Abby Carnelia's One and Only Magical Power (9 page)

As the campers began rounding up their stuff and
putting the props back in the prop baskets, he added: “All but you, Miss Carnelia. I'd like a word, if you will.”

Abby looked up, startled. What on earth would Ferd want with her?

She looked at Ben, who looked back at her with the same
what-the-heck?
look.

“Don't worry. He won't bite,” he whispered. “Just don't let him give you any fashion tips.”

As the room cleared, Abby stepped up to the front of the room. “Did—did you want to see me?”

Ferd opened a drawer and pulled out a clipboard. He stepped over to one of the tables and gestured toward a chair for her. “Please.”

He pulled out a chair across from her and lowered his substantial body onto it with an audible sigh. He laid his palms flat on the black stone tabletop.

“Miss Carnelia. That was quite a performance last night,” he began.

“Thank you,” she said.

“May I have a word with you about your little demonstration?”

“Oh—okay,” she said, uncertainly.

“Miss Carnelia, you may consider me little more than an eccentric camp counselor with a ponytail and an emphatic mode of dialectic.”

Abby's face told him that she didn't understand.

“That is to say, I talk funny. Or so I have been told by campers, on occasion.”

“I think you talk fine,” said Abby, truthfully.

“Despite the peculiarities of my speech,” Ferd went on, “here's something you may not realize: I may know the art of legerdemain better than anyone you're likely to meet for some time. As a teenager, I took first place in close-up at the National Young Magicians' Competition—three years in a row.”

One pudgy finger stabbed the table for emphasis with each word.

“The point is, I know a thing or two about the art.” He cleared his throat. “Now then.”

To Abby's total surprise, Ferd reached into a small props bag and extracted an egg.

“I wish to offer you some suggestions,” he said, gently placing the egg on the hard black table.

Abby couldn't believe her ears. “That's why you wanted to see me?”

“Absolutely. This is my purpose in life, Miss Carnelia: to foster the most promising magicians, to help them blossom, to guide them along their paths. And I believe that perhaps I can improve the impact of your effect. Would you do me the honor?” He gestured toward the egg. “Please. Proceed.”

Deep inside, Abby had a queasy feeling, as though the train of her life was about to jump off its tracks. But she didn't have much of a choice.

“Okay, so I have this egg,” she began. “And I can make it spin when I pull on my earlobes.”

And she did.

Ferd's face didn't change at all. After a moment, he looked up at her.

“That's quite remarkable, actually. I can't remember anyone doing this particular effect before. If I may be so bold: what else can you show me?”

She looked at him. “You mean, like, another trick?”

He nodded, smiled, and looked at her expectantly. Abby stared down at the table.

“That's pretty much it, at this point,” she finally said. “I don't really have anything else. I mean, that's ready.”

“This is your only effect?” he said, his eyes drilling into her.

She looked up. “Well, yeah. I'm kind of new at magic.”

“Fine—fine. Then I'll tell you what: let's work on your egg demonstration, shall we? I believe that we should work on the trigger. If I may speak frankly, the trigger is much too subtle. When you reach into your hair in that way, the audience can't see what you're doing. And the trigger gesture is not even directed toward the prop. Massaging the
temples might pass in a mentalism routine. But here, it just looks like you have a headache.”

Abby was stunned—and a little annoyed. Her face showed it.

“Miss Carnelia,” Ferd added hurriedly. “My intent is not to insult or belittle your efforts here. But I feel that you could benefit from the fruits of my experience. If you'd prefer not to hear it, then I shall make myself scarce and ask your forgiveness. Now, shall I continue, or not?”

She took a deep breath, and then nodded.

Ferd reached out and fingered the egg on the table.

“Let's try it again, shall we? With a different trigger, now. Show me something more visible. More direct.” He smiled and leaned back.

Once again, Abby stared hard at the table.

After a moment, Ferd leaned over, rolled the egg a few inches closer to Abby, steadied it, and gestured with his hand.

“
Let's see it again,”
he said deliberately.

Abby unsteadily reached for her earlobes again. But Ferd interrupted.

“No! Not the ears. I want you to find a
different
trigger!”

Abby couldn't look him in the eye. “I—I can't.”

Strangely enough, that seemed to be just the answer Ferd was hoping to hear. He suddenly seemed to be incredibly
fascinated. His round body seemed to swell up as his juices began flowing.

“Miss Carnelia. Are you telling me that the effect won't work if you choose a different trigger?”

For the longest time, Abby had looked forward to sharing her secret with someone who really knew about magic. That, after all, was why she was here. This should have been a moment of triumph, joy, and happiness.

But instead, Ferd was creeping her out. She wasn't sure how comfortable she was spilling her guts to him.

“Aha—evidently not,” Ferd went on. “Then let me ask you another question. In the name of our mutual interest in this great art, would you consider revealing your method?”

“My—method?”

“Tell me how you do it,” Ferd said, his face intense. He was leaning forward so far, she could feel his breath. Without even being aware of it, she was pushing herself back in her chair as far as she could go.

“Come on, Abby. Tell me. Tell me what the
earlobes
have to do with the
egg
. Tell me how the egg spins!”

This guy is losing it,
she thought. Ferd persisted. “Tell me how your family treats you when you perform this effect!”

It was as though he could see right through her.

“Tell me
how long you've had this power.”

Abby's jaw dropped. She gripped the sides of her chair so hard that her knuckles went white.

“How—how do you
know
that?” was all she could manage. She kept her grip on the sides of her chair.

