CHAPTER ONE

Every team needs a home base, a hangout spot, or, as Duck always puts it, an “escape from the insane real world.” For us, that lovely space is Mario’s Pizza.

Dinky? Sure. Pricey food? You bet. Our favorite place? Absolutely!

Our team consists of Henry Winston, Sebastian “Duck” Taylor, and me, Diego Garcia. Together, we are probably the most average teenagers in Great Field, a small, grassy town on the East Coast.

Henry, Duck, and I have been friends for as long as I can remember. Still, the group always felt incomplete without our booth, along with its owner, Mario, a heavyset man with a thick, black mustache and a constant smile. Today was just another ordinary day as we walked into the pizzeria.

“Boys! How are my favorite customers doing?” Mario called as we pushed our way into the restaurant.

“Good as always, Mario!” I shouted back.

Not that I needed to shout. The restaurant was empty aside from the four of us.

Mario came around the counter, already carrying our usual large pepperoni pizza as we took our seats in our booth.

“So, Duck, how’s the studying for the English quiz going?” Mario asked, setting the food down.

“Jeez, Mario, you’re worse than my parents,” Duck whined.

Mario scooted into the booth beside us. He pulled out a wrinkled piece of paper.

“All right, you know the drill; you have to earn this pizza,” he said.

We all got ready, knowing what was coming.

“Now, question one: ‘What is the name of the island in the story Peter Pan?’” Mario said through his mustache.

Duck had never been one to actually study; in fact, he was as proud giving the wrong answer as most people would be of giving the right one.

Henry nudged Duck under the table.

“Come on, man, you know this,” Henry said.

“Hey, no hints,” Mario interjected.

Duck threw his hands up in frustration.

“I don’t know—Kansas or something!” he said.

Even though it was amusing, it wasn’t the answer Mario was looking for. A smile appeared on his face.

“Not quite. Keep studying that one.”

With that, Mario stood up, lightly hitting Duck on the head with the paper.

“I’ll let you keep the pizza, though. I have to get back to work anyway.”

This is how most days went—free pizza and all. Not a bad life. Little did we know, this would be the day everything changed.

RING! The entry bell chimed as a man entered. He was tall and lean, dressed in a dark suit. The air seemed to grow colder as he walked in.

I had never seen this man around town and certainly not here. But I supposed more customers could never be bad news for Mario.

But this was no customer, and he was bad news for sure.

The man glared at us before his gaze landed on Mario behind the counter, who seemed unusually nervous.

“Uh, good afternoon, Mr. Vanderbilt. What brings you in on this fine day?” Mario asked.

The man checked his fancy wristwatch before speaking.

“Please, Mario, I don’t have time for pleasantries. We must discuss this month’s rent—”

“Right! Let’s head back to my office,” Mario interrupted.

Despite being a bit annoyed, Vanderbilt followed Mario past the bathrooms and into his tiny office.

Strange, I thought. Mario never took anyone into his office. I had also never seen him so shaken up. Who was this Vanderbilt guy?

Henry and Duck didn’t seem to notice the conversation that had just occurred; they were too busy chatting about school and eating pizza.

I tried to ignore the worry that was building in my mind. Just what was going on in that office?

My fear and curiosity got the best of me, and I finally stood up.

“I’m going to use the bathroom,” I said a bit too loudly.

Henry and Duck just looked at me standing there.

“Do you want a ‘good luck’ or something?” Duck joked.

Embarrassed, I made my way to the bathroom doors. Double-checking to see if anyone was watching, I walked past the bathrooms and approached Mario’s office. I drew closer to the door, hearing the voices grow louder. I just had to know if Mario was okay.

Crouching down by the doorknob, I listened closely, trying to make out any words.

Meanwhile, inside the office, Vanderbilt loomed over Mario.

“I don’t know why you made me come in here; you already know what this is about,” Vanderbilt said harshly.

Mario just shook his head. “Please, I didn’t want to discuss business in front of the customers.”

“If you had more customers, we wouldn’t need to discuss today’s business at all, Mario. You’re broke and behind on rent. I’m sorry, but if you don’t pay me back by the end of the month, I will be forced to kick you out. Sal’s Pizza is looking to buy this place anyway.”

Even on the other side of the door, I knew Vanderbilt was not sorry. The voices continued.

“Right, I understand. How much do I owe you?”

My eyes went wide when I heard Vanderbilt’s response.

“10,000 dollars.”

CHAPTER TWO

“That’s what I heard! 10,000 dollars!” I frantically explained to Henry and Duck.

We were sitting in Duck’s basement after running out of the pizzeria earlier today.

“I don’t buy it,” Duck whined. “I mean, if Mario were in trouble, he would tell us.”

