“Everyone huddle around, please,” Wendy Webbingham called.

  Jackson and the grandma penguin left their bags by the bench and joined the other competitors in front of the judge.

  “Congratulations on having reached the final round of the competition,” Wendy Webbingham said. “Unfortunately, due to the theft of the cup, we’ve decided to stop the Games.”

  There were gasps and groans and shouts of “No way!”

  Jackson noticed Bill Feathers, the TV reporter, moving in closer. His camera-penguin had her lens pointed at the unhappy competitors.

  Hoff’s flipper shot up in the air. “But shouldn’t the penguin at the top of the leaderboard just be declared the winner?” He puffed out his feathers. “Because that would be me.”

  Jackson held his breath. Please no!

  Wendy Webbingham shook her head. “The final round is the most important one. It involves showing special egg-caring skills. Without winning the final round, it’s impossible to prove you’ve got all the skills a mayor should have.”

  Hoff snorted. “It looks like the only skill you need is thieving flippers!”

  Wendy Webbingham gave him a hard stare. “If the cup is found before the end of the day, the contest will resume. Otherwise, the next Games will be held in ten years’ time.”

  The group erupted in groans and moans.

  “Pardon me,” said the grandma penguin, her voice sounding older and wobblier than before. “I’m afraid I’ve decided to withdraw. I’m just too tired to wait around. Please could you escort me to the museum so I can call a taxi? I must admit I find all these FBI agents quite alarming.”

  “Of course, ma’am!” Wendy Webbingham held out her flipper. “Let me help you—oh, yes, you go get your bags first—”

  Sheesh, Jackson thought, watching them leave. That grandma penguin really does look exhausted. She’s all bent over—nothing like the way she moved earlier.

  “Hi, Jackson,” Lily said, coming over. “It’s such a shame the contest is on hold. You were doing so well.”

  “Thanks,” Jackson said, but he was still watching the grandma penguin, who was gathering up her belongings while chatting to the judge. She sure has a lot of bags, he thought. It’s like Dad when we go for a picnic.

  “Hey, did you see Hoff Rockface?” Quigley asked as he joined them. “He’s telling everyone he should be declared winner of the Games, that he’s been cheated!”

  Lily rolled her eyes. “He’s such a sore loser.”

  “Hey—speaking of sore losers,” Jackson said. “Lily, do you know where the book of competitors is? The one they wrote our names in when we registered?”

  “Why?” Lily frowned. “This isn’t some crazy scheme to join the FBI, is it?”

  Jackson felt his face heating up. “No—well, yes, maybe.” He grinned. “It’s just, we were thinking. The person who stole the cup is probably someone who lost in the earlier rounds. Like Quigley said, a sore loser.”

  “Yeah, I guess that’s a possibility,” Lily said. “And you want to see their names so you can investigate them as suspects?” She paused, mulling the idea over. “I don’t know, Jackson. That book is stored in the museum office, and only official Games’ helpers are allowed in there.”

  Jackson made a pleading face. “Please, Lily. If we can find the suspect, we might find the trophy.”

  “Which means the Games can restart,” Quigley said. “And Jackson might beat Hoff!”

  Lily looked across at Hoff, who was now moaning on camera to Bill Feathers, the TV reporter. “Okay,” she said. “I guess a little peek wouldn’t hurt. Come on, I’ll show you where it is.”

  But as Jackson went to grab his backpack, he heard someone calling his name.

  “Jackson! Jackson Rockflopper! Has anyone seen a young man called— Oh, there he is! Jackson, I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

  14

  If Jackson could have squeezed himself under the competitors’ bench to hide, he would have done so. “Oh, hi, Mrs. Heckle-Flipper,” he mumbled. Behind her he could see Lily and Quigley waving to him to hurry up.

  “Isn’t this missing-cup business dreadful?” Mrs. Heckle-Flipper said. “Especially after that gemstone got stolen.” She shook her head. “I can’t help thinking that if your mom was here, none of this would have happened.”

  Jackson nodded. No one would dare try to steal anything under Marina Rockflopper’s beak. She had the best arrest record in the history of Waddles’, the department store where she worked.

  “Oh, by the way, I called your mom,” Mrs. Heckle-Flipper said. “And I offered to drop you boys home.”

  “B-b-but the contest isn’t over yet,” Jackson said, a sudden panic passing through his feathers. “If they find the cup, the competition is going to restart.”

