Super Jake and the King of Chaos

by Naomi Milliner

  “It does sound overwhelming.” Ms. Carlin puts her right hand under her chin, the way she always does when she’s thinking. “Do you have time for some brainstorming?”

  “Absolutely!”

  She takes a chair and I grab another and we sit across from each other. “Okay,” she says. “Let’s start with what your act is about,” she suggests.

  “It’s not really about anything. There’s sight gags, juggling, sleight of hand—”

  “Wow. Sounds like you have a lot going on.”

  “Is that good or bad?”

  She tilts her head as she thinks about it. “Well, if there’s no unifying theme, maybe that is your theme.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “If your routine is chaotic, play up the chaos. Make it deliberate.”

  “Like, jump from one thing to the next on purpose?”

  She nods. “Exactly. The absent-minded professor approach. You have a wonderful sense of humor. Why not use it as part of your act?”

  After some more serious brainstorming, we come up with the perfect name for my act: The King of Chaos!

  I spend the whole walk home repeating the name of my act in my head. The more I think about it, the more I like it. Most magicians my age take themselves pretty seriously. If I can pull off a funny act, it might be different enough from the competition to win!

  I walk in the front door to find Jake in his Kid Kart watching Tina move a penlight back and forth. I go over and squeeze his hands.

  “Are you working hard?” I ask. Jake answers with one of his big toothy grins.

  “He sure is,” Tina says. “So far we—”

  “Ethan, look!” Freddy hops into the room, interrupting as usual. He’s holding a purple-and-yellow plastic cube. He hits one side and a flute plays classical music. He hits another and a harp plays a different piece. He brings it over and we check it out together.

  “This is pretty cool,” I say.

  “The vision teacher brought it for Jake while we were at school,” Freddy says.

  Every week there’s a new gadget that lights up, vibrates, or makes noise so Jake will try to reach out and grab it. Unfortunately, Freddy’s the one who grabs the toys; all Jake grabs is Mom’s long, curly hair. She always sits in on therapy sessions, so she can work with Jake the rest of the week, and tell us what to do, too. (Mom loves telling us what to do.)

  I suddenly realize she’s not around, which is strange. “Where’s Mom?” I ask.

  “She’s not feeling so great,” Tina tells me. “She had to lie down.”

  It’s hard to imagine anyone sleeping through Freddy’s noise, so I go down the hall and peek in my parents’ room. Mom’s awake, but her face is pale and her eyelids are droopy.

  “Hi, sweetie.” She gives me a sleepy smile. It’s weird to see her lying down; she’s usually running around doing ten things at once. “How was your day?”

  “Great!” I plop down onto her bed. “Ms. Carlin and I—”

  “Honey, don’t get too close. I don’t know if I’m contagious.”

  I stand and move to the door, while Mom shimmies into a sitting position. “Okay. Now tell me,” she says.

  “We came up with a name for my magic act: The King of Chaos.”

  She smiles. “I love it. Maybe you can…” Before she can finish the sentence, she has a coughing fit.

  “Can I bring you some medicine or tea or something?”

  She shakes her head and holds up a finger until she stops coughing. “There is one thing you could do.”

  “What?”

  “Could you please stretch Jake for me after Tina leaves?”

  I know it sounds strange to “stretch” someone, but since Jake can’t exercise on his own, we take turns moving his arms and legs up and down and in and out, a few times a day so they don’t get too stiff. The therapists say it makes him feel better.

  I tell Mom I’ll take care of Jake and that she shouldn’t worry. She thanks me, then closes her eyes.

  I shut her door and go to my room: homework, then Jake, then Magic Fest prep! The more I read about Magic Fest, the more excited I am. There are magic shows, workshops on card tricks, lectures on staging with one-on-one coaching… and even a pizza party.

  The main event, though, is the competition. There are three parts: the first is a close-up act with only a few people watching along with the judges; the second is on a big stage, where you perform in front of the judges and the other magicians; and finally, after both of those parts are scored, the top five magicians perform a second time. The winner gets five hundred dollars, plus the real prize: meeting and performing with Magnus the Magnificent!