Henry leaned forward. “Maybe he wouldn’t. I mean, think about it. Have you actually ever seen more than five customers in his restaurant at a time?”

“You’re right, Henry,” said Duck. “Sure, it used to be popular when we were younger, but ever since Sal opened his cheaper pizzeria, Mario’s hasn’t been the same. Still, who thought it was this bad, Diego?”

“I know what I heard, guys!” I said. “The bigger problem is this—what are we going to do about it?”

Two days later, we were out in front of Mario’s, trying to “do something about it.”

“Help save Mario’s Pizza!” Duck shouted at the people passing by as he waved a flyer around.

Henry and I stood watching him yell.

“How many flyers have we given out?” I asked.

Henry looked down. “Ten. So, at this rate, all we have to do is hand out, like, a thousand more,” he sighed.

We both looked at each other.

“This isn’t working, fellas,” Duck shouted as he walked back. “Anyone have any other ideas?”

Duck dropped a flyer, and I watched it flutter to the ground.

It landed in front of a group of three passing boys about our age.

The one in front, whose name I would later learn was Nick, bent down and curiously picked it up. He quickly read the flyer and laughed.

“Save Mario’s Pizza? Why bother? The place is so overpriced,” Nick said to his friends. “I can go down to Sal’s and get a slice for less.”

Watching this, all I felt was anger.

Before I even had time to think, I shouted, “What would you know about pizza anyway!”

The three boys looked over at us.

Nick smirked. “Is this yours?”

“Yeah. Give it back,” I said, walking over to them.

“Why, so you can give it to someone else? Sure, it might remind them to go to Sal’s instead,” Nick said, handing me the flyer.

I really didn’t like this guy.

“Ignore them, Diego,” Henry called to me. “We have more important things to worry about.”

He was right, of course. Still, I didn’t like it when people made fun of Mario.

“Yeah, relax, Diego,” Nick said. “We have better things to do. We need to get to practice.”

As they walked away, I couldn’t help but notice the designs on their matching black jackets—a gray swan.

“That was weird,” Duck said. “But they do have a point: the flyers aren’t going to work.”

I was still upset, but Duck was right. This wasn’t working.

Henry slammed his fist into his palm.

“I’ve got an idea. If we can’t make people go to Mario’s to give him the money, we’ll need to get the money for him ourselves.”

CHAPTER THREE

From there, we did everything we could to raise money for Mario. We hosted a yard sale and sold some of our oldest things. Duck gave up his skateboard; Henry parted with a baseball he caught at Fenway Park; and I sold my favorite action figure that I had as a kid, along with several other items from each of us.

“How much did we make?” Duck asked.

“About 211 dollars,” Henry responded.

Not enough. Not nearly enough.

We tried a different approach.

“Car wash here! Get your car washed!” Duck yelled at the passing cars racing by.

“I can’t believe how many people want their car washed,” I said excitedly as I watched Duck and Henry scrub a customer’s car. “And for ten dollars a car, we can actually do this!”

“I know. Just look at this line. It goes around the block,” Henry cried excitedly.

We both paused. The line was long, sure, but it wasn’t moving.

“Scrub faster,” I said, furiously continuing to wash.

“I am,” Henry responded. “Duck, stop waving down new customers. We can barely handle the ones we have.”

Even with Duck’s extra help, the line soon erupted into honks before people started to leave angrily.

Before long, it was just the three of us again in the empty lot.

“I really thought we could do it,” I said, sitting on the curb.

This was it. How were the three of us supposed to raise enough money to help Mario?

“Maybe we should try to get more friends to help us with the car wash,” Duck said.

“No one’s going to want us to wash their car after today,” I said sadly.

Just then, I noticed Henry looking at a poster on a telephone pole, and I watched as he ripped it off. He turned around and stretched it out to show us.

Henry smiled. “I think I have another idea.”

He held a flyer reading Brain Box TV: The Ultimate High School Trivia Showdown.

My eyes widened as I read the bottom of the page.

“10,000 dollar prize!”

CHAPTER FOUR

The competition was five days away. We had little time to prepare, so we had to work extra hard. Every day leading up to the trivia contest, we stayed after school to practice in the library.

“Remember, the trivia can be on any high school subject, so we should all take a different one,” I said. “I’ll take math and science. Henry, can you take history? And Duck, can you study English?”

“Great, more studying for English,” Duck whined, yet he still picked up a book and began to work.

It went like that for the next few days. We worked harder than we ever had for school. And before we knew it, the day of the contest had arrived.

“Today is the day,” Henry said as I pulled into the parking lot of the contest.

“It’s a lot bigger than I thought,” Duck said.

While the contest was hosted by Brain Box TV, the prize was being funded by some of the wealthiest families in the county. So it wasn’t a surprise that many of those families were competing in and watching the contest.

