Billy Sure Kid Entrepreneur and the No-Trouble Bubble Read online

  “Okay guys, we’ve got this covered,” he says, sounding like he’s about to make a play at second base. “I just spoke with the owner of the Hyenas, and she and I have agreed to personally invest in the Grow-With-You Shoes. The Hyenas logo will appear on the shoes, and I’ll do the commercials, since I was going to do them anyway.”

  “Ten seconds!” shouts the stage manager.

  “They won’t be connected to Sure Things, Inc.,” Carl continues, “but I think you boys will do okay without me. What do you think?”

  “Five . . . four . . . three . . .”

  “Deal!” Manny says, shaking Carl’s hand. I couldn’t agree more.

  “Two . . . one . . . and we are back!”

  This time there is no music, no spotlights, just Chris looking VERY SERIOUS.

  “Well, folks, I have to tell you that we don’t have a winner.” He pauses to let this sink in. Then he breaks into a huge grin. “We have TWO winners!”

  The audience goes wild. I can’t be sure, but I think I see someone faint.

  “Can Mallory and Greg please come back out onstage?”

  The two winners rush out onto the stage. Mallory jumps up and down and gives Carl a big hug when he explains that the Hyenas will be endorsing the Grow-With-You Shoes. Her family joins her onstage, and they all have a group hug with Carl.

  Manny and I shake hands with Greg.

  “Sure Things, Inc. will fine-tune and release the No-Trouble Bubble,” I say.

  “I think we are going to have a hit on our hands,” adds Manny.

  “I am so excited to be working with you guys,” says Greg. “I’m a huge fan.”

  “Why don’t you come by the office tomorrow afternoon?” I suggest. “We can start right in on development.”

  “Fantastic!” cries Greg.

  “This whole show has been exactly that—FANTASTIC!” says Chris, stepping up to join us. He addresses the audience and the viewers at home one last time. “Thanks for watching, and congratulations to both our winners. Good-bye, everybody!”

  “And we’re off!” shouts the stage manager.

  “Thank you, guys,” says Chris. “Nice save.”

  I walk over to Carl and shake his hand. “Saves are what you’re best at,” I say. “Thanks, Carl.”

  “No problem,” Carl replies. “I think it’s a real win-win. See ya round the ballpark.”

  • • •

  That night, as I breathe a big sigh of relief and start to get excited about our next project, I shoot off an e-mail to Mom. I want to have another video chat with her. I can’t wait to talk with her about how everything turned out. Exhausted, I climb into bed and quickly fall asleep.

  The next morning, when I get up for school, I hurry to my computer. No reply from Mom. Hmm . . . she must be really busy. Maybe I’ll hear from her later.

  I practically sleepwalk through the school day. I’m still tired, but I am psyched about meeting with Greg at the office after school to start developing the No-Trouble Bubble.

  After school I rush home, grab Philo, and head over to the office. Greg is already there.

  “Hi, Billy. Manny has been showing me around,” he says. “Your office is the COOLEST PLACE I’ve ever seen. Especially your workbench. It’s got everything you need to build great inventions.”

  “You sure you two aren’t related?” Manny asks.

  Philo comes sniffing around Greg’s feet.

  “Oh, this is Philo. He’s here with us every day,” I explain.

  Greg scratches Philo’s head, sending his tail whipping back and forth in overdrive. Then Philo trots over to his bed.

  “So how do we start?” Greg asks.

  “Let’s see what you brought,” I reply.

  Greg empties his backpack onto my workbench. I open a drawer in my file cabinet and dig out the old blueprints I had drawn up for my Personal Force Field Belt idea. I never quite got it to work the way I wanted.

  Greg opens up the control box on his No-Trouble Bubble prototype and looks over my blueprint.

  “Interesting,” he says, pointing at the paper. “I would never have thought of connecting those relays directly.”

  Meanwhile, I study the inner workings of Greg’s control box. “I think this circular pulse might be what caused the bubble to float,” I say. “If we could build a regulator onto the box that would let the user control the hover feature, I think it would bring your invention to a WHOLE NEW LEVEL.”

  “Let’s do it!” says Greg, opening up the toolbox he brought along.

