Billy Sure Kid Entrepreneur and the No-Trouble Bubble Page 5

  The show rolls along smoothly from this point on. A series of inventions are presented, including some fantastic ideas that I’m certain will make it to the finals, and a few that are a clear-cut no. For example, one girl presents an app that lets you reserve your table in the school cafeteria. No way would the lunch staff accept this one—at least not in my school.

  Then there is a hat that makes your hair grow faster when you wear it. This one I don’t get at all. Why would people want to grow hair faster? That would just mean more trips to see the hairdresser. Oh, and the hair it grows comes out smelling like pickles. Again, the appeal is lost on me, but I see Emily nod enthusiastically. “Nothing a little perfume can’t fix,” I hear her say under her breath.

  And finally, probably the most frequently proposed idea ever—the TIME MACHINE. Many people have suggested it. Some have even come up with rough designs. But I’m telling you, it’s impossible. Unless, of course, someone invents it way in the future and uses it to come back to our time to show us how to build one.

  When the final contestant is finished, the five judges huddle together, comparing scores.

  “Well, the tension is so thick you could cut it with a knife,” says Chris. “The judges are deciding which six inventors get to come back and show off their ideas again tomorrow night, when only one will be chosen as—THE NEXT BIG THING!”

  For this first round, there’s no time for discussion. We’re simply adding up the scores. When we’re ready, Carl stands up and announces the six finalists. All of my favorites made it in! We’ll get a closer look at their ideas tomorrow.

  “That’s it for tonight, but don’t you dare do anything else tomorrow, because we’ll be back for the finals of Sure Things, Inc. and the Hyenas Present the Next Big Thing!”

  And then the show is over.

  Chris walks over to the judges table and shakes each of our hands. “Fantastic, guys, just great,” he says. “And the best is yet to come. See you tomorrow!”

  A few minutes later we are all backstage in the green room. Dad, Mrs. Nielson, and Manny’s parents join us.

  “You guys were great!” says Dad, giving Emily and me big hugs.

  “We really didn’t do anything,” Emily points out. “We just wrote down our scores.”

  “You looked very handsome on TV,” Dr. Reyes says to Manny, who smiles that forced smile of his.

  “I enjoyed all of it,” Mrs. Nielson says. “You looked so grown-up, Abby.”

  “Thanks, Mom.”

  “You guys were all real pros out there,” says Carl. “Like you’ve been on TV a whole bunch of times. Nice job, kids. I’ll see you all tomorrow.”

  “See ya, Carl,” I say. That’s my friend, Carl Bourette. Unbelievable.

  On the car ride home I think about tomorrow’s show and how it will affect my future. After all, this isn’t just a fun TV show. This is how we’re picking the next invention for Sure Things, Inc. Meanwhile, Emily’s eyes are glued to her phone, her rings clacking away on the screen as she texts probably the whole world about her day in the spotlight.

  Between Two Acts

  I ARRIVE HOME still buzzing with excitement. But I know I have to go to bed quickly. It’ll be another big day tomorrow. I’m brushing my teeth, staring out the bathroom window, when I see a car pull up. Huh. That’s weird. A woman exits the car and steps up to the door. I can’t make out who it is from this far away.

  This is strange. We haven’t had many people over since Mom started traveling—Dad leaves his paintbrushes around sometimes, and I think he is a little embarrassed to have company come and see how forgetful he is.

  Ring aaaaaa diiiiing!!!

  Our doorbell rings.

  “I’ll get it!” I yell.

  I walk over to the door and peep through the hole, curious about who is outside. If I don’t recognize the woman, I won’t let her in the house, and I’ll call Dad for help. But when I look through, I’m stunned to realize I do recognize the woman. It’s KATHY JENKINS from “Right Next Door!” I wish she really was next door—or at any other door—at this particular moment.

  I open the door just to tell her to come back another time, but she waltzes in anyway.

  “Billy Sure, kid of the hour!” she screeches, her notebook at the ready. “I know this is a little unexpected, but the ‘Right Next Door’ readers just loved the last article. I know Samantha was really proud.”

