by B. B. Alston
“I’m right behind you,” Magnus replies. Then he turns to me. “The presentations have already started, so go on in and take a seat at the back.”
As much as I appreciate Agent Magnus’s help, I realize I need to make something clear. “For as long as I get to stay, I’m going to be searching for my brother. Whether you help me or not.”
Agent Magnus frowns. “Quinton would much rather you stay safe. This is dangerous stuff.”
“I don’t care how dangerous it is,” I say. “I care about Quinton.”
“And he cares about you. Heck, you’re all he used to talk about. Amari this, and Amari that. So before you do something dumb, I’d ask you to consider how Quinton’s gonna feel if he manages to get himself found only to discover something terrible has happened to his little sister because she went looking for him. He’d be devastated.”
I don’t know what to say to that. Agent Magnus knows he dropped a truth bomb right smack on my forehead. He’s already started down the hallway.
Shoulders slumped, I step into a massive, darkened theater with endless rows of seats curving around a wide stage. I’m thankful that whatever this is has already started. Everyone’s attention is on the stage instead of me. I’m even more thankful to find Elsie waving me over to a seat she’s saved for me in the last row.
“Your aura’s yellow again,” says Elsie. “What happened back there?”
I shrug.
She lowers her voice. “People are saying . . . Are you really a magician?”
“I think so,” I say. “An illusionist.”
Elsie thinks on this for a few seconds. “Well, if anybody gives you mean looks you let me know and I’ll . . .”
“Not breathe fire on them?” I smile.
“Hey!” she says, giving me a playful punch. “I’m working on shifting, just you wait.”
“Thanks for not freaking out,” I say.
“Well, if you can handle rooming with a girl who could turn into a dragon at any time, then I can handle being friends with a baby magician. I’m really glad they’re letting you continue on.”
“Me too,” I say, and then point toward the stage. “So what’s this all about?”
Elsie hands me her copy of One Thousand and One Careers and says, “It’s basically a presentation from each department explaining what they do and why we should choose them.”
I flip through the pages. “What have I missed so far?”
“Not a whole lot,” says Elsie. “Somebody from the Department of Supernatural Licenses and Records nearly put us all to sleep with a demonstration of orderly filing techniques. And just now, Director Rub-Ish from the Department of Half Truths and Full Cover-Ups invited a few kids onstage and had them pick out their favorite historical event so she could explain what really happened. Did you know that World War One started because a few tiny alien ships accidentally crash-landed into Archduke Franz Ferdinand and his wife? Everyone thought it was an assassination. The aliens visit three times a year to apologize for the mix-up.”
The departmental presentations are amazing. A man from the Department of Hidden Places steps out of a top hat, where he claims an entire city is kept. A woman from the Department of Dreams and Nightmares puts the entire front row of the theater to sleep with a snap of her fingers, and then convinces them that they’re all being chased by a giant, evil teddy bear named Bubbles, Destroyer of Worlds. Two grumpy old men from the Department of the Unexplained tell us absolutely nothing at all about what they do, on principle. A girl from the Department of Supernatural Health has us clap along as she sings a man out of a coma.
I’m about to ask if Elsie has any idea how long that poor guy has been in a coma when shouts ring out from above us. Every head in the theater turns upward to find men and women in gray suits running across the walls. They leap into the air, doing flips and twirls overhead.
Wow! A couple of them swing whips of fire while others twirl staffs of glittering light. Finally, each one stops to toss a plate in every direction. Out of nowhere Agent Fiona appears, standing upside down on the ceiling, and draws a bow and arrow. She fires a single arrow that explodes into a flash of lightning that branches out to destroy every plate. Eventually, they all land onstage, bowing to thunderous applause from the trainees.
I’m clapping, too, my heart pounding with excitement. That was amazing.
