The Magic Misfits

by Neil Patrick Harris

  A large sign had been erected on an easel in front of the huge gazebo. It read:

  Four performers, dressed in matching jackets with red-and-white vertical stripes, bow ties, and straw steamboat hats, climbed the steps up to the gazebo’s platform. Three were men, and one was a woman. Though they all looked somewhat similar, each stood out from the next. One man was tall with a razor-sharp snout. Another was short with a curly mustache under a bulbous beak. The third man was medium height; his face was scruffy, and his belly spilled slightly over his belt buckle. The woman had a great big smile with teeth that flashed an almost-blinding white. Carter slipped his book into his satchel and walked over to watch.

  The four singers hummed. Then, like spokes on a train, the four bobbed up and down in unison.

  “Pock    pock

  pock    pock

  pick    pick

  pick    pick—”

  “Look, a barbershop quartet!” someone said. A circle of onlookers began to gather in front of the stage. Somehow the singers kept alternating the pock-pick rhythm the whole time they sang.

  “What a town! What a town!

  What a marvelous town

  For a showwwwwwww!

  “You have rings, you have gold,

  You have fortunes untold

  To blowwwwwwww!

  “Hold your hats, peel your eyes,

  ’Cause you’re in for a surprise.

  One thing is for sure,

  We sing now to procuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuure.…”

  Their hats raised in harmony, the four held the note so long the crowd began to clap. In unison, the singers wheezed for breath comically before launching into a rhythmic chorus.

  “Pock pock pock pock,

  Pick pick pick pick,

  Walk walk walk walk,

  Trick trick trick trick.”

  Hats in their hands, the foursome descended the steps and fanned out into the crowd. They danced with a tall woman wearing a pearl bracelet. They embarrassed a shy man who held up his hands in surrender. They blew kisses at a blushing lady with gold earrings. They tweaked the nose of a beaming pigtailed girl with a lollipop.

  The crowd continued clapping, many giving them the loose change from their pockets and purses. Within moments, all four singers’ hats were overflowing with coins and bills.

  “Pick pick pick pick

  Pock pock pock pock

  Quick quick quick quick

  Bock bock bock bock…”

  They flapped their arms and waddle-stepped like crooning chickens back to the stage, where they dumped their hats into a dirty white sack marked with a big black dollar sign.

  But as Carter looked back through the crowd, his learned instinct kicked in: The tall woman no longer had her pearl bracelet. The shy man no longer had a watch. The blushing lady no longer had her earrings. And the pigtailed girl no longer had her lollipop.

  The audience had been so impressed with the singing that they hadn’t noticed the singers taking more than tips.

  “When the Pock-Pickets come to town

  You’ll never guess what’s going…

  Dowwwwwwwwwwwwwn…

  In!

  Our!

  Sensational!

  Showwwwwwwwwwwwww!”

  As part of their finale, the stripes of their jackets switched from red to black, as if somebody pulled a tab in a pop-up book. The showpeople now looked like jailbirds with their bag of money. The crowd went wild. No one would have guessed their act wasn’t a joke. They were crooks. They had robbed the watchers blind.

  Carter felt a pang in his side. But he ignored it. He didn’t know these people. It was none of his business.

  Was it?

  “Thank you! Thank you, residents and visitors of Mineral Wells!” the Pock-Pickets cried out in unison. “Come to B. B. Bosso’s Carnival and stay for his magic show at the big top at the end of the night! And if you want to be truly amazed, come to his Finale Fantastic tomorrow night at the Grand Oak Resort—where you can also see the world’s largest diamond! One night only! It’s not to be missed!”

  Carter turned to leave when a voice from the crowd rose up.

  “Wait, do not go!” A brown-skinned boy in a tuxedo with a white bow tie stepped to the front of those gathered around the stage. “Is that the end of your performance?”

  “That’s the spirit!” one of the Pock-Pickets said. “How ’bout an encore, gang?”

  The four started snapping their fingers, but the boy held up his hand. “Please,” he said, “do not sing another note. My ears cannot take it.”

