Wizardmatch

by Lauren Magaziner

  “I taught myself,” Humphrey said, flicking his hangnail off the edge. “And it wasn’t easy, I’ll tell you that. It took forty years of grueling, backbreaking, sweat-dripping work. Unlike Mortimer,” he said with a sniff, “who got all his powers handed to him on a silver platter. I’ve had to work for everything I’ve got. And I still don’t have it all.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “My powers are limited,” he said, wringing his hands together in his lap.

  “But you can do so much! And those fires! They haven’t gone out once since I’ve arrived.”

  “Yes, but that’s it, isn’t it,” Uncle Humphrey said. “I can make fire and water and ice. I can move rocks and blow air and even quake the earth. But I can’t do anything other than elemental magic. I can’t teleport or lift heavy objects or manipulate my body into different shapes. I can’t go invisible—I can’t do what you can do. My powers are stronger than they were . . . but I can only do so much.”

  “Who cares? That’s way more than anyone else in the family can do!” Lennie gushed. “You have to tell me how you did it!”

  “It doesn’t come easy, and it doesn’t come fast. It takes endless determination, drive, and grit to stretch your powers.”

  She had determination! She had drive! And, well, she didn’t know what grit was, but if she didn’t have it, she would get it!

  “The first thing I had to do,” Humphrey continued, “was to learn how to tease out my powers—pull it loose like putty. When I was your age, my fire only lasted for fifteen seconds. After I lost Wizardmatch, I had to push myself to stretch it to twenty seconds. Then forty. Then, over the course of many years, a minute. Five minutes. Ten minutes. And after a decade of increasing my stamina, I got to an hour. Five hours, ten hours . . . and after half a century of practice, a whole day.”

  “Wow!”

  “Then of course, I need a much longer resting period. Many hours of no magic before I can start up again.”

  “That’s still impressive,” Lennie said, “to be able to do that with elements for so long!”

  “And it’s not just my endurance and stamina. I’ve improved my reach over the years—my fireballs can shoot farther. I can summon water from a distance. Using my special method and years of practice, I cultivated a whole buffet of powers from absolutely nothing. Nil, zilch, zero, DIDDLY-SQUAT! I worked for it. And worked hard.”

  Lennie’s mind was dancing a jig. Just an hour ago, everything was THE WORST, and with one split-second realization it was now THE BEST. Her heart pitter-pattered and she was grinning—beaming—radiating with excitement.

  “What?” he asked. “Why are you staring at me like that?”

  “Because,” Lennie replied, “I just had the greatest idea!”

  “And that is?”

  She smiled so widely her cheeks ached. “Humphrey de Cobblespork, you are going to train me!”

  A Very Interesting Idea

  Uncle Humphrey stood up. “What did you say?”

  Lennie was giggling. Great-Uncle Humphrey could be her mentor! He could teach her to stretch her own powers and make her stronger. And maybe—just maybe—she could prove to everyone once and for all that she was worthy of being considered for Prime Wizard.

  “I said I want you to train me!”

  “What? Me?!”

  “Yes, you!”

  “You who?”

  “Who? YOU!” Lennie said, pointing at him.

  His mouth twitched, and he looked away. “No.”

  “Wait, no?!”

  “No,” Humphrey confirmed.

  No.

  Lennie sucked in a sharp breath. This couldn’t be happening again.

  “Well, why not?” she demanded.

  Without a word, Uncle Humphrey stood up on the platform and began to walk down the footholds in the tree.

  “Uncle Humphrey?” she called after him. “Uncle Humphrey—wait up!” But he didn’t once acknowledge that he heard her. She climbed down the steps after him.

  Lennie thought he’d stop at the giant rock that led to his cave, but he kept marching—through the wooded borderlands, where it was still too dark for comfort, even in the morning.

  “Where are you going?!” she asked again.

  “I’m taking you back to the castle!”

  Lennie stopped, firmly planting her feet in the dirt. “You can’t take me back there!”

  Suddenly, a strong wind blew at her back and she was forced to stumble forward.

  “And you can’t make me with your powers!”

