by Dan Bar-el
* * *
The next few days were busy for Duane. First he made the rounds to all his friends’ homes, inviting them to take part in what he was now calling the Balancing Show. For Twitch, Major Puff, and Handsome, it was readily accepted because it provided a much-needed project to pull them out of their malaise. The idea of doing something scary was equally enticing, although for Twitch, the idea was also… well, scary.
“Not sure what I would do,” she fretted. “Haven’t had much experience in the fate-tempting, reckless, leap-before-you-look department. More of a better-safe-than-sorry, measure-twice-cut-once-do-it-again-just-in-case disposition, just saying.”
“I have found C.C. a great source of information on all matters,” said Duane. “I suggest you ask her for some help.” This was the advice he ended up giving to several of his friends, which in turn led to many unexpected visits with C.C., which in turn allowed C.C. lots of opportunities to practice her chitchat, which in turn led to C.C. considering having a lock put on her door.
When it came to inviting Magic, Duane had to be both gentle and persistent. He approached one of the many, many openings to her den, got down on his stomach, and called out her name. He waited and waited, but there was no answer. He went to the next closest entrance and did the same. Again, Magic wasn’t answering. On the third attempt, Duane spoke further. “Magic, it’s Duane… the polar bear… the one you like to poke in the tummy.… I know you are in there. Please come out so that I can ask you something. Also, I’m not leaving until you do, so if I end up falling asleep, I apologize for any snoring.”
Magic poked her head out slowly. She tried to smile, but her attempt failed dismally, so she quit. “Hi, Duane,” she said in a very flat voice. “Any sign of Boo?”
“No, not yet, I’m afraid, but she will show.” Then Duane proceeded to explain his idea, and when he was finished, he asked, “So what do you think, Magic? Will you take part? It really needs you for it to work.”
Magic wanted to make things right, but she had lost confidence in herself. “What if I end up making things worse again? I do everything too big. I’ll probably make a bigger mess.”
“You won’t. I’m absolutely sure of it.” He gave her a smile for encouragement.
Magic was touched by Duane’s faith in her, although not convinced herself. “You always say things like that.”
“I always mean it,” replied Duane.
* * *
Building the stage for the Balancing Show was a lot of hard work. C.C. led Duane around the Shipwreck, pointing to all the materials and tools he would require. Not everything could be found within the storage rooms belowdecks, so parts of the Shipwreck itself were removed to provide the necessary long wooden planks for the stage floor. All of it was then loaded by Duane onto the rowboat, the Wreck-less, and in a series of trips was carried over to the Fabulous Beach for construction. Following C.C.’s instructions, Duane sawed and hammered a small platform with a proscenium arch and a curtain backing made of musty old canvas. Being the first time that this particular polar bear attempted an endeavor of this size, the finished product wasn’t close to perfect—actually a bit rickety—but would do the trick for one evening. A few other elements were added to the stage, which Duane didn’t understand but which C.C. explained were necessary, and then she mysteriously left it at that.
* * *
Major Puff had no idea what he would do for the Balancing Show. Since he came from a long line of military heroes, the chances of him finding any activity that would be scary, if you excluded non-holiday migration, were next to zero. So in search of inspiration, the following morning, Major Puff flew over to the Shipwreck on his own. He and Twitch agreed that in order to keep their performances secret, they should visit separately. The puffin marched down the stairs leading from the top deck of the Shipwreck and began by exploring the various storage rooms. He approached the task with the same tenacity required in finding an adequate burrow, back in the days before he met Twitch. Major Puff rummaged through many boxes, fiddled with this and that, and mumbled to himself about the lack of cleanliness and how, ordinarily, a puffin of his stature wouldn’t be caught dead in such a filthy place. There was a lot of banging and clanging as he mucked about, and C.C., who was just down the hall, heard it all. She came over to investigate.
