Free The Quillan Games by D.J. MacHale Page B

excited, almost giddy, as if this news were as exciting to him as he was trying to make it for the crowd. I guess it worked, because I could feel a buzz growing. The people of Quillan were getting psyched up. “We are in midquad, which can only mean one thing!”
    Suddenly everyone in the crowd shouted out: “TATO!”
    Yikes! The roar was deafening. They all shouted out the word and began to applaud and cheer. It was like the fuse had reached the dynamite and the crowd had exploded. Whatever “Tato” was, the crowd thought it was pretty good. The word TATO flashed on-screen, which made them cheer again. I couldn’t imagine what was so incredibly great about this “Tato” thing that it could finally inject some life into this listless world.
    The man’s excited voice continued over the roar, louder, so it could be heard: “Place your bets, the time is near; the greatest games on Quillan are here!” He sang this out like a singsong children’s rhyme. The people responded with a cheer and applause. I didn’t. Rhymes. I had heard a rhyme recently. Where was that? Why did this give me an uneasy feeling? I couldn’t remember.
    On the screen the word TATO dissolved in a brilliant flash of orange. What was left was a close-up of the announcer. The guy had a big toothy smile. His hair was long and blond and totally wild like he had stuck his finger in a toaster. He was an older guy, in his forties maybe. Whatever age he was, he was way too old to be acting so crazy. He reminded me of one of those nutty guys in cheesy TV commercials who try to sell you kitchen stuff, or used cars. Or report the weather. His eyes were wild and always moving. Above all, he lookedlike he was having a great time. The people responded.
    â€œWe are proud, so very proud, to bring you the greaaaaatest Tato match in history!” He was whipping the crowd into a frenzy. The shot on-screen widened out to include another person. A woman. She was as still and intense as the guy was animated and nutty. She stared out at the world with an unwavering glare. Her hair was dark and slicked back so severely, it almost looked like she was bald. Her features were sharp, like a fox’s. Whoever she was, she meant business.
    â€œThe match will begin in moments,” she said clearly but with no emotion. “Wagering must be completed by the tone. Do not dally. If you plan to wager, the time is now.”
    What an odd couple these two made. The hyperactive nutty guy who looked like he was auditioning for a kids’ TV show, and the intense, glaring woman who was everybody’s nightmare of a strict teacher. Who were these two?
    The nutty guy gave me the answer. He sang out another rhyme that went, “The time is now; let’s have some fun; we’re ready for the show. Our games aren’t tame; you know our names, your friends LaBerge and Veego.”
    I remembered where I saw the rhyme.
    LaBerge and Veego. Veego and LaBerge. These were the guys who sent me that odd rhyming invitation to come to Quillan. I pulled the thick paper out of my back pocket and read it one more time:
    Riggedy riggedy white
    Come and spend the night
    We’ll play some games
    Some wild, some tame
    Cause if you will, you might
    Your hosts on Quillan,
    Veego and LaBerge
    More importantly, this invitation was in a box that was sent to me through the flume by Saint Dane. Somehow these two wack jobs on the video screen were tied in with the demon Traveler. I needed to know who they were, and what they were all about. My hunt for Saint Dane had officially begun.
    Veego said, “LaBerge and I feel this will be an exciting, well-played Tato. Not since the famous match of twelve-oh-six have there been two competitors who are so closely matched.” (She pronounced LaBerge like la-bearj. It sounded French, but there was no such thing as “French” on Quillan. As far as I knew.)
    â€œThey are entering the Tato dome