Magic's Most Wanted

by Tyler Whitesides

  Tom Pedherson took a deep, steadying breath. “I think it’s time for you kids to go.” He stood abruptly, and something seemed to catch his eye out the living room window. Following his gaze, I glimpsed a pair of pedestrians down the road. I felt my body go tense, my heart beginning to pound.

  Agents Clarkston and Nguyen were coming down the sidewalk toward Tom’s home!

  They were still several houses away, but their gray suits and top hats instantly gave them away. Avery must have seen them, too, because she gasped and took a step away from the window.

  “How did they find us?” I hissed, joining her on the other side of the room.

  “I don’t know,” answered Avery. “But we can’t let them see us.” She whipped off her top hat and reached inside.

  “Excuse me?” Tom said. “I asked you to leave.”

  Avery pulled out her hand, and I saw that she was holding the familiar truth shoe.

  “What?” I cried. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

  “We’re already the two most wanted criminals on Magix’s list,” she said to me. “Exposing an Ig isn’t going to make things worse for us. Besides, we have that memory boon notebook in the hat that Fluffball told us about.”

  “What on earth are you kids talking about?” Tom asked.

  “Would you do us a favor and put on this shoe?” Avery held it out, as though it were enticing.

  “What?” cried Tom. “I don’t think so—”

  “Look, Mister,” Fluffball suddenly chimed in, his deep voice clearly irritated. “The girl was asking nicely, so put on the shoe!”

  Tom Pedherson swore.

  “And watch your language in front of the kids,” Fluffball added, shaking a paw at the man who stood rooted in place, staring at the talking bunny with wide, disbelieving eyes. Fluffball pointed at the item in Avery’s outstretched hand. “The shoe?” he grumbled impatiently.

  Wordlessly, Tom Pedherson took the dirty sneaker and dropped into the armchair, slipping the shoe onto his stocking foot.

  “This shoe is a magical item called a boon,” Avery explained. Was she really doing this? “It makes the person wearing it tell the truth.”

  “Okaaaay?” said Tom.

  “Were you aware that the music box you won at the work party was a magical boon capable of transporting the person who opened it along with anyone looking at them?” Avery asked.

  Tom shook his head. “Nope. I just liked the song it played.”

  “Then why were you so willing to give it to my mom?” I asked. “Why did you lend me that particular music box when you had so many others to choose from?”

  “Because it should have been hers to begin with!” Tom cried. Then he gasped and covered his mouth, as though surprised that he’d spoken the truth.

  “What?” I muttered.

  “Explain yourself,” Avery demanded.

  “Your mom was supposed to win the music box in the raffle,” he said. “The announcer read the number on her ticket, but she wasn’t paying attention. I reached across the table and switched our tickets so I could claim the prize.”

  “Why?” I asked.

  He pointed around his living room. “Hello?” he said. “I’m a collector.”

  “You already felt guilty about winning the music box,” Avery summed up. “And when Mason’s mom asked to borrow one, the guilt was too much and you were willing to drive all the way across town to give her the box she should have won.”

  “That’s not all,” said Tom. “The woman calling the numbers . . . she must have wanted Tamara to win the music box, because the drawing was rigged.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “When I was leaving the party, I passed by the bowl with the remaining tickets—the numbers of all the people who didn’t win anything.” Tom looked right at me. “Your mom’s number was in there—sitting right on top.”

  “I don’t understand,” I whispered.

  “That means the person calling the numbers cheated, too,” said Avery. “They said your mom’s number to make sure she would win the music box, even though they didn’t draw her ticket.”

  “I don’t know why they wanted her to win,” said Tom sincerely. “Everybody knows that I’m the one who loves music boxes.”

  “So you stepped in and claimed the prize meant for my mom,” I said.

  Out the living room window, I saw Agents Clarkston and Nguyen heading up the walk toward the Pedhersons’ front door.

  “We’ve got to get out of here,” I started, but Avery wasn’t finished.