  “I never realized how much fun it is to work side-by-side with someone,” I say, and as the words leave my mouth I cringe. Nice going, Billy. Way to make Manny feel unimportant. All I can hope is that my big idea to have Manny’s favorite business magazine do a feature on him comes about. I’m close to finalizing the details, but I can’t tell Manny about it just yet.

  I turn toward Manny, but he’s not looking at me and Greg. He’s doing what he does best—mapping out a marketing plan for the No-Trouble Bubble.

  A short while later we’re ready to test the revised version.

  “I think you should do the honors, Billy,” says Greg.

  Just as I’m about to press the button, the door to the office swings open, and in strolls Emily.

  “I wanted to see how you guys are doing,” she says. She slips off her backpack. “And it looks like I’m just in time to test the No-Trouble Bubble. I brought along a few things to help. After all, any chance to throw stuff at my brother . . .”

  Emily opens her backpack and pulls out a football, a Frisbee, a small can of paint, and a slingshot.

  “I hope this works,” I say looking over Emily’s arsenal.

  The control box now has two knobs. One creates the bubble, the second—hopefully—controls the hover function.

  I turn the first knob. Out pops a clear bubble that surrounds me. Emily wastes no time pelting me with projectiles. Each one bounces off the bubble harmlessly. Even the paint doesn’t stick. The football flies past and lands near Manny’s feet. Last, Emily tries the Sibling Silencer on me. But not even the Sibling Silencer can penetrate the bubble. In fact, the beam bounces right off the bubble and silences her instead!

  Then Philo gets into the act, jumping onto the bubble and pawing at it before jumping off.

  “Okay, here we go,” I say. “Time to try the hover feature. Ready for takeoff.” I twist the second knob and float into the air. As soon as I’m hovering—I’M FLYING! I’M REALLY FLYING!—I try using the commands to steer myself. But no such luck.

  I drift out of control toward the ceiling. I’m going fast! Woosh! I try to wiggle around in the bubble, hoping the movements will bring me down, but they don’t. I’m officially stuck!

  Manny runs to get his dad, who not only is tall, but also has a ladder. He rushes up like a fireman and grabs me from the ceiling.

  “Maybe you should take some sandbags with you, like on hot air balloons, just in case,” he suggests. I nod glumly. I’m not sure how we’re going to get this to work.

  “Thanks for the entertainment,” says Emily, who has regained her voice. “I’ll leave you three GENIUSES to work out the bugs. Bye.”

  Oh sure! Show up, throw stuff at me, and leave. Nice. Real nice.

  Greg and I open the control box and go back to work. A few minutes later we’re ready to try again.

  This time Manny spins his chair around.

  “Maybe we should hold off on the hover feature,” Manny says. “This product already works great, and we don’t want to overdo it. Besides, we can work on a hovercraft later. And Greg, we’ll ask you to help out when we do.”

  Greg and I nod. I let out a huge sigh of relief. I’m just happy not to be an out-of-control floating guinea pig anymore. The No-Trouble Bubble helps you avoid trouble just like a Personal Force Field Belt would. And that is already way cool.

  Happy Birthday to Me?

  I HEAD HOME, riding high, thinking about how cool the No-Trouble Bubble is
going to be, but my good mood quickly vanishes. There’s still no e-mail waiting for me from Mom.

  Nothing. Not a word. And that’s when the following thought pops into my mind:

  Tomorrow is my BIRTHDAY!

  In all the excitement with the TV show I hadn’t really thought about my birthday for a few days. And now, here it is. Manny hasn’t said a word about it. Neither has Dad or Emily. Or Mom, wherever she is.

  My thirteenth birthday! The day I become a teenager. I mean, isn’t that supposed to be a big deal?

  I spend my last night as a twelve-year-old tossing and turning, jumping out of bed every half hour to check my e-mail to see if Mom has written back.

  Nothing. All night.

  When the big morning finally arrives, Dad still doesn’t say anything as he makes breakfast, and Emily just looks at me strangely between bites of cereal. I’d think something was up with her, but it’s Emily, so who knows what’s going on in her brain? I head off to school, wondering if this is about to be the WORST BIRTHDAY of my life. I’m probably going to end up at home later, sitting alone in my room, not doing anything special at all. And I won’t even hear from Mom.

