Never Say Genius by Dan Gutman

you used that Cheesehead to escape from my french fry simulator,” Archie Clone continued.
    “What do you want from us now ?” Coke barked.
    “The same thing I wanted from you last time,” Archie Clone replied. “Your lives.”
    “You’ll never get away with this,” Pep told him, struggling to free her hands from the ropes. “Our parents are right outside.”
    “Parents!” Archie Clone said, with a snort. “Your parents think you’re outside having a wholesome, carefree, and perfectly safe afternoon, Pep. It wouldn’t occur to them in a million years that an amusement park is the perfect place to commit murder. I mean, think about it. A simple loose screw on a roller coaster. A sharp blade positioned at neck level for just a moment in a thrill ride. A real monster in the haunted house. It would be so easy! And nobody would ever know. There are frequently ‘accidents’ at amusement parks, if you know what I mean.”
    “If it’s so easy, why didn’t you do one of those things?” Coke asked.
    “Oh, fatal roller coaster accidents are so cliché,” Archie Clone said. “I prefer to do things my own way, Coke. This is how I express my creativity. Some people paint. Others make music or films. I’m a magician. Ha, ha! I make kids disappear. It’s my art .”
    The twins could hardly believe what they were hearing. If Archie Clone hadn’t proven his insanity at their first meeting, he was proving it now. It was possible that he might be even crazier than Dr. Warsaw was.
    “Tell me something,” he said. “You kids like ice cream, don’t you?”
    “Why do you care?” Pep shouted defiantly.
    “Pep, I wish you wouldn’t be so angry with me all the time,” Archie Clone said soothingly. “I just want to give you some ice cream. I thought we were friends.”
    “Over my dead body!” she shouted back.
    “Precisely!”
    Coke looked around for a weapon, a tool, anything he could use to get out of this situation. He wished he had his backpack, which was in the RV. It wouldn’t have mattered anyway, as his hands were tied tightly behind his back.
    Suddenly, Coke remembered that he had one thing in his possession—the Pez dispenser in his back pocket. He struggled to wriggle his right hand around until he could reach it. The Pez dispenser wasn’t exactly a knife, but when he flipped the head up, it did have a semi-sharp edge. He began rubbing it against the rope behind his back.
    “What are you doing here?” Coke said, just to keep Archie Clone talking while he worked on the rope. “Why are you bothering us again?”
    “I already told you,” Archie Clone said. “The last living Genius Filer gets a million dollars when they turn twenty-one years old. And I intend to be that last person. Every time one of us dies, it’s more money in my pocket. Don’t take it personally. You understand, I’m just looking after my long-term financial future.”
    Archie Clone flipped a switch, and two large glass cylinders slowly lifted up from the floor of the truck where Coke and Pep were sitting, surrounding them. It was like they were sitting inside two enormous test tubes.
    “Enough talk,” Archie Clone said. “You kids are pretty cool. And you’re going to get a lot cooler.”
    “What is this?” Coke demanded as the glass cylinder reached the level of his neck and locked into place. He was sawing at the rope behind his back with the Pez dispenser but didn’t know if it was actually cutting anything.
    “Do you kids know what hypothermia is?” Archie Clone asked.
    “It’s when your body loses heat faster than it can produce it,” Coke replied.
    “Very good! No wonder you were chosen for The Genius Files,” Archie Clone said.
    He pulled the handle down on a machine. Soft, yellowish ice cream squeezed out of two tubes hanging from the roof of the truck above the glass cylinders. The ice cream dropped down, splattered against Coke and Pep’s heads, and then slid down their faces. Coke stuck out his