Super Jake and the King of Chaos

by Naomi Milliner

  Bubba smiles too hard. “I know what you need.” He brings Freddy and me steaming mugs of cocoa and a bag of marshmallows. Freddy dumps in some mini marshmallows, then stares into space. I take a sip and burn my tongue.

  Emma reaches across the table and puts her hand on mine. “If you want to stay home today from school it will be all right. I can write a note to your teachers.”

  I consider it for a minute. Only I know my staying home isn’t gonna help Jake. And if I go to school, at least I’ll see my friends and be busy and maybe not think about how scary things are with Jake.

  “It’s okay. I’ll go. I don’t want to get behind in my classes.” Yeah, right.

  “Can I stay home?” Freddy asks. “I can watch SpongeBob and work on the jigsaw puzzle!”

  Emma smiles and shakes her head. “You can do that after school.”

  As bad as school is on a regular Monday, it’s even worse when I don’t know how Jake is. When the last bell finally rings, I race out of the building. He’s probably home by now.

  I’m so anxious to get there, I almost miss Chris standing at my corner next to Betty the Crossing Guard.

  “Hey, Ethan.” Chris is smiling, but it looks a little phony. Something is wrong.

  “Hey.”

  “Guess what? We’re going to hang out at my house this afternoon. I talked my mom into making those mint brownies you like.”

  “Okay…”

  He starts walking toward home and I follow.

  “Is Jake still at the hospital?” I ask.

  “Actually,” Chris says, “he’s at a different hospital now—your parents are with him. Your grandparents, too.”

  “Why? What’s wrong with the hospital he was at? He always goes there. It’s close to home, and the doctors always take good care of him.”

  “I’m sure they do,” Chris says. “But this new hospital? The doctors there only take care of children.”

  “Is that good or bad?”

  Chris stops walking and turns to face me. “I don’t know. I mean, I guess it’s good because that’s what they specialize in, so… they should be able to help Jake.”

  “But is he doing better or worse?”

  He lets out a deep breath. “My mom told me Jake’s temperature spiked while you and Freddy were at school.” He waits for me to say something, or maybe to ask more questions. But I don’t know what to say or ask. I don’t know what to think.

  “Try not to worry,” Chris says. “I’m sure your parents will call as soon as they know more.”

  Kids walk by, laughing about something, but it feels awfully quiet where we’re standing.

  “Hey. I cleaned up the bunk beds for you guys… in case your parents don’t come home until late and you sleep over.”

  Any other day, spending the night at Chris’s would be great. Freddy and I have been pestering him to try out those bunk beds forever. All I do now is shrug.

  We go to his house and I drop my backpack and trumpet off, then Chris and I walk down the hill toward Freddy’s bus stop. When his bus pulls up, Freddy runs over to us—he’s all smiles, excited to see Chris. Then he looks at me and knows something is up. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing,” I tell him. He looks at me, unconvinced. I sigh. “Mom and Dad are still with Jake at the hospital.”

  His eyes get huge. “Still?”

  “They’ll be home soon,” I say, hoping it’s true.

  “In the meantime, you guys are coming to my house,” Chris says. “Okay?”

  Freddy looks at me again, and I know I have to act like everything’s fine so he’s not scared. “Guess what? Tonight we finally get to try Chris’s bunk beds!”

  “All right!” Freddy smiles and Chris nods at me as if to say, “Good job.” I’m glad Freddy is excited. Wish I was.

  When we get back to Chris’s house, Mrs. Todd offers us a snack but I’m not hungry, so I go to the living room to get my math homework over with.

  I get stuck on the first problem. “I hate math,” I mumble.

  “Need some help?” Chris looks up from the book he’s reading.

  I didn’t realize I’d said that out loud.

  “Let’s see.” Chris studies the example. “I think I remember how to do this.…” He takes a piece of paper and finishes the problem in two seconds. We get the whole thing done in fifteen minutes, then I find Freddy in the sunroom, erasing something on his worksheet. “I hate math,” he says.

  “Need some help?” I ask.

  He nods and we get to work. Lucky for him, I can still do first-grade math.