  I muddle through my school day. Again, no one says a word about my birthday. Not even the members of the inventors club or Samantha Jenkins. These kids are huge fans of mine, but even they say nothing! Not even a simple “happy birthday!”

  At the office that afternoon the misery continues.

  “How’s the marketing for the rollout of the No-Trouble Bubble going?” I ask Manny, hoping that if we engage in conversation, a “happy birthday” might just slip out.

  “Mmmm . . . ,” Manny says, which I translate as “okay.” But nowhere in that “Mmmm . . .” is there a hint of a “happy birthday.”

  After a particularly unproductive day at the office, I get ready to head home.

  “See you tomorrow,” I say to Manny as Philo and I head for the door.

  “Hmmm. . . ,” replies Manny. On a typical day that would pass for: “Bye, and have a good night.” But today it sounds like, well, like a plain old “Hmmm.”

  When I arrive at home, things go from bad to worse.

  “I’m home,” I call out.

  No reply.

  “Dad? Em?”

  Still nothing.

  Where could they be? And why would they leave me alone on my birthday?

  I head to the kitchen, where I find a note from Dad:

  Had to run out. Just heat up the leftovers from yesterday’s hamburger-anchovy deluxe. It’s in the fridge.

  —Dad

  This really is the worst birthday ever! Eating Dad’s leftovers all by myself. And he didn’t even say “happy birthday” in his note.

  Briiiiiing!

  My personal pity party is interrupted by the loud ring of the phone. I grab it. It’s Manny. He does not sound good. In fact, he sounds terrible.

  “We got a BIG PROBLEM, partner,” he says.

  The panic in his voice is clear. I’ve never heard Manny sound like this—ever!

  “What’s going on?” I ask.

  “We have a MAJOR EMERGENCY with the No-Trouble Bubble,” Manny says, sounding even worse than he did a few seconds earlier. “I mean, the whole thing, Sure Things, Inc., everything is about to go away. You have to come back to the office right now. Like, right . . . now!”

  Wow, now I’m scared. I’m worried about Manny, not to mention the future of Sure Things, Inc.

  “I’m on my way.” I hang up and pedal furiously toward the office, my mind racing.

  What could have happened? Could our bubble have finally burst? Maybe Manny discovered a problem with the No-Trouble Bubble. Or maybe this is about Manny feeling jealous of all the attention I get. Maybe he wants to break up our partnership, to end Sure Things, Inc.?

  Suddenly my lousy birthday seems like the least of my worries.

  I skid to a stop in front of Manny’s garage and jump off my bike. With Philo at my side, I rush into the office.

  It’s empty.

  “Manny?” I shout.

  Nothing. Okay, now I’m really confused.

  That’s when I notice Philo sniffing around behind Manny’s desk. He trots over to a closet and starts barking. Aruuuf! Ruff! Ruff!

  “What’s the matter, boy?”

  Suddenly, a whole bunch people pop up from behind desks and burst out of dark corners!

  “SURPRISE! HAPPY BIRTHDAY, BILLY!”

  My brain starts spinning as I realize what is going on. There’s Manny, smiling and giggling, and there’s Dad and Emily. I spot Abby and Greg, and a bunch of kids from the inventors club. Samantha Jenkins holds up a printout of her mother’s newest article about me and smiles.

  “Happy birthday, partner!” Manny says, laughing at what must be a pretty funny-looking expression on my face.

  “Happy birthday, Billy!” Dad says, giving me a big hug.

  “Your shocked expression,” Emily notes. “It’s a good look for you.”

  “Happy birthday, Billy,” says Abby. “I can’t believe I’m friends with a real teenager!”

  “Do you guys always have this much fun?” asks Greg.

  I laugh as all the pieces of this puzzle fall into place. “So, all the secret conversations and the whispering, the tight-lipped answers, they were all about planning this surprise party?”

  As I see the nods, I feel all the stress leave my body and a great weight lift from my shoulders.