When the two of them laid eyes on each other, there was an awkward pause. To the best of their memories, it was the first time they were ever alone together. C.C. didn’t have any chitchat topics prepared, so she was unsure of what to say. Major Puff remembered clearly C.C.’s scary migration facts from the earlier get-together at the burrow and thus was terrified of what she might say.
“So…,” began C.C.
“Indeed…,” replied Major Puff.
They continued staring at each other in complete silence other than a slight creak and groaning of the Shipwreck in the background. Finally, C.C. took charge, if only so she might get back to her studies. “Are you by any chance looking for something for the Balancing Show?”
“Indeed!” replied Major Puff, perhaps too loudly, out of relief. “Your assistance would be invaluable.”
So C.C. escorted the puffin through the ship and explained what the different objects were and what they were used for. Surprisingly, it turned out to be an enjoyable morning for them both as they discovered a shared appreciation for machinery and gadgets that do useful, interesting tasks. When they came upon a particular object made of wood and brass, with knobs and gears and such, C.C. needed to demonstrate how it worked in order to explain what it was. Major Puff was so overcome by that demonstration, he requested several more demonstrations. Thus it was now clear to him what his scary performance would be. He set the object aside for Duane to carry over to the Fabulous Beach later. Then he flew to a very private spot where no one could find him or hear him as he created and practiced his piece. For those of you readers or listeners expecting me to tell you what the object was at this point, you will be sadly disappointed. As C.C. might say, it’s a wait-and-see situation.
In the afternoon, Twitch arrived. As she was not a confident swimmer herself, Duane pulled her across in the Wreck-less. Twitch did not hesitate to visit the snowy owl straightaway, and before she could manage more than a “Hello, dear, would you be so kind as to help me with—” C.C. directed her down the hall to the storage rooms. C.C. had intended to build on her morning success with Major Puff, which was both pleasant and efficient, so she led Twitch on a tour of different scary objects that she might want to consider for her performance. As experiments go, this one did not repeat well. No sooner would C.C. point an item out than Twitch would then grab the nearest thing that could serve as a cloth and give it a good cleaning.
“Can’t get a fair look at it if it’s covered in grime, filth, and cobwebs, just saying.”
The afternoon dragged on and on. C.C. had a twinge of hope that the search might conclude quickly when Twitch looked beyond the selection of scary knives she was being shown and said, “Ah! That’s just the thing I need!”
Alas, it turned out to be a whisk broom. Twitch was getting no closer to finding an idea for her performance, but at least the Shipwreck was looking a bit nicer. C.C. finally withdrew to her room at the back of the ship. Twitch was so preoccupied, she didn’t even notice.
Hours later, Twitch knocked gently on C.C.’s door and let herself in. C.C. was perched on the table, looking through one of her books. In fact, she was researching what she would need to practice for her own performance at the Balancing Show. The book was one she didn’t look through often, as it contained information that C.C. considered whimsical and thus unimportant. The book was not as well kept as her others. The pages had yellowed terribly, and most of them were loose from the binding. And again, if you were expecting that I, your narrator, would tell you the name of the book, then it’s just not your lucky day story-wise, I’m afraid.
“What are you looking at, C.C.?” asked Twitch as she approached.
“It relates to my part in the Balancing Show, but in order to keep it a surprise, I cannot tell you more,” replied C.C., proving that characters in a story can be just as unhelpful as narrators. Then C.C. removed a loose page and carried it up to the top of a shelf, out of reach, before Twitch could take a look.
Twitch accepted the need for secrecy and focused her attention on the remaining pages of the book, flipping casually through them and commenting as she did. “Ooh, that looks uncomfortable! I imagine you’d need a cup of tea with honey to soothe your throat after trying that. And what on earth is she doing? Didn’t think that was possible, even if you did a good stretch beforehand. And look at that! Oh my! That’s one way to fly, I suppose, if you’re not too fussy about loud booms and smoke.”
C.C. did not interrupt or crowd Twitch since she was, in her way, doing research, which the snowy owl respected. After some time passed, Twitch saw something in the book that not only seemed right for the Balancing Show, but also spoke to her on a deeper level. “Yes, that’s it,” she said aloud.
