Chapter 1 #2
Alex doesn't even glance up at me as his mom pulls him into her side. He continues working through different solutions on a type of cube that I've never seen. Instead of the normal cube shape, it has twelve sides, all different colors.
“Hi, Alex.” Alex ignores me, and I glance nervously back at his mom, who just shrugs. “How are you feeling about this competition?”
“Fine,” says Alex, eyes on his weird cube.
Okay. So, not a chatty kid, then. “That's pretty confident. How long have you been competing?”
“Seven years.”
“Wow. And you're only how old?” Yeah, he's definitely a little man of few words. And not particularly cooperative.
“Twelve.”
Oof. This is not going well. When I look up at his mom, she just has a small smile on her face like this is completely normal. I decide to find another interview subject, one who will maybe give me two whole words in a row between questions.
“All right. Well, thank you, Alex, for letting me talk to you. Good luck today.”
If they're all like this, this whole interview thing is going to be a lot harder than I thought.
I try interviewing two more competitors, with the same result.
If I’m lucky, I get a few words in response to my questions.
Sometimes they just ignore me completely.
Now I really know why none of the staff journalists wanted to come out and cover this competition.
Which just makes me even more determined to find a way to make this work.
I know that if this article gets published at all, it’ll only be a small piece. Probably too short to print many quotes or anything, but I want to be thorough anyway. If I can write something really amazing, my editor may give me more inches than I expect.
I head back to the seating area of the auditorium and find a seat with a perfect view of the stage that is far enough from the other spectators that I’m not self-conscientious about taking notes.
A few minutes later, a short, balding man steps out onto the stage and looks around, finally noticing the podium on the other side. The audience watches politely as he crosses the entire stage, stepping up to the podium and adjusting the microphone down to his height.
“Welcome everyone!” There’s a little feedback on the microphone and I wince at the sound, but it soon dissipates.
“Most of you probably know me, but for anyone who doesn’t, my name is Eric Kellan.
I’m the Algebra teacher and speedcubing club sponsor here at West Boston High.
I’m glad to see such a great turnout, and we’ve got a tough competition for you on the stage today.
It’ll be exciting to see who qualifies and goes on to represent our area at ICF Nationals! ”
There’s a smattering of applause around the cavernous room.
It doesn’t look like anyone’s joined the crowd since I’d peeked in here earlier.
When I look back to the stage, four adults with clipboards and large cups, each crossing to one of the small tables on the stage and taking a seat at the chair next to it.
“Let’s give a round of applause to our judges,” Mr. Kellan suggests, and the audience once again claps politely.
Karen comes onto the stage carrying a large opaque blue plastic bin. She goes from table to table, and each of the judges reaches into the bin and scoops something into their giant cup. They all place the cups upside down on the tables in front of them.
“All right, folks, let’s give a warm welcome to our first competitors of the day, in the Pyraminx event.”
A group of kids troops out to sit behind the tables.
“You will each have fifteen seconds to inspect your Pyraminx,” Mr. Kellan tells the kids. “Remember, you may inspect it, but you may not begin to solve it until you have placed your fingers on the pads and the timer light turns green.”
The judges each murmur to their assigned kid, and the contestants all reply “Yes” to whatever they said. Each adult holds up a stopwatch, and I hear the beeps of the timers being started as the judges lift the buckets off the tables.
Under each is a Rubik’s Cube, only it’s not a cube, it’s a pyramid. I’m still puzzling over why it looks like that when each kid grabs their pyramid and begins turning it over in their hands, their faces as determined and concentrated as I’ve seen in any athlete.
After a few seconds, they all put the pyramids down on the tables and place their hands in front of them.
As they do, the timer device in front of each of them sets to “00:00”.
A nanosecond later, each kid is spinning and flipping their pyramid, tossing it down and putting their hands back in front of them once they’ve solved it.
This appears to stop the timers. The judges jot something down on their clipboards and hand the clipboards and pens to the contestants, who each glance at their paper, write something down, and hand it back to the judge.
The entire thing took less than a minute.
