“I’m not your—” But Frank Lawden didn’t care what I had to say. In a heartbeat, he had crossed the room and exited through the door, leaving me alone and terrified.
Chapter 4
WEDNESDAY, MAY 13
5:12 P.M.
INTERROGATION ROOM 6, MAGIX HEADQUARTERS
I had been sitting there for only a few minutes, wondering when they would dim the lights that were shining in my eyes—or at least untie me from the chair—when the door opened.
I turned, expecting to see Frank Lawden again. But this time it was a girl who looked to be about my age. So far, she was the first person in Magix Headquarters that I’d seen not wearing a gray suit. Instead, she wore a denim jacket over a green shirt. She had deep brown skin, and her black hair was done in lots of small braids all pulled back into a ponytail.
Strangely, she was plugging her nose as she quietly shut the door behind her.
“Mason Mortimer Morrison?” she asked in a nasal voice.
“That’s me.” Why did all these people know my middle name?
The girl let go of her nose and sniffed.
“Did something smell funny out there?” I asked.
“No,” she said defensively. “Why?”
“You were plugging your nose.”
“That’s irrelevant,” she said. “I’m here to prepare you for your trial with the committee.”
I raised an eyebrow at her. “And they chose you because . . . ?”
“Magix thought you might be more comfortable with someone closer to your age.”
“What’s your name?” I asked.
“Avery,” she said. “Avery Laaa . . . Lobster.”
“Your last name is La Lobster?”
“Just Lobster,” she said. “It’s a family name.”
I nodded. “That’s what last names are.”
“Anyway, I’m here to answer any of your questions.” She crossed the small room and seated herself across the table.
“I didn’t think I was allowed to have a lawyer,” I said.
“Oh, I’m not a lawyer,” said Avery. “I’m an apprentice detective with Magix. So, of course I’ve been trained to deal with criminals.”
“Then I’m afraid you’ll be disappointed, because I’m not a criminal.”
She exhaled slowly, shaking her head. “That’s what they all say.”
“You’re here to answer my questions?” I checked. “Let’s just pretend like I don’t know anything. You can start at the beginning. Treat me like a regular person who doesn’t know anything about magic. What do you call those people? Ignorants?”
“They said you were stubborn. I guess I’m wasting my time,” she said, standing up.
“No, wait!” I lurched forward against the straps on my chair. I took a deep breath. “Please?”
Avery didn’t even try to hide her curiosity as she looked at me. She seemed to relax a little, sitting once more. “What do you want to know?”
“How did that music box get magical powers?” That seemed like a good place to start, since it was the beginning of my confusion.
“The magic core,” she said, like it should be obvious.
I raised my eyebrows, silently begging her to explain.
“The center of the Earth is filled with magic,” Avery expounded. “There’s no way for it to get to the surface on its own, so it has used people as a conduit for thousands of years.”
“How?” I asked.
“Well, magic is attracted to goodness,” she said. “Whenever someone does something good in the world, the magic level rises. Eventually, someone does something that causes it to boil over.”
“And then what?” I asked. “The person turns magical?” I gasped. “Is that what happened to me?”
“No, no,” she said. “People can’t turn magical. That’s not how it works. Good people are just the reason the magic surfaces.”
“Then what?” I asked. “Magic just comes shooting out of the ground? I’d think people would have noticed that before.”
“The magic isn’t visible,” said Avery. “And when it boils up, it doesn’t just go anywhere at random. The magic trickles into specific objects that mean something to the person who caused the boil-over.”
I scratched my head. “I don’t think I understand.”
She drummed her fingers on the table in thought. “How do I explain this . . . ?” Avery muttered. “Let’s say you’re just a regular person.”
“I am,” I said.
“No,” she replied. “You’re Magix’s most wanted.”
I sighed. “Fine. Pretend I’m a regular person.”
“Okay. So, you’re going about your life, and then one day you do something really amazing.”
“Get an A on my book report?” I suggested.
She shook her head. “Probably has to be more amazing than that. Maybe you save a dog from getting hit by a car, or you give all your money to the poor. . . . It has to be an act of true goodness. That can include bravery, kindness, creativity . . . stuff like that.”
“Okay. So, I do something amazing.”
“Well, if the magic in the earth’s core has been building up, bubbling higher, looking for a way out,” continued Avery, “then your act of goodness tops it off and opens the way. The magic comes up, and it soaks into any item you may have touched up to that point in your life. Specifically, items that were significant to you for some reason.”
“Whoa,” I said. “So, who created that magic music box?”
“That’s a good question,” she said. “And we’ll probably never know. It had to be someone who had once touched the music box and then done something worthy of making the magic boil over. Magix has given up on trying to learn the origins of the magical items. There are just too many possibilities, and it’s impossible to track.”
“Okay,” I said. “So, what exactly is Magix?”
“We’re the worldwide organization responsible for managing all of these magical boons.”
“So, Magix’s goal is to capture all the magical boons in the world to make sure no one can use them?”
Again, Avery looked confused. “Not even close,” she said. “Do you know what the word boon means?”
