EllRay Jakes Is Magic (10 page)

“Whenever,” I tell her.

Mom’s going to be so
relieved.

“But you still owe me a quarter, EllWay,” Alfie says. “You pwomised.”

“Okay,” I say, springing to my feet. “I’ll go get it
right now
.”

Anything to escape all this mush!

13

Telling Dad that I decided I want to drop out of Oak Glen’s talent show is going to be hard. He and my mom are probably still celebrating because they’re so amazed I got in!

They like to hang out in the family room after dinner, even though they don’t watch much TV. In fact, they do different things. Usually Dad reads, because college geology professors have lots of stuff “to wade through,” as he puts it. Mom likes to watch TV shows and movies on her tablet. But she wears ear buds so the noise won’t bother my dad.

At least they’re together in the same room, my mom says when I ask why they don’t just do the stuff they like in different places.

I hate ear buds. They make my ear holes hot and sore. I want really cool headphones.

See, that’s what I should say on my page of Ms. Sanchez’s wedding shower book:

Instead, I’ll have to make up something nice. I don’t want to make Ms. Sanchez sad on her wedding shower day.

I am
never
getting married. What if the lady I married didn’t like
Die, Creature, Die
, my favorite video game? What then?

I won’t give up my game just for you, whoever-you-are!

“Hi, honey,” Mom says, spotting me standing in the doorway, watching them. “Did you manage to talk some sense into your sister?”

“Mm-hmm,” I say, nodding. “She’s better, I think. I showed her how the tricks work, so she doesn’t think I have magical powers anymore.”

I leave out the part about paying her off with the coins, because Mom and Dad would not approve
of that. But I still think it was a good idea.

“Good,” Dad says, smiling as he looks up from his book. “Maybe things will get back to what passes for normal around here.”

“Alfie’s going to sleep in the dark again,” I tell them. “Only not tonight.”

“Well, baby steps are better than no steps at all,” my dad says, shrugging.

“But speaking of magic,” I say before he can dive back into his book, “can I talk to you about something important, Dad? I mean,
may
I?”

Because my dad is gonna hear about it, if the principal lets me drop out of the show. He and Mom might even have been planning to come watch! So I’d better tell him now, and get it over with. He’s the one who taught me the illusions.

“In my office?” Dad asks, tilting his head.

“Sure,” I say.

At least Mom will be able to listen to her show for a while without those ear buds ruining the whole thing.

“What’s up, son?” Dad asks after we sit down.

“It’s about the talent show,” I say, staring down at my bony knees. “I think I have to drop out. My tricks are too
SMALL
for a whole assembly to see. I’m going to tell the principal tomorrow morning. I just wanted to let you know.”

“Hmm. Stage fright?” my dad asks, frowning.

“No,” I say, shaking my head. “And those illusions were
good.
But like I said, they were meant for just a few people at a time, not a whole auditorium full.”

“I was wondering about that,” Dad admits. “I knew they’d get you through the tryouts, but . . .”

“But they won’t work for the real show,” I finish, since he has stopped talking. “I would look like a fool, and all the big kids would laugh at me—or boo me off the stage. My reputation would be ruined—and I have
three more years
at Oak Glen.”

“You’re exaggerating,” Dad says, using the calm, reasonable voice that usually means I’ve already lost the argument.

“I’m not exaggerating,” I tell him. “It would be like—like I was some weirdo meteorite from outer
space that didn’t fit in,” I say, trying to explain in a way he can understand. “You know,” I add. “When all the other kids were normal earth rocks. And I just barely fit in
now.
”

“Wait. What? You feel like you don’t fit in at Oak Glen?” my dad asks, a concerned look on his face. There is a new, sharp note in his voice.

He thinks I’m talking about being one of the few kids with brown skin at my school! He can get real touchy about stuff like that.

This is exactly the kind of thing he worries about. We’re going way past magic tricks here. I have to get us back on track, and fast.