  “I’m going to need the name and address of the person who called the numbers,” she said to Tom.

  “It was Cheryl Denton,” he answered. “I can give you her address, but you won’t find her there.”

  “Why not?” she followed up.

  “She’s in Hawaii with her whole family,” said Tom. “Honestly, I don’t know how she’s affording it. Cheryl’s always complaining about how tight money is . . .”

  “I bet someone paid her off,” Avery guessed, “for reading your mom’s raffle ticket even though she drew a different number that was supposed to win the music box.”

  There was a knock at the front door.

  “We have to get out of here,” I whispered again. “Get out the atlas.”

  Avery took off her top hat, but Fluffball shouted, “Wait! The atlas puts off a unique signature. Magix could be tracking it.”

  “Of course!” said Avery to me. “It’s the same way Magix tracked you when you used the music box. They must have picked up the magical signature when we used the atlas to leave New York. Then they focused on it when we transported to the church and back, tracking us here.” She held her hat out for the rabbit. “Find that memory boon notebook—quick!”

  Fluffball jumped into the top hat, disappearing from view with an audible gasp from Tom.

  “Is there another way out of here?” I asked.

  “You can go out the back door,” suggested Tom, obviously still under the influence of the truth shoe. “The backyard borders up against a little creek.”

  Another knock from the people at the front door. This time Agent Nguyen’s voice called out. “Hello? This is . . . the police. We’re looking for two runaway children, thirteen years of age.”

  “Here,” whispered Fluffball, whose head suddenly poked out of Avery’s top hat. She pulled out the bunny, who was holding a small notebook between his front paws.

  “What is that?” Tom asked.

  “The childhood journal of someone named Angelica Gutierrez,” answered the rabbit.

  “Who’s that?” Tom cried.

  “I don’t really know,” answered Fluffball. “But she must have done something really good with her life because her journal is now a memory boon.”

  “Listen up,” said Avery. “Every time you rip out a page of the journal, any person who hears the paper tear has the last fifteen minutes of their memories erased.”

  That was the way Fluffball had described it to us when he briefly listed the boons in the hat.

  “Tom should rip it,” I said. “That way we can plug our ears.”

  “If we give you this notebook, will you rip out a page?” Avery asked him.

  He nodded anxiously. “I’d be more than happy to forget about that bunny. He’s the stuff of nightmares.”

  Fluffball hissed at him, baring his buckteeth and bulging his reddish eyes.

  “We should probably take the shoe back, too,” I said.

  Tom reached down and yanked it off. Avery handed him the notebook, and we both plugged our ears. I hummed a little, just to make sure I couldn’t hear.

  I saw him rip out the page, his face wrinkling with confusion the moment it was done. “Who are—” he began.

  “Thanks,” Avery cut him off, snatching the book out of his hands and racing for the back door. I grabbed the shoe and followed, rounding the corner just as I heard the Magix agents push open the front door.

  We burst into the bac
kyard, sprinting until we were safely hidden in the dense trees that ran along the little creek.

  “I think we can cross off Tom Pedherson as a suspect,” I said. “He’s a selfish Ig, but he didn’t frame me for a magical crime.”

  “But he did give us some useful information,” added Avery.

  “Not really,” I said. “With that Cheryl lady in Hawaii, there’s no way we can question her. Even if we dared to use the atlas, it only covers the eastern US.”

  “Think about what else we learned,” she said as we moved quietly along the creek. Avery had set Fluffball on the ground, and he seemed quite happy to be exploring nature, nibbling at the greenery.

  “A lot of people cheated at my mom’s work party,” I said.

  “Exactly,” said Avery. “Why?”

  “To make sure my mom won the music box.”

  “And why did they want her to have it?”

  “So I would use it,” I said. “To frame me for stealing the boons from the church.”

  “But when your mom didn’t win it,” replied Avery, “whoever was framing you had to take a different approach to getting the music box into your hands. They needed you to ask for it. Why?”

  I snapped my fingers. “For my book report!”

  Avery nodded. “What was the book?”