I shook my head. I’d figured it was a special word that Magix had made up.
“A boon is like a blessing,” Avery said. “It’s something that benefits you, or gives you a boost. Magix wants as many boons as possible out in the world. They’re meant to help people. When an Ignorant person comes into contact with one, a little bit of the magic rubs off on them. It makes their day go a little smoother, makes everything around them better for a time.”
“That’s definitely not what happened with me and the music box,” I muttered.
“That’s why we know you’re not an Ig,” said Avery. “Knowledge is power. Power is magic.”
“That’s the same thing Mr. Lawden said to me,” I said. “What does it mean?”
“Most people don’t know anything about real magic,” said Avery. “That’s what keeps them safe.”
“And you call them Ignorants?” I said. “Seems kind of rude.”
“Not rude, just the truth,” said Avery. “We call them Igs for short.”
“And what do you call people who do know about magic?”
“Eds,” said Avery.
“Why?”
“If someone is able to use the magic items, it’s because they’re Educated,” she clarified, “which is the opposite of being Ignorant. See, if an Ig had opened that music box today, it would have improved their day, times ten.”
“But it didn’t!” I cried. “It ruined everything!”
“And that’s why we know you’re an Ed,” she said. “Those of us with knowledge of magical boons don’t simply get a little bit of good luck rubbed off. The knowledge makes us able to use the full power of the magic in the item.”
“Knowledge is power. Power is magic,” I said, finally understanding. But my story still didn’t make sense. “Why did I acti
vate the music box’s true magic if I didn’t have any knowledge that it was a boon?”
Avery shook her head. “You did have knowledge.”
“That’s not true!” I yelled loud enough to make Avery flinch.
“I’m sorry, but it has to be,” she said. “There’s no other explanation for how you could have used the music box’s magic. You’re an Ed. You had to have knowledge.”
I slumped in my chair. “This doesn’t make any sense. If Magix wants boons out in the world, then why was I arrested for using one?”
“Magix wants as many boons as possible for Ignorant people to use,” explained Avery. “That’s the way magic is supposed to go. When Igs brush up against the boons and a little bit of the magic rubs off, that action helps to raise the core magic level. When people are having a good day, they’re more likely to do acts of goodness, which will eventually cause the magic to boil over again. But when Eds use their knowledge to access a magical item’s full power, it doesn’t do anything to make the level rise.”
It sounded ridiculous, but I actually believed everything she was saying. How could I not? Earlier today, my class and I had experienced the impossible. It was just nice to be finally getting some answers. I only wished that I wasn’t the bad guy in this story.
“All right,” I said. “Tell me more about this committee that’s reviewing my case.”
“Fifteen of Magix’s most powerful administrators,” she said. “Basically, three members from each division are elected to serve on the committee for a term of five years.”
“What are the divisions?” I asked.
“Investigation Division,” she said. “That’s everybody you’ve met so far. They’re in charge of tracking unauthorized uses of magical boons and generally keeping the peace.”
“Is Frank Lawden their boss?” I asked.
My question made Avery fidget a little bit. She nodded. “Yeah. He’s definitely the boss of Investigation. He also oversees the Memory Correction Division—”
“Are they the ones who zapped Mrs. Dunlow and the rest of my class before sending them back?”
She nodded. “And the Boon Recovery Division.”
“And I’m guessing they’re the ones searching the jungle for the music box,” I said, remembering what Nguyen had said about sending in a team. “What are the last two groups?”
“Boon Identification Division,” answered Avery. “They’re in charge of finding out what new boons can do if their full magic is used. And the Manipulation Division. They experiment with boons to refine or alter their magical effects.”
“So, how do I convince a committee full of magical experts that I’m innocent?” I asked.
Avery stared at me for a long minute. Long enough that it got a little uncomfortable for me.
“Are you innocent?” she asked.
“YES!” I hollered. Hoping for the first time since I’d opened that music box that someone might believe me.
“Hmm . . . ,” she mused, narrowing her eyes as if to inspect me closer. “Well, the committee’s definitely going to find you guilty. They have overwhelming proof against you for that big crime last month.”
“What crime?” I asked. “What proof?”
Suddenly, an alarm on Avery’s wristwatch started chirping. She sucked in a breath. “I have to go.” She turned sharply toward the door.
“Wait!” I called. “That’s it? You’re not even going to tell me what my major crime was? No tips for the committee?”
She glanced back at me and shrugged. “Just tell them the truth.”
“Will you be there?” I asked hopefully. It might have been nice to see a familiar face.
Avery grimaced. “They won’t let an apprentice detective anywhere near the Hall of Justice.”
“Thanks for finally giving me some answers,” I said as she gripped the doorknob.
“Mason?” she said without looking back. “Do me a favor and don’t tell anyone that I was here.”
Then Avery Lobster pinched her nose shut and slipped through the doorway.
Chapter 5
WEDNESDAY, MAY 13
7:00 P.M.
HALL OF JUSTICE, MAGIX HEADQUARTERS
Oh boy. And I thought it was terrifying to stand up in front of my class to give a book report. . . . The Magix Committee was a million times more intimidating.
