The School for the Insanely Gifted (10 page)

Chapter 17
It's All in the Name

D
aphna would remember the battle as a mix of scrambled images. Antelope men. Monkeys. The Tops. Her friends. And orchestrating the forces, flicking his powerful whip, was Billy.

The antelope men fought hard—they hadn't tracked the Thunkmobile all the way from New York to give up without a fight—but in the end, they were no match for Billy and his bizarre array of defenders.

It began with Flood-Top. Upon hearing its name, the laptop took four quick steps forward, then stopped with a bright
brrring
. Its monitor grew to four times its original size. With a loud
pfft!
a giant spigot appeared in its middle, then
whoosh!
Water shot out of Flood-Top with the force of ten mighty fire hydrants, knocking the leader and the other antelopes off their feet and soaking them to their skins.

And that was just the beginning.

“Soap-Top!” Billy called.

A second laptop stepped forward and sprayed a stream of bubbly soap over the wet field. As the soggy antelope men stood up, they slipped back down, struggling to keep their footing. Only then did Billy shout the final command: “Charge!”

The battle soon turned into a rout. Javelin-Top picked off the wet, soapy antelopes with homemade spears while Itch-Top sent up plumes of powder that had the antelope men scratching wildly and running for the pond. Others found themselves tangled in the arms and legs of Octopus-Top or brought to tears of laughter at the hands of Joke-Top and Tickle-Top.

Cook-Top proved its mettle on the battlefield as well. Zigzagging among the fighters, it used its giant spatula to swat antelope men to the ground before flipping them into the air like pancakes.

Harkin and Pterodactyl-Top had a field day, swooping out of the sky and lifting surprised antelope men high into the air before depositing them in the trees or pond. Meanwhile, Cynthia tromped around the field on elephantback, commanding her mount to use its trunk to knock over the intruders as they struggled to make their way toward Billy's home.

Daphna might have had the most fun of all. Seconds into the battle, she found herself on Frog-Top, hopping wildly around the battlefield, directing the laptop's tongue to lick antelope men to the ground until they begged for mercy.

The fight was over in less than ten minutes. The monkeys led the captured antelope men to a field on the far side of the valley, where a squadron of elephants and giraffes stood guard. Only one intruder was left, one of the smaller antelope men, being used by two gangs of monkeys for a game of catch.

Billy decided it was time to get some answers.

“Enough!” he shouted. “Bring him here!”

The monkeys deposited their “ball” by Billy's feet. Daphna, Harkin, and Cynthia jumped off their respective mounts and gathered close as one of the monkeys reached for the antelope mask. Daphna averted her eyes, half expecting the man to look like an actual antelope or worse. When the monkey peeled the mask back, Daphna was surprised to find that, with short brown hair and pale eyes, this particular antelope was almost shockingly ordinary. And young—the type of guy who would have looked more in place on a college campus than on a battlefield in the African mountains.

Billy wasn't swayed by the antelope's good looks. The minute the mask was off, he held his whip high.

“What are you looking for? Tell me, or the monkeys will use you for a game of baseball—all nine innings!”

Crack!
The whip hit the ground a foot from the man's face, sending up a flurry of dirt. The demasked antelope let out a sound that was somewhere between a squeak and a moan. From the way he was trembling, Daphna sensed that he was too frightened to speak.

Leaning close, Harkin let his long hair flop in the man's face.

“Start yapping, antelope, dude,” he snapped. “Or you see that laptop over there? That's Tickle-Top! It'll have you laughing so hard, you might never speak again!”

Even Cynthia stepped up. “Or maybe you'd prefer Frog-Top? It can lick you like you were a fly.”

“Wait.” The word was out of Daphna's mouth before she could stop it. All eyes were on her. “Give him a break, okay?”

Harkin wrinkled his brow. “What?”

“Look at him,” Daphna said. “He's scared.”

Billy nodded. He leaned close to the man and spoke more softly. “Okay, sir. Tell us then. Who sent you?”

Under the more gentle questioning, the man was finally able to find his voice.

“Wallace,” he whispered.

“Wallace?” Daphna asked. “Who's that?”

A funny look passed over Billy's face.

“Do you know who it is?” she asked.