  “It was called The Music in the Box,” I said. “It had a robot music box on the cover.”

  “Where did you get the book?”

  I thought back to two weeks ago. “The school library.”

  “Did you pick it randomly off the shelf?”

  “No,” I said, trying to remember details that hadn’t seemed important at the time. “Somebody gave it to me and suggested that I read it.”

  “Do you remember who?”

  “The usual school librarian was absent that day,” I said. “There was a substitute. Charity Vanderbeek’s mom. She was the one who gave me the book.”

  “And what did she say about it?”

  The memory was actually pretty clear in my mind. “She said I might like it. She said all I’d need for my book report was a good-looking music box and I’d probably get an A.” I sucked in a sharp breath of surprise at what this all meant.

  Avery grinned. “I think it’s time to pay Ms. Vanderbeek a visit.”

  Chapter 20

  THURSDAY, MAY 14

  8:37 P.M.

  VANDERBEEKS’ NEIGHBORHOOD, INDIANA

  Charity Vanderbeek was in my third-period class, and I actually knew where she lived, but it took Avery and me a long time to get there since we didn’t dare use our magical atlas. We caught a bus that took us back to my side of town, and then we went the rest of the way on foot. By the time we arrived in the right neighborhood, the sun was setting.

  “That’s the house,” I said, pointing through the twilight. “Are we just going to ring the doorbell again?”

  Avery shook her head. “We probably shouldn’t have risked such a direct approach with Tom Pedherson. Let’s peek through a window and see what we might be up against.”

  “What if the neighbors notice us?” I asked. “They could call the Vanderbeeks. Or worse . . . the police.”

  “Let’s creep into the backyard, then.” Avery veered off the sidewalk.

  We moved in total silence, hopping over the low fence that sectioned off the Vanderbeeks’ backyard.

  “This window isn’t shut all the way,” Avery said, inspecting one she could easily reach from the patio.

  “Shh!” I hissed. “Someone might hear you.”

  “I’d say there’s no one here to hear,” said Fluffball.

  “What do you mean?” I asked, annoyed that he wasn’t even whispering.

  “Come on, kid,” said the rabbit. “Look around. Nobody’s home. There aren’t even any lights on inside.”

  I hated to admit it, but he was right. It wasn’t totally dark yet, but if someone was inside, they probably would have turned on a light by now. “Maybe it’s a trap,” I tried. “What if that substitute librarian is just sitting in the dark, waiting for us?”

  “The garage was empty,” continued Fluffball. “No cars.”

  “How do you know?” Avery turned on him.

  “Oh, you two didn’t notice that?” asked the bunny. “I caught a quick peek in the garage window as we snuck past. Fun fact: rabbits see best in dim lighting like twilight and dawn.”

  “Why didn’t you say anything?” I cried.

  If a rabbit could shrug, that was what he did. “You’re the detectives. I’m just along for the ride.”

  I looked at Avery. “I guess it’s safe to go inside and have a look around, then.”

  “After you.” She gestured to the window she had pried open.

  But I hesitated. I’d never broken into someone’s house before! This was real criminal stuff and I had a bad feeling about it. With my heart in my throat, I stepped up, putting my knee on the sill and ducking my head inside.

  All was dark and quiet. Nobody home. Just like Fluffball had guessed.

  “All clear,” I whispered back to Avery as I slipped into the house. I fumbled along the wall until I felt a light switch.

  “Nice place,” Avery whispered as the room brightened. We were standing in a large room with a couple of couches, a big TV, and a fireplace. The kitchen was divided by a little half-wall, but I could see well enough to know that no one was hiding there.

  “What are we looking for, exactly?” I asked.

  “Clues,” Avery said. “Anything that might tell us if this Vanderbeek lady was involved in framing you.”

  “Well, she probably wouldn’t leave important evidence lying around in the front room,” I said. “Should we head upstairs?”

  “Come on, Fluffball,” said Avery. “We need you to sniff out any boons.”