  “I don’t have time to play around,” Uncle Humphrey said, moving the earth to make his own bridge to cross over the oily moat. “I am not a babysitter.”

  “I don’t need a babysitter! I need a coach!”

  “No time for that, either,” he said, sending another burst of wind to push her forward. It blew her hair right into her mouth.

  Lennie spit out her hair. “Can’t you even imagine what it’s like for me?”

  Uncle Humphrey sniffed. “I do not have to imagine. I know perfectly well, firsthand, the pain and suffering Wizardmatch inflicts.”

  Lennie folded her arms. “I wish I could just destroy Wizardmatch, so no one had to compete! Then we’d all be happy!”

  Uncle Humphrey stopped walking abruptly. “Now there’s an idea,” he said, an amused smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “But can we do it?”

  “Do what?”

  “Destroy Wizardmatch.”

  Lennie furrowed her brow. “Wait, we’re destroying Wizardmatch?”

  “Isn’t that what you just said?”

  “I . . . I wasn’t being serious. It just sort of popped out of my mouth.”

  “Well, why not?”

  Lennie pondered. Could she destroy Wizardmatch? The more she thought about it, the more she liked the idea. By sabotaging the competition, Lennie could hurt Poppop like he’d hurt her, and prove to him and everyone else how good she was at magic.

  Suddenly, there was a hunger inside her—and not just because she had barely eaten her potato chip breakfast.

  “If we stop Wizardmatch,” her uncle said, continuing the walk toward the Pomporromp property, “we stop all the injustice that comes with it.” He smiled and rested a hand on her shoulder. “I want to help you. We will do it together.”

  Her heart jumped. “We can?!”

  “You don’t expect to take down Wizardmatch by yourself, do you? Yes, I’ll have to train you. But,” he said, pausing for an excruciatingly long time, “before I do, I’m going to need to know you’re serious.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Isn’t that what I’m asking you? I’m seriously serious about you being serious—”

  “I’m serious!” Lennie cried. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

  He squinted at her, his lips puckered tightly. “Don’t thank me yet. Because I’m not ready to train you. If you’re truly serious,” he said darkly, “then I’m going to need you to prove it.”

  “But how?” Lennie asked.

  “Think. What can you do to show me you mean business?”

  “Well,” Lennie said slowly, “the first individual test is tomorrow. At the pudding pool. What if I messed it up? I could throw garbage in there. Or cat litter.”

  “Yawn,” he said with a yawn. “Mortimer could clean that with a flick of his staff.”

  “What if I brought you potato chips?” she offered.

  “I’m going to make you do that anyway,” Uncle Humphrey said, zapping a nasty spell with a fireball.

  “I could steal the judges’ scoring cards?”

  “Is this really the best you’ve got?” Uncle Humphrey said.

  They were getting close to the border of the Pomporromp property, and Lennie was out of ideas. She ran her hands through her hair
, in a desperate attempt to shake a plan loose from her brain.

  Could she do something with her powers, maybe? Uncle Humphrey didn’t like her idea to mess up the arena. But maybe she could mess up one of her cousins’ chances. That was something Poppop wouldn’t be able to fix! And if she did her job right, no one would ever know she did it.

  She met her uncle’s flashing eyes.

  “I could sabotage one of my cousins. Have them eliminated from the competition.”

  Uncle Humphrey stopped and stared. At first, Lennie thought he was going to tell her that this idea was stupid, too, but instead he began to clap very, very slowly. “Excellent, yes. And just so that I know it’s fair and random and that you didn’t preplan it with someone, I want you to ruin the last contestant’s chances. That way, you only have one shot.”

  Lennie nodded. They were at the edge of the borderlands now. She could see the Pomporromp estate, but not perfectly: The empty grounds looked a little blurry and wobbly from this side of the border.

  Uncle Humphrey hummed. “Yes, I like this plan. Whoever goes last, you wipe them out of Wizardmatch. And if you can do that, I will train you. Good luck!”

  And he pushed her out of the borderlands.

  Stumbling into the Pomporromp estate again was suffocating. The air on this side of the border was so thin and wispy—and the sun was so blindingly bright. She squinted as her eyes adjusted, and when they did, she found herself staring face-to-face with a tuxedo cat.

