The Potato Chip Puzzles: The Puzzling World of Winston Breen (3 page)

“Kee-rect,” Mr. Nelson said. He turned to the class at large. “We’re going to go over your final essays today. How have some of you managed to get through this entire school year without learning how to write? Let’s take a few examples here. . . .”

Winston was still vibrating like a tuning fork. He’d blurted out his story about the puzzle hunt, but he didn’t know if his friends would be able to join him. He looked at them, eyebrows raised in a querying
Well . . . ?

Jake glanced over at him, saw his expression, and nodded, smiling. He was in. Mal saw the exchange and nodded too. Winston sat back, pleased beyond measure. He had his team. Friday was going to be a great day.

The next class was science, but Winston wasn’t there for very long. In a way, he was
never
there. He was off in daydream land from the first minute, wondering what would happen on Friday. Would they simply be handed a bunch of puzzles to solve? Would they have to run around looking for things? He envisioned a hundred kids set loose in the Simon’s Snack Foods factory, dashing between giant popcorn poppers and potato chip fryers, dodging splashes of hot oil in search of a vital clue.

How many other schools had received the code, and how many had cracked it? Would some of the teams have bigger kids from high school? Winston thought he could stand his ground in a puzzle competition against kids his own age. He wasn’t sure if that would be true against high-schoolers.

He was brought back to reality by a knock on the classroom door.

Mr. Garvey, a math teacher who taught the advanced kids, peeked in. “I wonder if I might speak to Mr. Breen for a moment,” he said. The class turned, and everyone gave Winston a look that was half curiosity and half pity.

The science teacher nodded, and Winston followed Mr. Garvey out into the cool, empty hallway. Mr. Garvey was a tall man with salt-and-pepper hair and thick matching eyebrows. He had a series of wavy, wrinkly lines in his forehead, as if he had gone into deep thought one day and had never come back out. Mr. Garvey smiled down at him, adding a few more wrinkles to that wide forehead. “Well,” he said, “Winston Breen. I don’t think we’ve officially met.”

“In the cafeteria a couple of times,” Winston said, “when it was your turn to watch everyone.”

“Ah, yes,” said Mr. Garvey. “You’ll excuse me if I don’t recall. That must mean you’re one of the good kids. I spend those shifts in the cafeteria making sure the troublemakers don’t start using the chicken fingers and fish sticks as deadly weapons. I’m sure eating them is deadly enough.” Mr. Garvey laughed at his joke.

Winston smiled, but with some effort. Mr. Garvey’s laugh didn’t sound altogether real. It was the laugh of a dentist looking to lighten the mood before he stuck something sharp in your mouth. Winston thought he knew why Mr. Garvey was here.

Sure enough, Mr. Garvey said next, “So, our principal has shared a fascinating story with me.”

“Oh?”

“He’s asked me to accompany you on this puzzle expedition on Friday. And of course, I agreed.”

Winston nodded, not daring to let his smile falter. This was exactly what he’d been afraid of. Mr. Garvey was nobody’s favorite teacher. The students in his advanced math class dreaded being called upon—if they got an answer wrong, Mr. Garvey was more than happy to make fun of them in front of the whole class. It was even rumored that Mr. Garvey once made his entire Mathletes team cry after they had lost a crucial match.

Winston was on track to be in Mr. Garvey’s class the following year and wasn’t looking forward to it. Now it looked like he was going to get the full Garvey Experience a few months earlier than expected.

Mr. Garvey said, “I’m looking forward to working with you on this, Winston. Of course, I’m aware of your reputation as a puzzle lover. Quick! Why did the chicken cross the road?”

Winston looked startled. “Uh,” he said. That was a riddle from first grade. Was Mr. Garvey serious?

Mr. Garvey smiled even more broadly and smacked Winston lightly on the shoulder. He said, “Just kidding. I’m sure you’re light-years beyond silly little riddles. Indeed, I think you’ll prove to be the cornerstone of the team, and I applaud Mr. Unger for bringing you on board.” Mr. Garvey beamed down at him. “Say, I’ve got a little puzzle for you, if you want to hear it. A
real
puzzle. Nothing to do with chickens.”