  The rabbit twitched his ears from his perch on the windowsill. “I was going to stand guard at the window and warn you if the family comes home.”

  “More like, jump out the window and run away at the first sign of trouble,” I said.

  “Suit yourself,” said Fluffball, hopping down. “Don’t blame me if you’re stuck upstairs when the evil Ms. Vanderbeek shows up.”

  I moved toward the staircase. I was almost there when Fluffball snapped at me. “Not another step, kid! That scarf’s a boon!”

  “What scarf?” I asked, freezing anyway.

  Fluffball used his ears to point to a plaid scarf draped over the railing at the bottom of the stairs. As I watched, it slowly slipped off, falling to the floor. The minute it touched the carpet, something terrible began to happen.

  It was just like the game everyone plays as a kid—the floor turned to lava.

  It started at the spot where the scarf landed, spreading quickly toward us. Fluffball and I scrambled backward to avoid the bubbling orange liquid.

  “Nice job, Skunk Boy!” cried Fluffball, bouncing across the room and leaping back onto the windowsill.

  “What happened?” asked Avery, climbing onto the low hutch against the wall where the TV was mounted.

  “I didn’t do anything!” I replied, springing onto the couch. “I didn’t even know what that boon could do.”

  “You didn’t need to,” answered the rabbit. “That’s what I was trying to tell you. The scarf boon was manipulated to take action if an Ed so much as approached the stairs.”

  “Wait!” I gasped. “Maybe that’s how the music box activated. What if someone had manipulated it to activate for an Ig like me!”

  “Not likely,” said Fluffball. “Didn’t you say your mom opened the music box before you? And Tom Pedherson? Nothing special happened to them.”

  The lava had boiled right up to the feet of the couch, and my perch was starting to sink. I ran across the cushions and sprang to the loveseat, realizing I would soon be marooned.

  “Mason!” Avery suddenly shouted, nearly giving me a heart attack. “Do you know who this is?” Crouched on the TV hutch, she was holding out a framed picture that she’d taken f
rom the shelf next to her.

  I squinted to see what she’d found, but it was just a picture of Ms. Vanderbeek with her two daughters, Charity and the older one I didn’t know.

  “Is this really the time to look at family pictures?” I shrieked, the loveseat tilting sideways as the lava ate away at its feet. I didn’t know why Avery seemed so surprised to see Ms. Vanderbeek’s picture. We were in her house, after all.

  “Don’t you recognize her from somewhere?” Avery cried, still holding the frame insistently.

  “Yeah,” I said, moving to the back of the loveseat to get to higher ground. “She was the substitute librarian who gave me the Music in the Box book.” We’d already been over this.

  “That’s not all,” said Avery. “She’s also the repairwoman who fixed your mom’s dishwasher on Tuesday morning!”

  “That’s why she looked so familiar!” I called back. “Oh, we’re onto something now. I bet Ms. Vanderbeek doesn’t even know how to fix—”

  My loveseat jolted, dumping me off the back. I managed to spring to the side table, but it was small, bobbing precariously in the sea of red and orange.

  “You’ve gotta jump!” Fluffball yelled from the windowsill.

  “To where?” I shrieked. The nearest surface that wasn’t being flooded by lava was Avery’s hutch. But even she was cornered, probably only a few seconds remaining until she got fried.

  Then I remembered something. I hadn’t seen the boon, but Fluffball had mentioned it briefly when giving us his list from the top hat. “Avery!” I called. “Toss me the hat!”

  “What?” she cried.

  “Just do it!”

  With a deep breath, she pulled it off her head and threw it across the room like a Frisbee. I caught it just inches above the lava, my sweaty hands almost slipping on the black fabric. I plunged my hand into the opening, feeling for what Fluffball had described.

  Baseball!

  I pulled it out of the hat, holding it up victoriously as my little table dipped lower into the lava.

  “Throw it!” Fluffball shouted.

  I didn’t need him to remind me how it worked. He’d already given me the knowledge in that New York City alleyway.