  Since I promised to keep my grades up, I force myself to concentrate on homework. As I read about magnets, I squeeze my red rubber ball in each hand for strength. While I memorize French verbs, I practice shuffling a deck of cards single-handed. Being a lefty, I’m pretty good with that hand, but my right’s still giving me trouble.

  By the time I’ve finished my English homework, Tina is long gone, Freddy’s watching cartoons, and I still can’t shuffle with my right hand. I take the deck with me and go to Jake’s room.

  He’s wide awake, ready to hang out. I pull him into a sitting position, then grab some red crinkly paper, as noisy as it is shiny, and help him squeeze it. He smiles like nothing could be more fun. Maybe for him, nothing is.

  After a couple minutes, I put him in the blue plastic chair on the floor and sit across from him. “Jake, I’ve got a problem. I can shuffle with two hands or only my left.” I pull a deck of cards out of my pocket and show him. “I just can’t do it with my right.” I demonstrate and cards fly everywhere. I try again, and again… until I can’t stand it anymore.

  “I’ve been working on this for weeks! What do you think? Should I forget it?”

  He looks at me with his calm blue eyes, and I look right back at him. I think about how hard he works with his therapists, how he never stops trying. I can almost hear him say, “Don’t give up, Ethan. You can do it!”

  I take a deep breath and let half the deck fall into my right palm. Then, slowly, carefully, I slip my finger underneath and push the bottom cards over the top ones.

  “I did it! I finally did it!” I do it again and again. “We did it, Super Jake, you and me. The best team ever!” I pull him into my lap and move his arms back and forth crazy fast. He grins and grins. “Let’s try some other decks.” I take my Lord of the Rings cards out next and introduce him to Frodo, Merry, Pippin, and Sam.

  “Hey there.” Dad sticks his head in Jake’s room. “Mom said you were working with Jake. Have you finished?”

  Oh no! We were having so much fun I forgot to stretch him! “He only woke up a minute ago. I’ll start now.”

  Dad shakes his head. “We’ll have to skip it. He needs to eat—and so do we. I stopped by the pizza place Freddy likes. Could you put Jake in the Kid Kart while I get his food ready?”

  I lift up Jake, strap him into the Kid Kart, and put in the tray while he watches me.

  “I know,” I tell him. “I shouldn’t have lied. But the last thing I want is to upset Mom and Dad, especially after they agreed to let me go to Magic Fest and everything. You understand, right?” I squeeze his hands and he smiles, and I know he’s not mad at me.

  He never is.

  It’s amazing how even the possibility of meeting Magnus the Magnificent makes life, in general, better.

  Like this morning, when Freddy helps himself to the last bowl of good cereal and I get stuck with oatmeal, I eat every spoonful without my usual complaint.

  When Mom says, “Don’t forget you have a trumpet lesson today, so come straight home after school,” I tell her that’s fine, even though I want to show Ms. Carlin my one-handed shuffle.

  And when Betty the Crossing Guard asks how I’m doing, I smile and say I’m doing great. And I am… until gym class.

  Ned and I are stuck as partners again. Whenever Mr. Davis isn’t watching, Ned throws the
basketball so high I’d need stilts to catch it. After about ten times, I finally say, “Hey, could you maybe throw it a little lower?”

  I watch him scan the gym, probably to make sure the teacher isn’t looking. Then he hurls it at my feet. Hard. I jump out of the way, then chase after the ball.

  Eventually Mr. Davis blows his whistle, and it’s finally time for my favorite thing: practicing foul shots. We each take ten shots in a row. For each one missed, you have to do five sit-ups.

  I hate sit-ups so I make sure I don’t miss.

  I’m nine for nine and on my last shot. I take a deep breath, hold it, bounce the ball three times for luck like always, and—

  “Break a leg!” Ned shouts.

  I miss.

  “Dammit!” I cry, then immediately wish I hadn’t.

  “Ooh, Ethan said a bad word,” Ned says with a smirk.

  Mr. Davis has a thing about swearing (though he’s known to yell a few choice words himself every now and then). “On the floor, Ethan. That’s five sit-ups for the missed shot and five more for profanity.”