I felt puny, sitting in my little chair in the vast Hall of Justice while fifteen adults filed in to take their seats on elevated platforms so they could all scowl down in my direction.
Frank Lawden was the only face I recognized, but he wasn’t one of the fifteen. Instead, he stood off to one side at a podium with a large screen hanging behind him.
The focal point in the room—besides myself—was a huge thermometer. It stood on a pedestal, several feet tall, with the numbers representing Fahrenheit on one side and Celsius on the other. The red liquid bar had risen from the bottom, indicating that the temperature in the room was about 35 degrees Fahrenheit.
No wonder I was trembling! Although it didn’t feel cold in here, the thermometer showed that this room was nearly freezing!
“For the record,” Mr. Lawden said to me, “please state your name.”
“Mason Morrison,” I said.
“Your full name.”
I grimaced. “Mason Mortimer Morrison.”
Mr. Lawden cleared his throat. “The Magix Committee assembles at seven o’clock on the evening of Wednesday, May thirteenth, to review the charges against Mason Mortimer Morrison.”
I wanted to shout, “I’m innocent!” but I decided to wait. He told me I’d have a chance to defend myself.
“Will the defendant allow the use of a truth boon?” Lawden asked, looking at me. I knew enough from following my dad’s court case to know that I was the defendant.
“What’s a truth boon?” I asked. From the platforms, I heard some of the committee members scoff in annoyance. They probably thought I was being a smart aleck, but I really didn’t know.
“It is a magical boon that will force you to speak the truth.”
My eyes grew wide. This was it! This could save me and prove my innocence! “Yes!” I cried. “That’s an option? I’ll take it!”
“His eagerness is suspicious,” said one of the committee members with a noticeable French accent. “Perhaps he has come prepared for this moment, protecting himself with boons to counter the truth.”
“That’s crazy!” I shouted. “I didn’t even know magic was real until this afternoon.”
Mr. Lawden came toward me, holding something small covered by a cloth bag.
“You have to understand that the use of a truth boon does not guarantee anything,” he explained quietly. “It shows the committee that you’re willing to cooperate, but as it was mentioned, there are known ways to combat its effects.” He pulled off the cloth bag to reveal the item beneath.
It was a shoe. An old dirty black sneaker with frayed laces.
“Once your foot is inside the shoe, you will only be able to answer questions truthfully. Also, any information you voluntarily share must be the truth, and nothing but the truth. You may also choose not to answer our questions, although your silence will likely be as incriminating as an answer.” He handed me the shoe. “You are now educated and have the knowledge of this boon, which means you can activate its full magical power. Go ahead and put it on.”
I stooped over, slipping out of my regular shoe and into the dirty sneaker that Mr. Lawden had given me. I didn’t feel any different once it was on. It was a little big for me, but I didn’t need to run a mile in it. I just needed to answer some questions, and they’d see that I was innocent.
“Let us begin.” Back at the podium, Mr. Lawden lifted a remote and clicked a button. At once, the screen behind him lit up with the picture of a redbrick church. “Do you recognize this building?”
“I can tell it’s a church,” I said. The steeple was a giveaway.
“Have you ever been to this church?”
/> “No.” I heard a few of the committee members scoff again, so I added, “At least, I don’t think so.”
“This is the Church of the Faith at an undisclosed site in the eastern United States,” explained Lawden. “In truth, Magix uses this building as a top secret storage facility for over a hundred magical boons. Just over a month ago, on April third, at eight o’clock p.m., this facility was robbed of every single magical boon in storage. This represents the greatest theft of magic in the last two decades, making you Magix’s number one most wanted criminal.”
“Me?” I cried. “Why do you think I did this?”
“There were two guards on duty in the facility,” said Lawden. “They report that a person matching your description took them by surprise and quickly overpowered them. You then loaded the boons into a large hiking backpack—itself an illegal boon capable of reducing items in size and weight to fit—and exited the church. The guards gave pursuit, but you reportedly opened a music box and transported to an unknown location.”
“That’s crazy!” I yelled. “It wasn’t me. The guards are lying. I’m being framed!”
“Fortunately, we have more than the word of the guards,” said Lawden, pressing another button to change the slide behind him.
A video started playing on the screen, the time in the bottom right of the screen showing 8:02 p.m. It wasn’t great quality and looked like footage from a security camera. In view was an empty street approaching twilight, but in the background, I could clearly see the Church of the Faith. As I watched, a kid wearing a sweatshirt exactly like one of mine came running into view, a large black-and-blue hiking backpack flapping empty on his back. He skipped up the front steps and blasted forcefully through the front door.
“That wasn’t me!” I said. “Just because I have the same sweatshirt. . . . You couldn’t even see his face!”
“Please hold your comments until the end of the video,” said Mr. Lawden. He sped through the next several minutes and slowed the video again at 8:13 p.m. The church’s front door opened and the kid reappeared, his large backpack bulging. He glanced around nervously and then moved down the steps. At this point, I could see his face. But it was far away. I guess he sort of looked like me, but it wasn’t enough to accuse me like this!
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