Escape from Mr. Lemoncello's Library by Chris Grabenstein

Lemoncello,” he mumbled. “Very clever indeed.”
    Charles entered the children’s department. It didn’t take him very long to find the book, because
In the Pocket
was propped up on a miniature stand on top of a shelf.
    “Found it!” Charles proclaimed. Then, savoring the moment, he picked up the book and read the title out loud:
“In the Pocket: Johnny Unitas and Me.”
    All of a sudden, a row of animatronic geese tucked into a corner of the room started honking and singing.
    “They call him Mr. Touchdown, yes, they call him Mr. T.”
    The squawking birds startled Charles so much he dropped the book.
    When he did, a four-by-four card fluttered out from behind its cover.
    Charles bent down to pick it up.
    Printed on the card was a black-and-white silhouette. A quarterback, wearing a number nineteen jersey (just like Johnny Unitas), was arching back his arm to throw a pass.

    Charles grinned.
    He was definitely on the right track.
    He tucked the silhouette card into his pocket and hurried back to the lobby to memorize more book covers.

“Ouch! I’m stuck! Help!”
    Haley Daley’s cries sailed up the staircase as Kyle led the charge down the steps into the Stacks.
    “So, what exactly are the Stacks?” asked Akimi, three steps behind Kyle.
    “It’s where the library stores its collection of research material,” said Sierra, who was two stairs behind Akimi.
    The three of them reached the basement. It was filled with tidy rows of floor-to-ceiling shelving units.
    “Help!”
    Haley sounded like she was on the far side of the room, behind the walls of metal storage racks crowded with boxes, books, and bins.
    “What is all this stuff?” said Kyle, looking for a passageway, trying to figure out how to get to wherever Haley was.
    “Mostly rare books and documents you can’t check out,” said Sierra. “But if you fill out a call slip, you can use this material up in the reading room.”
    With a whir and whoosh of its electric motor, a shiny robot the color of the storm troopers in
Star Wars
scooted across an intersection between bookshelves. It moved on tank treads and had what looked like a shopping cart attached to its front.
    “Let’s follow that robot!” said Kyle. “It might know the fastest way to reach Haley.”
    The trio dashed up a narrow pathway to where they saw the robot extending its quadruple-jointed mechanical arm to pluck a flat metal box out of a slide-in compartment. The box had been stored in a section of shelving with a flashing LCD that read “Magazines & Periodicals. 1930s.”
    “Somebody upstairs wants an old magazine?” said Akimi.
    “They’re probably researching the Gold Leaf Bank building,” said Sierra. “I think it was built in the 1930s.”
    “Help!” screamed Haley. “I’m stuck.”
    “Hang on!” shouted Kyle. “We’re coming.”
    “Well, hurry up already!”
    “This way,” said Kyle.
    They scampered up another aisle, turned right, and saw Haley, her hand jammed through a horizontal slot near the top of the basement wall. To reach it, she’d had to stand on an elevated treadmill maybe thirty feet long. Since the thing was rolling, Haley was jogging in place soshe wouldn’t fall on her face. The high-tech conveyor belt was actually a series of rollers. Ten robot carts—staggered so no two were directly across from each other—were lined up on either side.
    “I think it’s an automatic book sorter,” said Sierra. “That laser beam near Haley’s ankles probably scans a book’s tag and tells the conveyor belt which of the ten sorting trays to shove it into.”
    “You guys?” screamed Haley. “Hurry up and rescue me!”
    Kyle stepped back. Tried to assess the situation.
    “What is that slot you’re hanging on to?”
    “The bottom of the stupid book drop,” said Haley, trotting on the treadmill. “I saw it on the floor plan. People can walk up to it on the sidewalk and return their books. I figured it had to lead down here.”
    “Smart move,”