The Magic Misfits

by Neil Patrick Harris

  “The name’s Carter. And I have no clue what you just said.”

  “I was asking about innocence, young man. Most people start out with at least a dollop.”

  “Let’s just say I’ve been around the block a few times. Sorry to bother you. I’ll let you get back to your work, whatever it is.…”

  It hurt Carter’s heart to step away from this strange man in the top hat, but he knew he had to. A shriek erupted from down the midway as someone on one of the rides got a little too excited. The sound sent creepers up Carter’s spine. “I really gotta go.”

  Mr. Vernon quickly added, “It was nice to meet you, Carter. Before you run off, may I ask, where are you visiting from?”

  “How do you know I’m not from here?” Carter asked.

  Mr. Vernon’s bright grin flickered briefly. “Aha. A worthy question. Well, in a small town like this, everyone knows everyone. You’d know that if you actually were from here.” He tossed up an apologetic shrug and the inside of his cape flashed satiny red. “Considering our mutual appreciation for magic, I’d like to think that if you did live here, we’d know each other.”

  “When you say magic, you mean tricks,” Carter said. “Right?”

  “I mean what I say, and I say what I mean.” Mr. Vernon smiled. “Is it safe to assume you have a few tricks up your own sleeves?”

  “I do,” Carter said. He held his hands out flat, palms down. He turned them up to show his hands were empty. He turned them down, then up again. This time, Mr. Vernon’s pocket watch was in Carter’s palm.

  “Bravo!” Mr. Vernon said. “You have fast hands.”

  “That’s what I’ve been told.”

  “Of course, so do I.” Mr. Vernon pushed his cape back to reveal Carter’s satchel. He handed it back to Carter.

  A rush of anger flew over Carter as he felt at the satchel to make sure the wooden box was still in there. It was.

  “How did you do that? It was around my neck. I didn’t feel a thing—” Carter shook his head. “So are you a thief?”

  “I am not,” said Mr. Vernon. “Are you?”

  “I never steal,” Carter growled.

  “Then we are the same,” Mr. Vernon said. “I take it you’ve had a rough start at life.”

  “That’s none of your business,” Carter said, scoffing.

  “You are absolutely correct. I apologize,” Mr. Vernon said. He offered a small bow. When he straightened himself, his face was rather serious. “Carter, let me share a bit of advice. Despite the shine of this place”—the magician held up his hands to indicate the whole carnival—“there are some very dark elements at work here. If they knew of your talents, they would certainly try to take advantage of you, to make you think the way they do. I advise you not to give in. Instead? Trust your instincts. They will serve you well in ways you’ve yet to witness but, I assure you, you are closer than you think.”

  Mr. Vernon paused, then presented a warm smile. “But the decisions you make are yours. Don’t let me tell you what to do. After all, you know me as well as you know the rest of Mineral Wells.” He sniffed and then added darkly, “Which is to say: Not at all.” Producing a deck of cards at his fingertips, Mr. Vernon said, “I must be going. But I’ll leave you with a card trick, if you like.” Carter couldn’t say no. “Take a card, any card.”

  The cards sprang out of Mr. Vernon’s hands and shot toward Carter like machine-gun bullets. Carter raised his arms to swat away and shield himself from the rapid-fire onslaught of the card storm. When the last of them fluttered to the ground, Carter realized he held a single playing card.

  It was an ace of spades with a giant letter V inside the spade in the center of the card.

  “What’s this for?” he asked.

  But the mysterious Mr. Vernon was nowhere to be seen.

  FIVE

  Mr. Vernon had vanished, and Carter was still so hungry he worried that he soon might vanish too. This time, for good. Leaning against a wooden fence at the edge of the fairground, his stomach growled. He tried to think of something else.

  He had a dozen questions for the odd Mr. Vernon, the least of which was how he managed to disappear in a flash of cards. The man with curly white hair was the opposite of his uncle in every way. Mr. Vernon’s smile was genuine. He did tricks for no reason other than to be friendly. And his cryptic warning made it seem like he cared more about Carter’s well-being after a two-minute chat than Uncle Sly had shown in a lifetime.

