“Uh-oh,” Freddy says.
“Oh, you know. Just… practicing.”
“Jake is trying to sleep!” Only Mom can whisper in a mad voice.
“It’s okay,” Tyler informs her. “It’s magic.”
Unfortunately, no magic trick can get me out of this.
Mom turns to Freddy. “Why don’t you and Tyler get a snack?” That’s Mom code for “I need to yell at Ethan in private.”
I shake my head at Freddy, hoping he and Tyler will stick around so maybe Mom will get distracted and forget about being mad.
But a nanosecond later, Freddy and Tyler are outta there. So much for that idea.
“What on earth were you thinking?” Mom asks. I’m pretty sure it’s one of those rhetorical questions Ms. Carlin taught us about, when you don’t really expect an answer.
“Shhh,” I whisper. “You’ll wake Jake up.”
“Right.” Mom rolls her eyes. “Your trumpet blasting an inch from his ear won’t wake him up, but my voice…”
Just then, on cue, good old Jake opens those big blue eyes of his.
“Look who’s awake!” Mom coos. Her anger dissolves, and she wraps her arms around him.
If that’s not magic, I don’t know what is.
“They really should make a movie about Loki,” Daniel says.
The show ended a few minutes ago. It was epic! Now we’re outside the theater, waiting for Daniel’s dad to pick us up.
“You say that after every single Marvel movie.” I take a sip of my leftover lemonade.
“Dude. Think about it. He’s smart, funny…”
“Hey, I like Loki as much as you. But he doesn’t care about doing the right thing. He only cares about himself. He’s cool, but he’s no hero.”
Daniel smiles. “Not like Magnus, right?”
“Right! He’s not just a great magician; he’s a great person. Did I tell you that he traveled to West Africa last year and raised over fifty thousand dollars to fight hunger and poverty?” I smile at Daniel. “Can you see Loki doing that?”
He laughs. “Probably not.” He finishes his soda and throws the cup in the trash can. “So, speaking of your hero, you still thinking about Magic Fest?”
“It’s all I’m thinking about. No one wants to meet Magnus as much as I do.” I swallow some more lemonade. “Remember when Jake was born and my grandparents stayed with Freddy and me because our parents were at the hospital all the time?”
“I remember,” Daniel says. “It was a really tough time for you and your family.”
I nod. “It was. Then one night we were sitting around switching channels on TV and there was this guy with long hair and a silver tux talking in a British accent. He’d just finished a trick and the audience was going crazy, and my grandfather turned to me and said, ‘Buddy, that’s the first time I’ve seen you smile in days.’”
It makes me smile even now, remembering it.
“So that’s when you started to love magic?”
I nod. “And Magnus.”
“Why do you think you loved it so much?” Daniel asks.
It’s the first time anyone has asked; the first time I’ve really thought about it. “I don’t know. Maybe seeing someone do something impossible made me think that anything was possible. Maybe it gave me hope or something.” Now that I’ve said it aloud, I feel stupid. “That probably doesn’t make any sense.”
“No,” Daniel says softly. “I get it.”
“I guess maybe Bubba did, too. The next day, he bought my first magic kit.”
It was the best present I ever got: shiny little silver balls and big plastic red ones; yellow sponge ducks; a deck of trick cards; a book of instructions. It even came with a little black wand. I spent that whole afternoon and evening learning my first tricks.
“The next morning,” I tell Daniel, “two weeks after he was born, Jake finally came home from the hospital. And I’ve loved magic ever since.”
He nods slowly, like everything I told him is sinking in. “You should totally go to Magic Fest.”
“Thanks.”
He’s quiet for a moment. “But… how will you get there?”
I put my head in my hands. “I don’t know. It’s pretty expensive. Plus, I don’t really have a one-person act anymore. Besides, there’s no way my parents will let me go.”
But what if they would? What if it turned out I could do more than entertain little kids at parties? What if, someday, I could be a great magician, too?
I should at least be able to try. When an audience laughs, or I test a new trick on someone and it works—it’s the best feeling ever. I just need a way to get there. And a way to convince my parents to let me go.
