Billy Sure Kid Entrepreneur Is NOT A SINGER!

Def initely Sure
MY NAME IS BILLY SURE. Right now I’m sitting at my workbench at the World Headquarters of SURE THINGS, INC. Across the room—which used to be the Reyes family garage—sits my best friend and business partner, Manny Reyes. Manny and I make up Sure Things, Inc., the world’s only inventing company run by seventh graders—or so we thought.

We recently discovered that a company named Definite Devices also exists, and it is also run by two seventh graders—Nat Definite and Jada Parikh. And not only do they exist, but they were working on an invisibility invention at the same time as us at Sure Things, Inc.!

As you can imagine, that was kind of a problem. But Manny, being the genius chief financial officer (CFO) he is, worked out a deal. We all agreed to jointly release an invisibility kit produced by both Sure Things, Inc. and Definite Devices—the DEFINITELY SURE INVISIBILITY (AND ANTI-INVISIBILITY) SPRAYS.

Before our two companies agreed to work together on that one invention, Nat did her best to try to steal Manny away from me—and from Sure Things, Inc! She wanted him to work with her over at Definite Devices, because . . . well, the obvious answer is that Manny is a brilliant CFO, businessperson, marketing genius, computer whiz . . . but it’s MORE THAN THAT.

Nat has a crush on Manny!

“That is the most beautiful spreadsheet I’ve ever seen, Manny,” Nat says, her face glowing. (Oh yeah. Because we’re technically partners and all, she’s sitting at the World Headquarters now too.)

Jada, who Manny agreed to train as the CFO for Definite Devices, scrunches up her face.

“How can a spreadsheet be beautiful, Nat?” she asks. “It’s just a series of numbers and projections and—”

“Anything Manny does is beautiful,” says Nat.

See what I mean?

“So, Jada,” Manny begins, doing his best to ignore Nat, “as you can see, we’ve placed the sprays in a few high-end specialty stores.”

“To generate early buzz on social media,” Jada adds.

“Exactly,” Manny replies. “So by the time we release it to the major chains—”

“—people will be waiting in line to buy it,” Jada finishes.

Jada’s really smart. Like . . . Manny-smart.

Just then a noise comes from Manny’s phone.

Ping!

“Looks like we have another incident of someone using the Definitely Sure Invisibility Spray to cut a line,” Manny says, frowning. “Last week someone used it at a movie theater. Now in a theme park.”

“That’s not good,” I say. Then I get an idea. “Maybe the next batch of sprays can make kids who try to cut lines grow REALLY BIG ELEPHANT TRUNKS! Temporarily, of course.”

“Great idea, partner,” Manny says. “That could make using the rides really hard!”

I might be imagining it, but I think he emphasizes the word “partner” so that Nat and Jada notice.



“All right, that’s enough work for today,” Manny adds with a smile.

I think what Manny really means is, You should go home now, Nat.

Nat frowns. But she can’t complain, because she has been here for hours. She and Jada pack up and leave.

I’m just about to do my best Nat imitation a few minutes later, (“Manny, you are so, so funny!”) when Briiiiing! Briiiing! My phone rings. I don’t recognize the number.

I pick up the phone, hoping it has nothing to do with Definite Devices. Don’t get me wrong—I’m happy there are other kids out there who are working on their dreams. I’ve just kind of had enough of them for today.



“Hi, Billy?” comes a voice through the phone.

Hmm. It doesn’t sound like Nat or Jada!

“Is this a good time to talk?” she asks, pronouncing every syllable clearly in a British accent. “It’s Gemma Weston.”

Gemma . . . Weston?!

She’s only the most famous movie star in the whole world!