, but he doesn’t even notice.

  “We’re not inventing the Internet, but putting something on it. We’ll make a website called SURE THINGS’ NEXT BIG THING! Kids who have ideas for inventions will be able to upload videos explaining their ideas.”

  “Okay,” I say. “Then what?   ”

  “Then if you and I like any of the ideas, we’ll e-mail the inventor and ask if he or she would like Sure Things, Inc. to take the idea and develop it. We manufacture the product and share the profits with the inventor. And we hope each product will be the next big thing!”

  “So, a website for kids’ ideas for inventions,” I say, thinking about Manny’s idea.

  “I figure it’ll take some of the pressure off you to come up with ideas for more inventions like the All Ball,” Manny says.

  But I’ll still have the pressure of actually developing the inventions. And Manny still doesn’t know I’m not the one who solved the problem of how to make the All Ball. Every day that I don’t confess only makes it worse. But every time I think about it, I chicken out. I need some bravery serum or something. If I couldn’t figure out how to make my own idea work, how will I be able to figure out somebody else’s idea?

  But I don’t tell Manny what I’m thinking. Instead I ask, “And how does this solve my problem of kids coming up to me at school and telling me their ideas for inventions?   ”

  Manny grins and hands me a business card. “If anyone comes up to you and starts explaining their brilliant idea, you just give them one of these.”

  I look at the card. It says Sure Things’ Next Big Thing! Underneath there’s a web address.

  “Well,” Manny says impatiently. “What do you think? Genius, huh?   ”

  I’m not totally sure about the idea. I mean, I know it’s brilliant, but the pressure of having to figure out a way to develop all of these inventions is a serious problem. But Manny’s so enthusiastic about his idea that I say yes. Who knows? Maybe no one will submit any ideas anyway.

  Motor Beds and Super Sleds

  BOY, WAS I WRONG.

  Manny gets the website up and running quickly. Then he goes through all the media contacts—television reporters, magazine writers, website editors—that he collected when everyone wanted to do stories about the All Ball. I’m pretty sure he even has celebrities like Dustin Peeler and Carl Bourette on his list of contacts. He sends them a press release about Sure Things’ Next Big Thing, and the word spreads.

  QUICKLY.

  In no time at all, we’re getting so many videos from kids all over the world that the website crashes. Even though Manny makes the rules really clear (kids only, original ideas only, useful inventions only), there are still tons of videos.

  At the office, sipping multiflavored sodas, Manny and I start watching the videos together, taking notes on our computers.

  One of the first videos that arrives on the website is from a kid in Canada. He’s standing in his bedroom, waving at his computer’s camera.

  “Hello!” he says. “My name is Mark, and I’d like to tell you my idea for Sure Things’ Next Big Thing!”

  Mark jumps onto his bed. “Has this ever happened to you? You’re lying in bed, snuggled under the covers. You’re warm. You’re cozy. You’re happy!”

  Mark gets under the covers and pulls them up to his chin, looking very warm and cozy indeed.

  “But then your mom yells, ‘MARK! HURRY UP! YOU HAVE TO GO TO YOUR PIANO LESSON!’ ” Mark screams this part in a high-pitched voice. Then he speaks in his normal voice again. “Now you have to get out of your nice, cozy bed. Or do you?!”

  Mark gets out of his bed and approaches the camera. “Not if you have a motor for your bed! Just attach a motor to your bed and then you can drive it anywhere. You’ll never have to get out of your warm, cozy bed again!”

  Mark moves even closer to his computer, reaching to shut it off. I can see up his nostrils. I wish I couldn’t. “Thank you for your attention. Please help me make the MOTOR BED Sure Things’ Next Big Thing.”

  Manny turns to me. “Hey! That’s not a bad idea.”

  “Definitely. Is there anyone who loves getting out of bed when you’re all snuggled up under the covers?   ” I say. “But I see one major problem.”

  “What’s that?   ”

  “Doors. How would you get through them? We’d either have to make larger doors or smaller beds. It’s too complicated.”

  “Good point,” Manny agrees. “Next.”