  Carter flipped Mr. Vernon’s ace card over and over in his hand, wishing he knew how to find the man again. Finally, he slipped it into his sleeve for safekeeping. (He had a hidden pocket stitched into his sleeve for certain tricks. It always seemed to come in handy. Well, sleight-of-handy!)

  In the colossal red-and-white tent at the center of the carnival, Bosso’s Grand Finale Show finally finished with a flourish of trumpets. The sky had turned fully black, its stars sparkling in the night like a mirror image of the little town below. As people came out of the tent, smiling and laughing and discussing the amazing feats they’d seen, Carter felt lonelier than ever. He’d been waiting a long time to get away from Uncle Sly, but he had never expected to feel so nervous. Everyone exiting the big top was with loved ones. As they passed through the exit, the crowd separated into clumps of friends and families bound for their homes.

  He imagined walking toward one of the twinkling lights in the sleepy town. Once there, he’d find a cozy bed, a warm fire in the fireplace, and, most important of all, someone to say good night to him. His eyes burned. None of that would ever happen. It was far more likely that he’d be sawed in half and magically put back together.

  Nobody in the crowd even noticed Carter sitting alone on the wooden fence. His stomach let out another long growl. When he saw a family toss their leftovers into the trash, his stomach grumbled even louder. While Carter didn’t like eating out of a trash can, it wouldn’t be the first time. Free food was often too hard to pass up.

  Like everything else, there was a craft to it. You didn’t go after food touching the sides of the can. You also didn’t eat anything that was covered in flies. But if something was uneaten or still wrapped up—then bingo! Bon appétit!

  However, this is probably not the best idea for anyone outside of Carter’s dire circumstances.

  Carter peered into the metal barrel. He pulled out a bag half full of popcorn, a B-shaped pretzel, and an untouched corn dog still warm in its foil wrapper. He even found a sealed bag with half a stick of cotton candy left. Jackpot! This was today’s dinner and tomorrow’s breakfast.

  He tucked the pretzel into his satchel. Sitting behind the big top, he devoured the corn dog and popcorn. He was licking cotton candy dust from his fingers when two massive hands grabbed him from behind.

  “Gotcha!” said a deep voice.

  “Let me go!” Carter cried, struggling to free himself. It was the mustached sideshow strongman. He was so strong, Carter couldn’t escape his grip. Maybe those were real five-hundred-pound weights, Carter thought.

  The Walrus tossed him over his shoulder and walked toward the edge of the fairgrounds. “I said, let me go!” Carter shouted.

  “Shut your trap,” the Walrus snarled. For all of Carter’s skill, he wasn’t a trained escape artist. He couldn’t get out of the strongman’s iron grip. He wrenched his eyes around, crying out in vain for help. The fairgrounds had emptied. No one was there to hear him.

  On the far side of the big-top tent, away from the stringed lights, a black-and-gold-striped trailer stood alone. The crew had wheeled it down from one of the circus’s train cars up at the yard. The Walrus climbed the steps with Carter still struggling to escape, beating on the strongman’s back. The brutish Walrus knocked on the door and said, “Bahzooley bahzooley.” A lock released and a frown clown swung open the metal door.

  (In case you were wondering: the word bahzooley is a nonsense word. But sometimes nonsense words can be used as passwords to open doors to secret places. Try inventing your ow
n. It should be as nonsensical as possible so no one can accidentally guess it. See how many x’s, y’s, and z’s you can fit in!)

  The Walrus plopped Carter onto his feet, and the boy gaped in awe. The inside of the trailer was like a palace, with a crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling. Golden lamps adorned the polished oak walls, and Persian rugs covered the floor. A small blond monkey in a red fez sat on top of a shelf, winding a crank on a small box that played calliope music.

  The Spider-Lady was draped over a maroon sofa against one wall. In this lighting, Carter could see that her extra sets of arms had almost-invisible wires connecting them to her real arms. She brought a long black cigarette holder to her red lips and blew out a stream of smoke.