“Did you find what you need?” asked C.C.
“Hmm? Oh… yes, I did. And I will be borrowing this page, dear. Promise to take good care of it. Bring it back soon. Not to worry. Need to gather a few items. Saw a chest in the other room. Just give it a quick clean, fill it up with my items, and leave it for Duane to bring back at his leisure. All right, then. See myself out. Hugs and nose twitches.”
Swept up in her own energy, Twitch was out the door before C.C. could say goodbye.
* * *
When Duane brought Magic over in the early evening, she went reluctantly up to C.C.’s room, knocked on the door, and didn’t even come in until given permission. C.C. was pleasantly surprised by Magic’s restraint, not comprehending her low emotional state. Magic, too, was relieved that C.C. wasn’t making her feel any more guilty than she already did. Rather than talking about what happened with Boo, C.C. got right down to business.
“Do you know what you plan to do for the Balancing Show?”
Magic shook her head.
“Then perhaps I have a suggestion,” said C.C. in a tone that was matter-of-fact. “Objectively speaking, you are impulsive, lively, unpredictable, and foolish.”
“Okay…,” said Magic, unsure where this was going.
“And unlike Handsome, whose self-gazing might be considered excessive, you are someone who does next to no self-reflection.”
“Okay…,” said Magic again, wondering if she’d just been insulted.
“I believe that this idea will build off your qualities and also be scary for you.” C.C. guided Magic to her desk, where the same still-unnamed book used by Twitch was open to a specific page C.C. had already turned to. Magic came closer. She studied the picture but didn’t understand what she was looking at. C.C. explained. “And as you can see,” she concluded, “nothing is required other than that one small element, which I will create and have ready for you on the night.”
* * *
So the stage was built, the friends were preparing their performances, and the readers were frustrated by the narrator’s withholding of information. All that remained was the invitation to Boo. Duane felt it would be best done in person. He followed the mountain path above his cave, up and over the mountain and then across the meadow to the edge of the forest. When he arrived at the narrow tree opening that led into the heart of the woods, where Boo made her private home, he stopped and called out from where he stood.
“Hello, Boo! It’s Duane!… The polar bear! I’m just outside the forest, and I’m not coming any farther!”
He waited for a moment. Suddenly, at the far end of the passageway of trees, Boo’s head peered out from the side. She took one glance at Duane and quickly pulled her head back out of sight again.
This did not discourage Duane. All that was important was that Boo was there and in hearing range. He continued. “I am here, Boo, to bring you an invitation! I’m not very good at writing like C.C. and Handsome are, so it’s more of a yelling situation!” Duane paused again, this time to quickly go over in his head the words he practiced. Then he cleared his throat. “Ahem… Dear Boo! You are warmly invited to attend the first, and probably only, Balancing Show! An evening of entertainment… hopefully! Your friends—who miss you very, very much, by the way—will be performing acts that they have never done before! It will be scary and risky for them, but probably not fatal… hopefully! You are not obligated to do anything but watch! It will be held at the Fabulous Beach tomorrow before sunset! We really hope you will come!… Okay! That’s it! I’m leaving now!”
Duane didn’t linger for a response. He turned and headed back to his cave. And as to whether Boo would attend the Balancing Show or not, that too would be a wait-and-see situation.
15. THE BALANCING SHOW
THE NIGHT OF THE performance arrived. Everyone gathered before the makeshift stage that Duane had put together. There was a hum of excitement. No one had a clue as to what the others would do that would be scary and daring for them. Magic did join the group after being so long hidden in her den. She was not her usual excitable self, but quite the opposite, quiet and subdued. The others did not ignore her; each said a polite hello, and she in turn smiled timidly back. Duane thought Magic appeared so shy and hesitant, she could have been Boo’s reflection. Then, thinking of Boo, Duane looked around, hoping she might have shown up. There was no sign of her yet. Maybe it was asking too much. In any case, everyone was getting restless. To Duane’s delight, Sun Girl suddenly appeared.
