by Tom Twitchel
“You probably don’t want to know but, off the police blotter online, from the secure server at Harborview Medical and from the SPD.”
“Harbor…? The SPD? The Seattle Police Department? For crying out loud! Are you serious? You’re going to get into huge trouble if that’s what you’re doing!”
“Nah. My program is practically impossible to trace. My algorithms are too complex and I encrypted the search. Besides…I’m a minor.”
“Geez, Baff, that’s not funny. “Practically impossible?” Promise me you’ll lay off.”
“Hey! I told you something strange was going on. This is proof. Smoke…fire…you know, one leads to the other. We need to tell somebody so they can look into it.”
“How are we supposed to do that? And what would we tell anyone? We know an old man who is shorter than short and we think he put the whammy on an armed man who ended up in the hospital?”
“Well, no…but…”
“Or how about this.… We also know that it’s happened to five other people, and the reason we know all of this is because we hacked into the police department’s and the hospital’s computer systems. But hey, don’t get mad at us because we’re just kids.”
“Wow, Benny, you’re being a real jerk. Don’t you think this is a big deal?”
“We don’t know anything for sure. You’ve just dug up some questions. We should look for answers before we go off making accusations that could ruin somebody’s life and probably get all of us into trouble.” I was saying the words, but I felt no conviction.
“All of us? It’s just you and me on the phone Benny.” A petulant tone entered Baffle’s voice.
“Maddy mentioned some of the same concerns. We should all talk about it. Maybe tomorrow, after I get back from the park.”
“The park? Why are you still doing that every single weekend? And Maddy? What do we need to talk to her for?” Baffle said, his voice rising.
The confrontation in the cafeteria and Mr. Goodturn’s story about secrets echoed in my head. I couldn’t read Baffle over the phone so I decided to back off, be careful.
“We don’t have to talk to her; it was just a suggestion. We can’t do anything tonight. Why don’t we talk about it in person tomorrow?”
Still sounding upset, he said, “I don’t know if I can get over there tomorrow. I’ll have to ask my mom.”
“Baff, I know this is a big deal. I’m not trying to blow you off. I just want to be careful. Okay?”
“Yeah. Fine.” He hung up.
Well, that went well. My pulse and stomach were both on the same page. An oncoming headache was in a hurry to join them there.
Needless to say, I didn’t get much sleep.
Happy flipping birthday.
CHAPTER FOUR
Saturday arrived earlier than I wanted. It was the one day of the week that I usually chose to sleep in, but it was also my busiest day in the parks.
When I lived at home, my real far away home, my birthdays had been special. I would wake up and find a gigantic cinnamon roll sitting on a plate waiting for me in the kitchen. A wax replica of a cupcake that was used over and over for years, with a lit candle in it would be front and center to be blown out after a birthday wish. Decorations would hang from every cupboard and handmade posters would be stuck to the fridge and the microwave. A bunch of balloons would drift lazily through the kitchen and my mom would be standing in the middle of it all, a huge smile on her face with her arms opened wide for a birthday hug.
I looked around the room. No pastry, no decorations, no balloons and no mom. Yeah, living on my own was awesome.
After breakfast, I started to get my pack together for the park when I heard knocking at my door. For the average home, that is not a cause for concern or any reason to panic. In my situation, any visitors that I wasn’t expecting, and not totally prepared for were definitely cause for concern.
Moving quietly to the door, I peered through the peephole. Maddy always laughed about the peephole and said we should call it secret seer because peephole sounded gross. I was somewhat relieved to see Breno’s unshaven but smiling face peering at me. I set my pack down on the floor.
Leaving the chain in place, I cracked the door.
“Morning Breno. What do you want?”
Breno smiled and bobbed his head. It was a subject of debate between Maddy, Baffle and me as to how far Breno had made it in school. As nice as the day was long, Breno was a sandwich or two short of a picnic.
He stood there eyeing the chain that kept the door from opening all the way.