  Nearby, the Tattooed Baby sat not in a playpen but instead at a desk with a scale, an adding machine, and a mountain of wallets, watches, and jewels. His alphabet blocks were nowhere to be seen. After the Baby examined each item, he scribbled a note in a ledger and placed them in large bags. Each bag had a zipper and a padlock to keep it secure. He wasn’t a baby at all, Carter realized. He was just a very small man doing actual adult work!

  Shocking, I know. And Carter barely managed to tear his gaze away.

  On a raised platform, a very large man was tilted back in a crimson barber’s chair. His face was hidden by a steaming white towel, but Carter’s eyes were dazzled by a bright green emerald ring sparkling on the man’s left pinky finger.

  Atop a stool beside him, a short frown clown stood, carefully shaving the man’s neck with a straight razor. The clown hummed “Oh My Darling, Clementine.” It sent a cold chill up Carter’s spine.

  The Walrus directed Carter into the center of the room, followed by the security clown. The strongman kept him in place with one hand gripped around the boy’s neck. No one spoke.

  The short clown on the platform wiped the last of the shaving lotion off the man’s face with the towel, jumped off the stool, and pulled a lever on the side of the chair with a grunt. As the chair swung upright, Carter came face-to-face with a balding man whose smile was crooked. Wide nostrils, as big as the holes in bowling balls, seemed to sniff at Carter. The man was huge, as wide as he was tall, and his presence just as big. Two green eyes seemed to stare straight through Carter, as if they could read his mind.

  Carter recognized him from the painting on the side of the train car. This must be B. B. Bosso.

  “What’dya want, Walrus?” the carnival owner barked. “And what’s with the kid?”

  The Walrus nodded to the security clown at his side. “Your guard here told me to bring him in. He was eating out of our trash.”

  “No, I wasn’t!” Carter lied.

  Bosso snapped his fingers and a cigar appeared at his fingertips, his emerald ring glinting alongside it. He puffed on the cigar’s tip, and it lit all by itself. He leaned forward, his big belly blowing up like a balloon, and then released a cloud of smoke into Carter’s face.

  “You a thief?”

  “No! I never steal,” Carter growled. He pushed down his fear and pulled up some courage. “I found a corn dog and some popcorn in the trash. Someone threw it out. So what?”

  “So you were stealing from me,” Bosso said.

  “No one owns trash,” Carter said.

  “If it’s in my carnival, it’s MINE!” Bosso shouted, slamming his fist onto the chair arm. The monkey stopped winding the music box and screamed at Carter too.

  “Check his pockets,” Bosso said, “and his bag.”

  Carter tried to resist, but the Walrus’s hand kept him in place as the frown clown searched him. “Nothing in his pockets, Bosso. The satchel only has a bunch of junk. Oh, and that trash he took.”

  “Not a thief, huh?” Bosso said. “Tell me, son. Have you been grateful for my hospitality? Free shows, free food… Perhaps you’d like the ring off my finger?”

  Bosso dangled the bright emerald ring in Carter’s face. Carter didn’t say anything. A knot formed in his stomach, growing tighter by the minute.

  “You better let me go. I need to get home,” Carter lied. “My parents are probably looking for me.”

  “Your parents?” Bosso laughed. “Kid, I know a street rat when I see one. If your parents are outside, my name is Aunt Petunia.”

  The Spider-Lady, the Tattooed Baby, the Walrus, even the clown, all joined in on the laughter. Everyone was laughing except Carter.

  Bosso pointed at the security clown. “Spike, what’s the big idea bringing this kid in here? I know it wasn’t purely for my amusement.”

  The clown perked up. “I had my eye on him ever since he came down from the train yard. But then he just vanished. Every time I thought I saw him, he vanished again. The kid’s got talent… talent we could use.”

  Bosso’s eyes went wide. He stared at Carter for several seconds as if he’d stumbled upon a stone that might actually be a precious jewel. “Look, friend,” Bosso said, changing the tone in his voice to warm and smooth—the same way Uncle Sly did when he wanted something. “I know plenty o’ people like you. No family. No friends. No place to go. Maybe they feel a little bit like misfits. So you know what I do? I give ’em jobs. I give ’em purpose. Now they’re all happy to work for me.”