Donating to contests like these was a way for the rich to give back to the community. I suspected that they also liked the attention.

The contest was in the park, on a wooden stage in the grass. There was a center podium for the host where he would ask us questions.

“Look at those,” I said, pointing to the buttons on the tables on either side of the podium. “Those must be our buzzers.”

Each one was big and red, one for each team member.

Any high school team of three could enter the contest, so I was more than a bit nervous. But we had to win. Our plan, and Mario’s Pizza, depended on it.

“Well, look who it is,” a familiar voice called out behind me.

I turned and saw them–Nick and his friends–smirking at us. They were still wearing those dumb swan jackets.

Great, I thought. Who knew they’d be competing too?

“Good luck, Diego. You and your friends might even get second.” Nick laughed and walked toward the stage.

“Ignore them,” Henry said. “They’re nobodies.”

Just then, the presenter walked onto the stage and began to speak into his microphone.

“Ladies and gentlemen! To begin this year’s trivia contest, allow me to introduce last year’s champions: the Gray Swans!”

As the presenter announced their name, I watched Nick and his two friends walk smugly onto the stage.

“Great, just great,” I groaned.

After introductions, the contest officially began, with all twenty teams excited and a bit nervous. The rounds were based on elimination. If you lost to another team, you were completely out.

There were eleven questions in each round, and you won by answering more questions correctly than the other team. This would repeat until there were just two teams left.

We did well for ourselves, answering question after question and advancing through the contest.

The presenter asked, “What year did Christopher Columbus set sail on his first voyage to the Americas?”

BUZZ!

“1492!” Henry shouted.

“Correct!” the presenter responded.

Henry had always been at the top of the class in school, and I could hold my own thanks to all that studying.

The contest continued with Henry and me answering question after question correctly, and Duck chiming in here and there.

“We’re doing great!” Duck happily announced as we took a break between rounds.

“Yeah, but so are they.” Henry pointed at Nick and the other Gray Swans on stage as they won again.

I watched as Nick looked at me and smirked.

“Hey, Henry? Duck?” I said.

“What?” they answered.

“Let’s beat those guys.”

CHAPTER FIVE

After a few more rounds, we finally made it to the finals. You’d never guess who our opponents were.

“Congratulations to our final two teams!” announced the presenter. “The reigning champions, the Gray Swans, versus the rising stars, Diego, Henry, and Duck!”

“I wish we had a cool name,” Duck whispered to me.

“Just focus. If we win this, we win it all,” I said back.

“If both teams are ready, let’s begin!” the presenter yelled.

It all came down to these next eleven questions.

The crowd was excitedly buzzing as the presenter prepared to ask the first question.

“Who was the fifth president of the United States?” the presenter asked.

BUZZ!

“James Monroe!” Henry answered confidently.

“Correct!” the presenter confirmed, and the crowd cheered.

We were off to a strong start, but the Gray Swans weren’t going down without a fight. Each question was a fierce battle of wits.

“What is the chemical symbol for water?” the presenter asked.

“H2O,” Nick said confidently.

“Correct!”

As the questions flew by, our nerves were on edge. Every correct answer brought us one step closer to victory, but the Gray Swans matched us point for point. It was neck and neck, and the pressure was mounting with each passing moment.

We were five versus five, and then it was time for the final question to decide it all.

“Last question, gentlemen!” the presenter yelled.

“Wait! Can we take a quick break to use the bathroom?” Nick asked from the Gray Swans’ section of the stage.

The presenter thought momentarily. “If you have to. We’ll be back with the contest-deciding question in five minutes!”

During the time-out, we watched in confusion as the Gray Swans huddled together on stage. They were doing something near Henry’s and my buzzers and whispering frantically. Something didn’t feel right, and my stomach churned with unease.

“Come on, we might as well use this bathroom break,” Henry said, luring me away.

I had a bad feeling about this.

We got back from the break just in time for the last question.

“The moment you’ve all been waiting for! Question 11: What is the name of the island in the story Peter Pan?” the presenter asked.

I knew this one! I reached for the buzzer, but no sound came out. To my horror, I saw Henry try to buzz in as well, with no success. What had the Gray Swans done?

Panic rose in my chest. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the Gray Swans smirk triumphantly, confident that they had destroyed our chances of winning. Nick slowly went to buzz in.

But they had underestimated one of us—the person they thought would never have the right answer.

BUZZ!

I saw Duck buzz in for the first time during the finals.

“Neverland!” he cried.

“Correct!” the presenter yelled. “Diego, Henry, and Duck are the winners! Congratulations!”

We had done it! The 10,000 dollar prize was ours. We could save Mario’s restaurant!

