Wizardmatch

by Lauren Magaziner

  “Okay. I . . . I love you, Poppop!” she said. She never really said that to him before, but it seemed like a thing she should say to her grandfather.

  Poppop blinked at her. “I don’t blame you,” he finally said. “I love me, too.”

  Then Poppop skipped away, across the field, with Fluffles and Estella scampering behind him.

  Lennie had no idea whether Poppop liked her more now—but it couldn’t have hurt, right? She turned around and headed back toward the pudding pool, but Michael and Perrie were both gone. In fact, the grounds were empty except for one family: Aunt Lacey, Bo, Danielle, Alice, and Jordan.

  Out of curiosity, Lennie trailed behind them, from a distance, just to see where they were going. They were tromping through the Garden of Goulash, headed toward the borderlands between the Pomporromp property and the Oglethorpe estate. Why would they need to leave Pomporromp estate? What are they doing?

  “Boo!” said a voice behind her.

  Lennie yelped as she whipped around to face Ellington.

  “What are you looking at?” Ellington said.

  “Bo, Danielle, Alice, and Jordan. Where are they going?” She fished in her fanny pack for her map. “My mom said it’s too dangerous to go out there.”

  “We went out there,” Ellington said before Lennie even laid a hand on the map. “Mom took Raina and me there last night. Mom wanted some place to strategize for Wizardmatch. She didn’t want to be overheard, just in case one of our cousins has supersonic ears or something.”

  Lennie’s stomach flipped. “Strategize?”

  Ellington nodded. “She told me that I’d be the family champion, and gave me some tips on—Uh, Lennie? Are you okay?”

  Lennie was certain she must’ve been a sickly green color. She leaned up against the cool exterior of the castle. “Your mom told you you’re competing?”

  “Yeah. Hasn’t yours?”

  Lennie looked down. “No . . . she hasn’t.”

  There was a pause.

  “Well, that doesn’t mean anything,” Ellington said, patting Lennie awkwardly on the back. “There, there! Of course it’s going to be you. You’re so smart. And you work so hard on your magic. You were born for this!”

  For a moment, Lennie considered telling Ellington about the conversation she’d overheard between her mom and Poppop. But she didn’t even know where to start. And something about that conversation made her cheeks flush—like she was ashamed. Even though she had nothing to be ashamed about.

  “You know what I think?” Ellington said. “Your mom probably hasn’t had a chance to break the bad news to Michael yet. But don’t worry. Anyone with a brain would choose you. I mean, I love Michael,” she added, “but she’s going to choose you.”

  That’s right, Lennie thought. It should be me. Mom even said so to Poppop. But still, she couldn’t shake a nagging little worry in the back of her head.

  To distract herself, Lennie went exploring with Ellington. They stopped at the thirteenth floor, which was so unlucky that Poppop put caution tape all around it and warning signs not to go down the hall. Floor twenty-four had a violent library—when Lennie and Ellington shouted out what kind of books they were looking for, every book on that topic came zooming off the shelves, pummeling them in the chest until they cracked open the spines. (Though the books purred with glee whenever they were opened.)

  There was the twenty-seventh floor that had a room full of money: hundreds of different currencies, some from their world, some from Netherly. Lennie opened the glass display cases and reached in, but every time she tried to touch the money, the currency transformed into already-chewed bubble gum. Floor thirty-one was a giant game room—but it wasn’t as fun as it sounded, since Poppop had put a slow-motion spell on everything there. When Lennie and Ellington tried to play table tennis, a single rally took a half hour.

  They climbed up farther. The next floor was a music room, where all the instruments were playing themselves—and right in the middle of the room, headbanging to the music, was her redheaded cousin. Ethan.

  The music screeched to a halt. Ethan turned to look at them, his green eyes lined with black makeup. Lennie noticed his sneakers had little skulls on them. He regarded them with a nod.

  “Hi. I’m Lennie. And this is Ellington.”

  “Nice to meet you,” Ellington added.

  “Mmm,” Ethan said.

  “So . . . what are you doing in here?” Lennie prompted.

  “You wouldn’t understand,” Ethan said, growing the hair over his eyes. “Nobody gets me. Nobody at all! Nobody except Mittens!”