Winston nodded. “Sure.”

“A math puzzle, of course, since that’s my field. Ready?”

“Sure,” Winston said again.

Mr. Garvey cleared his throat a little and said, “I went to a horse race, and I counted all of the horses’ legs plus all of the jockeys’ legs. The total came to 108. How many horses were in the race?”

 

After Winston had solved the puzzle, Mr. Garvey said, “I wanted to talk to you about who the other teammates should be. There are a few sharp kids on my Mathletes team. I don’t know if you know them. . . .”

Winston looked surprised. “I already chose my teammates,” he said.

Mr. Garvey stared down at him. His fatherly smile tightened but did not fade. “You did? Don’t you suppose we might have collaborated on this?”

“I didn’t know you were going to be the chaperone.”

All at once, Mr. Garvey’s smile collapsed and vanished. Without it, Mr. Garvey’s face took on a chiseled-from-stone look. He said sharply, “I’m not going to be a chaperone, Winston. I will be a coach, mentor, and guide. It’s not my job to drive you around. It’s my job to see that we win. You understand that, don’t you?”

Winston nodded and tried not to look as sick as he was starting to feel. “Yes. Sorry,” he said.

“And part of that job,” Mr. Garvey continued, “is making sure we have the best possible team. Who is it that you’ve chosen to join us?”

“My friends Mal and Jake.”

The math teacher took a deep breath. “Would I know either of these young men?”

“I don’t know. Mal is in the drama club. And Jake is on the baseball team.”

“An actor and an athlete,” said Mr. Garvey.

“Actually, Mal works backstage.”

Mr. Garvey nodded and flicked a hand in the air, not caring if Mal worked onstage, backstage, or collected tickets. “I’m sure they’re very good at what they do,” he said. “But I don’t think there’s going to be much call for moving props around or tackling the other team.”

Winston couldn’t believe it. Mr. Garvey wanted to kick Mal and Jake off the team. He tried not to let panic show in his voice. “They’re good puzzle solvers. They both are.”

Mr. Garvey sighed and stared at Winston thoughtfully. “Winston, do you want to win this thing?”

“Yes. Sure I do.”

Mr. Garvey found his smile again. “I believe you. I really do.” But he shrugged, and the smile turned doubtful. “You also, I imagine, want to hang out with your friends and have a good time. Don’t you?”

“Well, yeah.”

“That is my point,” said the teacher. “You have the whole summer to have fun with your friends. I think it would be better if you considered Friday’s adventure to be an important job you’ve been asked to do. That
we
have been asked to do. You and I.”

A job? Mowing the lawn—
that
was a job. This was a spectacular event that he could hardly wait to begin. Still, he understood what Mr. Garvey was getting at, and he said, “We’re going to take it very seriously. We’re not going to goof around. I promise. We all want to win.”

Mr. Garvey nodded, that doubtful expression lingering on his face. “I’m sure. I’m sure. And you say your friends are good puzzle solvers. Maybe that’s so. But I teach the advanced math classes here and run the math club, as well. We have some very bright students who I think might be a better fit on something like this.”

“I already told my friends they could come along.”

“Yes, yes. That is regrettable. I tried to contact you quickly so that we might work together to build the best possible team. You work fast.”

“Mr. Unger said I could choose whoever I wanted,” Winston said.

Mr. Garvey’s eyes flared. “And maybe he got a little caught up in the excitement of the moment. Perhaps he forgot to consider what was best for the school.”

Winston shook his head. “I can’t just tell them they’re not invited.”

“No, no, I wouldn’t make you do that,” Mr. Garvey said with sympathy. “You leave that to me. I’ll tell them it was a misunderstanding and that you didn’t have the authority to invite them in the first place. They’ll get over it, I promise. I’ll have the main office page them right after class. What did you say their names were again?”

Winston was frozen. All he could do was blink stupidly at the math teacher. The simple act of saying his friends’ names felt like a betrayal. How had everything fallen apart so quickly?