Holy shit, that was fast. Even the kid who took nearly thirty seconds to solve it.
As someone who is completely incapable of solving even a normal Rubik’s Cube, I’m impressed. Not only did they solve it, but they did it fast. I’ve never seen anyone’s fingers move that quick.
Karen collects the papers and sorts through them, then hands them to Mr. Kellan before disappearing backstage and reappearing with the blue bin that I now know is full of cubes—er, pyramids.
The judges scoop new pyramid-cubes out of it as Mr. Kellan announces who is advancing to the next round.
Those whose names aren’t called exit, their expressions ranging from disappointed to angry to completely devoid of emotion.
A couple minutes later, all of the cubes have been solved just as lightning-fast as the first time, and Mr. Kellan is announcing the winners of round two, the kids who will move on to Nationals.
I note the names of the winners and how they each placed as they tromp off the stage, looking pleased with themselves.
The next phase of the competition uses a different type of cube, one that looks more like if a ball had flat sides.
It looks more difficult than the pyramid one did, but now that I know what to expect, my eyes dart around the auditorium to assess how the other attendees are reacting to what’s happening onstage.
The adults in the crowd are glancing between the stage and the kids sitting around them. These kids must be the siblings, and they’re definitely not paying any attention, mostly playing on computer tablets.
I kind of feel bad for the competitors. They’re doing this impressive thing, and nobody really cares.
After a couple more events, though, I begin to understand why even the families are zoning out a bit. Watching kids solve these weird not-cubes isn’t exactly riveting entertainment outside of the handful of seconds that their fingers are flying over the puzzle.
My own attention begins to wander a bit, and I notice a group of four guys sitting in the back of the auditorium on the far side from me.
I wonder what they’re doing here. They look about my age, so they can’t have any kids in the competition.
All but one of them are in T-shirts with their feet resting on the seat backs in front of them as if they’re super comfortable in this type of venue.
The fourth guy is in a dark button-up and sitting up perfectly straight.
Maybe they’re the older brothers of some of the competitors?
I can’t get a good look from this far away, but they’re kind of cute from what I can tell. And I can’t resist checking them out. I’m only human.
I must have been staring, because one of them catches my eye, then swats the guy next to him and nods in my direction.
My head snaps back to the stage so fast I’ll probably have whiplash.
I’m supposed to be here in a professional capacity, not checking out hot guys.
But I’ve been working so much lately, taking a full load of credits and putting in extra hours beyond what’s required at the Tribune for my internship.
I decide I’m allowed a moment of weakness to acknowledge a group of attractive men.
If I had met them at a party, I might have tossed them a wink or a wave in hopes that one of them would cross the room to talk to me.
Not that I go to parties very often. That’s more Ronnie’s territory, although she has managed to drag me along to a few when I’ve had some extra time between work and studying.
I sneak another glance, and they’re all watching me now. The way they’re staring sends a shiver down my spine. Especially because they’re clearly talking softly to each other. And I’m certain they’re talking about me.
“All right folks!” Mr. Kellan’s voice jolts me back to the competition and what I’m supposed to be doing. “We’re going to take a thirty-minute lunch break. When we come back, we’ll have the Skewb, Square-1, and three-by-three-by-three events.”
I stand and hurry out of the auditorium, ready to sit in my car with nobody around for a bit. Unfortunately, I ruin my moment of escape by glancing one last time over my shoulder to see if any of the guys I was checking out is coming over to my side of the auditorium to chat me up.
They aren’t. They’re slowly filing out of the other side of the auditorium, and each of them is solving a Rubik’s Cube, which answers the question of why they seemed so comfortable here. Maybe they’re coaches or something.
I should head back and interview a few more kids, but I just can’t handle the thought of more one-word non-answers to my questions.
So I head out to the car to have a few minutes to myself and eat the lunch I packed this morning.
Besides, as much as I want to do my best work for this assignment, the bare minimum is probably still more than my editor expects.
There's no reason to force a bunch of kids to talk to me when they clearly don't want to.