Chapter1Let’s be honest. If I was my big brother, Ethan, I wouldn’t want to have me as a little brother, either.
First off, Ethan is eighteen, I’m twelve. He’s about to graduate high school. I’m still in the middle of middle school.
He’s supercool. I can be kind of annoying. Because I know stuff. Unfortunately, not everybody wants to hear about it. Plus, I can be sort of embarrassing.
Come on. Who else besides me, Benjamin J. Broderick, would come to the multiplex and, instead of watching a movie (especially one with awesome special effects and wall-rattling explosions), geek out over a retro arcade game?
It’s a relic from the last century.
Ms. Pennypickle’s Paint Blob Blaster. A vintage puzzle game that might’ve been a big hit back when people still shopped at something called a “mall.” It had a joystick that looked like a jumbo-sized Tootsie Pop, plus dual “fire” buttons you really had to bop. The thing actually took quarters instead of a phone tap or a credit card swipe.
It was the only video game on display in a “Special, Limited Time” promotion for “Ms. Pennypickle’s Most Popular Puzzlers” set up in the lobby of the movie theater. Nobody else wanted to play it. Guess Ms. Pennypickle’s puzzlers weren’t all that popular anymore.
So, yes, I spent all my movie money on quarters. I spent my snack money on, well, snacks. A jumbo tub of hot buttered popcorn, a big box of Junior Mints, and a soda pop the size of a very tall sand bucket.
I had to lay off the buttered popcorn, though. And not because I’m kind of pudgy and Ethan’s nickname for me has been “Butterball Benji” ever since (at least, according to family lore) that time I tumbled out of my booster seat during Thanksgiving dinner. No, I put the popcorn down when all that slick buttery topping made it hard to flick the joystick.
But I kept leveling up. I was on my way to becoming the high scorer. My competition? Someone from 1993.
When I cleared the second-to-last level, a pixelated pickle person pulled yet another puzzle across the screen:
PUT THESE RIVERS IN ORDER BY LENGTH, LONGEST FIRSTYeniseiMississippiNileYangtzeAmazonObYellowI knew the answer. But the machine wanted another quarter before it would let me keep playing.
My pockets were empty. Well, except for some lint. I really wished I’d brought along that roll of quarters that, for some bizarre reason, my aunt Caroline had given me for my birthday.
I panicked. I’d come so far. Thirty-five levels. Thirty-five trivia quizzes. I couldn’t quit now. If I could clear the next blob swarm, which would be revealed as soon as I ranked the rivers, the dancing pickle promised me a prize!
I looked around. There was nobody nearby. Nobody to loan me a quarter.
Suddenly, doors swung open. A movie had just ended. The audience came streaming out.
And there, in a clump of half a dozen other high school kids, was Ethan! He’d just said something that cracked up everybody else. (He’s much funnier than I’ll ever be.)
Ethan had his best hoodie on. His jeans were ripped in all the right places. He looked so cool. (My brother always looks extremely cool.)
But, ew, gross. He was holding hands with this girl named Sophia. Her hair and teeth and face were always perfect. She looked like she lived her life inside a soft-focus Instagram filter.
If Ethan and Sophia were on a date, then Ethan had to be carrying some cash. Maybe even a little spare change.
All I needed was one quarter.
Thunder boomed. For half a second, I thought it was God urging me on.
Go forth and requesteth twenty-five cents from thy brother. Then I realized, no, it’s a thunderstorm. Outside the multiplex’s big glass windows, the parking lot was starting to resemble a fast-filling lake.
And I’d ridden my bike to the movies.
Luckily, Ethan had borrowed our dad’s pickup truck. I could toss my bike in the cargo bed, and Ethan could drive me home in climate-controlled comfort.
Of course, we’d only go home after Ethan lent me that quarter so I could finish my game.
Long story short?
Ethan gave me the quarter.
But he did not give me the ride home. He and Sophia were heading to the Cheesecake Factory.
Have you ever tried to pedal a bike while wearing squishy underwear and soggy socks?
I don’t recommend it.
But when I answered the river quiz and blasted the final blobs, that antique arcade machine spat out a curled slip of paper.
I might’ve looked like a soaked cat when I got home, but, hey, I had my prize.
I also had no idea what I’d actually won.
Copyright © 2025 by Chris Grabenstein. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