  “Hey!” Sir Fluffington the Fourth hissed at her. The cat’s tail was rigid. She realized she’d been looking to make sure the coast was clear for humans, but she forgot to consider that Fluffles might be out and about, and he was low to the ground. “What were you doing in the borderlands, Lennie?”

  She was caught! Stay cool! she told herself. It’s not like he knows about Uncle Humphrey. “I took a walk.”

  “How long were you in there?”

  “I just went in!” Lennie lied.

  “And where did you go?”

  “Nowhere—I just wanted to see what it looked like!”

  Fluffles’s whiskers twitched. “A LIKELY STORY.” He skirted behind Lennie, putting himself between her and the borderlands. “You were plotting with the Oglethorpes, weren’t you? You sneaky, devious, sly, underhanded, duplicitous, tricksy little girl!”

  “I’ve never even met the Oglethorpes!” Lennie said.

  Fluffles bared his teeth. “And you better keep it that way. They are bad news. Once, I wandered into the borderlands, and Madame Oglethorpe turned me into a teakettle for stepping one foot on her lawn. If your poppop hadn’t saved me, I’d still be in hot water! Or full of hot water!”

  “Well, good thing I didn’t run into Madame Oglethorpe!” Lennie said.

  The cat regarded her with suspicion. “I don’t believe you. You’re up to something! You’re . . . purrrrrrr,” he said as Lennie leaned down and stroked his back to distract him. Fluffles nuzzled her fingers with his face. “PURRRRRfect. Right there! That’s the spot!”

  She scooped the cat up in her arms. As she carried him back to the castle, she spotted Ethan and his father walking toward the Garden of Goulash.

  Lennie said hi to Ethan and Uncle Philip #1 as they passed; her uncle smiled at her, but today Ethan’s ginger hair was swept in front of his face. She wondered how he could see. When he walked into the Garden of Goulash and stubbed his toe on a gravestone, she realized he couldn’t. He cursed, immediately uncovering his eyes by shrinking his hair into a buzz cut.

  Lennie continued on her way with Fluffles. When she reached the door to the castle, her brother and her mom emerged.

  “Len! We were just going outside to look for you! Where were you?” her mom demanded.

  The cat stiffened in her arms, but Lennie continued to pet him hard. “What do you mean?” she asked.

  “You didn’t sleep in Cheeseburger Chamber!” Michael accused.

  “Were you outside?” her mom said. “You didn’t sleep outside, did you?”

  “She was just in the borderlands!” Fluffles cried out.

  Lennie dropped Fluffles on the ground, and he bared his pointy teeth. “HEY! YOU ARE NOT DONE PETTING ME, HUMAN!”

  “I don’t pet tattletales!”

  “Or cat-tletales!” Michael snickered.

  “Lennie!” her mom shrilled.

  “It’s not a big deal!” Lennie said. “I just poked my head in for a second.”

  “You are in big trouble! I told you not to go in there. It’s dangerous!”

  “It’s not dangerous,” Michael said. “I went in, too!”

  “Okay,” her mom said, rubbing her temples. “From now on, no more borderlands. Both of you. Promise?”

  “Promise,” Michael said.

  “Promise,” Lennie lied.

  “If I catch you near it again—”

  “I said I promise,” Lennie snapped, whistling for a skateboard and rolling away. She headed back to her room to practice invisibling. She used the floor-length mirror to stare at her reflection—and then her nonreflection—and then her reflection again.

  But then behind her shoulder, the tomato-red window began to steam up, so thick that it became suddenly dark in her room. Lennie turned to face it, and letters began to appear, as if an invisible finger was writing on her window.

  You have five seconds to make sure you’re alone in the room.–H

  Lennie grinned, her heart fluttering as she dead-bolted the door, just to make sure Michael wouldn’t come in while Uncle Humphrey was writing to her. Then more words began to appear beneath the other sentence.

  Dear Lennie,

  (Is that short for anything by the way? Perhaps Lenjamin, or Lentils?)