“Maybe,” Billy said. He looked at the prisoner. “Did Wallace give a full name?”

The young man nodded. “Wallace Zoo-Zoo McFerd.”

Billy's response was instantaneous. The moment he heard the name, he broke into a broad grin that exploded into a wild, gut-clenching, no-holds-barred guffaw. His belly shook. Tears dripped into his thick beard.

“What's going on?” Harkin asked.

“Yeah,” Daphna said. “Who's Wallace?”

Billy dropped his whip and doubled over, gasping for breath. Harrison exchanged a worried glance with Cook-Top, then wiped Billy's brow with a handkerchief.

“Oh, that Iggy!” Billy said.

“Ignatious!” Daphna said.

Billy nodded and held up a finger, signaling that he would tell them the full tale once he had gathered his breath enough to speak. The minute he got control of his breathing, another wave of laughter tore through him. Daphna worried he would pass out. A monkey jumped on his shoulder and slapped his back, and Billy caught his breath again—this time, when the laughter welled up inside, he managed to push it back down. Finally, he turned to Daphna.

“Remember what I told you about the silly names your mother and I used in college?”

“Wait a second,” Daphna said. She remembered the smudged name—
W. Zoo Ferd—
on the back of the picture that had fallen from her manuscript. “Ignatious is . . . Wallace Zoo-Zoo McFerd.”

“Yep!”

“You're joking,” Cynthia said.

“Nope.”

“Ignatious,” Harkin said. “He's the one who sent the antelope men.”

Billy nodded. “Old Iggy liked to take credit for things. I guess he couldn't resist sending me a little message—just to be sure I'd know who was behind all this.”

Daphna found it all too much to take in. She knew Billy had been telling the truth—that Ignatious had stolen the blueprints for his most famous products from Billy's college notebook. Even so, it was hard to comprehend just how far Ignatious was willing to go to get his hands on another of Billy's creations.

“We still don't know what Ignatious is looking for,” Harkin said.

Cynthia stood directly over the demasked antelope. “Out with it. What does Ignatious want?”

Daphna knelt down beside him.

“No one's going to hurt you,” she said. “Does Ignatious want a Flex-Bed?”

With Daphna's more gentle approach, the man managed to sit up. “Not a Flex-Bed,” he said. “An
X-Head
.”

“X-Head,” Harkin said. “So that's what it is.”

Daphna turned to Billy.

“Does that mean anything to you?”

Billy shrugged. “The X-Head? Can't say that it . . .”

His eyes went wide, leaving the rest of the sentence unspoken. He stared across the wide open field.

“What?” Daphna asked.

“X-Head,” he murmured. “I should have thought of it when you first mentioned the Flex-Bed. How stupid!”

Daphna, Harkin, and Cynthia gathered close to Billy. He rubbed a hand through his beard and smiled down at them.

“What is it?” Cynthia asked.

“Put our guest with the others,” Billy called to his head monkey. He glanced at Daphna. “And treat him gently.”

Billy turned toward his home.

“Come with me,” he said. “I have something to show you.”

Chapter 18
Everything You've Ever Wanted
to Know About Everything

D
aphna was bursting with questions. What was the X-Head? Why did Ignatious want it? Was it the key to his next product? Did it have anything to do with her mom? She forced herself to be patient—a difficult task—until they were back in Billy's house.

“Congratulations on your glorious victory, sir!” Harrison said as Billy held up his whip to be taken by its hook.

“Thank you, Harrison. But I didn't do much. It was all my Tops and these kids.”

Daphna knew it was a lie. Sure, everyone had done their part, but Billy was the true hero.

“We're going to be in the library for a while, Harrison,” Billy went on. He untied his bandanna and shook out his shaggy auburn hair. “No interruptions, please.”

The robot bowed. “Very good, sir.”

With a brisk nod to his three young guests, Billy walked to the back of the enormous front chamber of his cabin. There stood a light blue door—Daphna realized that in their time in the valley she hadn't seen anyone use it. With a loud creak, Billy pushed it open and led them into a musty room, dimly lit by three tiny bulbs perched side by side on the far side of the ceiling. The walls were all wood, as were the two chairs and desk in the center of the room. Against all four walls stood rows of uneven, homemade bookcases. When Daphna had heard the word
library
, she had expected that Billy would have a private chamber filled with books on a wide range of subjects. But in the dim light she saw that three of the four bookcases were empty. On the other, standing on the middle shelf, was a single book, an oversize hardcover that resembled a textbook.

