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hadn’t seen her coming. The two Owls couldn’t recover in time to make much of a race out of it.
    Screech Owls 4, Detroit Motors 2.
    The crowd was on its feet and cheering for the final event of the opening round, the tractor pull. It was going to be Wayne “Money” Nishikawa against a big kid named Todd Carter. But no sooner had they announced the competition than Carter skated over to the announcer and said that he’d pulled a muscle in his leg. The producers quickly huddled and declared that Carter would have to be replaced by Cody Kelly.
    Travis couldn’t help but wonder just how serious the “injury” was. The producers seemed quite happy with the idea that Cody would be getting more face time in the competition. No matter, it was going to be “Money” versus “Hollywood” in the final event of the competition.
    The on-ice organizers put Cody and Nish in harnesses and then attached each of them to a platform on what looked like short skis. Workers were standing by with skids of concrete blocks. They piled three on each platform. Roger, one of the cameramen, moved in to get some shots of Cody and Nish scowling at each other.
    “We want to see your competitive sides, now, boys,” Brian Evans, Inez’s co-producer, shouted from the sidelines. His face was impossible to read, hidden behind sunglasses, a beard, and a baseball cap pulled down tight. Now he took off his hat and shook it for dramatic effect. “Ramp it up. Let’s see some fight in you. Let’s see some magic!”
    Nish growled at Cody with his entire body. But the sound that came out of him was like an angry llama, and it made all of the Screech Owls laugh. Nish must think he’s rivaling Cody for the limelight, Travis thought. If the producer wants to see a fight, he’s going to get it.
    Data couldn’t help himself. He stopped typing and just posted photos. Angry-llama Nish looked ridiculous.
    “When you’re ready, gentlemen,
puuulll!
” the announcer said over the public-address system.
    Travis thought Nish’s head was going to burst. His face was redder than the Red Wings logo in the ice. But Nish’s platform was moving.
    Cody was pulling fiercely, too, leaning almost horizontally and digging in hard. His platform moved as well.
    “Two more blocks, please,” the announcer called.
    The workers placed two more of the large concrete blocks on each platform.
    Cody and Nish dug in even harder. Travis could hear Nish groaning and sort of whimpering. Not a sound came from Cody.
    “
Monnn-ey!
” someone in the crowd began to chant sarcastically.
    Others picked it up.
    “Monnn-ey!
    “Monnn-ey!
    “Monnn-ey!”
    The chant rose in volume until everyone in the arena seemed to be singing Nish’s new nickname with the most awful sense of ridicule.
    “Monnn-ey!
    “Monnn-ey!
    “Monnn-ey!”
    Cody struggled hard with his added load and could not seem to budge it. But somehow the taunting inspired Nish. Face red as an overripe tomato, he leaned, like Cody, almost level with the ground.
    He grunted.
    He squealed.
    He whimpered.
    And slowly, ever so slowly, the platform creaked – and began moving!
    The Owls cheered, the crowd booed, and Nish, taking one tortured step after another, inched the enormous load from the center line to the blue line before falling flat on his red, sweating face. He was done.
    Screech Owls 5, Detroit Motors 2.
    The Owls raced over and piled onto Nish.
    “
Hey
!” he shouted. “
Watch the hair!
”
    But the Owls weren’t to be denied. They pounded their hero and helped him out of the harness, and despite the boos and catcalls from the stands, they high-fived him and cuffed the back of his big hockey pants.
    “Not a very nice crowd, is it?” Sarah said to Travis when things went quieter.
    “No,” Travis said, “not at all. And something’s bothering me.”
    Sarah turned. “What?”
    “How did they know Nish’s new nickname?”

8
    T he producers wanted to take the Owls somewhere special. Brian – the