  As much as I hate sit-ups, I hate Ned even more.

  Luckily, my good mood comes back during lunch, and the rest of the day goes by super fast—even math class. (Miss Wright is out sick and the world’s nicest sub does tonight’s homework with us.)

  I make it home right as the rain starts to fall, and five minutes later I’m under the carport. Freddy settles into the back of the minivan, I buckle Jake into his car seat, Mom clicks on the windshield wipers, and we’re off to my trumpet lesson.

  I’m just starting to tell Freddy and Jake a new Food Island story when Mom says, “Isn’t that Ned?”

  I look out the window and, sure enough, Ned’s walking in the pouring rain. Before I can answer, Mom pulls over and opens her window.

  “Hi,” she says. “Remember me? I was at your house the other day. Your mom and I are—”

  “I know who you are,” Ned says without a smile.

  I can see what’s coming, and there’s not a thing I can do about it.

  “Would you like a ride?” Mom asks as he stands there getting drenched.

  He shakes his head. “That’s okay.”

  “It’s no trouble,” Mom says. “We’re going right past your street.”

  And just like that, Ned’s trapped. And so am I.

  She unlocks the front passenger door and he climbs in.

  “Hi, Ned!” Freddy-the-Traitor calls from the back seat. Ned turns around. His eyes glance my way… then settle on Jake. He stares at my brother a little too long.

  “Did you miss your bus?” Mom asks.

  He turns around and nods his head.

  Mom tries to be friendly, asking typical, boring parent-type questions. After a bunch of one-word answers, she finally gives up. I don’t bother saying anything to him and even Freddy is quiet for a change. I start wondering why just as I hear a pop! from behind me. I turn around and see a ginormous pink bubble splattered all over Freddy’s nose and cheeks.

  “Oops,” he says.

  After what seems like a thousand years, we pull up in front of Ned’s house and he gets out.

  “Thanks for the ride,” he mumbles.

  “Anytime,” Mom says with a smile. He walks toward his house without glancing back.

  As we drive away, my shoulders finally relax, and I exhale loudly.

  “Poor thing,” Mom says.

  Huh?

  “Rox says he really misses Chicago. His dad’s still there, you know. It must be hard being away from him.”

  Whatever.

  “It’s not easy being the new kid at school. Rox says he hasn’t made a lot of friends yet.”

  There’s a shocker.

  “She and I were hoping you two could…”

  Nope. Don’t even say it…

  “… be friends. Maybe you could invite him over sometime and—”

  “No,” I say.

  “Why not?”

  There are so many reasons, I don’t know where to start, so I decide to keep it simple. “We don’t get along.”

  Something in my voice must convince her it’s the truth, because she doesn’t push the issue. We ride in silence for a minute or two, then I get back to the Food Island story and finish it exactly as we reach my trumpet teacher’s house.

  I love weekends. It’s a shame they only last for two days. It would be so much better if school was two days and weekends were five.

  One of my favorite things about the weekend is that I can sleep late—at least, in theory.…

  “Ethan? Are you awake?” Mom asks outside my room.

  I am now.

  When she cracks open my door, she’s got on the biggest smile I’ve seen in weeks.

  “Your brother has a playdate,” she says, like it’s the best thing in the world.

  “Um, okay?”

  “You should come see.”

  “Why? I’ve seen Freddy and Tyler a million times—”

  “Freddy and Tyler are out with your dad.” Her smile gets even bigger. “I’m talking about your other brother.”

  I clamber out of bed and follow her down the hall, into the kitchen.

  Jake’s in his Kid Kart with eyes open wide, watching Wendy pour invisible tea into miniature pink and purple teacups. She adds imaginary sugar cubes with an impossibly tiny spoon and gently places a cup on his tray.

  “Careful,” Wendy tells him. “Hot!” She blows on his cup and lifts it to his lips.

  Jake has found a friend.

  Around half an hour later, the four of us pile into the minivan to take advantage of a warm November day, and go to a playground half an hour away. There’s nothing wrong with the ones nearby; they just aren’t for kids like Jake. This one has ramps everywhere and colorful, super-big pieces of equipment that everyone can use.