“Uh, I jus’ wanted ta wish ya happy birthday Benny. Mr. G said it was yer birthday.” Glancing up from the chain, he smiled wide enough for me to see that he was missing a couple of teeth in the back.
“Thanks, Breno.” Breno was unique in my experience. Not the mentally slow part. I had run into quite a few people who were developmentally challenged. Some of them were pretty conflicted inside. Unhappy, confused, a few were downright angry, but not Breno. When I got a sense of Breno, it was all very simple and clear. No pretending, no shadowy feelings, just a completely pure and simple happiness. Even Maddy, who was one of the nicest people I knew, could harbor less than charitable thoughts when it came to talking about some of the kids at her school, not Breno, blindingly honest and fundamentally gentle in spirit, all the time.
But he had a tendency to be a bit of a nuisance.
Eyes bright and as open and honest as usual, he said, “I brung ya a cupcake one because I dint have enough moneys to get you a for real cake.” He held up a cupcake wrapped in plastic, the frosting shmooshed a little. The hair on the back of my neck tingled. Mashed frosting and all it was almost a perfect copy of my mom’s annual cupcake candle.
I unhooked the chain and opened the door a little wider so that he could give me the cupcake.
“There ya go. Happy birthday, Benny!” He carefully placed the cupcake in my hand, his large blunt fingered paws dwarfing mine.
“Thanks, Breno. That’s super nice of you. I have to get going though so I can’t visit.” It was always best to start laying the groundwork for an exit early when talking with Breno. He’s a talker.
“Oh, sure. No problem. I got work stuff. Mizz Randle’s got a busted toilet.”
I put the cupcake down on the floor inside the apartment, grabbed my pack and closed the door. Breno looked on with mild disapproval of the cupcake’s placement.
“Will it be safe there?” he asked.
“Oh, absolutely. I’m not going to be gone long and we don’t have any pets. It’ll be fine.”
Frowning slightly, he seemed unsure but was unwilling to contradict me.
“‘Kay.”
“Okay, well thanks again Breno. I have some stuff to do at the park,” I said as I headed for the stairs.
Breno tagged along behind me. Miss Randle’s apartment was on the third floor.
“The park? Is that when ya do trick cards? Like ya do on the sidewalk some days?”
I focused on the stairs and gripped the rail as I made my way down. “Yeah. That’s right.”
“Are ya real good at the trick cards Benny?”
Carrying on a conversation while I was trying to navigate the stairs was not truly a problem but Breno’s yammering was bugging me a little. My answer was shorter and more smart-alecky than I intended.
“Yep. I guess I’m a natural.”
Breno lumbered along heavily behind me. “Oh. Yeah. I was natural once but now I’m not.”
My heart skipped a beat. We reached the third floor and I looked up at Breno. His goofy smile was still perfectly in place.
“What did you say?”
Breno glanced down the hall toward Miss Randle’s door. His large, heavy head swung back in my direction. The movement was like a horse or maybe a cow.
“Whad I say?”
“Yes, Breno. What did you say about natural?”
Still grinning, he said, “Uh, yah. I was, but now I’m not.”
&nbs
p; He turned away and ambled down the hall.
CHAPTER FIVE
I was able to make it to the street and on a bus without any other distractions. Turning over in my mind what Breno had said, I tried to understand exactly what I had heard. He hadn’t said that he was a natural. He had said that he was natural once but that now he wasn’t. The possibility that his offhanded comment could somehow be connected to Mr. Goodturn and his philosophy on knacks did not make me feel very good. It was possible that he had been referring to something else. Natural could mean naked, as in birthday suit. It could also mean some kind of meditation or something, or maybe organic? Maybe Breno was referring to being a vegetarian or that he had an organic meal once.
None of my ideas clicked as an accurate answer. Then I paused to consider who I was actually worried about—Breno. His nature and slow mental functions meant that whatever he might say could mean anything, or nothing.
I decided to stop worrying about it.