That’s when Agent Magnus walks onstage to join them, frowning harder with every step. “I’m guessin’ you all know an agent when you see one. And I’m guessin’ a great many of you are thinking of trying out, am I right? Well, what they don’t tell you is that there ain’t a more dangerous job in the whole Bureau. Agents get hurt. Good agents too. In nasty, gruesome ways. I know I’m wasting my breath. You’ll all be after the glory and excitement that comes with wearing this gray suit. You all want to be real-life superheroes, am I right? Well, just don’t say you weren’t warned.”
Then he turns and stomps off the stage.
The demonstrations continue for hours but I’m barely paying attention. I’m thinking about trying out for Junior Agent. And not just because of how cool the Supernatural Investigations presentation was. Everything about Quinton is there—it’s where he works, where the people who know him work, and even where the people who are searching for him will be.
But Agent Magnus’s warning felt especially meant for me—a reminder of what he just told me about putting myself in unnecessary danger.
Once the demonstrations are finally over, the lights come up and cards are passed around the theater. On them, you’re supposed to write down your top five choices. I watch Elsie scribble Department of Magical Science as her top choice and then quickly fill in the other four slots.
I stare down at my own card and scribble Junior Agent in big letters.
I scratch it out just as fast.
“I think you’d make a great agent,” says Elsie. “You’re a Peters, you’ve practically got hero in your genes.”
Her eyes are so full of belief that it almost convinces me. I shake my head. “I don’t feel like a hero. Maybe Agent Magnus is right—Quinton would want me to be safe. And besides, my supernatural ability is illegal. They probably wouldn’t even let me in.”
“Do you want in?” Elsie asks.
I nod.
“Good, because if the situation were reversed, I don’t think there’s anything anyone could say to Quinton to convince him not to look for you.”
She’s got a point—if my stubborn, hard-headed brother decided he was going to look for me, no one would be able to stop him.
Elsie smiles. “Now go on and get yourself into Supernatural Investigations so we can start our own investigation.”
Did she say we? “You mean you’ll help me find out what happened to Quinton?”
Elsie nods. “I’ll do whatever I can. Promise.”
Just having one person with me is a huge weight off my shoulders. I instantly feel ten times lighter.
Grinning, I jot down Department of Supernatural Investigations. I’m still beaming when I hand it to the guy collecting them at the back of the theater.
He takes a quick peek at my card and nearly drops the entire stack in surprise.
Not only did I pick Supernatural Investigations as my top choice, I left the other four slots empty.
12
AFTER THE DEPARTMENTAL PRESENTATIONS, WE’RE GIVEN the rest of the afternoon off to get ready for the Welcome Social at 6:30. It’s a chance for all the incoming trainees to get to know one another. Except while most of the other kids crowd the hallways joking and laughing and comparing outfits, Elsie and I lock the door to our room and begin our investigation into the disappearance of VanQuish.
“First, we need to come up with an actual plan and then make sure we follow it,” says Elsie. “The best way to do that is to put it into writing.” She uses her sleeve to wipe some equations from her whiteboard before she lays it down on the floor between our beds. “So what’s been your plan so far?”
I bite down on my lip. “I don’t really have a plan plan.”
Elsie shoots me a look. “You were just going to make it up as you go along?”
My cheeks flush. “It does sound pretty dumb when you say it like that.”
My roommate just shakes her head. “You can’t investigate anything without a plan.” She pulls the top off her marker and writes . . .
Step One
Come up with a plan.
“Did you really even have to write that?” I ask.
“Yes. Now let’s think.”
We’re both quiet for a bit before I say, “I guess what I’ve been doing so far is just trying to get some answers about the Bureau’s investigation. But all Agent Magnus will tell me is that it’s classified. It’s like the only word he knows.”
Elsie nods and writes out:
Step Two
Find out what the Bureau already knows about VanQuish’s disappearance.
And that’s when I realize I actually did have a plan. I slide off my bed onto the floor beside Elsie and pick up one of her spare markers.
I write:
Step Three
Use what we find out to launch our own investigation.