“I've already told you that I left behind all my notes at college,” Billy said. “But I did take along this.”

He crossed the room and pulled the lone book off the shelf.

“What is it?” Harkin asked.

Billy blew dust off the cover and looked it over affectionately. “It's Henry P. Johnson's masterwork.”

“Henry P. Johnson?” Cynthia said.

Billy nodded. “My favorite professor at the College for the Extraordinarily Talented.”

Billy held up the front cover. The title was written in elegant gold lettering. Daphna read it out loud:

“Everything You've Ever Wanted to Know About Everything.”

“Wow,” Harkin said. “Must've been one smart dude.”

“Johnson was a genius, Thunk,” Billy said, tapping the book. “He conducted the very first brain swap between a chimp and a lemur. He was the first to experiment with a computer chip that the user could wear up his nose. He taught me most of what I know.”

Daphna wrinkled her brow, more confused than ever. “That's all really neat,” she said. “But what does it have to do with the X-Head?”

Billy placed the book on the desk and turned to the page just before the back cover.

“Look here.”

Daphna and her friends gathered close. In the left upper corner was a detailed sketch of an eyeball looking across the page. Facing the eyeball on the right-hand side was a drawing of some sort of oval. Three arrows pointed from the oval to the eye.

“What is it?” Cynthia asked.

“I know,” Harkin said, before Billy could respond. “The oval represents a new computer chip.”

“Or a satellite dish?” Cynthia asked.

“Even a hat,” Harkin said. “Who knows?”

Daphna leaned closer.

“What about this writing?”

Below the drawing was row upon row of nearly microscopic handwriting. Squinting, she slowly deciphered the first lines. “‘The B head of the yellow wire must be retrofitted with the R cathode, by taking the Y cathode to the X quadrant of the superstructure, in order to achieve an ideal negative absolute overflow.'”

Daphna looked to Harkin, who shrugged.

“Please,” Cynthia said to Billy. “Say something!”

Billy merely nodded toward the door. “It's musty in here. Let's see if Cook-Top has come down from his battlefield heroics enough to whip us up a snack. Then we'll talk this out.”

Billy, Daphna, Harkin, and Cynthia sat at the kitchen table before a plate of cookies and cups of cold juice. Billy carefully ripped out the page with the drawing and the strange microscopic text and laid it flat in the middle of the table, directly under the light. Cynthia leaned close, studying the picture and mouthing the strange words.

“What are you doing?” Harkin asked. “Memorizing it?”

Cynthia chuckled. “Sorry. A bad acting habit. Whenever I see writing, I automatically pretend it's a line I'm going to have to say onstage.”

“These lines wouldn't be very interesting,” Billy said. “Just a bunch of complicated math formulas written years ago one night by a young college student.”

“Tell us,” Daphna said.

Billy stroked his beard. “This story starts one night in my senior year. Iggy and I were studying for exams in my dorm when I got an idea. While we were on a break, I jotted this down.”

“The formula for the X-Head, you mean?” Harkin asked.

Billy laughed. “That is what Iggy called it. He only mentioned it once. Unfortunately, the words
Flex-Bed
did nothing to jog my memory.”

“That's understandable,” Cynthia said. “It was twelve years ago, right?”

“What's it do?” Daphna asked.

Billy leaned over the drawing. His beard was so long, it brushed over the pages like a bristly sponge. “It's quite simple.” He swatted away his beard and draped it back over his shoulder. “This is an eyeball, and that's a contact lens.”

Harkin blinked. “Ignatious Blatt has been chasing down a new
contact lens
?”

“Not just any contacts. These work a bit like your Gum-Top. The wearers of these lenses would be online and be able to scan websites—all through their eyes.”

“Really?” Daphna said. “A computer
on your eyes
?”

Billy nodded.

“How does it work?” Cynthia asked.

