Wizardmatch

by Lauren Magaziner

  The whole stadium clapped awkwardly as Julien walked off the arena. And that was it.

  Lennie was more confused than ever. What the heck just happened? He didn’t even do anything!

  Lennie was still replaying Julien’s test in her mind as Estella carried the next contestant—baby Victoria—onto the field. Once the baby was nestled into a patch of grass, Estella rushed off again.

  “Now, Victoria,” Poppop said. “Let’s see what you can do.”

  Victoria blinked. Then blinked again. Then scrunched up her face in a tiny ball. And that’s when she began to cry.

  All three judges ran out onto the field to check Victoria’s diaper.

  Poppop held his nose from the stink. “My goodness,” he said, picking Victoria up and holding her to the sky. “THIS IS THE MOST IMPRESSIVE POO I HAVE EVER SEEN IN MY WHOLE LIFE. SUCH PERFECT SHAPE, SUCH HORRENDOUS STENCH, AND AT SUCH A YOUNG AGE, TOO. Well done, Victoria!”

  That wasn’t magic! Lennie thought sourly. Everybody poops!

  “I feel bad for whoever—or is it whomever, Estella?—has to follow that act!” Poppop clapped his hands and Estella carried Victoria away. Poppop looked to Fluffles. “Now who—whom—is next?”

  And of course, up next was Michael.

  Lennie held her breath as her brother walked onto the field. He looked so confident—and more focused than Lennie had ever seen him before.

  Am I rooting for him? Lennie wondered. Of course I am—we’re family. Closer family than she could ever be with her cousins. If it came down to her brother getting Poppop’s powers or any of her cousins getting them, then she would want her brother to win. To be happy and powerful and successful. Because she wanted the best for him.

  Besides, it wasn’t his fault that Lennie hadn’t been selected. She had to be on his side. She was proud of him. She was proud of him. She was proud of him. . . .

  “Now you see me,” Michael began grandly. “Now you don’t!” And he went invisible.

  She was proud of him . . . no.

  The truth was: she wanted so badly to feel proud of him. But something was gnawing inside of her chest.

  It should have been her.

  Everyone on the bleachers was whispering, where did he go? What is he doing? If Lennie knew her brother at all, she had an inkling of what he’d do next. And her suspicions were confirmed when Poppop’s drinking water seemed to levitate off the table and spill right onto his head. Then Michael went visible again, and he was hysterically laughing, bowled over with maniacal giggles.

  Typical Michael move. He’d done it to her about a million times, but drenching the judge of the competition? That was like asking to be eliminated.

  Poppop blinked. “I suppose I was due for a good bath,” he said, and then he guffawed, throwing his head back and letting his belly jiggle. “Very sneaky, m’boy!”

  You have got to be kidding me! Her brother barely used his powers for five seconds. She didn’t get it. Didn’t Poppop want the most talented young wizard? Or did he simply want whoever—whomever (which was it?!!?)—was going to entertain him?

  Everyone clapped politely, but Mom cheered loudest of all, practically falling over herself as she shouted all sorts of praise and admiration at Michael, and a cold, stony pit grew inside Lennie’s chest.

  Next was Ethan, who grew his hair fifty feet long and twisted into different shapes. It was a pretty impressive display, but Lennie couldn’t even think about Ethan—or Perrie or Anya, who both went after him. Her thoughts were still stuck on Michael. She didn’t want to be jealous . . . but it was impossible. He was clearly Poppop’s favorite. And her mom chose Michael, so he seemed to be her favorite, too. Maybe everyone just secretly loved him way more than her.

  And if he won the competition, how would she ever face him again, knowing that he was given the chance to be someone great, and she wasn’t even allowed to try?

  “In two days, we’ll meet at the pudding pool for the first individual test! Now, everyone give another round of applause for the champions!” Poppop Pomporromp said, clapping his hands together. The champions all ran out onto the field and took a lap around like prized show poodles.

  Lennie closed her eyes—she couldn’t watch this anymore, and they were still only introducing the contestants. How was she supposed to stand it when they were onto the first test or second or third? Or when Poppop was transferring his powers to the next Prime Wizard—as her dreams would be forever beyond her reach?

