The Bootlace Magician

by Cassie Beasley

  Micah knew that, but a part of him still hoped there would be some sign that Fish had succeeded.

  “If you do not mind answering . . .” The illusionist trailed off.

  “What?”

  The Lightbender looked somewhat embarrassed. “I would be interested to know what made tying a bracelet to represent me so difficult.”

  “Oh,” said Micah. “I was being silly. It should have been really obvious.”

  “I had wondered if it was the fact that I am an illusionist,” said the Lightbender hesitantly. “I am aware that it is almost the same as being a professional liar, and many people find that upsetting—”

  “No,” said Micah. “That’s not it. I just didn’t realize something about you until today, when I met Victoria.”

  The Lightbender turned to Micah, both of his eyebrows lifted in alarm.

  Micah said, “She was my grandmother. And she didn’t care about me at all. She didn’t hate me. She didn’t like me. She just thought that I wasn’t much of a threat and maybe I would be useful to have around one day. I didn’t expect her to be so . . .”

  “Indifferent,” the Lightbender said softly.

  Micah nodded. “I’ve been so ashamed of being related to her. But then, when she called me her family, it was like the word didn’t mean anything to her at all. I realized she didn’t even know what a family was.”

  Micah touched his bootlace and watched the curved edge of the sun disappear on the horizon.

  “I know what a family is,” he said. “I used to have a grandfather who loved me a lot. And now, I’ve got you.”

  The Lightbender smiled. “You do.”

  “You love me,” Micah concluded. “That’s what the bracelet was missing—the most important part.”

  MAIL SLOT

  “I can’t believe I wasn’t there to help!” Jenny said through the mail slot several days later. “Micah, are you sure you’re all right?”

  “I’m great. The circus is still closed. It will be until we get the menagerie sorted out. But everyone’s going to be okay.”

  Micah and the Lightbender had arrived home to find that the circus’s animals were being housed in every tent with even a little bit of spare room. The dire hawks had flown off, but many of Victoria’s birds had stayed, either because they were too injured to leave or because they didn’t have anywhere else to go.

  Afraid that she might be asked to share her perch with the newcomers, Chintzy had taken it upon herself to invite Big Jean and Terpsichore to stay in the Lightbender’s tent instead.

  Micah had walked into the tent on his first day back to find Big Jean drawing math problems on the Lightbender’s stage with a piece of sidewalk chalk. Terpsichore was outside, rolling in the grass.

  “You do realize we have one of the smallest tents, right?” he said to the parrot. “And you invited the biggest animals at the circus to live with us?”

  “Exactly!” she said proudly. “No room for anyone else now.”

  “All right, Chintzy.” Micah had been too pleased to see her alive and well to be annoyed. “That makes sense.”

  Jenny pressed her face so close to the mail slot that it looked as if she were trying to squeeze herself through it. “How are they going to replace the menagerie?” she asked worriedly.

  “Victoria’s old tent.” Micah had suggested the idea to the manager himself. Repurposing the glittering, silver tent would be a way of erasing some of the damage Victoria had done. “When the Inventor’s fully recovered she’s going to start working on it. She thinks she can expand it and make it even better than the old one.”

  “That sounds perfect,” said Jenny. “It’s going to look impressive at the center of the circus. I wish I didn’t have to wait so long to see it.”

  “You still can’t visit?” Micah asked, disappointed. He’d hoped that with Victoria gone and summer approaching, Jenny’s parents would have decided it was fine for her to stay.

  “Actually . . .” Jenny’s voice was nervous. “My mom and dad said I could visit once school let out. But you know how I told you about the Sisterhood offering me a spot at their summer camp?”

  “I remember.”

  “Well, they’ve got a different theme every year, and this summer it’s about protecting the environment. It’s something I’m really interested in. The campers will get to talk about ecology and green energy, and there’s going to be a river cleanup day and—”

  “That sounds like a lot of fun,” said Micah.

  “You’re not mad? I’ll still be able to come later in the summer.”

  “Of course I’m not mad!”

  “It’s not an all-girls camp,” Jenny said quickly. “I bet they would let you come, too.”

  Micah thought about it. The members of the Sisterhood who’d fought in the battle against the dragon and Victoria were all still here. They had decided to stay a while and help the circus get back on its feet. He could go right now and ask one of them about camp.

  “No,” he decided. “I want to stay here. We’ll be reopening at the start of the summer.”

  “And the circus needs all its magicians,” said Jenny.

  “That’s right,” said Micah. “You’re not mad either, are you?”

  Jenny shook her head. “We’ll both be doing what we’re passionate about. We’ll both have a great summer, and we’ll see each other at the end of it. I’m sorry I’ll miss your twelfth birthday, though.”

  “That’s all right,” said Micah, smiling. “The Lightbender’s taking me out for pizza.”

  THE SHOELACE WIZARD

  By early August, Circus Mirandus was more or less back to normal.