  “Awww! Your pet cat?” Ellington said.

  “My pet tarantula.”

  Lennie shuddered. “Well . . . we’ll see you later!”

  They retreated into the hall, and as a clock chimed three times, Lennie realized they only had an hour to get ready and meet outside for the opening ceremonies.

  “I have to change,” Ellington said. “Come with me?”

  Lennie followed her cousin back to her room on the third floor—where everything smelled like ooey-gooey deliciously sweet cinnamon buns.

  “I don’t know how you can stay in here without getting hungry,” Lennie said.

  “I can’t!” Ellington laughed. “I’m hungry all the time. Now help me pick. This one?” she said, displaying a frilly pink dress that looked like a poodle’s worst nightmare. “Or this one?” she asked, holding up a white poofy thing. Ellington had always loved dresses, but Lennie had never actually seen anything this lacy before. It was like Ellington was dressing herself in a doily.

  “Uh . . .”

  “You’re right,” Ellington said. “The pink one.”

  Ellington slipped into the dress and began wrapping her long hair with thick pink bows.

  “Okay . . . what are you doing?” Lennie asked.

  “Preparing for the competition.” Ellington smiled. “It’s all part of my losing strategy.”

  “Losing? What in the world are you talking about?”

  “I don’t want to be the Prime Wizard,” Ellington said, fluffing up her hair. “I want to be a veterinarian.”

  “Since when?”

  “I rescued a bird with a broken wing a few months ago.”

  “But being a vet doesn’t have anything to do with your powers!” Lennie said.

  Ellington coiled a lock of hair around her finger to give it extra curl. “So what?”

  “But what about Wizardmatch? You could live in this amazing castle and have all your powers unlocked!”

  “I don’t care about all that,” Ellington said with a wave of her hand. “I’m only participating in Wizardmatch because I have to.”

  Annoyance flinched through Lennie. Here she was, worried that she wouldn’t get a spot in a competition that meant the world to her, and Ellington had a spot and didn’t even want it!

  “It’s just a shame I have to compete in the first place,” Ellington continued. “Raina and I both don’t want to, but last night, Poppop demanded Mom pick one of us. He said we couldn’t say no. So we came up with a plan to lose.”

  “Which is?” Lennie said stiffly.

  “If I look dainty enough, maybe Poppop will think I’d be a bad Prime Wizard and eliminate me early. I want him to think I’m weak.”

  “Wearing a dress doesn’t make you weak!” Lennie growled.

  “Obviously,” Ellington said. “But it’s not me—it’s Poppop’s stupid, old-fashioned way of thinking.”

  At that very moment, a voice resounded in the castle: “ALL POMPORROMP DESCENDANTS, PLEASE MAKE YOUR WAY TO THE COURTYARD FOR THE OPENING CEREMONIES.”

  “I’m not ready!” Ellington whispered. “I don’t want to do this!”

  “At least you know you’re getting a chance!” Lennie snapped.

  Ellington’s eyes grew wide. “Don�
��t get mad at me, Len. Please?”

  “Sorry,” Lennie said gruffly. “I’m not mad at you.”

  At least . . . she didn’t think she was mad at Ellington.

  When they arrived at the bleachers outside, it was clear everyone was sitting with their own immediate families. Ellington’s family was, thankfully, all the way on the end—and Lennie felt oddly relieved when her cousin walked away.

  Lennie scanned the rest of the seats. Anya’s family was in the back, and all of them had their heads together in a huddle. Bo and his blond-haired, icy-eyed family were seated in the middle of the bleachers in height order; they sat with rigid posture, staring straight ahead. Julien and his father, Uncle Philip #3, had plopped in the front, sprawled out, like they owned the bleachers. Perrie and Uncle Bob were sitting next to them, and Perrie kept looking nervously to her left.

  Lennie couldn’t find her brother or her mom. But then someone tapped her on the shoulder.

  “Hi!” Michael said. “Guess what? I went in the borderlands!”

  “You did what?”

  “Shhhhhhhhhh!” Michael said. “Anya dared me. Don’t tell Mom. It was only one second, anyway—it was too dark in there. I couldn’t see a thing. It was actually really boring.”

