The Bookish Life of Nina Hill(39)

Teams were invited to bring their own buzzers, which had led to some very strange noises. Tonight, Leah had been in charge of the buzzer, and she’d brought a vintage train whistle she’d found on eBay. Its action was a little sticky, and questions were raised about her judgment until Lauren revealed she had a miniature can of WD-40 in her purse and the problem was solved. Then questions were raised about why Lauren was carrying aerosolized hydrocarbons in her purse, and then questions were raised about why Nina used that phrase to describe it. The whole discussion took nearly thirty seconds of time, which, fortunately, was how long Howard was taking to describe the rules, so it was fine.

“Category one: World Geography. Teams, please choose your champions.”

This one was easy for Book ’Em, because Leah was scarily good at geography. She had been homeschooled by a mom who believed in memorization as a form of relaxation, and she could still recite all the states (with capitals, state birds and flowers, major rivers and landmarks), countries in the world (including all the African ones, even though they changed a lot), books of the Bible, presidents and first ladies (and pets, including Coolidge’s raccoon), and every actor who’d played Doctor Who since the beginning. That last one she’d done on her own.

“But wait,” said Nina, concerned. “What if history comes up next and we can’t play her then?”

Leah shrugged. “Play Lauren instead; she’s pretty good at geography.”

“I’m not,” said Lauren, in a furious whisper. “Last time I got confused and said the longest river in the world was the Mississippi and then spelled it like a five-year-old at the Scholastic Spelling Bee. I even repeated it at the end.”

“You spelled it correctly.”

“Yes, but that’s not the point. I got the question wrong, and I can never go back to that bar.”

Nina conceded. “Leah, you go.”

Howard had recently taken things a notch further in his quest to create a trivia league YouTube channel, and had built a podium. Leah and a guy from Menace approached it.

“Don’t touch the podium,” Howard hissed. “It’s still wet.”

“From what?” asked Leah, stopping immediately.

“From being painted, of course. I added the glitter too soon and it slowed it down.”

“That’s what she said,” said the guy from Menace, and guffawed.

Leah rolled her eyes and clutched her whistle.

Howard looked at his friend, Don, who was live-streaming the contest. “Ready, Don?”

“Ready when you are, Mr. DeMille.” Don was a jokester who enjoyed old movies, poetry slams, and pretending to be a cinematographer.

Howard cleared his throat. “Here we go: Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to the Southern California Quiz Bowl Qualifier. Tonight, competing for glory and a chance to go forward to the next round, Book ’Em, Danno; Menace to Sobriety; You’re a Quizzard, Harry; and Olivia Neutron Bomb. One team will make it through the night; the other three will be buried in ignominy. Our first contest is Book ’Em versus Menace.” He turned to Leah and grinned. “And what’s your name, little lady?”

Leah raised her eyebrows at him. “My name is Death to Sexism, little man.”

Howard ignored her and turned to the guy from Menace. “And you, sir?”

“I’m Al. You can call me Al.”

Howard faced front and grinned at the phone Don was holding up. “Let the battle commence.” He got serious. “How many stripes are on the United States flag?”

“Thirteen,” snapped out Leah.

“Contestants must use their buzzers first. Sorry, Book ’Em. Menace, do you have an answer?”

“Uh, thirteen?”

“That’s correct. Two points to Menace.”

Nina, Carter, and Lauren howled a protest, but Howard held up his hand. “Heckling won’t help you, Book ’Em. You know the rules.”

Leah looked apologetically over at her team.

“OK, next question: Montevideo is the capital city of which South American country?”

The guy from Menace squeezed his rubber chicken, which squawked.

“Uh . . .”

Howard waited.

“Uh . . .”

“Would you care to make a guess?”

“Hey,” said Leah, “no fair. If he clucked too soon, it’s my turn.”

“All right, your turn.”

“Uruguay.”

“Correct. Two points to Book ’Em. Next question: What is the official language of Greenland?”

A brief pause, then Leah slid up her whistle. “Greenlandic.”

“No way,” said the guy from Menace. “You made that up.” He squeezed his chicken in protest, multiple times.

“Google it, idiot,” said Leah. “Or ask Howard; he has the answers.”

“It’s true. She’s right,” said Howard. “For a bonus point, name the other language spoken in Greenland.”

“Danish,” said Leah.

Howard stared at her. He had fallen in love with Leah the first time she’d competed in one of his tournaments and had totally aced World Religions, followed by Royal History of England, and then Animals of the Serengeti. He loved her for her mind. And her curves.

“Is there anything you don’t know?” he asked, forgetting his microphone was on.