  I can feel my face get red. If I wasn’t so worried about everything else, I’d be pretty embarrassed about her poem.

  “I just wanted to ask you a few questions,” Kathy says. “Just two, I promise.”

  “Um, okay,” I say.

  “What do you think of the finalists for The Next Big Thing?” she asks, pen at the ready.

  “I think they’re great,” I say. “Really creative. I’m sure Manny will be able to market them . . .”

  “Yes, yes, Manny,” Kathy says, almost like she’s annoyed. “And next, who do you think will win the competition?”

  I have a feeling about one of the inventions, but I don’t say anything.

  “It’s up in the air. I’d have to ask the other judges what they think,” I say. Kathy takes note of it, but I look into her notebook and see she’s misquoted me. She wrote I’ll have to ask Saman t ha what she thinks. Which is totally not what I said!

  “Thanks for your time, Billy,” Kathy says. “Look for yourself in ‘Right Next Door’ tomorrow.”

  And just like that, Kathy leaves.

  I have trouble sleeping that night.

  When I finally doze off, I spend the night dreaming about kung fu kicks, frozen bugs, and indescribably gross earwax.

  After I wake up, I get dressed and hurry down for breakfast. Emily is already at the table. Dad is whipping up a celebratory omelet filled with artichoke, pickled tuna, raisins, and a few things that I can’t identify.

  “Ready for the big finale, guys?” he asks, placing a steaming omelet down in front of me. Emily passes me the salt shaker without even looking up from her phone.

  “Yesterday was really fun,” Emily says. “Though I was kinda disappointed that you and Manny didn’t go for the time machine idea.”

  “Yeah, well, whoever comes up with a way to really make that one work . . . wow.”

  We eat in silence for a few minutes. Then I bring up what’s been ON MY MIND since yesterday. “So, Emily, what were you and Manny talking about yesterday in the green room before the show?”

  Emily flinches and looks a bit shocked. She obviously didn’t realize that I had seen her conversation with Manny.

  “Nothing,” she replied. “You know, um . . . the show and stuff.”

  Emily is a terrible liar.

  “He wasn’t talking about me, was he?” I ask.

  “You know, not everything is about you, Billy,” she snaps at me, quicker this time.

  End of conversation. Still, something is most definitely up.

  After breakfast I head to my room. I can’t stop think thinking about Manny. I need to clear the air with him before we meet up for today’s show. After all, we have to make a decision together that will affect the future of our company. And it’s almost my birthday. I can’t have him mad at me at a time like this. Or ever, actually.

  I do something I rarely do. I pick up the phone and call Manny’s cell. Normally when I want to get in touch with him I shoot off a text or an e-mail, but this is too important. I need to hear his voice and talk this out.

  I dial, but the call goes right to Manny’s voice mail. I send him a text . . . nothing back. Then an e-mail. Again, no reply.

  This is VERY STRANGE. Manny always takes his calls, even when he’s on another call. And he replies to his e-mails and texts instantly. In fact, we have a running joke that Manny usually replies to my texts even before I have finished composing them. Something is up. I have a bad feeling about this. Could he really be avoiding me?

  The drive to the TV station this time is very quiet. Emily barely makes eye cont
act. I sit and worry about Manny. That’s when I come up with an idea. What if I get Manny featured in one of his business journals! I do something very Manny-like and write a few e-mails on my phone while texting with a few other people.

  We arrive at the TV station. As I get out of Dad’s car, I see Manny talking to Abby. But as soon as they spot me, they both stop talking. They look uncomfortable, like they were just caught doing something they shouldn’t be doing.

  I want to know what’s going on, but I can’t ask Manny now, just as we are about to do something as important as this show. No, the Manny solution will have to wait. I try to shake off these worries and focus on the task at hand. Then I head into the station for part two!

  The Next Big Thing, Part Two

  THE SNACK SPREAD in the green room is even more impressive on the second day. Pizza with a bunch of toppings, giant subs with meats, cheeses, veggies, salads, and twelve kinds of cookies!