Saturday was a workday. The novelty and uncertainty of performing in a park had worn off and my set of rules gave me a sense of security and a routine. Maddy, and sometimes Baffle, had accompanied me for a while. The excitement had worn off for them and now Baffle rarely joined me. Maddy made an effort every so often, but her schedule wasn’t as flexible during the school year. Baffle hadn’t responded to my texts and Maddy had told me she probably couldn’t get away for the weekend so I had planned on a solo act. No big deal. I’d done it without them in the beginning and done well enough. Happy birthday to me.
Canal Park had become one of my favorite places to perform. It was clean, safe and attracted families and young couples. In the morning and early afternoon on Saturdays, there were very few sketchy characters. An occasional vagrant might be sleeping in a protected spot, or panhandling, but the punks and gangsters were not in evidence. Probably sleeping off the effects of Friday night. The entire park was pretty open with only a few wooded spots that I stayed away from, preferring the fountain area for my little show.
The day was unusually sunny, although cold, and my act went well; I attracted a large crowd. I made a habit of emptying out my baseball cap often, so that my total take for the day wasn’t obvious, which helped encourage my audience to dig a little deeper into their pockets. I often got suggestions to go on a talent show or to post videos online to get my name out there. My reasons for not doing that were obvious, but I always thanked anyone who made those suggestions because they were just trying to help, and hey, it doesn’t pay to be rude to your audience.
There were more families than usual and after one of my newer illusions (I would turn a leaf into a butterfly and then back) a little girl stepped forward out of the crowd. She held up a Barbie dressed in shorts and a t-shirt. Apparently, Barbie didn’t care that it was definitely not shorts weather.
“Mister, can you do magic on my Barbie? She has a broken arm.” She held the doll up. There was a very bulky gauze bandage wrapped around her arm.
A woman placed her hand on the little girl’s shoulder and said, “He probably doesn’t do that kind of magic, honey. Come on, we’ll take Barbie for a treat.”
Shrugging her mom’s hand off her shoulder, the girl looked up at me with an unwavering belief that I could fix her doll. She was about the same age as Billy and her hair was the same color as his. I felt a lump in my throat.
“Well, I’m not sure but I need to see it before I make you a promise.”
She beamed at me and then started to unwrap the pretend bandage. The audience leaned closer. There were a lot of indulgent smiles and some chuckles.
When the bandage was off, I could see that Barbie had suffered a partial break. The plastic was cracked but not broken all the way through, not much damage at all really. I smiled at the little girl and then at her mom.
“I think I can make her better. What’s your name?” It was always good theater to engage people on a personal level when doing close-up magic. It didn’t hurt the tips either.
“Mika.”
“Well Mika, I’ll do my best. Can I hold her?”
She thrust the doll at me, her smile a little less wide, concern showing on her chubby-cheeked face. Some of the people in the crowd were frowning or shaking their heads. Nobody wanted to see a little kid get disappointed.
Taking the doll from her, I focused on the cracked plastic and waved my hand slowly back and forth. The illusion of an unblemished arm congealed quickly. Gasps from the crowd made me grin. Mika made a high-pitched happy sound. Concentrating furiously, I willed the arm to appear permanently whole and undamaged.
“Give me just a few moments more and I think Barbie will be all better.”
Like pitching a baseball or flipping a coin, my knack had become more manageable, more predictable and I could gauge when an illusion had crossed over to permanence. The real damage was probably still there because I had never tried to physically repair something so I really had no idea. Satisfied, I handed the doll back to her. There was scattered applause.
“Is she related to you?” a young man in the smiling crowd asked.
“No. I’ve never met her before,” I replied.
“Uh huh. Sure. It’s a great trick anyway,” he said good-naturedly.
“It’s true,” Mika’s mother said. “We never met him before today. That’s…that’s totally amazing.” She looked at the doll’s arm and then at me, pleased but bewildered.