Talk about magic tricks.
When Daniel’s dad drops me off, there’s an extra car in our driveway, which means one of Jake’s therapists is here. Dad says we have “a revolving door” of therapists. Every weekday one comes to our house: there are two physical therapists, two vision therapists, and one occupational therapist—her name is Mandy. It’s her job to get Jake to talk and eat. The talking isn’t happening yet, but the eating sure is.
My grandmother meets me at the door and squishes me into a hug. I hug her back.
“I didn’t know you were coming over today, Emma.”
She smiles at me. “Your brothers and I have big plans.”
“Hi, sweetie,” Mom calls from the kitchen, where she’s watching Mandy work with Jake. “How was the movie?”
“Great,” I tell her. Before I can get another word in, Freddy bursts into the room, followed by Bubba. “Ethan!” Freddy shouts. “Guess what? We’re getting our Halloween costumes today! I’m gonna be Captain America! Or Spider-Man…” He thinks a minute. “Maybe Batman.”
Bubba laughs. “Sounds like you’ve got a lot of great ideas, buddy.”
“That’s a wrap,” Mandy announces as she stands up. “Good job, Jake!” She bends over and ruffles his hair, then hands him to Mom, who gives him a kiss.
Mandy packs up her stuff and heads out. Freddy’s bouncing up and down, anxious to get moving.
Mom carries Jake over and stuffs him into his puffy blue teddy bear coat.
“Ethan,” Freddy says, “wanna come with us?”
“That’s okay, you go ahead. Be sure to find Jake a good costume, okay?”
Emma and Bubba help Freddy and Jake into their car, then wave goodbye.
Suddenly, like magic, I’ve got Mom all to myself. She looks at me and smiles. “Wow. I almost don’t know what to do with myself.”
“How long do you think they’ll be gone?”
“Oh, probably a couple of hours. Why?”
Fifteen minutes later, we’re at our favorite diner, just the two of us. Like old times.
“I’m so glad you thought of this, Ethan,” Mom says.
“Me too.” I grab packets of sugar and sweetener and start building a house. “So, what do you think Jake will be this Halloween?”
“Something terrifying, I’m sure.” She smiles. “Maybe Frankenstein.”
“Or a blood-sucking vampire.” I laugh, picturing Jake with fangs and a huge black cape.
Mom laughs, too. “I can see it now. He’ll have a—”
Before she can finish her sentence, our favorite waitress shows up with her spiky pink hair and a big smile. “Look who’s here! Long time, no see. One decaf, one milk, one grilled cheese, hold the tomato, extra pickle on the side. Right?”
Mom and I nod and smile back. It’s weird how nothing has changed here at the diner, when our lives are so different now.
“And for dessert?” she asks.
Mom and I answer at the same time. I say, “Hot fudge sundae,” while she orders cherry pie à la mode.
After the waitress brings our drinks, Mom stirs sugar and cream into her coffee while I add more packs of sweetener to my house. I’ve gotten pretty good at building these houses over the years. Bubba says it takes “a certain finesse.” Kind of like bringing up a certain subject
at the exact right place and time.
“Mom?”
“Here ya go!” The waitress gives us each a plate with half a grilled cheese sandwich, chips, and extra pickles. “I’ll bring dessert once you’re done.”
Mom thanks her. I would, too, but my mouth’s already full.
We spend the next few minutes enjoying the food and the time away from… everything. Before I know it, we’re on to dessert.
For a minute, the gooey hot fudge and my favorite coconut ice cream distract me from my mission. Then Mom dips her spoon into my dessert and pushes her pie toward me. I take a bite of sweet cherry and make a mental note to order it again whenever we come back. I hope it will be soon. It’s nice having Mom to myself for a change.
We’re going to run out of time if I don’t say something soon. I take a deep breath. “Remember when Brian visited his grandparents last summer?” I lean forward. “He flew three thousand miles by himself, all the way to California.”
Mom drains her coffee cup. “I know. His mom was terrified something would go wrong. I don’t blame her.”
This is not what I want to hear. “He was fine.”
“Still. I can’t imagine him flying all that way alone.”