“I heard there was to be a show,” she said, sitting next to Duane.
“It’s so good to see you, but didn’t the Pack want to come?”
Sun Girl shrugged. “I asked them, but they said no. It’s a Tuesday. Unexpected things happen.”
“Tuesdays,” said Duane, nodding in agreement. He stood up to address everyone. Doing so, in the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of Boo’s face within the shadows at the back, among the berry bushes. So she came after all, he thought happily. Duane did not stare, nor did he make any gesture of recognition. He allowed Boo her privacy and instead turned forward to talk. “We should probably begin. C.C. had volunteered earlier to start us off.”
The friends sat or perched before the stage where C.C. was now standing next to a blanket that hung from a horizontal rod all the way down to the stage floor. That rod was attached to a vertical rod, like a flagpole, which was weighted at the bottom. C.C. spoke. “As you well know, I am a scientist. I deal with what is. I have no tolerance for frivolous things, like magic, for example.” Then, as if it suddenly occurred to her for the very first time, C.C. looked over at Magic and added, “I mean magic with a small ‘m,’ the act of illusion. Not Magic the fox, such as yourself, whom I can tolerate… in small doses.”
Having straightened that out, C.C. continued. “I, of course, am not scared of magic per se, but I do fear that all of you are prone to believing in it, and there is only so much eye-rolling and lengthy stares that a rational owl such as myself can handle. Therefore, I intend on performing a magic trick while explaining how it’s done so you will all be wiser and less shallow.”
“Explaining it?” asked Handsome. “That doesn’t seem like much fun.” Duane had to agree.
C.C. used one of her wings to swivel the blanket to the side, revealing a rectangular, dark wooden frame that contained a series of cylinders holding round, wooden beads. “Beside me is a black, backless abacus.”
“A black, backless what?” asked Major Puff, agitated and suspicious.
“An abacus… an ancient calculation apparatus… a tool to count with.”
“Well, why didn’t you just say so?”
“I thought I did,” said C.C., confused.
“Never you mind him, dear,” said Twitch. “You just continue on ruining the magic trick.”
“As I shall. Thank you, Twitch.” C.C. indicated a portion of the stage floor on the opposite side of her. “I will shortly hide the abacus behind
the hanging blanket once again. Then, while you are all distracted, I shall press upon this bit of wood here. When I do that, it will cause a trapdoor beneath the abacus to open slightly, allowing the abacus to slide under the stage and out of sight. When I release my talon from the trigger, the trapdoor closes. Finally, I push aside the blanket, revealing the disappeared abacus.”
C.C. was confident that her explanation had sufficiently destroyed any chance of entertaining her audience. She swiveled the hanging blanket in front of the abacus and pulled out a short stick that was wedged beneath her wing. “I now take hold of my magic wand, which is not a magic wand, you understand, but in fact just the broken handle off of a chisel I found on the Shipwreck. I say the magical invocation ‘abracadabra,’ and then I will— Or perhaps before I continue, would you like to know where the word ‘abracadabra’ derives from?”
“No!” shouted everyone.
“It’s just as well, as several theories are in play,” agreed C.C., waving her wand that was not a wand. “Abracadabra, the abacus has now disappeared.”
C.C. pulled away the blanket, revealing to no one’s astonishment, having had the trick more than sufficiently ruined for them, that the abacus was indeed no longer there. What was amazing and not expected was that instead of the abacus, there were all eight members of the Pack bunched up together and looking around confused, as if they had just been teleported. This apparently surprised C.C. as well, because she just stood there with her beak hanging open. “I… I don’t understand how that occurred,” she finally said.
“Finally, something C.C. cannot explain,” joked Handsome without being mean-spirited, to which everyone laughed.
So despite C.C.’s serious, rational approach, the trick turned out to be magical after all. C.C. left the stage in a daze. “How could it… the ratio of probability… I can’t… but… what just happened?”