The Unusual Mind of Vincent Shadow (10 page)

“It’s an honor to meet you, sir.”

“No, Vincent. The honor is all mine.”

Vincent couldn’t believe the great Howard G. Whiz knew his name.

“I see you are admiring one of the latest additions to my collection,” Howard said, leaning on his cane.

“Yes, it’s beautiful.”

“You know, I met him once when I was a little boy,” Howard said, motioning to a photo of Tesla on the wall. “Yes, he had striking
eyes. They were a brilliant blue. Most unusual,” Howard said.

“Wow. What was he like?” Vincent asked.

“Charming. Brilliant. Too brilliant for me to actually understand.” Howard chuckled. “I didn’t understand most of what Tesla
said, but I think you would have, Vincent. I just saw your kite on TV. It’s brilliant, Vincent. Just brilliant.”

Vincent didn’t know what Mr. Whiz was talking about. His kite hadn’t been on TV.

“And my cousin Dennis has great things to say about you,” Howard added.

“Do you mind if I ask you what’s behind the curtain over there?” Vincent said.

“Ah, that, my boy, is one of Tesla’s most ambitious and misunderstood inventions,” Howard said. “It isn’t done yet, but maybe
you will be around this summer to help me finish it.”

“I saw this invention at the Met, but it didn’t have all of these pieces.”

“Yes, it’s taken me quite some time to piece it all together.”

“What is it, Mr. Whiz?”

“You are looking at one of the first vacuum tube Tesla coils,” Howard answered.

“Does it work?”

“It sure does,” Howard replied. “Most everything Tesla built, worked. It’s criminal, what they did to him. Just criminal.
He’s given us all so much, and we let him die penniless and hungry. They called him crazy at the end of his life. Crazy because
he had the courage to create. People are too quick to dismiss what they don’t understand.”

“How did you find all the pieces?”

“It wasn’t easy, Vincent. Tesla lived in several different hotels. Often he would move, leaving notebooks and prototypes behind.
I’ve spent the last twelve years scouring New York and looking for Tesla prototypes, trying to put his collection back together,”
Howard said.

“Is this a—” Hundreds of glowing bubbles filled the room as Vincent touched the glass tube attached to the Tesla coil. Vincent
could hear the blood rushing to his head. The room began to spin.
Not now
, he thought. The bubbles glowed brightly against the now completely black room. Vincent waved his hand in the air in an effort
to pop dozens of bubbles that seemed to be floating around him. A strange device came into focus. It looked like his Pop Tunz
bubble blowers attached to the vacuum tube Tesla coil.

“That’s it!” he muttered. The solution to Pop Tunz had been right in front of him. “The vacuum tube keeps the high voltage
from getting out of control.”

“Right! Absolutely right! See, I knew you would understand Tesla’s work. I knew it!” Howard said.

Vincent could see the solution clearly. But the solution and the bubbles were the only things he could see. The rest of the
world was dark.

“Are you okay, Vincent?” Howard asked.

“Yes sir, I… I just got something in my eyes. Would you mind showing me how to get back to the group, sir? I have a lot of
work to do before tomorrow.”

Erik Norsted e-mailed the pictures of “this
amazing kid and his windless kite” to his wife. Charlie and Maria Girsch had also taken pictures of “some kid flying a kite
inside the airport!” Rollie Black shot a video of Vincent and posted it online. Someone recognized him in the video and by
6:00
PM
Vincent was famous.

By 8:00
PM
more than twenty-five million people had seen the photos and watched the video of Vincent and his kite. Reporters were camped
out in the Shadows’ front yard, wanting to know more about the amazing young inventor already being hailed as the next Thomas
Edison. It seemed like everyone had seen the video. Everyone but Vincent. As Vincent blindly felt his way down the hall, trying
to get back to Stella, he had no knowledge of his newfound fame.

“Vincent, are you all right? I was getting worried about you,” Stella said.

“I’m great. I met Mr. Whiz!” Vincent said.

Stella looked down the hallway.

“What was he like? Was he nice?”

“He was charming. But I had an idea and, well… well, I need your help getting out of here. We have a lot to do.”

“No problem. Here, I grabbed your kite out of the garbage. You know, I get the feeling the Spinowskis tripped you on purpose.”
Stella looked over to the table and both generations of Spinowskis were wearing stupid grins.

“Oh, there you are, Mr. Shadow,” Calli said. “I reread the rules and unfortunately we are unable to grant you an extension.
You need to fix your invention by the time the contest starts at 8:00
AM
tomorrow morning or I’m afraid you will be disqualified.”

“Isn’t there anything you can—” Stella started to ask, but Vincent cut her off.

“No,” Vincent said as he held the tangled mess that used to be idea No. 50. “Don’t worry about it. We’ll be there tomorrow
morning at 8:00
AM
. Do you have a bag I can put this in?”

Stella looked at the food-soaked, tangled mess in Vincent’s hand and said, “How are you going to fix it in time, Vincent?”

“Come on. We have to go shopping before we go to the lab,” Vincent said.

“Lab? What lab?”

“Hey, Vincent! Long time no see,” the
clerk said from behind the counter.

“Hey, Googie. How’s it going?” Vincent asked.

“Good, man, good. Dude, I haven’t seen your dad in here for months. He hasn’t stopped playing his guitar, has he?”

“No. He’s just been real busy with work.” Vincent didn’t want to explain that his dad had met a woman online and destroyed
his life by moving them to Minnesota.

“What can I do you for?”

“I need—I mean, my dad needs some new vacuum tubes for his guitar amp.”

“Cool, cool. So he’s still playing.” Googie walked out from behind the counter. “Here, he likes the Groove Tubes the best.”