  “Well, you sure fooled me,” I say, as my mind shifts from shock to happiness. “This is a really great surprise.”

  “It’s about to get even better,” says Manny.

  He walks to the door leading to his house and throws it open. There, standing in the doorway, is MOM!

  “Happy birthday, Billy!” she says, running into the office and giving me a big hug. “Manny got in touch with me and told me how badly you wanted me to be part of your birthday. I had to be here on the big day for my teenage son!”

  “So that’s why I didn’t hear back from you,” I say to Mom. “You were traveling so you could be here with me. Wow.”

  Reason #312 why Manny is my best friend! He can even accomplish the impossible!

  I turn to Manny. “This is the best surprise I’ve ever gotten,” I say. “Thanks. And speaking of surprises, I have one for you, partner. I set up an interview for you with Talking Biz.”

  “That’s my favorite business magazine,” says Manny.

  “I know. And they’re thrilled to be doing a feature profile on you.”

  Although, like me, Manny never seeks out the spotlight for himself, I can see that he’s very happy about this.

  “Enough talking,” says Dad. “I brought all kinds of fantastic food. Let’s eat.”

  I look over at Emily as everyone gathers around the spread Dad has laid out. She pulls her hand from her pocket and flashes me a glimpse of the salt shaker filled with Gross-to-Good Powder. I smile, nod, and notice that she is no longer wearing rings on every finger. I guess that “thing” is finished. I can hardly wait to see what her next “thing” will be.

  When the party is in full swing, Mom pulls me aside.

  “Step outside with me for a second,” she says. “I want to talk with you about something. In private.”

  We head out to a quiet corner of Manny’s backyard. Now my mind is really spinning. What could she possibly want to tell me that she couldn’t say in front of everyone else?

  “Remember when I tried your Best Test to find out what I was best at?” Mom asks.

  I nod.

  “And the helmet said that I was best at keeping secrets?”

  Again I nod, wondering where in the world this is going.

  “Well, your Best Test was right. I am best at keeping secrets, and I’ve been keeping secrets from you. I’m sorry, Billy. Let me explain everything.”

  Mom pauses for a second.

  “I really wanted to be here for your birthday, Billy,” she continues. “But I’m also here for anoth
er reason. When I leave, I want you to come with me. But we’re not going to a government research lab. I’m afraid that’s not where I work. I’m a spy, Billy. And I need your help!”

  I’m Billy Sure. Up until a moment ago, I thought I was a normal kid with normal schoolwork and a normal dog and normal chores. I’ve never felt anything but normal—okay, except for the fact that I’m also a world-famous inventor, but even then, still normal. Or so I thought.

  But I just received the four biggest surprises of my life, each one bigger than the last. And now I’m not sure if I ever was normal.

  Let me explain.

  I’m thirteen years old. Actually, I turned thirteen today. I’m also a seventh-grader at Fillmore Middle School, and I’m the world-famous inventor behind the company Sure Things, Inc. I’m not saying that to brag or anything. I really don’t like people who brag or who talk about how great they are. But to be honest, I am proud of what I have accomplished, even though my whole world just got thrown upside down!

  Together with my best friend and business partner, Manny Reyes, I run Sure Things, Inc. Our company has invented a whole bunch of popular stuff, like the All Ball (a ball that can change into any kind of sports ball) and the No-Trouble Bubble. Manny and I share an office. Well, it’s really his parents’ garage, but we’ve converted it into what the rest of the universe knows as the World Headquarters of Sure Things, Inc.

  Anyway, a short while ago I arrived at the office after getting a panicked phone call from Manny. We had just finished judging a live TV special during which we picked Sure Things, Inc.’s next product, or as we like to call it, the Next Big Thing.

  On the TV special, we selected an invention called the No-Trouble Bubble, a personal force field that can protect you from just about anything.

  Two days after the show aired, Manny called me at home. He sounded super upset! He said that we have a problem with the No-Trouble Bubble that could result in the end of Sure Things, Inc.

  Now that, as you can imagine, is pretty serious stuff. So I raced over to the office, hurried through the door, and, what do you know—I walked right SMACK! into a surprise party for my thirteenth birthday!