  “Big day, partner,” Manny says, taking a GINORMOUS CHOMP out of a slice of pizza. I can’t help but think that Manny might have figured out how to unhinge his jaw. Kind of like a snake. But hey, at least he’s talking to me, so I don’t say anything. “The finalists are all good. It’ll be fun to see them again going head to head.”

  “The scores were pretty close,” Abby points out as she digs into a big bowl of salad. “I think I know which one I like best, but I’m going to keep an open mind when I see the finalists again.”

  Yesterday Abby was too nervous to eat anything. I guess she’s not so nervous today.

  “It’s pretty cool to help choose the Next Big Thing,” says Emily, slipping a cookie into her pocket for later. “As you know, Abby.”

  Abby smiles. Emily seems to like her a lot too.

  “Hey, team, ready for action?” says Carl as he enters the green room and snatches two slices of pizza. “Time to pick us a winner.”

  Chris Fernell walks into the room. “Here they are. My judges!” he chirps, throwing his arms open wide. I used to wonder if people I saw on TV were any different in real life. I don’t know about everyone, but Chris is . . . well, just Chris.

  “Ready for the big day?” he says.

  “Let’s go do this,” says Carl. Then he turns and charges toward the studio as if he were leaving the locker room to go take his position at shortstop.

  We find our seats at the judges table. Chris shuffles through some papers at his podium. I look out into the audience, and there is Dad in his same seat in the front row, waving.

  The stage manager steps out onto the stage.

  And . . . here we go again.

  “Thirty seconds!” the stage manager shouts.

  And even though I just did this yesterday, my heart starts to pound again.

  “Ten seconds!”

  This is it. I have the same feeling in my stomach that I always get just before a plane I’m on takes off.

  “And five . . . four . . . three . . . two . . . one! We are on the air!”

  The opening music fills the studio and the spotlights crisscross the stage.

  “Hi, everyone, and welcome to part two of Sure Things, Inc. and the Hyenas Present the Next Big Thing!” Chris continues.

  A big cheer explodes from the audience.

  “On today’s program we will be picking the winner, the young inventor whose idea will become Sure Things’ Next Big Thing! And now, let’s reintroduce our judges.”

  Chris runs through the introductions for each of us—word for word what he said yesterday. I think that’s just in case someone missed part one. Then it’s on to the first finalist.

  “You might say finalist number one is a shoe in. She’s eleven years old, and she’s joined by her younger brother and sister. Let’s give a big NEXT BIG THING welcome to Mallory!”

  Mallory, who is tall with blond hair, steps up to the microphone. She is carrying a cloth bag.

  “Hi, my name is Mallory. Thank you so much for having me back today. Yesterday I introduced my idea, and today I am here with my older brother, Jack, who’s fifteen, and my little sister, Helen, who’s six. You may be wondering why I brought them with me. Let me explain.”

  Mallory opens her cloth bag and pulls out what looks like an ordinary pair of shoes. They are brown and white and appear to be way too small for someone her age.

  “Yesterday I presented my GROW-WITH-YOU SHOES,” Mallory says. “What if you could buy one pair of shoes that actually grows along with you? Parents would save lots of money. And no more boring trips to the shoe store.”

  She walks over to her younger sister. “This prototype for the Grow-With-You Shoes is just the right size for Helen.”

  She hands the shoes to Helen.

  “Go ahead and put them on.”

  Helen takes off the shoes she is wearing and slips the Grow-With-You Shoes onto her feet.

  “How do those fit?” Mallory asks.

  “They feel great!” Helen replies very enthusiastically. This is obviously rehearsed, but she’s so cute that I can’t help cracking up.

  “Wonderful,” says Mallory. “Okay, now take them off and hand them to Jack.”

  Helen pulls off the shoes and gives them to Jack, who is barefoot.

  “Oh no!” says Jack, in an overly dramatic voice. “These shoes fit Helen. How could they possibly fit me, a fifteen-year-old with size 12 feet?”

