Charlie Lewis goes on a roller coaster ride of risk, math, and gaming in this middle grade novel that parallels the New York Times bestselling Bringing Down the House , which inspired the movie 21 . Charlie Lewis is a nerd. All he’s ever been good at is math—and he’s really good at math. So good that he’s recruited by a group of kids determined to game the system at the biggest theme park in the world—and win the grand prize. Soon Charlie is caught up in the excitement and thrill of using his math skills for awesomeness…but what’s at stake may be more than he’s willing to risk. How far will Charlie go for a chance at the ultimate reward? "The pacing is well developed, building tension to almost a fever pitch...The plot has several unexpected and well-placed twists, and keeps readers guessing until the very end. A good fit for fans of Gordon Korman’s “Swindle” series." ― School Library Journal “Fast-paced and full of behind-the-scenes detail.” ― Kirkus Reviews "Mezrich addresses themes of loyalty and honesty while keeping the action tight and the dialogue snappy. Unexpectedly engrossing." ― Booklist Ben Mezrich graduated magna cum laude from Harvard. He has sold over ten million copies of his twenty-four published books, including the New York Times Bestsellers The Accidental Billionaires , which was adapted into the Academy Award–winning film The Social Network , and Bringing Down the House , which was the basis for the hit movie 21 . His current bestseller The Antisocial Network is being adapted into the feature film Dumb Money . Ben has written and produced for the hit TV show Billions on Showtime, and he travels the world speaking to audiences of all ages about writing books and the adventures he has experienced from each of his stories. He lives in Boston with his wife, two kids, and two pugs. Bringing Down the Mouse 1 IT WAS TEN MINUTES past four in the afternoon, and Charlie Lewis was running for his life. His sneakers skidded against pavement as he barreled down the oversize sidewalk. It wound, like a flickering serpent’s tail, between brightly colored storefronts, stone and marble fountains, and manicured hedges. Trickles of sweat streamed down his back. The thick straps of his heavy backpack dug into the skin of his shoulders. He’d never run so fast before, and he wasn’t sure how long he could keep moving at that pace. Worse yet, the sidewalk was so crowded with tourists, he was dodging and weaving just to stay on his feet. Parents pushing strollers; little kids clutching ice-cream cones and silvery, bobbing helium balloons; teenagers in short skirts and tank tops; everyone laughing and smiling and happy. Everyone except for Charlie, who was frantically crashing through the cheerful mob at full speed. The adults glared at him as he careened by, but there was nothing he could do. One glance back over his shoulder and it was instantly clear—they were gaining on him. Loopy the Space Mouse was in front—huge black ears bobbing above the crowd, spaghetti thin arms undulating wildly at his sides, oversize hands in shiny silver astronaut gloves pawing at the air. His strange, almost manic smile seemed completely out of place as he shoved his way past a family of three, nearly upending a baby carriage as he went. The Frog was a few steps behind his rodent cohort. Nearly a head taller, he was all gawky legs and arms, twisting and twirling as he moved like some sort of drunken gymnast. For a terrifying moment, one of his gigantic patchwork moon boots caught in the base of a vendor’s hot dog cart, but he somehow managed to pull it free, and then he was moving forward again, right behind Loopy, closing the distance to Charlie with each flop of his ridiculously long tongue. Had Charlie not known what was going to happen if the two oversize cartoon monstrosities caught up to him, he would have found the scene hilarious. A twelve-year-old with an overstuffed backpack running through one of the most famous amusement parks in the world, chased by a gigantic mouse and an even bigger mutant frog. But to Charlie, the moment was anything but funny. A burst of adrenaline pushed new energy into Charlie’s aching legs. He cut left, sprinting around a circular section of the path. A copper statue rose up at the center of the circle, protected by four of the most carefully pruned hedges he had ever seen. The statue depicted a young boy holding hands with the park’s most iconic creation—Loopy. In copper, Loopy looked a lot less threatening than the fierce, flopping creature now just a few yards behind Charlie. “Somebody stop that kid!” The muffled cry was enough to send new shards of fear through Charlie’s chest. People around him were pointing and staring, but Charlie kept on going. He didn’t need to look back to know where the cry had come from. Even muffled, Loopy didn’t sound like the Loopy from the cartoons; he sounded like an angry, out-of-breath adult. Of course, it wasn’t re