“He wasn’t alone. There were other passengers and flight attendants and probably somebody flying the plane,” I joke.
Mom doesn’t even crack a smile. “Well, there’s no way I’d let you do that!” She stabs a piece of pie with her fork.
This is not going well. “What if I wasn’t alone and it was less than two hundred miles away?”
Mom puts down her fork and looks me in the eyes. “Ethan, what is this about?”
“It’s about a once-in-a-lifetime chance.” I tell her the rest as fast as I can, barely stopping to take a breath. Trying to get it all out before she says—
“I’m sorry, sweetie. I really can’t see that happening.”
I groan. “It’s much closer than California, plus you or Dad would be with me. And we don’t even have to fly, we can—”
“Enough.” She puts her hand on my arm. “No one is going to Atlantic City.”
“Why not?”
“We have way too much going on.”
“You mean, Jake?” I pull my arm away, accidentally hitting the sugar packet house. It collapses, along with my plans.
Mom puts her hand in her lap. “I’m sorry.”
There’s got to be some way to change her mind. I eat my sundae as slowly as possible while I rack my brain for a way to convince her. I’ve got maybe two teaspoonfuls left when her cell phone rings. She grabs it on the second ring. Worry spreads across her face.
I hold my breath.
“Hello?” She listens, then exhales. “That’s fine, Dad. Thanks. Have fun!” She ends the call and smiles. “Costumes are a success. They’re moving on to frozen yogurt.”
I smile back, then get a sudden flash of inspiration. “Maybe Bubba can go with me!”
“To New Jersey?”
I nod so fast I probably look like a bobblehead.
“I don’t know,” Mom says in slow motion. “It’s asking an awful lot.”
Like no one ever asks me to do anything? I don’t say it out loud, though. I never do. What’s the point? I stare at the puddle of ice cream in the bowl.
Mom sighs. “Your dad and I will talk about it, okay? Just don’t get your hopes up.”
I jump out of my seat and give her a bone-crushing hug.
Today’s party is Star Wars–themed. I’m surrounded by miniature Han Solos, Luke Skywalkers, and Reys. Wendy, the birthday girl, is turning four. She is dressed in Princess Leia’s white gown, and has those weird buns on either side of her head (except her hair is red). I already know her favorite color is purple and her favorite candy is anything chocolate, so I’ve got plenty of both ready for my magic act.
The group of kids settles on the rug in front of me while Wendy’s mom dims the lights and Freddy starts the music. As the opening notes of the Star Wars theme song play, the audience falls silent.
It’s showtime.
Freddy’s candy vanishes on cue; SpongeBob makes a surprise appearance; and I pull forty-six feet of purple paper out of my mouth. Parents applaud, kids laugh or gasp in amazement. Everything goes perfectly.
I’m waving my wand over the top hat to make chocolate candy appear when Wendy’s mom says, “Sweetheart! You almost missed the entire show!”
I look up to see a red-headed giant in the doorway—Ned. The sight of him towering over a dozen little kids is as funny as it is unexpected. Wendy runs over and gives him a hug. “You’re here!” she shouts.
Ned bends down and hugs her back, and suddenly I see the resemblance.
“Ethan,” their mom says, “this is my son—”
“Ned.” I nod.
“Hey,” he says. Which is almost more than he’s said to me at school. Maybe it’s time for that to change. And maybe it’s up to me to change it. “Wendy, want your big brother to be in the show?” I ask.
She smiles and claps her hands.
Freddy looks confused, and I don’t blame him; I’m improvising a little. I hand Freddy a stack of “Miller’s Magic” flyers and wink. He winks back by blinking both eyes.
Ned doesn’t wink. Or smile. I’m starting to think this is a bad idea, but his mom gives him a gentle push in my direction. “It’ll be fun,” she says.
I hope she’s right. I tell him, “C’mon up!” Then I grab a deck of cards and shuffle.
He trudges over like I’m about to pull out one of his teeth. I smile and say, “Pick a card, any card.”
He rolls his eyes, but takes one.
“Okay, show the audience, then put it back in the deck.”