  No, she couldn’t watch—she just wouldn’t. She had to get out.

  She had to run away.

  The Borderlands

  At midnight, Lennie clicked her fanny pack on. She tiptoed through the castle, afraid that a rattling skateboard would make too much noise. It took longer than usual to get from her bedroom on the thirty-seventh floor to the ground floor, traveling the ramp by foot. But she had to make a quiet getaway.

  Poppop must have gotten bored and changed the weather again because it was snowing. A very light dusting of snow that fell from the starry sky but didn’t stick to the ground. The night air was rather chilly, and she rubbed her hands together as she made her way across the Pomporromp grounds.

  She traipsed around the Garden of Goulash, not wanting to get her shoes all full of meat sauce. But beyond the cemetery and the garden, stood the borderlands.

  It was her only escape. She had to cross the buffer zone between the Pomporromps and the Oglethorpes. Through the land where Poppop and Madame Oglethorpe threw in a mix of toxic spells to keep each other at bay. Where she’d promised her mom she wouldn’t go.

  But her mom had promised her for years that she could be anything she wanted to be. So . . . neither of them were keeping their promises.

  At last, she reached the edge of the Pomporromp property. In front of her, the darkness was thick and complete. She knew there were magical tricks and traps in the land between her poppop’s home and the Oglethorpes’—but beyond that, she didn’t know what to expect.

  A chill fell over her—and not just because of the snow. She took a careful step forward, and without another word or glance or breath or thought, she ventured into the shadows beyond.

  At first, she could see the moonlight, but as she got deeper into the borderlands, the thickets got thicker and the bushes got bushier. Soon they formed a cocoon around her, and she could no longer see the sky.

  Lennie dug into her bag for a flashlight and continued forward. Every so often, she’d hear a noise—a tree branch snap or a bush move—and she went invisible. Calm down, Mercado! she scolded herself.

  The air was thick and heavy. She moved her flashlight around wildly. She had the intense feeling that she was being watched, and she invisibled again.

  You’re just paranoid. There’s nothing to be scared of. Keep it together.

  She shined her flashlight on a tree, which had colorful neon fruits hanging down from it, with a sign that said, TRY THIS DELICIOUS ORANGEPINEAPPLEBANANA FRUIT (come on, you know you want to).

  “Okay,” Lennie said out loud, “clearly a trap.”

  She walked to the right and saw a long, thin Bubble Wrap pathway stretched out on the ground, with a sign that said POP THESE (come on, you know you want to).

  “Double trap.”

  She sidestepped around the path and walked through the flat, dark, tree-covered borderlands until she reached a bridge, hovering over a moat filled with liquid as dark and oily as the sea that surrounded Poppop’s estate. Before the bridge was a sign that read THIS IS A TRAP.

  “Triple trap!” Lennie whispered.

  Unless . . .

  Unless Poppop just wanted her to think it was a trap. It was very much like Poppop to say something was a trap, when it wasn’t a trap—just to be tricky. But on the other hand, maybe that’s what he wanted her to think. Maybe the real trap was that the thing that looked like a trap actually was a tra
p.

  Her head was spinning.

  Then she shined her flashlight left and right—the moat seemed to stretch on as far as she could see in both directions. For all she knew, it cut across all of Netherly, and she didn’t want to walk all night. She could swim to avoid the bridge . . . but there was something cold and uninviting about the look of the slick water.

  She peered at the bridge and—with a very deep breath—Lennie took a tentative step forward. Nothing happened. She breathed a sigh of relief.

  She was fine! Everything was fine.

  She took another few steps forward—

  Crack! came a noise, the sound of the wood splintering beneath her feet. And before Lennie could run backward, she fell in the moat.

  The water was as icy as she’d thought it’d be. And at first it felt like regular liquid, but the more she thrashed, the thicker the water became. It was gummy and sticky—like glue or paste.

  “HELP!!!!!” Lennie panicked. “SOMEONE HELP!”

  But no help came.

  She flailed her arms, trying to paddle herself to shore, and her flashlight slipped out of her grasp, landing in the sticky mess. She couldn’t tell if she was swimming forward or backward, upstream or downstream, or even just paddling in place.