  “Hey, Ethan,” he looks up with a hopeful smile, “you think someday I’ll help Jake with his math homework?”

  “I don’t know. How much is eight plus two?”

  He counts on his fingers. “Twelve?”

  After our homework is done, Mrs. Todd joins us for the most exciting card game ever: Go Fish. We’re on the hundredth game when the phone finally rings. Mrs. Todd answers right away. “Ethan? It’s your—”

  I race over and grab the phone. “Hello?”

  “How are you, sweetie?” Mom asks.

  “I’m fine. How’s Jake?” I wait for her to say something, but there’s this long pause that makes me really nervous. “How is Jake?” I ask again.

  “The doctors are still running tests.” Her voice doesn’t sound right.

  “He’s okay, though, right?”

  “Ethan, they’re calling Daddy and me. I’ll talk to you soon.”

  “Wait! When are you coming home?”

  “Sweetie, I’ve got to go. I love you.”

  Before I can even say “I love you” back, I hear the phone click off.

  Everyone is looking at me, but no one says a thing. I guess no one knows what to say. Finally, Mrs. Todd clears her throat. “Since you two are spending the night, would you like to go home and get some things? Pajamas? Toothbrushes?”

  “I guess,” I say.

  “I guess,” Freddy echoes.

  We trudge across the street and I let us into the house with my spare key.

  “Need any help packing?” I ask Freddy.

  He shakes his head, so I go to my room and pull out the suitcase I thought I’d be packing for Magic Fest this Thursday night. I toss in clothes, juggling balls, and the fourth Harry Potter book. Then I go to Jake’s room, look around for a second or two, and grab something that makes me feel like Jake is with me.

  I’m putting the item in my suitcase when Freddy shows up at my door. “Ready,” he says. Then he notices Tweety in my hands and I feel like I’ve been caught doing something I shouldn’t.

  “I’m glad you’re bringing Tweety.” He reaches into his Star Wars backpack and pulls out Pita Rabbit. “They can hang out together.”

  We get through dinner and watch TV with Chris and his parents, but it’s no fun, really. When it’s time for bed, I think Freddy and I are both glad to go to the guest room where the bunk beds are.

  “Want the top bunk?” I ask Freddy.

  “That’s okay,” he says. “I’ll take the bottom.”

  “How ’bout we take turns? I get it tonight; you get it tomorrow?” One look at his face tells me I screwed up. Neither of us wants to be here tomorrow night. “I mean, if we’re still here. Which we probably won’t be.”

  He takes out his Spidey doll, Han Solo action figure, and Pita Rabbit and squishes them next to him on the bottom bunk.

  “Want Tweety down there, too?”

  “That’s okay. You can keep him.”

  I turn out the light, leaving the door open a crack so we can find our way in the dark if we need to.

  “Wanna come up for a while? It’s pretty fun being so high up.” My voice sounds fake even to my own ears.

  He doesn’t answer.

  “Okay,” I say, giving it my best shot. “It’s crunchy, orange, and grows in the ground.…”

  “A carrot,” Freddy says in the dark.

  “Good job!” When all else fails, play the food game.
“Your turn.”

  It’s quiet for so long I wonder if he’s fallen asleep. “Okay,” he finally says. “It’s all different colors, and it’s really yummy. And sticky. And messy, but not at first.”

  “Icing?”

  “Nope.”

  “A bar of soap?”

  “No.” Freddy giggles. “Want another hint?”

  “Sure.”

  “Jake likes it.”

  I see a bright pink tongue and even brighter smile. “Cotton candy,” I whisper.

  I basically sleepwalk to school but manage to stay awake through most of my classes. When I get home, our minivan is in the carport and Mom is at the front door. I race up the driveway and she squeezes me in a bear hug.

  “I can’t breathe!” I gasp.

  She squeezes even harder, then stares at me like she’s been away for years.

  “How’s Jake? When can I see him? Is he coming home soon?”

  “He’s better and you can see him later this week. As far as coming home soon, I sure hope so.” She strokes my hair like when I was little.