“I fit in okay,” I assure him. “But I won’t, if I’m forced to make a fool out of myself.”

“So why did they ask you to be in the show?” Dad asks, frowning.

“That’s what I can’t figure out!” I say, the words almost falling out of my mouth. “Because like I said, nobody will be able to see what I’m doing! I guess it’s because I was the only one in the show.”

“The only one?” my dad asks, his voice tight again.

“The only
magician
,” I tell him as calmly as I can.

GEEZ
.

“But you like doing magic,” he says, like he’s trying to get something straight inside his brain.

“Yes,” I say. “More than I thought I would. And like I said, those are good tricks to do,” I add, since, he was the one who found them and taught me how to do them. “But not in front of the whole school at once.”

“So you wouldn’t mind being in the show if you had better—bigger—tricks,” he says, still figuring it out.

“But I don’t,” I say. “And the show is this Friday afternoon.”

“Want me to talk to the principal for you?” Dad asks. “Explain things?”

“No, thanks,” I say. “I’d better do it myself. Tomorrow morning. He’ll understand.”

Maybe.

But the last thing I need is my dad making a big deal out of this.

“Are you disappointed?” I ask him, even though
the question makes me feel kind of shy. “You know, that I won’t be in the show?”

“Not at all, son,” Dad says, giving me a smile. “Because you would be stepping aside for a logical reason, not because you were scared.”

He still sounds proud of me!

“I’d be a
little
scared, even if everything went right,” I admit.

“That’s only natural,” my dad says, smiling again. “In fact, stage fright is probably the mark of a great performer.”

I think about it for a second. “I wouldn’t say those tricks were
great
, exactly,” I finally tell him, trying to be honest. “Or that I’m such an amazing magician. Not yet, anyway.”

Dad nods his agreement. “These things take time, EllRay,” he says. “That, and the right equipment, and a whole lot of practice.”

“So, you’ll tell Mom what I decided?” I ask, looking at my knees again.

I hate the thought of disappointing my mom—more than anything, just about.

“I’ll take care of it,” Dad says. “Why don’t you go
on upstairs and jump in the shower? I have a few things to take care of in here, and then I’ll come tuck you and Alfie in.”

“But don’t say anything to Alfie about leaving the lights on,” I remind him. “Because I think she needs at least one more night before she backs down.”

“Got it,” my dad says with one quick nod. “See, I do listen to you, son. Now, scoot.”

And I scoot.

14

Grown-ups call Wednesday “Hump Day” because it’s in the middle of the Monday to Friday work week. You have to get over it—the invisible “hump”—to be able to coast down the other side of the hill toward Friday and, best of all, the weekend.

I think it’s the same for kids, because Wednesday mornings are always a pain.

But today, Wednesday, I wanted to get to school early enough to talk to the principal, so I pulled it together. And here I am, one of many kids swarming up Oak Glen Primary School’s wide front steps.

And there
he
is, planted right in the center of the middle step where he “sees all,” as he sometimes tells us at assemblies. “Mr. Jakes!” he calls out through his beard.

But today, instead of ducking my head, waving hello, and hurrying past him, as usual, I stop.

“Penny! David. Hey, Kelli, what’s up? Bryce,” the principal is calling out. “What’s happening, Mai? What’s shakin’, bacon?”

I clear my throat a couple of times, the way my half-friend Kevin sometimes does to get attention. But the principal can’t hear me
AHEM
-ING
over the roar that surrounds us. “Excuse me,” I say, but my voice is still too quiet for him to hear.

“Looking good, Leonard,” he yells. “Morning, Miss Daisy Liu!”

“Excuse me, Your Honor,” I shout in a way-too-loud voice. A couple of older kids turn, point, and laugh.

So does the principal. “‘
Your Honor
,’” he says
like he’s quoting me. “That’s a good one, EllRay! You’re priceless, d’you know that? How can I help you, son?”