As we headed up to the awards stand, I heard Nick yell out after us, “Figures that dimwit Duck gets lucky with a right answer! Maybe his buzzer should have been ‘broken’ too! But even if you give Mario the 10,000 dollars, his pizzeria is still going to go out of business eventually!”

I just grinned.

“Good thing we have a better plan,” I said as the presenter handed me the first place trophy.

CHAPTER SIX

One week later, the gang and I sat in Mario’s pizzeria in our usual booth as if we hadn’t just won 10,000 dollars a week ago.

“Still as good as ever,” I said, taking a bite out of a slice of Mario’s pizza.

“The very best in town,” Duck voiced happily.

Just then, I noticed Mario walking over to join us.

“Congratulations, boys! I saw you win that trivia contest on the television!” Mario beamed. “I was wondering why you haven’t been coming in lately. Must have been all that studying!”

Mario laughed and then paused for a moment.

“But why did you boys enter in the first place? I know this one in particular hates studying,” Mario said, messing up Duck’s hair.

“There’s a lot you can do with 10,000 dollars,” I said as I winked at Mario.

Mario’s face went through a series of emotions, from happy to surprised, confused, and finally, understanding.

“Oh, Diego, don’t tell me you overheard my conversation with Mr. Vanderbilt,” Mario said quietly.

“Sorry for eavesdropping. I just wanted to see if you were okay,” I apologized.

Mario got down on one knee next to our booth and looked me in the eyes.

“Diego, sometimes things change, like this restaurant. Let’s face it, Vanderbilt is right. I have no customers. They’re all at Sal’s. I think it might be time to say goodbye to Mario’s Pizza,” he said.

“But with the money—” Duck started.

“Keep the money for yourselves; you earned it,” Mario said warmly.

“We can’t do that,” said Henry, “because we already spent it.”

Mario looked shocked.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

I grinned before turning to Duck.

“Do you think they’re up by now?”

Duck checked his watch before answering. “It’s past four, so they should be.”

“What are you boys talking about?” Mario asked, confused.

That’s when I took out a red blindfold from my pocket.

“Put it on, and we’ll show you.”

Carefully guiding Mario through the doors of his restaurant, we made our way down the street.

“Where are you boys taking me?” Mario asked.

“Don’t worry, we’re almost there,” Henry said with a smile.

We passed a few shops and restaurants on the block before taking a turn at the end of the sidewalk, and there it was.

“Okay, you can take off the blindfold now,” I said.

Mario undid the blindfold and gasped at what he saw. Down the road from his shop, a spotless billboard advertised “Mario’s Pizza! The Food of Geniuses!” Alongside, there were pictures of Duck, Henry, and me holding our first place trophy.

“I can’t believe it,” Mario said, shocked.

“Believe it,” Duck said. “We have a few more set up throughout town; plus, we made you some social media accounts.”

“You have the best ingredients in town, Mario,” Henry explained. “Fresh vegetables, local meats, and dairy. It gave us the nutrients to build our brain power.”

“Sal’s could never compare,” Duck chimed.

“This is our way of letting the people know what they’ve been missing out on and getting you those customers you need,” I said.

Mario stood quiet for a moment before wrapping us up in a bear hug.

On the verge of tears, he spoke, “Thank you, boys. No one has ever done something this nice for me before.”

We hugged him back.

“Does this mean you’ll stay open?” I asked.

“There’s no guarantee that these advertisements will keep me in business,” he said. “But if you boys won’t give up on me, neither will I.”

Mario then paused for a moment.

“But no matter what, you boys are never paying for pizza again!”

True to his word, Mario never charged us for pizza, as if he ever really did before. But with all the customers our advertisements brought in, I think we can call it even.

And ever since those billboards went up, plus some savvy internet marketing, we’ve never seen Mario’s empty.

Still, no matter how packed, Mario always leaves our booth reserved just for us.

RING! The bell chimed as someone entered. Looking over, I saw it wasn’t just any customer—it was good ol’ Mr. Vanderbilt.

The imposing figure looked surprised at Mario’s newfound success. Just then, Mario spotted him and hopped around the counter.

“Mr. Vanderbilt!” he cried. “Just the man I wanted to speak to.”

Mario wrapped his arm around Vanderbilt.

“Good to see you too, Mario. Uh, do you have time to talk about the rent?” Vanderbilt asked.

“No need to,” Mario said, taking out a check addressed to Vanderbilt for 10,000 dollars and placing it in the man’s front pocket.

Walking with Vanderbilt to his office, Mario said, “What I really wanted to talk to you about was potentially opening more restaurants! What do you think?”

As they left, I grinned, looking at the slice of pizza in front of me.

I didn’t know when I would have my last slice of Mario’s pizza, but it definitely wouldn’t be anytime soon.