  The timer rings and I follow her into the kitchen. She pulls two pans of warm chocolate cupcakes out of the oven: one of my favorite things on the planet.

  “Why don’t you start your homework while these cool? Then we’ll ice them together, and you can help me figure out what to take to Jake tomorrow.”

  “His jingle sticks for sure. And crinkly paper. Red, maybe. Or green. And you gotta bring a Beatles CD! And Tweety Bird, and Goodnight Moon. Maybe you can bring Jake a cupcake!”

  Mom smiles back at me. “Maybe so.”

  As great as the cupcakes are, having Mom and Dad home is even better. The three of us play some board games with Freddy, and I read aloud from Merlin—two chapters instead of one, since we’ve missed so many lately.

  After Freddy goes to sleep, Mom and I talk for a while about Jake… but only about happy things, like his first bottle and his birthday party and his playdates with Wendy. Once or twice I almost mention Magic Fest, since it’s only three days from now. But it doesn’t feel like the right time—or even the right thing to talk about. For tonight, I’m just happy to have both of my parents home again, and to know Jake will be home soon, too.

  It feels like things are almost back to normal—until I see Chris the next day, waiting for me after school. My feet stop moving. My heart practically stops, too.

  “Don’t worry,” he says. “Everyone is fine. Your parents will be home for supper, and Freddy’s with your grandparents.”

  My heart rate goes back to normal and I let out a breath.

  He starts walking, so I do, too. “I was wondering if you had time to go bowling?”

  I stop dead in my tracks. “Bowling?”

  He turns with a smile. “Unless you’re anxious to get to your math homework?”

  A few minutes later we’re in his car, riding with the windows down and the radio up.

  “Chris? How come three strikes in baseball is bad, but three strikes in bowling is good?”

  He laughs. “That’s a great question.”

  He doesn’t have a great answer, but I don’t care. And I don’t care that I don’t get any strikes, either. It’s fun just hanging out. After the first game, we buy a pitcher of lemonade and watch the other bowlers. I’m wondering if I’ll get any strikes the next game when Chris says, “Listen…”

  The serious expression on his face makes my stomach hurt. I don’t know what’s coming, but I know it’s gonna be bad. I lean forward and sit on the edge of the plastic chair, my right leg bouncing up and down.

  “Even though Jake’s doing a lot better, your parents don’t feel right leaving him.”

  “I’m not going to Magic Fest, am I?” I sink into the chair like I have no bones.

  I’ve been working so hard and waiting so long and wanting this so much.…

  “So your parents and I were wondering if I could take you,” Chris says. “That is, if it’s okay with you.”

  “What?” I sit up straight. I picture the two of us, talking in the car, hanging out in the hotel room, watching magic acts together. I lean toward him. “Jake really is doing better, right?”

  “Scout’s honor.” Chris does that thing with his fingers scouts do. Which, since he went all the way to Eagle Scout, he should know.

  And just like that, everything is okay—better than okay. Chris and I are going to Magic Fest in two days!

  The next day and a half go by crazy fast and suddenly—finally—I’m headed to Atlantic City. I’m so wired that Chris asks how many gallons of coffee I had for breakfast.

  We have a great time on the ride up, talking and laughing and listening to music. Chris is a huge Beatles fan, and my parents are, too, so he puts a ton of Beatles songs on shuffle, and we play a game to see how fast we can name the song as soon as it begins. By the end, we’re calling out names of songs before they even start. It’s really fun. By the time we get to the hotel, my face hurts from smiling so much. Then we step into the lobby, and I know this will be the best time I’ve ever had, and the coolest thing I’ve ever done.

  Everywhere I look, there are magicians: men, women, kids. In costumes, tuxedos and gowns, and casual clothes, like me. Some are working solo, others in pairs, doing card tricks, coin tricks, juggling, even mind-reading. There’s so much excitement buzzing all around, I don’t know what to do or where to go first.

  While Chris checks us in, I try to soak up everything. The energy is electric and like nothing I’ve ever experienced. I wish I could put all the bright colors and happy chatter in a bottle and bring it home and pour it over my brothers—especially Jake. Instead, I do the next best thing: reach inside my jeans pocket for the red crinkly paper I brought along, and it’s almost like Jake is here, too.