“Great,” Vincent said. “Give me three Groove Tubes.”

With his new Groove Tubes in hand, Vincent led the way.

“What are we doing here?” Stella asked as they stood across the street from their old house.

“We need to get in to my old room.”

“Your old room? Why?”

“I have some things hidden there,” Vincent said. “Things that might help us win the contest.”

“Hidden things? What kind of hidden things?” Stella asked.

“You know, invention things.”

“Invention things?”

“Yeah, like hidden-invention-lab kinds of things,” Vincent said.

“What? Like you have the Batcave hidden in your old room?”

“Something like that.”

“Well then, maybe we should shoot our rappelling ropes around the chimney and swing through your bedroom window.”

“Come on, Stella. I’m serious.”

“I have an idea,” Stella said. “Why don’t we just knock on the door?”

“Yeah, then what?”

“I don’t know.” Stella started walking across the street. “I’m sure you’ll think of something—inventor boy.” Stella rang the
doorbell.

Mrs. Zimmerman opened the door. “Hello. Can I help you?”

“Hi. I know this is going to sound a little strange, but my sister and I use to live here and we were—”

“Oh my, you’re him, aren’t you? You’re the kid on TV with the kite. We saw you flying your kite in that airport. Amazing,”
Mrs. Zimmerman said. “Oh, my son Timmy has some friends over for his birthday. I know they would love to meet you. Do you
have time to come in?”

Vincent looked at Stella. “Sure,” they said together.

“You can set your bag down here. Timmy and the rest of the kids are in the kitchen.”

A dozen children were huddled around a cake that read “HAPPY 7TH BIRTHDAY DANGER BOY.”

Danger Boy, known to some as Timmy Zimmerman, had always wanted to be a stuntman. And that had always terrified his mother.
At the tender age of two, little Timmy slid down an entire flight of stairs headfirst on his pillowcase. At the age of three,
Timmy had jumped off the top bunk of his bed and landed—headfirst—in a pile of clothes. His mom bought him a helmet for his
fourth birthday.

By the time he turned five, Timmy was building makeshift ramps and performing death-defying stunts with his bike. The summer
of his sixth birthday, he jumped his bike over Katelyn Meyers, Katelyn’s brother Nick, and their dog Buddy. He earned the
nickname “Danger Boy” that summer.

“Timmy, this is—oh, I didn’t get your name,” Mrs. Zimmerman said.

“Vincent Shadow.”

“This is Vincent. He’s that boy who invented that windless kite.”

“Happy Birthday, Timmy—or should I say—Danger Boy.”

“What are you doing at my birthday party?”

“Well, I actually used to live here and—”

“And we thought it would be fun to see who lives here now,” Stella interjected.

“Did you bring the kite?” Danger Boy asked.

“No. No kite. But,” Vincent was desperately trying to think of a way to get upstairs, “I bet we could invent something together.”

“Oh, yeah? Like what?” Danger Boy challenged.

“Well, I could show you how to build a crossbow out of an old shoe, clothes hangers, and a couple of pencils. I bet we could
find that stuff up in your room,” Vincent said.

“Sounds lame,” Danger Boy said.

“Yeah. Lame, dude,” the other kids chimed in.

“Aahhhh, okay.” Vincent looked around the kitchen. “What if I make fireballs shoot from your birthday cake?”

The boy sitting next to Timmy started to say, “You can’t do—” but Timmy pushed his hand up against his friend’s chest to silence
him.

“Show me,” Danger Boy said.

“Okay. I’m gonna need to cut a piece of your cake here.” Vincent cut a piece of birthday cake and put it on a paper plate.
He stuck a birthday candle in the middle of the cake.

“I need matches and a large glass bowl.”

“Oh, are you sure this is safe?” Mrs. Zimmerman asked as she handed Vincent matches and a large bowl.

“Good point. Remember, guys, not to try this at home without your—”

“Get on with it,” Danger Boy demanded.

Vincent set the timer for forty-five seconds, lit the candle, and placed the glass bowl over the cake with the lit candle.
He closed the microwave door and pushed START.

Danger Boy held his breath as he watched the cake spin around inside the microwave. Soon the candle flame flickered and then
a fireball shot from the candle and seemed to stick to the top of the bowl… still glowing. Then another fireball, followed
by another, and yet another. Soon there was a massive fireball trapped inside the glass bowl.

“Awesome,” Danger Boy said as the microwave beeped and went black. “Do it again!”

“Did you like that?” Vincent asked.

“Yeah!” the kids yelled.

Even Stella was amazed. “How did you do that?”

“That’s nothing,” Vincent said. He pointed to Danger Boy’s Harley-Davidson T-shirt. “I see you like motorcycles.”

“Yeah,” Danger Boy answered.

“You should see his room. It’s covered with motorcycle posters,” the boy sitting next to Danger Boy said.

“I’d love to see the posters in your room. Can you show me?” Vincent asked.

“Yeah, that would be cool,” Stella quickly added.

“Later. Come on. More fireworks,” Danger Boy said.

“I bet you have more cool motorcycle T-shirts in your closet. I would love to see them.” Vincent was desperate to get upstairs.
Time was running out.

“Shadow, on with the show,” Danger Boy insisted.

“Right. Right. Ah, who wants to see a—a hydrogen- powered rocket? I mean, who wants to see a crazy, high-powered, dangerously
fast rocket?”

“We do! We do!” Danger Boy and his friends were now surrounding Vincent.

“Do you have any hydrogen peroxide in the house, Mrs. Zimmerman?” Vincent asked.

“I don’t know. There might be some up in the closet.”