  “Michael, what were you thinking?”

  “I wasn’t!” he said cheerfully. “And it was fun! I think I’ll not think every day!”

  “Come on,” Lennie said, leading him up the bleachers. Mom still hadn’t arrived, and already, there were barely any seats left. Lennie and Michael squeezed together, next to the only relatives she hadn’t met yet: a pregnant woman with shoulder-length brown hair, who must be her aunt Macy, and her very round and very bald baby. “Hi,” Lennie said to her aunt. “We haven’t met yet but I’m—”

  “Lennie!” Aunt Macy said, pulling her in for a hug. “And Michael! Of course I recognize you two! I’ve been so looking forward to meeting you. And so has little Victoria, here. Say hello, Victoria!”

  The baby reached out and yanked Lennie’s hair.

  “OUCH!” she said as Michael snickered at her.

  “And in here,” Aunt Macy said, patting her stomach, “is Victoria’s little sibling.”

  Suddenly, Victoria burst into tears. As Aunt Macy fumbled with a pacifier, Lennie continued to look around for her mom. She was the only one missing from the family gathering. Did she just lose track of time? Was this a bad sign? Or was this a good sign?

  Lennie took a deep breath, trying to exhale all her nerves. The sun was setting, and the sky had begun to turn brilliant shades of oranges, reds, and purples. The Pomporromp Castle looked even more dazzling in this light—with some of its golden towers and metal rooftops catching the sunset in all the right ways. I’m going to make you mine, she thought to the castle. No matter what! And I’ll take care of you like you were my own puppy!

  At last, her mom came running in, but with no spots left near Lennie and Michael, she was forced to sit in the back—from this angle, Lennie could only just make out the top of her head.

  Lennie considered getting up to squeeze into a spot near her mom, but right at that moment, Poppop Pomporromp took his place at his podium and blew into a foghorn.

  WOOOOOOOOONK!!!!

  “Hmmm,” echoed the sound of Poppop’s voice, which seemed to be coming from everywhere at once. “I thought a foghorn would sound happier. . . . Next time we’ll try a tuba. Or a triangle. Or a duck . . . Perhaps we should have used a duck, Estella!”

  “The champions, Mortimer,” Estella reminded him pointedly, tapping on her clipboard.

  “Ah, yes!” Poppop Pomporromp said, grandly sticking his pointer in the air. “It’s time to have my sons and daughters select their champions. For some, there is only one potential champion. Will only-children Julien and Perrie please make your way to the arena?”

  Julien stood up with—ugh—that smug smile again. Lennie wanted so badly to be the one responsible for making that smile slide off his obnoxious face. Perrie hugged a book to her chest as she followed Julien down to the grassy arena.

  “Excellent,” Poppop said. “Now, Philip #1, you have two children: Emma and Ethan. Macy, you have two children: Victoria and Mortimer Junior—”

  “I’m not naming this baby Mortimer Junior,” Aunt Macy said, rubbing her pregnant belly.

  “Sleep on it. You may change your mind. Mortimer is a very snazzy name!” Poppop insisted. “Emma is too old to participate. That unborn baby is too young to participate. Which means you both have one eligible competitor. So, Ethan and Victoria join Julien and Perrie in the arena.”

  Ethan walked down glumly, head down and hands in his pockets. Victoria stayed put.

  Poppop clapped his hands. “Estella, fetch Victoria and bring her to the center!”

  “Aren’t you going to say please?” Estella asked.

  “Please?” Mortimer said, scandalized. “Please?! A Prime Wizard de Pomporromp needs not use such frivolous things as manners!”

  Estella simply glared at him.

  “Okay, fine, please,” Poppop said in a small voice, and Estella hopped up the bleachers to fetch baby Victoria.

  Everyone applauded halfheartedly as Estella carried the baby down and laid her in the grass, where she immediately fell over onto her back. Fluffles nudged her with his head to prop her up again.

  Lennie felt worried for baby Victoria. What if the tests were too dangerous for someone so young?

  “Four down, four to go. For my remaining children, now is the time to make your pick! And we shall begin with. . . . Lacey! You see? You thought I’d be predictable and go in age order, but YOU DON’T KNOW ME!” Poppop bellowed. “Lacey, you have the greatest number of children, all of them eligible. So will it be Bo, age thirteen? Danielle, age seven? Alice, age six? Or Jordan, age three?”