“Easy.” Billy had the glow Daphna had seen when she'd first arrived—the glow of a little boy proudly explaining one of his inventions. “The user thinks of the site he or she wants to visit, and voilà! It appears right before his or her eyes.”

“And it works?” Harkin asked.

Billy shrugged. “I never tried it. But I don't see why not. In any case, there's more.”

“What?” Daphna asked.

Billy took a long look around the table. He appeared to be deadly serious.

“Mind control,” he said finally.

Daphna felt a chill. “Mind control?”

Billy nodded gravely. “If my calculations are correct, the X-Head can be calibrated so that one person can control all the users' thoughts.”

“You mean like get the other users to do whatever he wants when he wants it?” Harkin asked.

“Precisely.”

Daphna and her friends were quiet, taking in what they had heard. Then Cynthia took off her glasses and rose to her feet. “Well, no wonder Ignatious has been trying to get his hands on it. He wants the X-Head to be his next big product. And he wants to use it to control the mind of everyone who wears it.”

“Right,” Harkin said. He, too, rose to his feet and began pacing the length of the table. “And now we know why the first antelope man broke into Daphna's apartment. He worked for Ignatious and was trying to find clues about the X-Head.”

“He probably thought Daphna's mom had some of Billy's old notes,” Cynthia said. “Or maybe even this book.”

“I bet she was searching for Billy when she disappeared,” Harkin said. “What do you think, Daph, dude?”

Daphna took a bite of cookie, then washed it down with some cold juice. Everything her friends said made sense, but she needed to work some things out for herself. She looked at Billy.

“I guess my mom wanted to warn you that Ignatious was looking for the X-Head.” She paused. “Maybe that's why she met with Ignatious just before she left?”

“I bet Ignatious threatened her,” Harkin said.

“Asked her about the X-Head,” Cynthia added.

Billy stroked his beard. “Which would explain why she decided she had to come warn me.” He looked at Daphna. “I always knew your mother would be smart enough to figure out how to find me if she really wanted.”

Daphna sighed. It seemed her mother had sacrificed herself for a worthy cause. Still, it was all so sad.

Billy knelt beside Daphna and put a hand on her shoulder. “Your mother was a lady who always did what she thought was right. I'd bet that she'd make the same decision today.”

Daphna swallowed back her tears. “Yeah.”

“The least we can do,” Billy went on, “is to make sure that old Iggy never gets his hands on this.” He took the drawing from the table where Cynthia was, once again, looking over the small print of the formula.

“Still memorizing?” Billy asked.

Cynthia shrugged. “Like I said: bad habit. It's all Swahili to me anyway.”

Billy nodded and grabbed the paper.

“Cook-Top!” he called.

The laptop chef was still outside, now having a sword fight with Joke-Top. When Harrison was finally able to retrieve the computerized chef, Billy told it what he wanted. Cook-Top whirred. An image of a stove lit up on his monitor. Then Cook-Top took the paper and held it over the lit flame. With a quick
pfft!
it was all over.

“Wow,” Cynthia said. “Pretty anticlimactic.”

“Maybe,” Billy said. “But now we can see if Iggy Blatt can come up with a new product all on his own.”

“Not a chance,” Harkin said, grinning. “The dude couldn't invent ice if he was given a pitcher of water and a tray.”

Despite her glum mood, Daphna smiled. “He couldn't invent mud if he was given a pile of dirt in a rainstorm.”

Billy laughed, a low chuckle that seemed to rumble out of him and invited everyone to join in. And soon they were all laughing—even Daphna, finally letting all the tensions of the past few days wash away. When they had finally laughed themselves dry, Daphna and her friends retired to their rooms to straighten up and pack.

“Hey, Harkin,” Cynthia asked, “do you think you can get online? I need to send an email to my folks. Tell them that I'm coming home.”

“Nice idea.”

With only a few minutes of fiddling, Harkin was able to get a signal. Then he tossed his wristwatch to Cynthia.

“While you're at it, write a short note to my dad.”

“And to Ron,” Daphna said.

“Will do,” Cynthia said.

Cynthia sent off the emails while Daphna and Harkin took a moment to relax after the day's drama. Billy put up his feet and took his afternoon nap. As for Cook-Top—it began preparing a farewell banquet.