My roommate grins. “This is a good start.”
“Too bad we’re going to be stuck on Step Two forever. It’s not like they’ll suddenly decide to make the VanQuish files unclassified just for us.”
“You’re probably right,” says Elsie. “But we don’t need the files. We just need to find someone who knows something and might be willing to talk.”
I think back on all the people I’ve met at the Bureau so far. Then it hits me. Elsie looks up at the same time as I do and we both say, “The Van Helsing twins!” Their dad is the Director of Supernatural Investigations, they’re bound to have heard something about the search.
“Hope you feel like dancing,” says Elsie, “’cause they’ll definitely be at the social tonight.”
When 6:30 comes, Elsie’s all dressed and ready to go. She put on one of the dresses that made their way into our closet after the departmental presentations. Her dress is so cool—it looks like she’s wrapped herself in sparkling blue ocean. Waves seem to ripple across the fabric, and a school of bright orange fish zips around her waist. The water looks so real I think my hand might get wet if I touch it.
Somehow, our closet seems to magically contain whatever outfit we need. I wish it would magic up some comfy pajamas, because that’s how little I feel like going to a Welcome Social.
“You’re still not dressed?” Elsie makes an exasperated face.
“There’s got to be an easier way,” I say. “Can’t we just surprise one of them in the hallway or something?”
“The Van Helsing twins stay with their parents in the director apartments,” says Elsie. “The only time they come down here is to visit one of their friends. It could take weeks to run into them by chance. We don’t have that kind of time.”
“Fine,” I groan.
Elsie skips over to the closet. “Hmm, there’s a white dress in here from Madame Duboise that would be a-mazing on you.” She holds it up and it looks like it’s made of actual clouds.
“Ugh. Like I need any more attention. It’ll be bad enough just showing up as the magician who received a moonstone badge this morning.”
“You’re looking at this the wrong way,” says Elsie. “Lara and her friends love anything that gets them more attention. Being the magician girl with a moonstone badge is the reason they’ll want to hang out with you.” She holds up the cloud dress again. “You’re kind of a big deal. Might as well look the part.”
Fifteen minutes later, the two of us take an opera-singing elevator named Luciano back to the Special Events floor. Music booms behind the golden ballroom doors. Two ladies in butler uniforms push them open for us.
I stop cold. When they said this year’s theme is Winter Wonderland, they really meant it. It’s snowing inside the huge ballroom. Snow-covered fir trees grow straight up out of the floor and huge ice sculptures of dancing penguins and laughing polar bears fill up the spaces between the candlelit tables. Kids dance in midair, squealing and laughing as they’re carried back and forth by swirling gusts of wind.
I start to feel that same bubbly excitement I got the first time I saw those underwater trains with Quinton. This is incredible.
Elsie’s freckled face beams as she takes my hand. “Ready?”
“As ready as I’m going to be.”
As we make our way through the tables, I do my best to ignore all the stunned faces that turn my way. It’s hard though. It feels like the whole room is staring. This is just what I was afraid of—having the same “outsider” spotlight shining down over me as I had back at Jefferson Academy. I honestly feel like I could throw up.
“There’s Lara,” says Elsie, nodding toward a tall girl in a dress that sparkles like diamonds moving through the crowd of kids near the snack table. “Let’s go talk to her while she’s alone.”
I fight down my nerves and try to focus on why I’m here—to get answers. After a deep breath I say, “Let’s do it.”
“Be confident,” Elsie says.
“Right,” I say. “Confident.”
“And whatever she says about me, just ignore it. We can’t blow this chance.”
Before I can ask what she means, Elsie reaches Lara and gives her a polite tap on the shoulder.
When Lara spins around, it’s like she’s posing for a photo or something. That girl is crazy pretty. Like, never-used-a-filter-in-her-life pretty.
Lara frowns and rolls her eyes when she realizes it’s Elsie. “What do you want? Please tell me you aren’t here to beg me to be friends again.”