  Carter glanced around the room. The sideshow performers nodded; the frowning security clown smiled. Everyone in the room kept reminding him of his uncle in some way.

  Bosso continued. “You don’t have to be on your own anymore. Come work with me. You’ll have a family, you’ll travel the world, you’ll even get a percentage of our earnings. All you gotta do is join my crew—but of course, if you cross me, I’ll throw you in front of a train.” Bosso released a terrifying bellow of laughter, as if he’d just invented the funniest joke he’d ever heard. “What’dya say?”

  Carter felt torn. He’d been so hungry earlier, he’d almost considered breaking his code. The idea of a roof over his head—even a traveling one—was still more than he’d ever had. Sure, Bosso was gruff and imposing, but his offer seemed like a real option with real money involved.

  “Come on, kid. Sorry I grabbed you so hard. Say yeah. It ain’t such a bad life,” the Walrus said. The strongman smiled, revealing half his teeth were missing.

  The Spider-Lady lit another cigarette and purred, “We can be the family you’ve always dreamed of.…”

  When he got nervous, Carter played with his sleeves. As he reached up to touch them, he felt Mr. Vernon’s ace of spades. He recalled Vernon’s warning.

  Carter didn’t want to trade his uncle for more con artists. He knew instantly he had to get out of there.

  “It’s not a bad offer,” Carter lied again. He even smiled and waggled his eyebrows, doing his best impression of Uncle Sly. “Can I think about it?”

  “Absolutely,” Bosso said with a wide grin. “But don’t think too long. We’re only here for two more nights, staying at the Grand Oak Resort up on the hill. Otherwise, you can find me here. The door is always open. Unless it’s locked. Then don’t bother me. Hope to see you soon… friend.”

  Bosso’s crooked mouth curled into the scariest, phoniest smile Carter had ever seen.

  The Walrus opened the door. With Bosso still grinning, Carter forced himself to walk slowly out into the fresh night air, to pretend he was calm and collected. But he wasn’t. A wave of fear had risen up inside him. As soon as the caboose door closed, Carter ran as fast and as far as he could, and then threw up.

  HOW TO…

  Roll Coins on Your Knuckles!

  Oh, hello there! So sorry to interrupt. You were probably expecting further tales of Carter. They’ll continue right after this brief magical interruption. You may skip ahead if you like (I won’t take offense)… OR… you could stay a moment and learn a bit of magic to impress your family, your friends, and your pets. (Yes, animals like magic too.)

  You might be thinking the magic tricks in this book are impossible for you to learn. But you’re wrong. Learning magic is not a trick at all—it’s a skill! Magic is li
ke learning to ride a bike or play the piano. It’s not hard to learn, but mastering the best parts are a matter of practice, practice, and more practice.

  That means if you work hard at it then you too can be as good as Mr. Vernon when it comes to coin skills. I’ll give you the basics. Perhaps your parents can give you the coin?

  WHAT YOU NEED:

  Your hands and fingers

  A large coin (Start with a quarter.)

  HELPFUL HINTS (ORDER OF FINGERS):

  Thumb

  Index finger

  Middle finger

  Ring finger

  Pinky

  STEPS:

  1. Hold your hand out, palm facing down.

  2. Take a coin and place it on top of your middle finger.

  3. Lift your index finger until it is above the coin. (You can also lower the middle finger to help!)

  4. Here comes the tricky part—slowly move those two fingers in the opposite direction. Your middle finger goes up, while your index finger goes down. It should catch the edge of the coin, making the coin flip over from the middle finger to the index finger.

  Hurrah! You did it! If you didn’t, that’s okay. Mistakes are part of mastery. Try again. It’s tricky!

  5. Now, keep doing this, over and over and over and over and over again. Once you have mastered it and can do it fast or slow, try moving the coin from the index finger to the middle finger to the ring finger.

  6. Got it? Now add in the pinky finger.

  7. Hard, isn’t it? But don’t give up. As all magicians know, practice makes perfect.

  Remember: Practice, practice, and more practice. (And then practice again. And after that, practice a little more. Then take a nap, wake up, have a snack, and get back to practicing. All this work pays off. I should know.… Once upon a time, I was just like you!)