He nodded, leaning back at last, and beamed broadly, a big happy bullfrog.

“Abby. Listen to me. I worked to build this camp. I helped to design it. Before that, I ran the magic programs at two other performing arts camps. I've trained hundreds of magicians. I've watched hundreds more. I spend my time monitoring the magic chat rooms on the Internet. And I've heard about . . . certain . . .
special
kids.”

Abby felt a chill go down her spine.

“Now, maybe you have a method and you're just not telling me. But maybe, just maybe, you're something special. Maybe you have more than a trick here.” He paused, watching her. “And the fact that you have completely stopped breathing tells me that I'm right.”

Abby smiled nervously and, flustered, shook her head as though to break a spell. This was why she was here, wasn't it? To find someone who knew something about her power? Then why did she feel so threatened?

“Okay, you're right,” she said. “I just found out about it a couple of months ago. I was peeling some hard-boiled eggs. I'm actually here because the ad said I'd learn about paranormal abilities.”

She looked up at him, as though to say,
and now it's your move.

Ferd smiled, closing his eyes briefly.

“This is beautiful, Abby,” he said with satisfaction. “It's always an honor to meet someone with your abilities. I want you to know that I'll keep our relationship in complete confidence; the other kids don't need to know that I'm working with you.”

It occurred to Abby that Ferd's manner was slowly changing. He was calling her “Abby” now, instead of “Miss Carnelia.” And he wasn't talking so weirdly anymore.
He's probably forgetting to do that,
she thought.

“And so if you're willing,” Ferd concluded, “I'd love for you to consider me your sounding board, your great listener, your friend. I want you to tell me everything you know about your gift.” He picked up his clipboard and held it tightly, pen poised over the paper.

So Abby Carnelia took a deep breath and told her story, in more detail than she'd ever told it to anyone. Ferd took a lot of notes, raised his eyebrows a few times, said a lot of “Hmmmmm!”s. He, at least, was loving every minute of it.

When she'd finished, Ferd sat there for a moment, studying his notes. “Abby, Abby, Abby,” was all he said.

“What?” she asked. She was feeling a little frustrated that she was the one doing all the talking.
He
was supposed to be the expert.

“Do you know what I have?” she asked him, as though he were a doctor. “I mean, why I have it? Do you know where it came from? Does anyone else have it?”

Ferd stared at her for an uncomfortable amount of time before he finally spoke.

“We don't know why you have it, Abby,” he said finally. “We don't know how you do it, or where you got it, or when you got it—or even when you won't have it anymore.”

Abby blinked. That was something that had never occurred to her before.

“But I can definitely answer your last question. Does anybody else have a power like yours? The answer is yes, Abby. There are others.”

Abby's eyes went wide.

Ferd laid his clipboard on the table and clasped his hands.

“And I'd like for you to meet them.”

“It was you, Ben. You did it!”

Abby ran up to her bewildered friend and pounded his shoulder happily with both fists. Illusion Building was just ending, and Abby knew she'd find him there. It was a clear, cool day, and Abby felt as high as the puffy white clouds.

“It wasn't me, I swear!” he said, grinning and tossing the bangs out of his eyes. “Whatever went wrong, I wasn't there.”

Abby pushed him backward so that he plopped down onto a not-yet-painted illusion cabinet that lay on its side in the sawdust.

“No, you
did.
You helped me find what I came here for,” she beamed, panting.

“Whoa there, bronco. Maybe you should slow down and tell me what the heck you're talking about.” He patted an empty place on the cabinet next to him.

But Abby couldn't sit still. She paced in front of him, gesturing with her hands.

“Listen, ever since I discovered this thing I can do, it's driven me crazy. I mean, it makes me feel like a freak. And nobody can explain it. Nobody has any idea how it's happening, or what it means, or
anything.
And maybe you think it'd be cool to have a real power, even if it's a really, really stupid power, but it's not. It's not that cool. It makes me feel lonely. I don't
like
being the only weirdo on earth!”

Ben leaned back on his elbows. “Well, there are a
few
other weirdos around here,” he said with a half smile. “But okay, go on.”

“Okay. So you want to know what Ferd wanted to see me about after class this morning?”

He thought for a minute. “He wanted to borrow one of your hair doodads for his ponytail?”

“Funny. No. He told me that they've found other kids with pointless little powers. It's really rare, but they're out there.”

Ben straightened up, his face suddenly open and intent. “You're kidding me.”

“No! And I'm invited to go to this sort of super camp, where these, like, famous genius experts are going to help us figure out what we have! Like work with us, help us expand our powers, meet these famous magicians and stuff.”

Ben was having trouble taking it all in. “You and these other kids? How—I mean, like—well, okay. Where is this place?”

Abby finally contained herself enough to stop pacing. She pushed a tray of pliers and screwdrivers farther down the cabinet to make room and then sat down next to Ben. “I don't know. Pennsylvania or something. But isn't that so cool? I'm supposed to call my parents after lunch and tell them.”

He cocked an eyebrow at her. “You seem pretty excited.”

“Well, this is what I wanted. This is why I came to magic camp! Not to learn tricks—to learn about my power. And it was you! It was your idea to do Camper
Show. You said maybe it would get somebody's attention, and it did!”

“Well, you're welcome. It sounds like a total blast.” He turned his face up to scan the cotton-ball clouds, trying to make sense of what he was hearing. “When do you leave?”

“On Saturday. We're driving. Nine hours in a van.” She squeezed her eyes closed for a moment, and then added, “I'm a little scared.”