  Like we do every time we visit this playground, we start with the swings. I help Mom strap Jake into a big red swing. It’s got a really deep bucket seat so kids who can’t sit up on their own can still use it. There’s even a swing sturdy enough to hold someone in a wheelchair. Mom pushes Jake while I push Wendy in a regular swing right next to him.

  Next, we go into this gigantic glider that can hold six or eight people (half on each side), plus a wheelchair in the middle. Mom sits with Wendy and another kid, while I hold Jake on my lap on the other side, and a dad pushes us back and forth. Then I get out and push, so the dad can sit with his little boy.

  After that, Mom and I take turns holding Jake real tight and going down an extra-wide slide, while Wendy uses a second slide next to us. Then we go to one of the picnic benches and I spread snacks out on the table while Mom gets Jake’s food ready. I can tell Mom made a special effort to make Jake’s food as close to ours as possible. I don’t know if Wendy notices (and I’m pretty sure Jake doesn’t), but it makes me happy.

  While Mom feeds Jake mushy banana out of a jar, Wendy and I eat the kind you peel. When Jake eats baby custard, Wendy and I eat pudding cups and Mom snacks on yogurt. And when we drink apple juice, Jake does, too. I smile at Mom. “I like this picnic a lot,” I tell her.

  “Me too,” she says. And she smiles back.

  On the ride home, I tell knock-knock jokes and Wendy giggles, and when Mom plays little kids’ songs on the CD player, Wendy sings along. It’s pretty cute, and I’m glad Wendy likes the jokes and music. I hope Jake does, too.

  When we get back home, Mom puts Jake to bed, and Wendy passes out in the big purple recliner. Mom and I sit on the sofa, keeping an eye on Wendy. Since Freddy’s still away with Tyler and Dad, we start plotting which Star Wars presents to get Freddy for Hanukkah. It’s still a few weeks away, but Mom always likes to plan ahead.

  The longer we talk, the sillier our ideas get.

  “How ’bout a life-size R2-D2?” I suggest.

  Mom laughs. “Why not a life-size Chewbacca?”

  “Can you picture him in the minivan?”

  Mom squeezes her lips and squints, like she’s
thinking really hard. “We’ll have to get the Millennium Falcon, too,” she says. “Think it’ll fit in our carport?”

  “Maybe if…” I break off as a car pulls into our driveway.

  “It’s Rox,” Mom says.

  “I’ll get it.” I open the door, and Rox flies into the room.

  “I’m so sorry I’m late! Ned’s appointment ran over and—”

  At the sound of her mom’s voice, Wendy’s eyes open wide. “Mommy!”

  “Hey, princess.” Rox scoops her daughter into her arms. “Did you have fun with Jake?”

  “I love him,” Wendy announces.

  Mom smiles. “They had a wonderful time together. Your tea set was a big hit.”

  “Here’s to the next generation of friends,” Rox says.

  Wendy tugs on her mom’s shirt. “Mommy, I’m thirsty.”

  “I’ve got plenty of milk and juice boxes.…” Mom gives Rox a knowing smile. “Not to mention an endless supply of hazelnut coffee and…”

  Rox smiles back. “You had me at hazelnut.” She and Wendy follow Mom to the kitchen table. “Maybe I can finally meet Jake.”

  “You haven’t met him yet?” I ask.

  “Your dad was giving him a bath when I dropped Wendy off,” Rox says.

  “Why don’t you go see if he’s awake?” Mom asks me, then she scurries around, grabbing cookies and cups and saucers and plates that match, and even the butterfly sugar bowl she only brings out for special occasions.

  I go down the hall and, sure enough, Jake’s wide awake. I lift him into the Kid Kart, buckle him in, and attach the tray. “Hey, Jake. Wendy’s mom wants to meet you. Try to make a good first impression, for Mom’s sake.” I squeeze his hands, and he smiles at me.

  “This coffee is amazing,” Rox says as Jake and I enter the room.

  “Jake!” Wendy forgets her half-eaten cookie and runs over to him.

  Rox holds her coffee cup in midair. Her smile sort of freezes.

  Mom smooths Jake’s curls. “This is Jake.”