  Again, I smile. More than any of the contestants so far, Mallory has worked just as hard on her presentation as she did on her invention.

  “Just try them on, Jack,” says Mallory.

  Jack slips his toes into the tiny shoes Helen has just handed him. Amazingly, the shoes GROW and STRETCH until they are the perfect size for Jack’s feet!

  It’s nice to see the finalists for a second time. I sneak a peek at the other judges’ faces. Carl’s mouth hangs open and his eyes are wide.

  “The Grow-With-You Shoes,” says Mallory. “Ready to grow, ready to go, ready to be Sure Things’ Next Big Thing. Thank you.”

  The audience applauds as Mallory and her siblings walk off stage.

  I have to say, I give this product very high scores.

  “Thank you, Mallory,” says Chris. “Our next contestant comes from right around the corner. In fact, he’s a student at Fillmore Middle School, just like Billy Sure. Please welcome Ralph!”

  When the All Ball first came out, everyone was pitching me ideas for new inventions. Things got so crazy that we came up with the idea for the Next Big Thing contest. I remember Ralph’s idea for a POP-UP CHANGING TENT. He’s been working hard on this idea ever since. I wasn’t overly impressed when I saw him on the show yesterday, but I was outvoted by the other judges, so here he is in the finals. He has a backpack slung over one shoulder.

  “My invention is the Pop-Up Changing Tent,” says Ralph. “Picture this. You were in school all day. You played outside at recess. Your clothes got dirty. Your parents are picking you up to go to a special dinner at your grandmother’s house. You’re supposed to be clean and wearing clean clothes. But there’s nowhere to change! What will you do? With my Pop-Up Changing Tent, you can change anywhere and have all the PRIVACY you could want.”

  Ralph slips off the backpack and pulls out a square piece of plastic. He presses a button in the center of the square and the plastic starts to expand. It pops open and continues to grow. In a few seconds a small tent stands beside Ralph.

  “I bring my change of clothes,” Ralph continues, pulling a button-down shirt and a clean pair of pants from his backpack, “slip into the Pop-Up Changing Tent . . .”

  Ralph steps inside the tent. It shakes for few minutes, then suddenly collapses all around him, like shrink wrap.

  Ralph’s head pops out of a small opening. “Um, it still needs some work,” he says. “That’s why I think my tent should be the Next Big Thing. Thank you.”

  He manages to get his feet free and shuffles off the stage like a walking blue plastic bag.

  Once again, Ralph does not get high marks from me. He’s com
e up with a catchy name, but I just don’t see it being all that useful. Especially because he could probably have just changed into clean clothes in the bathroom.

  “Thanks, Ralph, and good luck getting out of that thing,” says Chris as soon as Ralph leaves the stage. “Okay, judges and our studio audience, time to turn your attention to the big screen at the back of the stage.”

  The huge TV monitor drops from above.

  “You folks at home keep your eyes glued to your TV screens as we welcome, all the way from Ghana in West Africa, Afia!”

  A young girl appears on the giant screen. She sits on the edge of a bed wearing a large metal helmet on her head. Wires lead from the helmet to a computer sitting on the night stand next to her bed. It kinda looks like a more sophisticated BEST TEST.

  “Nice to see everyone again,” she begins. “My invention is the DREAM MACHINE. You know how sometimes you have an amazing dream, but when you wake up you can’t remember it? My Dream Machine takes all of your dreams and converts them into videos, which are then sent right to your e-mail address. In the morning you can watch your dream again and again.”

  Now this I like. Apparently the studio audience likes it too, as a buzz of conversation spreads through the studio.

  Afia clicks on her computer screen. A video comes on showing her flying through the sky, looking down on the African countryside.

  “This is a dream I had last week. I often dream that I can fly.”

  A group gasp comes from the studio audience. The video ends.

  “There are, however, two problems right now with my Dream Machine that I have not been able to solve,” Afia continues. “That is why I would like the help of Sure Things, Inc.”

  Afia swings her legs up and lies down on her bed. The huge helmet squishes her pillow.