  Mrs. Heckle-Flipper sighed. “I don’t think that’s likely. Whoever took the cup is probably long gone. Wait—let me check the time on my cell.”

  While she rummaged in her purse, Jackson glanced over at Quigley and Lily. HELP! he mouthed.

  “Well, perhaps we can give it another hour,” Mrs. Heckle-Flipper said, peering at the screen of her icePhone. “The FBI agent who checked my bag said they would be taking statements from anyone who saw anything. And as I told him, I’ve probably got lots of useful information to pass along.”

  She babbled on and on, but Jackson was distracted by Quigley and Lily, who were now talking to Victor by his ice cream cart. What are they doing? Now was not the time for snacking!

  “Oh look!” Mrs. Heckle-Flipper said, waving to the other moms across the arena. “Over here!” she called to them. “I found Jackson!”

  What? Noooooo! Jackson groaned. Mrs. Heckle-Flipper was bad enough, but if the whole group was going to be “eyes on,” he’d never escape.

  As the other moms shuffled over, Victor appeared, too. “Free ice cream!” he called, trundling his cart up to the group.

  Huh? Jackson glanced across at Quigley and Lily, who were grinning and giving him a flippers-up.

  “Free?” Mrs. Heckle-Flipper said. “How come?”

  “Because you’re my one hundredth customer of the day!” Victor winked at Jackson. “It’s a Brain Freezers special promotion. And you and your friends all get a free ice cream. Ooh, you’ve got to check out my new flavor, Rookeryville Road. It’s real fancy! Or how about Blizzard Brownie?” He glanced up at the darkening sky. “Just the right flavor with a storm brewing!”

  As the moms crowded around to look in the cart, Jackson backed away. “I’ll just fetch Quigley,” he murmured. “I don’t want him to miss out.” Then he raced off before they could stop him. “How did you do that?” he whispered to Quigley as soon as they were out of earshot.

  “It was Lily’s idea,” Quigley said. “She told Victor that your mom’s buddies had shared their picnic snacks with us, and we wanted to repay their kindness, but that they wouldn’t let us treat them.”

  “So I asked Victor to be creative in handing out the ice cream,” Lily said.

  “Awesome escape plan!” Jackson smiled at her.

  Lily’s face turned shrimp pink. “Oh, well, Quigley paid for the ice cream.”

  “I used the money your mom gave us,” Quigley said. “Hope that’s okay.”

  “Sure!” Jackson said.

  “Here, put these on,” Lily said. “Two of the volunteers had to go home, so I borrowed their T-shirts. It’s just in case we get stopped on the way to the office.”

  “Ha! Check this out,” Quigley said, pointing at the words on the front of his shirt. “I’m EGG-cited to help!”

  “Now I know how Icejob feels,” Jackson said, tugging his down. “With this disguise, I actually feel like I’m a real volunteer. Maybe I should go help a few people on the way.”

  “Don’t do that!” Lily gasped. “The other volunteers might spot that you guys are fake—hey, I think that FBI agent is waving you over.”

  “Hi!” the agent called. “I need to check your bags before you can leave this area— Oh, pardon me,” she said, peering at their shirts. “I didn’t see you were helpers. You can go straight through.”

  Lily led the way back into the museum. “The office is just off this hall,” she whispered. “Hopefully there won’t be anyone in— Oh, hi, Miah.” Lily smiled at another young volunteer, who was coming the other way. “I’m just going to fetch some—um—balloons! Come on, guys.”

  Jackson thought the office looked a lot like his bedroom: stuffed full of useful stuff! As well as boxes of balloons, there were piles of leaflets, dozens of T-shirts, along with bags of badges and other promotional gifts. And on the wall, a large map of the layout of the Golden Games courses, with pins and flags stuck in it.

  “Wow, they really thought this out,” Quigley said, peering at the map.

  “Well, they did have ten years to plan it,” Jackson pointed out.

  “Quick, you guys,” Lily whispered. “The book is on the desk over there. You look while I guard the door. Hurry!”

  Jackson began turning the pages. “Oh, wow, look—it goes back decades. Sheesh! These old-fashioned names are so cool.”

  “Willoughby Bark-Wobble,” Quigley read. “Lettuce Flutter-Wick. Marta Muddle-Feather.”