  Micah and the Lightbender sat together at a small wooden breakfast table in the illusionist’s room. The Lightbender had found the table in one of the storage tents, and he had presented it to Micah as a birthday present, complete with wrapping paper and a badly tied bow.

  Going out for pizza wasn’t something they could do on a regular basis, he’d explained apologetically, but eating meals together more often could certainly be managed.

  Every morning since, Micah had fixed a to-go tray in the dining tent, knowing that by the time he returned, his guardian would have chosen their view for the day. The wide picture window beside their table wasn’t real, nor were the scenes on the other side of it. But Micah didn’t mind.

  Today the window looked out on a quiet, brick-paved street. It had obviously rained not long ago, and the puddles reflected the bright yellow and blue awnings of the shops and cafés across the road. A man in old-fashioned clothing walked by, carrying a bundle of newspapers on one of his shoulders. Micah could make out the sound of his footsteps through the glass.

  It was a pretty, peaceful view, and nobody was there to see it but the two of them.

  Victoria had been wrong about a lot, including this. She’d said the magicians at the circus wasted their power on things that didn’t matter. She’d missed the point, Micah thought.

  Putting something beautiful and good into the world always mattered.

  Big or little, impressive or simple, magic was supposed to be about giving something of yourself to other people. In the end, despite her power, Victoria’s life hadn’t counted for much, because all she’d ever done with it was take.

  “Deep thoughts this morning?” asked the Lightbender, watching him over a tall stack of toast.

  Micah shook his head. “I was just looking out the window.”

  The sound of wings beating the air made him jump, but it was only Chintzy, flapping in without bothering to call out a warning.

  “Is that mail?” Micah asked, eyeing the thick shipping envelope clutched in Chintzy’s claws.

  A second later, the parrot dropped it on top of Micah’s waffles. Melted butter and raspberry sauce spattered his shirt.

  “Chintzy.” Mica
h grabbed the envelope in one hand and a napkin in the other as the parrot landed right in the middle of the table.

  “That girl!” she said, ruffling her feathers. “She wrote to you the whole time she was at camp, and she used thick paper.”

  Chintzy helped herself to the piece of toast the Lightbender had just spread with marmalade.

  Micah felt himself grinning. Jenny should have just gotten home from camp last night, and he hadn’t expected to hear from her so soon.

  He tore open the envelope and found a pile of letters inside, each neatly sealed except for a single sheet of paper that had been tucked in on top of the rest. It was covered in Jenny’s sloppy handwriting.

  Micah pulled it out and started to read.

  “She says hello. And that something exciting happened this summer, and she wants to tell me about in person. Do you think Porter would mind sending me to Peal?”

  Porter had recovered slowly from the battle, even with Mr. Head and Rosebud helping him. The circus had stayed in place all summer on the manager’s orders. When Porter had regained his strength, they would all be heading back to South America to finish their interrupted tour and search for Terpsichore’s herd. Mr. Head said that with Conflagration gone, the unicorns might have come out of hiding.

  “I think Porter would be delighted to send you anywhere,” said the Lightbender, reaching over Chintzy to grab the bowl of marmalade. “He claims he is tired of our coddling and more than ready to get back to work.”

  Chintzy, still munching on her stolen toast, turned her head sideways to eye the Lightbender’s wrist as it passed over her. A new black-and-gold bracelet adorned it, the knots tied flat against one another until they almost resembled a fish’s scales.

  “When do I get a bracelet?” Chintzy asked plaintively, holding one of her feet out behind her as if she expected Micah to tie something to it on the spot.

  “Oh,” said Micah. He hadn’t realized that Chintzy might wear jewelry. “Um . . . really soon. It’s just taking a while because I want to be sure it’s perfect for you.”

  The Lightbender smiled knowingly at him.

  “Well, that makes sense,” the parrot said, putting her foot back down. “I’m unique, after all.”

  * * *

  After breakfast, Micah went to Porter’s. He found the magician in his workshop, applying a welding torch to a damaged gate.

  Only a small percentage of the doors in the warehouse had been broken so badly they wouldn’t work, Porter had told Micah, but that still meant he would be repairing things for years to come.

  He shoved up his welding helmet and put down the torch when Micah entered the workshop.

  “Finally!” he exclaimed when Micah asked about visiting Peal. “Do you know how long it’s been since someone asked me to send them out of the country? I was starting to worry I’d be forced to retire from lack of interest.”

  Porter offered to open the Door straightaway, but Micah shook his head. “There’s something I have to do first.”

  He returned a couple of hours later, carrying the rope ladder. He’d repaired it, making sure each and every knot was exactly as he remembered it.

  “So that’s what kept you,” said Porter. He already had the scuffed door to the Greebers’ gardening shed set up in its frame.

  “It came untied with everything else,” Micah explained. “Back when I collapsed your Door and knocked you out.”

  “Such a fond memory,” said Porter. “I love how people keep bringing it up.”

  Micah laughed.

  Porter opened the Door with his usual flourish and waved Micah through.

  * * *

  It was morning in Peal, not long after sunrise. When Micah knocked on the front door of his old house, the woman who answered was wearing her bathrobe and slippers.