  Carter thought the boy was part of the act until he saw irritation and confusion flashing across the singers’ faces.

  Stepping on stage, the boy reached inside his pants pocket. He jiggled his hand as if looking for keys or spare coins, then produced a violin bow, far too long to have fit inside a pocket. The bow was exquisitely constructed of dark polished wood with tapered black ends and strung with a ribbon of silvery horsehair. Carter’s curiosity was snagged. The boy knew stage magic too. But how did he fit that bow in his pocket?

  “You wanna play something?” said the tall Pock-Picket. “Be our guest!” The foursome began to hurry off, but the boy pinned their bag of loot to the ground with his foot.

  “Hey, get your own tips, kid!” the Pock-Picket with the scruffy face hissed.

  “I do not want your money,” the boy said. “And my name is not ‘kid.’ My name is Theo Stein-Meyer, and I wager that you will stay for my act.” Theo’s hair was short and dark, his eyes were thoughtful, and his long nose had a regal look to it.

  Carter arrived in the front row just in time to see a violin slide out of Theo’s tuxedo jacket and into his left hand. Carter was good at sleight of hand, but Theo’s moves were astounding. He immediately wished he could watch the move again in slow motion.

  Theo lifted the violin to his shoulder, rested his chin on its edge, and began to play. The money sack began to move. It seemed to dance in sync with Theo’s violin music. The crowd began clapping again. Carter stared at the money bag shuffling away. It reminded him of Vernon’s move that morning, making the playing card dance. But how did they do it? It wasn’t magic; it had to be some kind of trick.

  “There is a unique connection between each of us and our possessions,” Theo said as he played, his eyes fluttering nearly shut, as if under a spell. Carter couldn’t tell if the boy was acting or if he really believed what he was saying. “When a beloved object is lost, it longs to return to its owner.”

  The bag jerked across the stage until it leapt off and onto the ground. Theo walked after it, the spectators moving aside to let him pass. The restless bag of loot came to attention in front of the tall woman, like a dog wanting to be pet.

  “Ma’am,” said Theo, playing more quietly, “have you lost something?”

  The tall woman looked inside the bag and shook her head no. The crowd became confused and began to whisper. The violinist began to sweat. But Carter understood.

  Theo was trying to help those who’d been robbed. But he mistakenly assumed the Pock-Pickets had placed the stolen goods in their loot bag. Carter eyed the singers, noticing a lollipop stick peeking out from a Pock-Picket’s back pocket.

  Carter wondered about the violinist. Why had Theo been trying to help a bunch of townspeople by foiling the pickpocketing singers? He obviously knew a little magic himself, but what was in it for him?

  It’s none of my concern, Carter tried to tell himself. But was that true anymore? As the crowd began to mumble and ask questions, the violinist turned pale. The Pock-Pickets started stalking toward Theo with red faces. The boy had stumbled onto the trouble that Carter had been trying to avoid.

  “Keep playing!” Carter suddenly yelled, surprising himself. He made eye contact with the boy in the tuxedo and gave him a reassuring nod. Nervously, Theo began to play again, and the sack began dancing along with it.

  Carter pretended to dance, then bumped into e
ach of the Pock-Pickets, one after the other. “Isn’t this music great?” he shouted at them. The singers didn’t notice what Carter was doing—he was pickpocketing the Pock-Pickets.

  One Pock-Picket’s pockets picked. Two Pock-Picket’s pockets picked. Three Pock-Picket’s pockets picked. Four Pock-Picket’s pockets picked. Say that four times fast.

  Go on… I’ll wait.

  Carter winked at Theo to keep going. Continuing to dance through the crowd, Carter bumped into the tall woman, slipping her pearl bracelet back onto her wrist, he barreled into the shy man, slipping his watch back onto his wrist, and he knocked into the pigtailed girl, plopping the lollipop back into her mouth.

  Puh-lopppp!

  But the earrings? Carter had no idea how earrings worked. How could he put those back on without the woman noticing?