And who would replace Jake and Mal? The advanced math kids were all older—Winston hardly knew them. He’d be solving with strangers instead of with his best friends. In no time flat, Mr. Garvey had ripped all the fun out of a one-of-a-kind experience.

Mr. Garvey said, “Winston? Hello?”

Not really thinking about what he was about to do, Winston said slowly, “That’s all right. I’ll tell them. You’re forming your own team.”

Mr. Garvey looked surprised. “Are you sure? I know they’re your friends. I don’t mind breaking the news to them. If they’re going to be angry at someone, let them be angry at me.”

“No, I’ll do it. I’ll tell them all three of us are being replaced.”

“What?” Now it was Mr. Garvey’s turn to blink. “No, no. You’re still on the team.”

Winston shook his head. “I don’t want to do it without my friends,” he said. Which wasn’t exactly true. He wanted to do it very much, and he could hardly believe the words that were coming out of his mouth. But in some way he couldn’t explain,
not
going was more important than going without Jake and Mal. He’d read about it afterward, or call up the company and see if he could get the puzzles when the event was done. It wouldn’t be the same thing, but he couldn’t invite his friends and then just as quickly cut them out. They would understand, and they probably wouldn’t hold it against Winston. But they would also remember.

Mr. Garvey, frowning, stared at Winston. He said, “I thought solving puzzles was your favorite thing to do.”

“It is.”

“But you’re going to pass up a full day of solving puzzles, simply because your friends can’t come along? That seems a little foolish to me, Winston. If you don’t mind me saying.”

Winston shrugged. He gazed off down the hallway—he couldn’t look at Mr. Garvey full in the face. “I think I’d feel bad all day long,” he said, keeping his voice calm. “I told them they could come, and then if they’re not there . . . I guess I just don’t think it would be fun.”

Mr. Garvey said, “Maybe it wouldn’t be fun. Maybe it would be hard work. But at the end of the day, you’d bring home a large financial reward to your school. Doesn’t that make it worth it? Why don’t you think of it
that
way?”

Winston said nothing. He was afraid Mr. Garvey would talk him out of quitting. Part of him was
hoping
this would happen.

Mr. Garvey continued, “I think you have a responsibility, Winston, to attend this event and do your best at it. No matter who your teammates are.”

A new, small realization poked its way through Winston’s anger and disappointment. In fact, it felt a little bit like solving a puzzle: He’d picked up on the clues that were right in front of him and understood how they fit neatly together. Mr. Garvey had an entire class of smart kids to draw from, and yet he was trying quite hard to convince Winston to stay on the team. Quite hard.

“This is an opportunity for you,” Mr. Garvey said, “to give something back to your school. Do you understand?”

Winston said, “You really want me to be on the team.”

Mr. Garvey gave a small bark of laughter. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you.”

“You don’t think you can win without me.”

Mr. Garvey looked surprised and then turned stony again. “I wouldn’t go that far. I teach a lot of bright students. Some of them like puzzles very much.”

“This will be more than math puzzles, though,” Winston said. “It’ll probably be all kinds of puzzles.”

Mr. Garvey nodded slowly, aware he was being backed up against a cliff. “You’re probably right. That’s why I think it would be best if you stayed on the team.”

Mentally crossing his fingers, Winston said, “I’ll stay on the team if my friends can stay.”

The math teacher crossed his arms. “And if not?”

Winston shrugged again.

The stony look on Mr. Garvey’s face intensified. He shook his head in disbelief. “Are you playing hardball with me, Winston?”

“No,” Winston said, although he knew the answer was yes. “I’m just saying that we already have a good team. That’s the team I want to be on.”

The teacher gaped down at him for several moments. He blew out a long breath and said, “Look at this from my point of view. Who are these friends of yours? They aren’t elite students, or I’d have heard of them. One of them may be a fine athlete, but athletes don’t tend to be master puzzle solvers.” He searched around for some new way to salvage the situation and settled on, “Did I mention to you how much I want to win this thing?”