  “Guys!” Lily said.

  Jackson flicked through the pages a little faster. “Hey,” he said. “Check this out … Marina Silverfish! That’s my mom!”

  “Huh?” Quigley cocked his head to one side. “Marina Silverfish?”

  “That was her name before she married my dad. Look,” Jackson said, “she entered the Games twenty years ago. She must have been our age back then. Wow, I never knew she’d competed.”

  Quigley peered at the page. “Yeah, it says she took part with her soon-to-be-sibling.”

  “That must have been my Aunt Astrid,” Jackson said.

  “I wonder how far they got in the contest,” Quigley said, scanning down to the bottom of the page. “Maybe it will tell us.”

  But Jackson wasn’t looking at his mom’s name now. He was staring at the one below it. “Flying Flippers!” he breathed. “I don’t believe it!”

  15

  “Custard Dorkfin?” Quigley read. “But that’s Icejob’s name.”

  Jackson nodded. “Which means he must have entered the same year my mom did.”

  “And lost,” Quigley said. “See there—the winner’s name is at the bottom of the page, and it isn’t Custard Dorkfin.”

  “Custard Dorkfin?” Lily frowned. “That’s weird. He’s in the contest today, too.”

  “He can’t be,” Jackson said. “Custard Dorkfin is the real name of a criminal called Icejob. He broke out of jail this morning, and the FBI thinks he stole the Ice Dragon’s Eye.”

  “He’s definitely in today’s contest.” Lily stepped over to the table and flicked through to the front of the book. “See, there it is. I was at the registration desk first thing this morning. And when I looked through the book, I thought it was strange that this name didn’t have an address next to it.”

  Jackson scratched his crest. “But I don’t understand. Why would Icejob have entered the Golden Games?”

  “Perhaps he was upset that he didn’t win last time he took part,” Lily suggested. “Maybe he’s a sore loser.”

  “Or maybe it’s not him. Maybe there are just two penguins called Custard Dorkfin,” Quigley said. “I think there’s another penguin in the second grade called Jackson.”

  “Yeah, and two Lilys in the first grade,” Lily added.

  Jackson puffed out his cheeks. “Do you really think two sets of parents would be crazy enough to call their kid Custard Dorkfin?” He sighed. “But if it is Icejob, someone would have spotted him. There were FBI agents everywhere. And he’s got this really distinctive ice-crystal tattoo on his beak.”

  “Don’t forget he’s a master of disguise,” Quigley said.

  “And he could have been wearing makeup,” Lily suggested. “My auntie works at the theater, and she makes the actors look really different: fake beaks, false feathers. She even gives them pretend zits and scars. Everything!”

  Jackson stared at the name in the book; an idea was gnawing at his brain. “So if Icejob was competing in the Games, in disguise, maybe he stole both the jewel and the trophy?”

  “Impossible!” Quigley said. “He couldn’t be in two places at the same time, unless”—his eyes widened—“he’s invented a time-travel machine.”

  Jackson smiled. “I don’t think the guards in the jail would have let him do anything like that.”

  “Yeah, and plus it’s really hard,” Quigley said. “Me and Sunny tried it once. Sunny put his pet goldfish in it and we haven’t seen it since.”

  Lily grimaced. “Remind me never to help with your experiments.”

  Jackson scanned the names of the other competitors, then he closed the book. “It’s just too much of a coincidence. It’s got to be Icejob. He must have stolen both the sapphire and the trophy. Somehow we need to figure out how he could be in two places at the same time.”

  “Shush!” Lily said. “Someone’s coming.” She pushed the book back to where it had been in the middle of the desk, then— “Here, hold these—” she said, handing them some balloons. “Oh, hi, Mrs. Webbingham,” Lily said as the door opened. “We’re just getting some toys for the little hatchlings to play with while they wait for the Games to restart.”

  “Oh, what a good idea,” Wendy Webbingham said. “Everyone is getting so restless.” She looked at Jackson and then Quigley, and then back to Jackson again. “You look familiar.”

  “This is Jackson and Quigley,” Lily said. “Jackson’s in the contest; he did really well in round one.”

  “Of course!” Wendy Webbingham said. “Such a unique ice-sliding style.”

  “Jackson and Quigley have offered to help me entertain the hatchlings,” Lily said, “until the Games start up again.”