  Theo met his eyes, and both boys knew they had an understanding. Theo danced the money bag back onto the stage, finishing out his song. “Thank you, kind audience, for allowing me to play.” As he took a bow, Theo tossed his violin high into the air.

  The entire crowd gasped, looking up.

  As gently as possible, Carter slipped the earrings into the lady’s handbag.

  Theo caught the violin with ease, and everyone began to applaud.

  Patting their pants, the Pock-Pickets finally realized that Theo and Carter had outsmarted—and out-pickpocketed—them. The singing quartet glared daggers at the two boys as they slunk away from the gazebo with only their bag of tips.

  Theo and Carter shrugged, then burst into laughter. They were so distracted that neither noticed the slim woman dressed in a slinky black dress and a pillbox hat with a weblike veil over her face. She stared at them, her fingers twitching like spider mandibles chewing a meal.

  EIGHT

  “The singing thieves have been foiled,” Theo said, moving away from the crowd and toward the curb. “Thanks to you.”

  “I was just following your lead, Theo,” Carter admitted. “How’d you know what they were planning to do?”

  “I had no clue,” said Theo. “I was passing by, stopped to watched, and then noticed their sneaky game. If not for you, I would have made a fool of myself.” He gave Carter a quick nod of gratitude. “I could have sworn they put the stolen objects in the bag. No matter. We saved the day. Since you know my name, would you mind sharing yours?”

  “Carter.”

  “Nice to meet you, Carter. A fortunate coincidence you being here,” Theo said, adjusting the cuff links on his sleeves. Then he pushed the violin bow back into the pocket of his tuxedo pants, despite it being longer than his thigh.

  “How did you do that?” Carter asked. “The bow is way too long to fit in your pocket. And how did you make the money sack move?”

  Theo grinned from ear to ear. “I am afraid I will not be revealing that to you just yet. Perhaps another time. But I must admit: I am impressed! You have sweet skills too!”

  Carter’s chest swelled. It felt like a great compliment, especially coming from a boy in a tuxedo who spoke like British royalty. “Why were you helping the people in the crowd?”

  “Because they could not help themselves,” Theo said. “They did not know they had been robbed.”

  “But what do you get out of it?” Carter asked.

  “Nothing, I suppose,” Theo said, “except knowing that I did what was right. That’s worth something.… What is wrong? You look confused.”

  Carter was confused. Mr. Vernon used magic but wasn’t selling anything. Leila used magic to escape things for fun. And Theo used magic to help others. But if experience (and Uncle Sly) had taught Carter anything, it was that others would always let him down.

  Yet in these people, he felt kindred spirits. They reminded Carter of himself.

  Not knowing what to say, Carter gave a wave and mumbled, “Well, nice meeting you.”

  “You’re leaving?” a voice asked. “But we just arrived.”

  Carter turned to see Leila coming down the sidewalk alongside a girl in a wheelchair whose hair was red and unruly. Leila wore a smile, while the other girl gave Carter a cautious (almost annoyed) once-over.

  “Carter, you know Theo?” Leila asked, surprised.

  “Just met, actually,” Carter answered.

  “You know Leila?” Theo asked Carter.

  “Small town,” Leila said.

  “And I’m Ridley. Ridley Larsen. Yes, I’m in a wheelchair. Don’t ask me about it or you’ll get a bloody nose.”

  “Cross my heart,” Carter said, crossing his heart.

  Theo squeezed Carter’s shoulder. “You will never guess what just happened.”

  “Probably not,” said Ridley. “How about you just tell us?” Theo went on to relate the tale of how Carter had helped him stop the group of criminals from robbing the crowd in the park. “You should have seen us! A perfect team!”

  “That’s amazing, Carter,” said Leila. “Very impressive.”

  “Theo did most of the work,” Carter added. “I was just sort of his assistant.”

  Just then, a group of four kids dressed in expensive-looking clothes walked past and snickered, pretending (though not really) to hide their laughter.

  At the same time, Carter, Leila, Theo, and Ridley looked down at their feet and whispered, “Jerks.” They all looked at one another and—at the same time—said, “They weren’t laughing at you—they were laughing at me.” All four chuckled and then turned toward the magic shop.