  “I’m sorry to bother you,” he said, gesturing with the bundled rope ladder. “I used to live here with my grandpa. We built the tree house in the backyard together.”

  He was nervous, explaining himself. He’d been afraid the woman might not be as nice as Jenny had said she was, or that she wouldn’t appreciate a random twelve-year-old showing up on her doorstep.

  But she seemed to understand what he was trying to do perfectly.

  She took him into the house and led him to the storage closet under the staircase, though Micah had already known where it was. He borrowed a tall stepladder, and she helped him maneuver it out the door.

  They positioned it under the oak tree, and she went back inside to tell her kids they had company.

  Micah stood for a while at the base of the oak, looking up at the tree house nestled in its branches. Grandpa Ephraim had never meant for it to sit empty. And though Micah had lost the knots his grandfather had tied into the rope ladder, he would never lose the memories. Those were his to keep.

  Micah climbed up and secured the ropes to the beam beneath the tree house, exactly where Grandpa Ephraim had once tied them. He checked the knots several times, even though he knew they were right.

  “Tuttle knots,” he whispered. “Tighter than tight.”

  By the time he was finished, two little kids were standing under the tree.

  The girl’s name was Josie, and the boy’s was Daniel, and they were excited at the thought of being able to use the tree house.

  “Mama says we can try the ladder if you show us how,” Josie said.

  Her little brother was still in his pajamas, and he was already reaching for the rope ladder, his face determined.

  Micah glanced toward the house and saw their mother watching through the upstairs window.

  “I hope you two are good climbers,” he said, stepping over to hold the ladder still.

  “I’m better than he is.” Josie pointed at her brother. “But that’s because I’m older.”

  Micah showed them how to go up and down the rope ladder, holding on tight and being careful not to lose their balance. They were great at it, and in no time, all three of them were sitting in the tree house together, waving at the kids’ mom through the window.

  “It’s so high!” Daniel exclaimed. “I can see the whole city from up here.”

  That wasn’t true at all. Mostly, they could see oak leaves and a few neighboring yards and hedges. But Micah didn’t argue.

  “Mama says you used to live here,” said Josie, throwing her legs off the side of the tree house’s platform so she could swing her feet. “Why’d you leave?”

  “Be careful near the edge,” Micah reminded her. “I did live here, but I have a new place to live now.”

  He didn’t think he ought to tell them that his grandfather had died in their house.

  “Does your new place have a treeeee house?” Daniel asked. He had gotten up and started walking around and around the platform, stomping on every board hard with his bare feet, as if he hoped he might find a trapdoor hidden somewhere.

  Micah shook his head. “No tree houses,” he said. “But it does have an invisible tiger and a unicorn and an elephant who can do math.”

  Daniel stopped stomping. Josie stopped swinging her legs. They exchanged a look that said they’d suddenly realized they were stuck in a tree with a very strange person.

  “For real,” Micah said. “I’m a magician.”

  “Prove it!” the little boy shouted enthusiastically. He waved his arms up and down. “Turn me into a dog!”

  “I’m not that kind of magician. I can show you something else, though.”

  Micah thought for a minute, then said, “Can I see your shoe?” to Josie.

  She turned and stuck out one of her pink sneakers. The laces had been carefully double-knotted.

  “Watch this,” said Micah.

  The little girl stared hard at her shoe. Her brother leaned over her shoulder.

  Micah tapped the laces, and they untied themselves, then he
tapped them again and they spun themselves into a complicated knot that looked like a daisy.

  “Wow!” shouted Daniel.

  Josie’s eyes were huge. “Do it again!”

  Micah did it again. And again.

  Daniel let out an excited squeal. “He’s a shoe wizard!” he said, as if a shoe wizard was the most spectacular thing he could imagine.

  “He’s a shoelace wizard,” his sister corrected.

  They made Micah tie the sneakers over and over until their mother called them back into the house.

  “Will you come back and tie my shoes tomorrow?” Josie asked after all three had their feet on the ground.

  “Not tomorrow,” said Micah. “I live pretty far away.”

  “With your tiger!” Daniel said.

  “Right,” said Micah.

  “Are there a lot of shoelace wizards?”

  “I’m the only one,” said Micah. “But there are plenty of other kinds of magician.”

  He carried the borrowed stepladder back inside and put it away in the closet. The children’s mother was surprised to hear them shouting about invisible tigers, but she told Micah that if he wanted to come back and visit the tree house sometime, it would be all right.

  Micah thanked her and left.

  It felt like he’d finished something bigger than a rope ladder. And if the kids were more impressed by the “shoelace wizard” than the tree house, that was all right.

  It wasn’t even a bad name. Much better than String Boy.

  Not quite perfect, Micah thought, mulling it over as he turned the corner onto Jenny’s street. But close.

  THE MOMENT

  The plastic bottle had once held an energy drink. Its label still said BLUEBERRY ZAPPER, but it had been a long time since the bottle was filled with anything so nice.