If Elsie’s feelings are hurt, she doesn’t show it. “I just thought you’d like to meet the Amari Peters.”
Lara finds me over Elsie’s shoulder and her whole face lights up. She brushes past Elsie like she’s not even there. Next thing I know, Lara is throwing an arm around my shoulder and snapping a quick selfie.
“I’m Lara Van Helsing,” she says confidently. “You may not know this, but your brother and my sister were partners.”
All I can think to say is, “They’re famous.” So dumb.
“The most famous.” Lara grins. “You have to come sit at our table,” she says, leaning in close. “My friends are dying to meet you.”
“Actually, I was kind of hoping to talk to you about VanQuish—”
“Just come and say hello,” Lara interrupts. “It’ll take two seconds. Then we can talk all about my sister and your brother. Deal?”
Lara looks at me like telling her no would break her heart. I glance around but Elsie is nowhere to be found.
“Don’t worry about Elsie. We used to be besties, like, forever ago. But that was before she went and got boring. I mean c’mon, a weredragon who can’t even shift. . . . Anyway, you coming?”
Who does this girl think she is? I’m just about to tell her about herself but remember Elsie’s warning just in time. She knew Lara might badmouth her and told me to ignore it. So, hard as it is, I force a smile and say, “Maybe just a quick hello.”
Lara squeals and takes my hand, then leads me to the other side of the ballroom where a few tables have been pushed together. The kids there all look bored silly. Lara clears her throat loudly. “Meet my new friend, Amari Peters.”
That gets their attention. They all turn to look at me.
Feeling myself flush, I give a little wave. One of the boys stands up and says, “You can have my seat.”
That’s when Dylan Van Helsing catches my eye. He’s seated on the other side of the table, arms crossed. Just like his sister, he’s cute enough that he looks like he flies out to international modeling gigs after the last school bell rings. He mouths, “Don’t.”
But before I can react, Lara practically shoves me down into the seat. Dylan sighs and shakes his head.
“They’re really letting you stay on after cracking the Crystal Ba
ll?” asks a girl in a gown that looks like a starry night sky. “I’m Kirsten Kurst, by the way.”
My heart sinks down into my belly. “I didn’t actually crack it,” I say, quickly. “It was an illusion.” I shrug. “An accident.”
The others all look at one another with wide eyes.
“And they know you’re a magician?” asks a boy in a shiny, metallic gold suit. “I heard all the worst magicians were illusionists.”
I nod. “They’re um . . . giving me a chance to prove myself.”
A boy in a sky-blue suit holds up his phone. “Geez, her touching the crystal is trending at number one! Can you believe that?”
“I am?” I say. “On YouTube?”
“Not the internet,” says Kirsten. “The othernet. It’s the protected part of the internet we use in the supernatural world.”
“Oh,” I say.
“Well, it really was a killer entrance,” he replies. “No way it’ll ever be topped.”
I crack a nervous smile. Lara is awful, but maybe her friends aren’t? Maybe they understand? “I wish it had been a boring entrance. I’d even take a different badge if I could.”
No one at the table returns my smile, and I wonder if I’ve said the wrong thing. I glance over at Dylan again, but he won’t meet my eyes.
“Amari, settle an argument for us,” says another boy. “One last vacation before you die: London or Rome?”
“I’ve never been to either,” I say.
He looks shocked. “Oh, I bet your people are yacht people, right? Saint Tropez?”
I sit staring at the table in front of me. These kids really do live in a totally different world. Yachts and trips to fancy places. What do I know about that?
“My family isn’t rich,” I say. “It’s just me and my mom. She’s a nursing assistant at a hospital.”
“A nursing . . . assistant?” asks Brian Li, who I remember touching the Crystal Ball right before Elsie. “Aren’t nurses already assistants?”
Laughter. My fists clench beneath the table. It feels like I’m drowning.