  “People laugh at me because they think I’m strange,” Leila explained as she led the group up the street. “I like being strange.”

  “People laugh at me because I wear a tuxedo,” Theo added. “My parents got a great deal at the tuxedo emporium before I was even born!”

  “People laugh at me because I’m smarter than them,” Ridley said. She flicked at a bike bell that was attached to the arm of her wheelchair. It rang out: Ring-ring! “It’s not my fault that they don’t read books.”

  “People laugh at me for all sorts of reasons,” Carter finished. He couldn’t bring himself to tell them that the reasons were his worn-out clothes and his unwashed hair and that he sometimes dug through trash cans for dinner.

  They walked in silence for a bit, then Leila asked, “Who wants cookies?” She stopped in front of Vernon’s Magic Shop. “My poppa made linzer tarts this morning.”

  Two women wearing fancy floral dresses and wide-brimmed hats swung the door open and exited the shop, pushing past the group, laughing hysterically. “What a fantastical store!” one of the women cried out. “You kids have fun in there.”

  “We always do,” said Leila, waving the others to follow her inside.

  The store parrot squawked from her perch near the register and everyone jumped. The bird repeated what sounded like an odd poem:

  “Rub the Yellow Piranha for the Magicians Club! Rub the Yellow Piranha for the Magicians Club!”

  “What’s the Yellow Piranha?” asked Carter.

  Leila shrugged. “Usually our parrot is smart. But sometimes she just says nonsense. Carter, meet Presto. Presto, meet Carter.”

  “Nice to meet you?” Carter said, unsure if he should offer a hand to shake. He’d never talked to a bird before.

  The bird squawked again, insistent: “Rub the Yellow Piranha for the Magicians Club!”

  “Yes, yes, Presto, my girl,” said a voice near the ceiling. When Carter looked up, Mr. Vernon was standing on the balcony overhead, still holding that feather duster as if it were his magic wand. “We all heard you, crazy parrot.” That seemed to be enough to calm the bird down. “Sorry, friends! She gets excited sometimes.”

  “Excited isn’t the word I’d use,” Leila whispered. When she waved her hand, the parrot flew over and landed on her shoulder. Leila made kissing sounds, and Presto echoed them back to her. Then they both giggled.

  Ridley glanced around the store. “Where’s my Top Hat?”

  Carter thought it best not to ask why Ridley would keep her top hat at Vernon’
s Magic Shop. Theo reached underneath the counter and pulled out the white rabbit that had been hopping around the store earlier that day.

  “Come here, Top Hat,” Ridley cooed, a true smile spreading across her face. Theo placed the rabbit on Ridley’s lap, where it nestled against her stomach, nose twitching furiously.

  “Ridley’s mom is allergic,” Leila explained, “so we’re babysitting Top Hat for her.”

  “The Other Mr. Vernon has been feeding her well,” Mr. Vernon said. “Don’t you worry, Ridley.”

  “I’m not worried. Not one bit.”

  A knowing smile appeared beneath Vernon’s black mustache as he turned to Carter. “I see you’ve met the others.”

  “I did,” Carter said. But his mind questioned whether the meeting was by chance or by design. Had Mr. Vernon purposely asked Carter to return at four, knowing the kids would be getting off school? “Do you three meet here a lot?” Carter asked Leila.

  “Every Friday after school lets out,” Leila said. “Ridley is homeschooled, Theo goes to private school, and I go to public. So we don’t get to see one another except here. We meet, talk illusions and tricks, and, of course, practice.”

  “I practice levitation,” Theo said, “as in, making things float in the air. You saw my work earlier today.”

  “I love learning about transformation,” Ridley added. She pulled a top hat off a nearby shelf, moved it behind her wheelchair, and when it reappeared, it had become a book with a top hat on the cover. “I like to change objects from one to another.”

  “And I escape!” Leila said. “Dad, can you please chain me upside down in a tank full of water?”