Mika didn’t have any questions about the “how,” all she cared about was the “what.” Still holding the doll in one hand, she lunged at me and hugged me around the legs. My birthday Saturday was beginning to get better every minute.
“Hey, I have a dollar bill that used to be a twenty. Can you fix that?” came a voice from the audience. The crowd laughed.
My heart stopped and I suddenly felt very cold. Expecting to see Mike, I was wobbly-legged but relieved when a guy who wasn’t Mike held up a dollar bill. He looked familiar, but I saw so many people in the park that I figured he was just someone who had seen my act before.
“Uh, that would be illegal. You know, legal tender and all,” I stuttered.
More laughter. The guy stepped forward and dropped the dollar bill in my baseball cap and smiled.
“Just kidding. That was awesome. You’re really good kid.” More laughter from the onlookers, followed by many of them coming forward to drop money into my hat. Nudging my cap with the toe of his shoe, he said, “You’re in Seahawks country, buddy. You might want to trade in that Chargers cap.”
Mika’s mother looked at me and smiled uncertainly, shaking her head, as she took her daughter by the hand and led her away. Mika turned her head to give me another bright smile. She radiated uncomplicated joy.
It seemed like a good time to call it a day. The generosity of the people visiting the park that morning, and the cash flow inspired by the bit with Mika’s doll allowed me to wrap up and head for home early.
Being in your teens and carrying large amounts of cash is not something I suggest. It always makes me nervous and I am always on the alert for anyone who looks like they might not have any problem with rolling a kid for money. The wad of cash in my backpack made for a nervous bus ride home.
When I got back to my apartment, I was feeling upbeat and about as happy as I allowed myself. After retrieving Breno’s cupcake from where I had left it and stashing my earnings in my bedroom, I made myself lunch. I had forgotten to take a snack with me to the park and I was starved.
As I was about to dig into a bowl of mac and cheese, my phone lit up. The screen showed Maddy’s smiling face and a text.
Whaddup birthday boi? Happy 15th B Day BFF! I can get over to ur place later if ur in.
My successful afternoon in the park and the text made me wonder how much better this birthday could get. Glancing over at Breno’s mashed cupcake made me smile. Even though my circumstances weren’t ideal, today was pretty good.
Baffle’s worries and Breno’s odd comment drifted into a corner of my mind where
daydreams and worries went to fade away.
CHAPTER SIX
Polishing off the cupcake after lunch left me full and content, and with some extra time on my hands. Maddy probably wouldn’t be over for a few hours so I decided to visit Mr. Goodturn. Maybe I would get another brief history lesson or maybe some practice with my knacks.
Saturdays were busy at Mr. Goodturn’s, and when I arrived, there were quite a few people milling around. Mr. G himself was deep in conversation with an older woman. There were some objects on the counter that appeared to be the focus of their discussion—haggling.
I steered clear and headed for the books again. Mr. G said that the books didn’t produce much revenue but that it was one of his favorite areas in the store. There were a lot of newer books, but the ones I got excited about were the older paperbacks. Some days, I would get lost in the shelves and lose track of time.
My perusing went on for what seemed like a short time when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned around awkwardly to come face-to-face with Mr. Goodturn.
“I kept waiting for you to come back out front, but then I remembered how much you love these old books. I thought it best to come looking for you.”
“Yeah. I find so many great old novels back here that are out of print.”
He looked up at me and winked, which looked a little scary when viewed through those massive glasses.
“Well, come on up front and let’s continue our discussion in between customers.”
He invited me behind the counter as he hopped up on a stool.
“How does this work?” I asked.
Patting his round belly, he replied, “We won’t be engaging in strenuous sessions, nor will I be instructing you to repeat mundane tasks for no purpose. What I think would work best is to have continued discussions about what your choices lead to and how to give yourself the best opportunity to develop your knack. And, of course, practicing your knack and understanding the nuances associated with it.”
Drawing in a breath, I said, “I have two knacks, Mr. Goodturn. I can move things too, a little, as long as they’re not too big.”