  In the next video a girl holds up a sock. “I present the NO-WASH SOCK! I’ve come up with a material that’s so slick, dirt can’t stick to it. So your socks always look nice and clean!”

  She moves a little closer to the camera. “But I could use your help with two small problems. One, the socks are so slick, they slide around in your shoes. Two, even though they look clean, these socks still start to smell after not being washed for a week or two.”

  Manny and I laugh. “So they’re clean, but they’re hard to wear and they stink!” he says.

  “I think we’ll put that in the ‘no’ pile,” I say.

  “Or the dirty laundry pile,” Manny adds.

  He clicks on another video. This one’s from a kid all the way in Finland.

  “Hello!” he says, standing outdoors and waving. “My name is Franz. Tired of your plain old sled? Then why not try FRANZ’S SUPER SLED! Like a regular sled, Franz’s Super Sled slides down snowy hills. But it slides super fast!”

  Then the video cuts to a shot of Franz at the top of a hill. He waves, pulls goggles down over his eyes, gets on the sled, and pushes off. Zoom! Crash!

  Manny and I grimace as we watch the sled zoom down the hill as fast as a cheetah flying a jet plane and then crash into the snowbank at the bottom of the hill.

  “I’m okay!” Franz calls as he climbs out of the snow.

  “Snow way on that invention,” says Manny, laughing at his little joke. “Too dangerous.”

  The ideas just keep coming.

  A boy submits an idea for a pencil that does all your homework for you, although the prototype keeps going rogue and scribbling all over his walls and even his parents. Too many bugs to work out.

  A girl suggests bubble gum that’s stretchy enough that you can blow bubbles as big as hot air balloons. But when a bubble pops, it covers the chewer in gum goo. The inventor had to shave all her hair off. Too sticky.

  We watch another video about shoes that can take over for your legs, allowing you to run incredibly fast and jump incredibly high. I think that idea sounds really cool, but Manny quickly points out that it’s way too dangerous.

  Manny and I watch so many videos that I feel like I need a new pair of eyeballs, they hurt so much. We start to see ideas more than once. It’s amazing that even though two kids live on opposite sides of the planet, they both come up with the same idea about pants with springs in them so you can bounce on your butt.

  “My ‘no’ column is a lot longer than my ‘maybe’ column,” I tell Manny.

  “Mine too, but that’s good,” Manny replies. “We don’t need thousands of ideas. In fact, we really only need one
terrific one.”

  We keep watching until we feel as though our eyes are going to fall out of our skulls. Many of the videos are too dark, or too light, or out of focus. Sometimes the person steps out of the picture, so you’re just staring at a wall. A lot of times the audio is hard to understand. But while we’re watching all these videos, more keep arriving. And more. And more. Just keeping track of which ones we’ve watched is hard enough.

  “Help,” Manny moans.

  “What’s the matter?   ”

  “No, I mean we need help,” he explains. “We can’t spend all our time watching these videos from the website. I’ve got other things to do.”

  “Okay,” I say, nodding. “But where are we going to get help? Who can we get to watch all these videos for us? Philo? He has kind of a short attention span.”

  Hearing his name, Philo looks up from his doggy bed. When he realizes I’m not giving him a treat, he plops his head back down.

  “I’ve got an idea about who we can get,” Manny says.

  • • •

  “No way, genius,” Emily says, making the kind of face she usually reserves for Dad’s stuffed sardines. “I have no interest in hanging out with you and your math whiz buddy in a hot, smelly garage.”

  I am standing in my sister’s bedroom, pleading my case while she lies on her bed putting polish on her toenails. Black polish, of course.

  “It’s not hot,” I protest. “It’s air-conditioned. We have to keep it cool for the computers. And it’s not smelly, either. I mean, a lot of the time it smells like pizza, but that’s not smelly. That’s delicious.” I wrinkle my nose. “Nail polish is way stinkier than our office.”

  “Forget it,” she says. “Close the door as you go.”

  I have an idea. “You know, you wouldn’t have to work in our office. You can watch the videos and take notes on them anywhere. Then you can e-mail us your notes. And who knows? You might be part of a really important new technology! One that changes the world!”