I notice my so-called assistant making paper airplanes out of my “Miller’s Magic” flyers. “Freddy! What’re you doing?” I give him a dirty look. “Excuse me,” I tell Ned. I go over to Freddy, grab my flyers, walk back, and shuffle again.
“All right.” I pull out the ace of clubs. “Is this your card?”
He shakes his head.
“Okay, hold on. Is this it?” I show him the five of hearts.
He folds his arms across his chest and under his breath says, “I can’t believe my mom is paying you for this.”
I keep my smile on for the audience, but it’s not easy.
“I’ve seen better acts on Sesame Street,” he says… and not quietly, either.
It’s getting harder to smile. Then I hear Freddy say, “You watch Sesame Street?”
Ned opens his mouth, but nothing comes out.
Now, it’s easy to smile… and hard not to laugh.
I wave the card in front of Ned’s face. “Are you sure this isn’t your card?” I ask again.
“I already told you no,” Ned says, his face turning pink.
“Is this it?” my assistant asks.
Everyone turns to see Freddy holding the queen of diamonds.
Ned’s eyes bug out. “Wait? How did…?”
“Oh, you know.” I shrug. “I saw it on Sesame Street.”
Now Ned’s face is almost as red as his hair. He looks like he wants to hurt me. “Thanks,” he says. “This was super fun.” Only by the way he says it, and the way he looks when he says it, I’m pretty sure he doesn’t mean it.
“Hey,” I tell him, “I wasn’t trying to—”
“Whatever.” He turns his back to me and walks out of the room. Something tells me the next time Ned sees me probably won’t be “super fun,” either. Luckily, it’s three days from now, since there’s no school on Monday. Maybe he’ll have forgotten about it by then. I’m sure not gonna bring it up.
I take a deep breath, exhale, and finish the show. As usual, everything goes smoothly, and I’ve just finished packing up my supplies when the doorbell rings.
Wendy’s mom opens the door. It’s Mom, but she’s alone. The crazy thing is, instead of feeling relieved, I’m worried. Why isn’t Jake with her? Still, she doesn’t look like anything�
��s wrong. In fact, she looks really happy.
“Rox?” She stares at Wendy’s mom.
“Bex!” Wendy’s mom shouts.
Bex?
They squeal like teenage girls and throw their arms around each other, and I wonder if I’ve landed in an alternate universe.
They let go but keep grinning and staring, like this is the best thing that ever happened to either of them. “What are you doing here?” Mom asks.
“We moved over the summer.” Wendy’s mom leans over and lowers her voice, but I can still hear her. “Bob and I split up last year.”
Before either of them can say another word, or explain to me what the heck is going on, Freddy comes running. “Mommy! I want a Star Wars party, too! I want a red lightsaber like Darth Vader. Or a blue one, like Luke. Or—”
“These are your boys?” Wendy’s mom asks mine.
“They sure are.” Mom wraps one arm around me and the other around Freddy.
Wendy’s mom smiles. “I can totally see their dad…”
“Where?” Freddy turns and looks behind us.
Mom laughs. “She means, you guys look like your dad—handsome.”
Freddy’s big eyes get even bigger. “You know Daddy?”
“I do,” Wendy’s mom says. “We went to the same college.”
“You haven’t aged one day,” Mom says to her, then turns back to Freddy and me. “We lived on the same floor in the dorm for four years. Can you believe it?”
Nope. I can’t. It’s bad enough that Wendy’s mom—Rox—is related to Ned. Now she and Mom are friends?
Before things get any stranger, Wendy runs in saying something about Duck, Duck, Goose and her mom and mine promise to get together soon.
Talk about super fun…
The good news is, I’m not going to school today, even though it’s Monday. The bad news is, I’m going to synagogue instead.
Dad peeks into my room. “Five minutes.”
“Ready.”
Dad straightens my tie and gives it a pat. “Looking sharp, E.” He winks at me.
“How do I look?” Freddy asks, interrupting as always. His clip-on tie is lopsided, his shirt is half out of his pants, and he’s got grape jelly smeared on his cheek.
Super Jake and the King of Chaos Page 3