  “HELLO????!!!” she called into the forest.

  Breathe, don’t panic!!!

  She went invisible—a gut reaction—but it was useless.

  “USELESS!” she shouted in anguish.

  With a gurgle and a few bubbles the sticky goop sucked her down even farther—she was up to her neck. And sinking ever quicker. She couldn’t swim or wade or move—she was cemented to her spot.

  “PLEASE! SOMEONE!”

  The liquid was up to her bottom lip. Lennie took a deep breath—

  Suddenly, the liquid erupted beneath her and spit her out the other side of the trench. The sticky goop was still caked to every single inch of her, but she was free. She caught her breath for a moment, panting as she lay on the solid ground.

  What was she thinking, coming into the borderlands alone? That was too close for comfort—she was two seconds away from drowning. But at least she’d made it. She’d crossed the water.

  This side of the moat was no different from the other side—just as dark and shaded. A thick canopy of trees still blocked the stars, and the land was still flat and cracked. Only, without her flashlight, she didn’t feel quite so brave anymore.

  Well, I can’t cross that bridge again, she thought, her hands shaking. So there was no way to go but onward . . . Even the land seemed to nudge her along, rumbling beneath her feet. Like it was impatient. Was it another trap?

  Turning invisible, Lennie carefully crept forward. Ahead of her, in a dark clearing under the shelter of hundreds of trees, was an enormous rock, taller than a giraffe and wider than an elephant. She edged toward it slowly.

  Come hereeeeeeee, came an unnervingly, spine-chillingly, goose-bump-pricklingly, sweat-drippingly creeptacular whisper.

  Lennie froze.

  Comeeeeeeeeeeeeee, the voice rumbled again.

  It sounded like it was coming from inside the rock. Then the rock rumbled and broke apart in the center, leaving a crack just big enough for a single person to slide through. She edged closer to the dark and dodgy entrance and stared in, but she couldn’t see anything. If only she didn’t lose her flashlight!

  Lennie backed away quietly. She would not go inside. No way, not-uh, never ever nope.

  Comeeeeeeeeee in! the voice said, louder this time. It was also crisper. And clearer. And closer.

  Lennie’s heart hammered. This was not good. Not good at all. Words like DOOM and DEATH and UNTIMELY DEMISE popped into her brain.

  Stop thinking like Poppop! she thought to herself. She took a deep shuddering breath to calm her nerves. If she really wanted to prove to herself that she had what it took to be the next Prime Wizard, then she had to be courageous.

  She invisibled and tiptoed to the mouth of the cave. A puff of hot wind whooshed out. It was like someone was blowing a moist breath on her.

  She jumped back, so scared that she accidentally visibled again.

  There you are, came the chilling voice, and she could see the shadowy outline of a figure coming toward her from inside the rock. Crunch, crunch, CRUNCH came the sound of pebbles under the shadowy figure’s feet, growing louder and closer! You’re just in timeeeeeee . . .

  “For tea!” said an old man, poking his head out of the rock.

  “Huh?” Lennie said.

  “I said . . . you’re just in time for tea! Come on in!” The man smiled at her. He had thinning gray hair, a naturally downturned mouth, and eyes that gleamed in the darkness. He was shivering in his coat—a shabby brown thing with lots of pockets and frayed sleeves—and he hugged it tighter to himself. “Well? Come on! I don’t have all day. And it’s cold out here.”

  Lennie shook her head no. “I don’t have tea with strangers.”

  The man chuckled, his voice deep and smooth. “I’m not a stranger. I’m family.”

  “What?!” she choked. “I’ve never seen you before in my life!”

  “My name is Humphrey de Cobblespork. I’m your great-uncle.”

  The Deepest Darkest Secretest Cave of Secrets (DUM DUM DUMMMM!)

  Lennie gasped. Her poppop’s brother! The one who’d never spoken to Poppop again after he lost Wizardmatch. Could this man really be him?

  “I see you’ve heard of me!” Humphrey de Cobblespork said.

  “What are you doing here?” Lennie said. “My mom said that you and my poppop haven’t spoken in, like, a hundred years.”

  “I’m not that old. Wait . . . I don’t look that old, do I?”