  “Oh, that’s so kind!” Wendy Webbingham said. “Hopefully the missing trophy is just a prank and it’ll be returned soon. Meanwhile, the FBI has asked to see this.” She picked up the competitors’ book from the table. “I’d better get it over to them.” And she shuffled out of the office, closing the door behind her.

  “We’d better go, too,” Lily said.

  As they headed back into the main hall, Quigley nudged Jackson. “Look, there’s Sunny— Hi, Sunny!”

  His older cousin was carrying a large laptop. He waved when he saw them. “Hey, cuz—I like the shirts. I didn’t know you dudes were helping with the Games. Oh, maybe you can answer a question for me…”

  “Sure thing.” Quigley handed the bag of balloons he’d been carrying to Lily, and shuffled off to talk to his cousin.

  “So I guess the FBI will be onto Icejob once they see his name written in that book,” Lily said.

  Jackson nodded. “Maybe, but I still don’t see how he could be in two places at one time. And if he was in the contest, how did he get an egg to compete with? I mean, he’s been in jail.”

  “Maybe he borrowed one,” Lily suggested. “It could be his little cousin, or a niece- or nephew-to-be.”

  “Jackson!” Quigley shouted, waving him over. “You’ve got to hear this!”

  “And I’d better get these outside,” Lily said, taking the balloons from Jackson. “Bye for now.”

  “Jackson!” Quigley was hopping from foot to foot now. “Quick!”

  “Okay, okay, keep your feathers on! Hi, Sunny,” Jackson said, shuffling over.

  “Yo, cuz’s friend,” Sunny said. Despite the fact that Jackson and Quigley had been buddies since they were eggs, Sunny never remembered Jackson’s name.

  “Guess what?” Quigley said, his eyes wide as dinner plates. “Sunny was just asking me how the competitor with the ‘remote-control egg’ was doing in the Games.”

  “Huh?” Jackson’s eyes boggled.

  “Yeah, someone actually ordered a remote-control egg from Sunny’s new webbed-site,” Quigley explained. “Because they didn’t have an egg of their own to compete with.”

  Jackson felt his feathers bristle. “Icejob!” he hissed. “It must have been him! Wait—Sunny, can you check who ordered it?”

  “Sure.” Sunny flipped open the laptop and began tapping on the keys.

  Jackson’s eyes were glued to the screen, willing Icejob’s name to appear.

  “Such a cool site,” Quigley said as the title “SunnyScience-ice.com” flitted across the screen, then melted away to reveal the homepage.

  Sunny tapped a few more keys, then— “That’s weird,” he said, scratching his crest. “The dude who ordered it was in jail. See, it was a Mr. C. Dorkfin of Rookeryville Jail.”

  “Icejob!” Jackson growled. “I knew it!”

  “Whoa!” Sunny’s eyes bulged. “That dude ordered loads of stuff.” He scrolled down the page. “Mega-Power Wire and Bolt Cutters, solar-powered welding torch, smoke detector, sledgehammer…” He chuckled. “Anyone would think he was planning to break out of jail.”

  Jackson glanced at Quigley. Yet again, Sunny seemed to have been accidentally helping a major criminal mastermind with his crimes.

  “Oh neat!” Sunny said. “He ordered one of my new demolition whistles, too. I knew they were going to be big.”

  “Um—is that the same demolition whistle my dad bought?” Jackson asked. “The one that uses high-frequency sound waves to smash ice? Dad’s demolishing our old garage next week,” he added to Quigley.

  Sunny grinned. “Yep! Your dad loves a gadget. He’s one of my best customers. Tell him I’ve added a new remote-control function to it so that you can demolish anything and you don’t have to be anywhere near it. Because safety is always my top consideration when I’m inventing stuff. Right, dudes?”

  Jackson snorted. Safety was the last thing Sunny’s inventions involved. Then suddenly, he froze. “Wait a minute—” His adventure detectors were pulsating now like Christmas lights. “Did you say remote-control demolition whistle?”

  Sunny nodded. “Yeah, my new demolition whistles now have a distance of two miles. You just put the whistle next to the structure you want to demolish, then you take the remote control and toddle off anywhere you want with it, then boom!” He made an explosion motion with his flippers. “Cool, huh!— Wait—that prisoner dude didn’t use it to break out of jail, did he?” Sunny gulped. “That might not be cool.”

 

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