  Aunt Lacey looked around dreamily.

  “Lacey!” Poppop said. “SNAP TO ATTENTION!”

  “What? Oh, right,” Lacey said, her voice breathy. “Eenie, meenie, miney, mo, catch a tiger by the toe,” she said, pointing back and forth between her children. “If he hollers, let him go. My mother says to pick the very best—”

  “LACEY!” Poppop bellowed. “In this century, please!”

  Lacey pointed at her oldest. “Bo. He’s very down to earth.”

  Bo was staring at the sky until Aunt Lacey elbowed him in the side.

  “Right!” Bo said, suddenly looking down at his feet. “I am . . . grounded. Completely. In reality. Yes. That is me!”

  “Oh, just go!” Poppop said, waving Bo down to where the other competitors were milling around. “Now Philip #2,” he continued, turning to Anya’s dad. Lennie’s pulse quickened as she watched her cousins. “Jonathan is just a few months too old, so you must choose between Anya and Mollie.”

  “Dad,” said Uncle Philip #2, rubbing Anya’s shoulders like a boxing coach, “I’m picking the kid most likely to crush this competition. And that’s Anya.”

  Mollie held out a towel for Anya, who wiped her face with it and handed it back to her younger sister. Jonathan, meanwhile, looked grossed out as he handed Anya her mouth guard.

  “Welcome to the competition, Anya,” Poppop said.

  Anya pumped her fist in the air and soaked up the applause. She ran down the bleachers, throwing a few punches in midair to psyche herself up for the competition.

  “You’re going DOWN!” she growled at her competition in the arena. “NUMBER ONE! NUMBER ONE!” Anya chanted, trying to get the crowd to shout with her.

  Lennie looked around the bleachers, her heart in her throat. There were only two families left . . . just hers and Ellington’s. She tried to catch Ellington’s eyes across the crowd, but she was twirling her hair around her finger, trying very hard to look dainty.

  “Tracy,” Poppop said. “Ellington, age eleven, or Raina, age four? Which one shal
l defend your family’s honor to the death—OUCH! ESTELLA, DON’T PINCH ME!”

  Aunt Tracy stood up. “Love my girls,” she said. “And I want to make it clear that I know they’d both do a fantastic job. But as both Ellington and Raina already know, I’ll be sending Ellington into the competition.”

  Lennie wiped her palms nervously on her shorts as she glanced at her mom, who was looking away and biting her nails, her nervous habit.

  “Stacey,” Poppop said, and just the sound of her mother’s name made Lennie’s heart float up through her mouth and leave her body entirely. She was glued, frozen.

  Her mom should know by now whether or not Lennie would be competing, right? But Lennie had no idea—not a single clue, not one iota—what was going to happen next. And that made her want to throw up.

  “So . . . who will it be, Stacey—Lennie, age twelve? Or Michael, age ten?”

  Her mother winced. “I—I don’t . . .” she sputtered, a blush creeping up her neck and into her face. Lennie’s stomach swooped.

  “We don’t have all day, now! Who do you pick? Or is it whom?” Poppop said, turning to Estella.

  “To whom, for whom,” she said.

  “To whom do you select?” Mortimer asked, scratching his beard. “No, that doesn’t sound right. Who taught you grammar, Estella? Or is it whom taught you grammar? Either way,” he said, staring hard at Lennie’s mom, “Who’s your champion? Lennie or Michael?”

  Lennie or Michael?

  Lennie or Michael?

  Lennie or Michael?

  Her mother closed her eyes. “Michael.”

  After

  The stadium applauded for her brother, but it all sounded like blurred noise to Lennie. It was like time itself had stopped. And there was just one word that repeated itself in her brain.

  First, uncomprehendingly: WHAT???

  Then, angrily: WHAT!!!

  And finally, crushingly: What.

  Down on the grass, Michael was elatedly running in circles, and Lennie felt like crying. Her mother walked across the bleachers to sit beside her, putting her hands on Lennie’s shoulders, but Lennie shook them off violently.