  Lennie stared at him, too dumbfounded to speak. Of all the things she thought she’d find on her run-away-from-home adventure, her estranged great-uncle would have been the last thing she’d have ever predicted. “What—how—who—why—”

  “You are one of Mortimer’s numerous grandchildren, yes?”

  Lennie nodded.

  “What is your name?”

  “I’m, um, Lennie.”

  “Nice to meet you, Um Lennie. It is much too chilly outside at this hour! Come, come!” He waved her inside.

  She hesitated. She didn’t know Humphrey de Cobblespork. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to follow him inside. . . .

  He disappeared into the rock with a shrug, and the ground shimmied beneath her feet again. She looked toward Madame Oglethorpe’s house, but it was still so far away—and who knew how many more booby traps were in the forest? Next time, she might not be so lucky to escape. It was probably safer to stick with her great-uncle. And without another thought, she scurried after him.

  Inside, the rock was even bigger than it looked from the outside.

  It was very dim; Lennie could only see the vague outline of stalactites pointing down from the ceiling and stalagmites sticking up from the ground. The walls inside the rock were gravelly and unshapen—twisting this way and that—and the dim light, she determined, came from the twinkle of geodes. The path seemed to stretch on for miles.

  “Watch your step—don’t break your neck on a pebble. Or get impaled by a stalagmite. Or get eaten alive by vampire bats. Also, beware of the centicentipedes and millimillipedes.”

  “Centipedes and millipedes?”

  “No, centicentipedes. They’re bugs with one hundred toes on each of their one hundred legs. Millimillipedes have twice that. Nasty little buggers. So leggy. So toey. They don’t bite, but they do tickle.”

  She didn’t even realize the inside of a rock could be so dangerous. But all this talk of impaling and getting eaten alive had her thinking that maybe her great-uncle Humphrey was just as dramatic as his brother.

  “You live here?” Lennie said incredulously. “Right next to the Pomporromp estate
?”

  “It’s my temporary abode. I call it ‘The Deepest Darkest Secretest Cave of Secrets DUM DUM DUMMMMM!’” he sang.

  “What secrets?”

  “No secrets!” he said brightly. “I just thought it sounded like a good name for a hovel like this. No, the only thing I have back there is a nice fire. And tea. And electric blankets, which is truly your world’s greatest modern marvel.”

  “You’ve been to my world?” Lennie said.

  “Certainly! My friends got me passage. I have friends in high places! Also friends in low places! And friends in middle-of-the-road places, but they’re rather dull.”

  “Uh-huh,” Lennie hummed, ducking beneath a particularly low stalactite.

  “Almost there,” Humphrey de Cobblespork said. “Here we go!”

  In one step, the cave went from darkness to overwhelming brightness. Lennie held her hands over her eyes as she tried to adjust to the sudden light.

  “Ah, yes, I forgot how much of an eyeball shriveler this can be.”

  With her eyes closed, the room was rather hot. Well, hot was an understatement. It was more like blisteringly boilingly broiling. Scorchingly, scaldingly, swelteringly sizzling. Roasting and toasting and smoking and arid. She blinked rapidly, trying to push through every instinct telling her to keep her eyes closed.

  Uncle Humphrey turned his back on her and began to fiddle around with something in the corner of the room.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Working my magic!” Humphrey said.

  “What—what kind of magic do you have?” She coughed through the heat.

  “You know how our family works—we inherit just a small version of our ancestors’ powers. You have invisibility, as you exhibited outside. And I would love another demonstration in a moment. I am awed and inspired—your powers are truly wonderful, my dear!”

  She blinked at him, stunned. Did he just call her magic wonderful? Lennie smiled slightly as her eyes finally adjusted to the brightness in the room.

  She looked around. The first thing she saw was fire everywhere—Humphrey had five different fireplaces going at the same time. Then, outside of the fireplaces, there were mini-fires blazing all over the room, suspended in air. Some were hovering in little balls, dangling from the ceiling. Others were poking up from the tables, licking at kettles and pots full of bubbling liquid. Orange and yellow and blue flames—like tiny suns all over the place. It was beautiful. Even more beautiful than staring at a sky full of stars.