  “We’re all set.” Chris flashes two keycards. “And there’s plenty of time to look around some more before anything major starts.”

  By “anything major” he means the three contests. Everyone in my age category is in the first two contests: close-up and stage act. The stage acts start tomorrow morning, but the close-ups are today. Mine’s at 4:15. The close-ups and stage act are both scored on a scale of one to ten by three judges. The categories are Showmanship, Technique/Skill, Originality, and Overall Entertainment Value.

  The magicians with the top five scores win a hundred dollars and get to perform tomorrow night, in front of a huge audience, for the grand prize. This year there are forty-three junior magicians—and every single one of us came to win. For the first time since we arrived, it all feels real, instead of surreal… and the stakes are the most real of all.

  The first thing Chris and I do is check out “The Dealer’s Room,” a gigantic ballroom filled with tricks and gadgets for sale.

  “You look like Freddy at a toy store.” Chris laughs.

  We walk around for over an hour, checking out the latest and greatest magic tricks. Unfortunately, the best ones are really expensive. My favorite is “The Wizard’s Ring.” It looks like a regular ring, but there’s a magnet inside. It can stop time on a watch, move forks and spoons, and make coins vanish.

  Another one I like is “The Secret Tool of Crooked Gamblers,” a card punch that marks cards so you can feel it, but not see it. Then there’s “The Memorized Deck for the Forgetful,” and shiny wooden wands. Maybe it’s a good thing I don’t have much extra money, because I wouldn’t have it for very long in this shop!

  After that, we decide to check out some of my competition. Since the close-ups are close up, there aren’t many seats and three are for the judges.

  It’s fun watching the other junior magicians, but my mouth goes dry and my stomach feels tight. Am I good enough? I’m especially worried about Amazing Amelia. She’s doing a funny act, too, and from what I could see, her close-up went perfectly.

  I congratulate her afterward, even though she is a rival. A few minutes later, it’s my turn. The judges take their seats, along with Chris and a dozen other people, includ
ing Amazing Amelia. That makes me even more nervous.

  Luckily, I’ve practiced so much that even when I’m nervous, my hands know what to do. I open with a variation of the mini-marshmallows-into-big-marshmallow bit from my King of Chaos act, using candy kisses instead of marshmallows. I start with three silver cups and one candy kiss. As I shuffle them around, one kiss becomes two, and two become three. Then I shuffle the cups around until the kisses are gone, and a miniature candy bar appears instead.

  The audience seems to enjoy it, especially when I reach into my top hat and shower them with candy kisses.

  While they nibble their chocolate, I invite one of the judges to come up and pick a card. He shows it to the others and hands it back to me. I do the one-handed shuffle Jake helped me with and am about to find the card when I notice Chris texting on his cell phone in the middle of my routine.

  I look at him like I can’t believe it. “Really? You can’t wait ’til my act is over?” I shout. I get up from behind my table and make a beeline for him as the stunned audience watches. I wait for him to put the phone away, which he does, looking slightly embarrassed.

  I go back to my table, apologize to my audience, and pick the judge’s card out of the deck. Only it’s not the right one.

  “Are you sure?” I ask.

  The judge shakes his head. Amazing Amelia bites her lip, reminding me of my mom.

  “Uh, can I try one more time?”

  The judge nods. I pull out a different card, but it’s still the wrong one. Now my audience is getting restless; people are shaking their heads, checking watches, fidgeting in their seats.

  “It worked at home every time. Honest!” I shrug and sigh. “I don’t know what happened to your card, Sir. I’m really sorry.”

  “Is this it?”

  Everyone turns to look at Chris who, sure enough, is holding the right card.

  When the judges smile and the audience applauds? It’s magic.

  To thank Chris for being my secret assistant, I treat him to an all-you-can-eat Chinese buffet. (And, believe me, he can eat. A lot.) While he chows down on chow mein, I play with my spring roll, unable to take even one bite.