  He thought her name was short for lentils? Lennie shook her head, then looked back toward the message.

  From now on, this is how I will reach you.

  Good luck tomorrow.

  I will be watching.

  Then the window wiped itself clean.

  She was so close to having a mentor and growing her magic. Excitement prickled on her skin, like the chills she got whenever she went invisible.

  Tomorrow, the first Wizardmatch test—and Lennie’s first test, too—would begin.

  The Pool of Pudding

  The morning of the first test was frenzied. Everyone was running all over the castle; her cousins were stretching in the halls; her aunts and uncles were doting on their kids, making sure they looked presentable for Poppop; Fluffles was chasing a mouse; Estella was leaning over railings calling for Mortimer, who had disappeared somewhere in the castle.

  But Lennie found him as she was skateboarding past the twenty-seventh floor.

  “Poppop!” she exclaimed. “How—”

  “Not now, Lennie—I am busy, busy, busy. Just wait until you see the first Wizardmatch test later! You’ll be so impressed!”

  “I—”

  “NO TIME!” he said, skateboarding away. He held his arms out as he rolled along in a rather wobbly fashion.

  Lennie sighed and continued into the dining hall. She grabbed her breakfast and saw—in the corner—Jonathan and Emma, huddled together. Maybe they would understand what she was feeling, since they couldn’t compete either.

  Lennie walked over, but as she got close, they immediately stopped talking and stared at her.

  “Can we help you?” Emma asked, her green eyes piercing.

  There was an excruciatingly long and awkward pause.

  “It’s okay,” Jonathan said, kicking out a seat for Lennie. “Lennie’s cool.”

  Lennie flushed. “I . . . I can go.”

  Emma studied her and sighed. “No, it’s all right. Sit down,” Emma relented, and Lennie took her chair faster than a blink. “We’re talking about the big fight.”

  “What fight?”


  “Were you under a rock last night?” Emma said. “The fight at dinner!”

  “I ate in my room,” Lennie said, looking between her two older cousins. “What happened?”

  “Uncle Philip #3 was speaking badly about my brother,” Emma said. “So my dad poured juice all over his head.”

  “And then Uncle Philip #3 punched Uncle Philip #1,” Jonathan added.

  “And then Uncle Bob used his stretchable arms to tear them apart.”

  “Wow,” Lennie said. The competition had barely begun, and it was already heating up.

  “Look!” Jonathan said, pointing to a table where Julien and his father were sitting. Uncle Philip #3 was hissing angrily into Julien’s ear, and Julien looked more and more like he’d swallowed a frog.

  “I, like, kind of feel bad for him,” Emma said, biting on her black fingernails.

  “I don’t!” Lennie said loudly.

  Julien looked up and caught them all staring. He stuck his tongue out at them.

  “Come on,” Jonathan said. “It’s time to go. Lennie—want to sit with us? We’re going to hang out in the back, so we can talk.”

  “Because this competition is the worst,” Emma said.

  Lennie hesitated. Sitting with her older cousins was, like, beyond cool. But at the same time, she needed to be close to the front, so she could be ready to sabotage the last competitor and prove herself to Humphrey.

  “Actually, I want to wish Michael luck,” she finally said.

  They paused, and Emma shrugged. Lennie had a bad feeling that she failed some sort of unspoken test.

  When they walked out to the pudding pool, there were no bleachers there. Just a mishmashed crowd of Pomporromps. Jonathan and Emma hung in the back, while Lennie wove her way through the crowd until she found her brother.

  “Lennie!” Michael said. “I was worried you weren’t going to come.”

  “I had to come.”

  “Oh,” he said, shuffling his feet. “Aren’t you going to wish me luck?” He looked at her, his brown eyes eager.

  “Good luck,” she said, but she didn’t mean it. Or maybe she meant it. She didn’t know. Lennie only just wished he could’ve said good luck back to her. Since her invisibility only lasted fifteen seconds, that was all she had to complete her mission and not get caught. Her stomach lurched at the thought, and she stood on her tiptoes to peer toward the borderlands—way, way, way across the estate. She couldn’t see Humphrey de Cobblespork anywhere.