The New Champion Read Free Page A

didn’t live in England, and kings don’t exactly get promoted, but Cameron wasn’t going to stop Spencer’s rant. It was too much fun to watch.

    â€œWhich way’d she go?”
    Walker pointed behind him. “Thataway.”
    Spencer turned on his heels to race after Bianca. He came back about fifteen minutes later. “How’d you talk to her? She was surrounded by a million people.”
    Cameron shrugged. “She wasn’t here, and then she was.”
    Spencer held out his ticket to Cameron. “Touch this. Just for a second. Just for luck.”
    Cameron brushed his fingers over it.
    â€œNo,” said Spencer. “Really rub it.”
    If Cameron had rubbed any harder, it would’ve ignited. At least Spencer wasn’t sulking anymore. When Spencer sulked, he wanted everyone to suffer.
    Â 
    The day Cameron got his guaranteed ticket and Spencer got nothing, it had been like a historic moment. Cameron printed out his confirmation and wanted to wave it in Spencer’s face, but he didn’t. Still, Spencer tore it up. Again, Cameron printed and Spencer tore.
    â€œCut it out,” Cameron said.
    â€œMake me.”
    That was about as possible as leaping over the house. Instead, Cameron set the printer to make one hundred copies, hoping Spencer would get tired.
    Spencer got tired all right. He unplugged the printer, ran with it to his room, and locked the door behind him.
    If Cameron had picked the lock, Spencer would’ve found a way, as usual, to make something Cameron’s fault. “Mom!” he’d have yelled. “Cameron broke the printer, but don’t worry. I fixed it.” He’d have come out golden again.
    Not that Cameron needed the confirmation sheet right then, but he wanted that page in his hands.
    Cameron put his mouth to Spencer’s door. “What do you want?”
    â€œEverything you win.”
    â€œSeriously. What do you want?”
    â€œHalf.”
    To hold that confirmation letter, Cameron would have paid a lot more than half the ten-dollar gift certificate they’d probably give him as they ushered him out of the Games. “Fine. Half of my gift certificate.”
    Silence.
    â€œI said fine.”
    A minute later Spencer opened his door just enough to shove a piece of paper out. It wasn’t Cameron’s confirmation. It was a contract: I hereby give Spencer 50% of anything I win in the Gollywhopper Games.
    Spencer sailed a pen out the door. “Sign it.”
    Cameron scribbled Camden Slide at the bottom so it wouldn’t be legal. It was good enough for Spencer, though.
    Spencer shoved out the printer.
    â€œBy the way,” Cameron said, “the deal’s off if you win anything.”
    â€œTry getting that in writing.”
    Cameron hadn’t bothered. What did it matter anyway? For one thing, Spencer’s chance of getting in? Near zero. And second, Cameron’s chance of winning more than a measly gift certificate? Near zero as well.
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    â€œAttention,” came a voice over a loudspeaker. “If you are wearing an official Gollywhopper Games bib, you and your adult may enter the arena.”
    â€œWell, this is a real pickle,” said his dad. He looked from Cameron to Spencer to Walker and back to Cameron. “I thought everyone would go in after the Last-Chance Lottery. When do you need to be inside, Cameron?”
    Like he knew?
    They headed to his registration lady. “We’re in a bit of a bind,” said his mom. “We have one adult per kid plus one kid left over and we don’t know whether or not the other one will get in and that’s not making any sense, is it?”
    The woman shook her head.
    â€œWhat we need to know is this,” said Spencer, taking over. He pointed at Cameron. “Does he need to go in right now, or can he wait until I win a walk-in spot?”
    The woman looked at Cameron. “Doors close five minutes after we