“Ethan, relax! Your close-up routine was great. The judges loved you.”
I let out a really long breath. “I hope so. I won’t know for sure ’til the scores are up tomorrow morning.”
Chris unwraps a fortune cookie near his plate and reads the tiny slip of paper aloud. “Ethan will be in the top five for sure.”
“Very funny.” I smile. “Let me see that.”
He moves it out of my reach. “What does yours say?”
“Doesn’t matter.” The truth is, I don’t want to know. What if it says, “Better luck next time,” or “Win some, lose some”? I break open my cookie and put the fortune in my pocket without looking at it.
After dinner, there’s a one-man show and a lecture on stage presentation, which is way cooler than it sounds. Then Chris and I go back to our room. It’s been an incredible day, but it feels good to collapse onto my hotel bed.
While Chris takes a shower, I call home.
“Did the judges like the candy?” Freddy always starts with the most important thing. “Do you have a big TV in your room? Did you get to meet Magnus?”
“Yes, yes, and he’s not here.”
“Are you in the top five?”
“I won’t know ’til tomorrow afternoon.”
“Don’t worry. I know you will be.”
“Thanks, Freddy.”
“Daddy wants to say hi.”
“Hey there,” Dad says. “How is Atlantic City treating you?”
“Great. Really great! How’s everything there? How’s Jake?”
“So far so good. He’s getting stronger every day.”
We talk a few more minutes, then he wishes me luck and we hang up. I wonder how much luck has to do with it. What about practicing for hours and hours? What about wanting something so much it’s almost all you think about?
Chris’s hair is damp from the shower. He yawns and falls onto his bed. “If you want to stay up and read or watch TV, it won’t bother me. I slept through three fire drills last semester.”
“Thanks. I think I’ll just go over my act in my head.”
“Sleep well, Ethan. I know you’ll be awesome tomorrow.”
“Thanks. I’m really glad you’re here.”
“Me too.” He turns out the light and rolls onto his stomach.
I stay on my back and stare at the ceiling. The room is dark, but my head is filled with pictures: Magnus dazzling an audience; colorful magicians in the lobby; Amazing Amelia performing her close-up act; the judges smiling when Chris calls out the right card from his seat.
Then I close my eyes and picture something that hasn’t happened—at least, not yet: the huge theater is full, the audience hushed with anticipation and excitement. The judge leans into the microphone and says, “The winner of this year’s Junior Competition is…” He pauses and the entire audience holds its breath. Then he smiles, opens the envelope, and reads the name on the card: “Ethan Miller!”
I jump out of my seat, give Chris a high five, and race up to the stage.
I play the whole thing over in my mind, again and again. And again. Maybe, if I play it over enough times, it really will come true.
I’m already awake as the alarm sounds. I take the world’s fastest shower, throw on jeans and the silver-and-black Magic Fest T-shirt all the junior magicians got, and head downstairs with Chris for the breakfast buffet.
“Mind if we join you?”
I look up to see Amazing Amelia and her mom. “Not at all.”
“You were great yesterday.” Amelia puts down a tray loaded with food.
“Thanks. You too.” I stare at the omelet, waffles, fruit, and bacon on her plate.
She smiles. “What can I say? Competing makes me hungry.”
“Not me. I’ve barely eaten since I left Maryland.”
“You two had yourselves a road trip, then,” her mom says. “We’re lucky. We live twenty minutes from here, so our whole family can see the show.”
“Yeah, so lucky.” Amelia smiles. “Everyone can come and embarrass me.”
“Well, it’s only fifteen dollars a seat for the big show,” her mom explains. “And your dad really wants to see you up on that stage.”
“Assuming I make the top five,” Amelia reminds her.
“Oh, you will.” Amelia’s mom tousles her hair. “I believe in you.”
I feel a stab of homesickness and wish my mom were here with me. And Dad. And Jake. Even Freddy (though I’d never tell him that).
Amelia and I spend the rest of breakfast comparing notes on our fellow magicians. We jump when a voice booms over an intercom: “Attention all junior magicians. The close-up results have been posted outside the Dealer’s Room.”
Forty-three junior magicians, including Amelia and me, race down the hall and around the corner. It takes forever for the people in front of us to check out the list. Most of them walk away with frowns and slumped shoulders, but a couple grin and high-five each other. Amelia looks at me and crosses her fingers. “Good luck.”
“You too.”
The line finally clears and we get to the list.
“I can’t believe it!” she cries. “We’re tied for first place!”
I stare at the list. At the thirty-seven out of forty points we both earned. The second-highest scorer is thirty-five.
Before I can yell or cheer or anything, Amelia looks me in the eye with a mischievous grin. “Don’t think I’m gonna go easy on you, King of Chaos.”
“Bring it, Amazing Amelia.” I smile back.
There’s just enough time before the stage acts start for me to make a phone call home.
“Did you win?” Freddy asks.
“Not yet. But it’s going pretty well so far. Is Mom or Dad around?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Ethan? Is everything all right?” Mom asks.
“Everything’s great. I’m tied for first place after the close-up competition.”
“That’s wonderful!” I can hear a huge smile in her voice.
“Thanks. How’s Jake doing?”
“Much better. He should be home by the time you’re back tomorrow. Daddy and I are going to see him as soon as Emma and Bubba show up to watch Freddy.”
“Give him a hug for me.”
“Will do. Call us after the stage act, okay?”
“I will. And Mom? Thanks for letting me come.”
“I’m glad it all worked out.”
“Me too. I just… I wish you all were here with me.”
“We are,” she says.
And I realize that she’s right.
I think about Bubba giving me my first magic kit; Ms. Carlin’s hands flying around as we come up with the name for my act; Freddy grinning after I teach him the crayon trick; my parents applauding after my practice rehearsal; and Jake watching my one-handed shuffle.
I want to win so badly… for them, and for me.
Everything I’ve been working at and practicing over the past months has led to this moment.
I adjust my cape for the zillionth time. My props wait on the table at center stage. Every inch of me trembles. My throat is dry again. My brain is going crazy. My heart beats way too fast.
“Let’s give a warm welcome to our next contestant, eleven-year-old Ethan Miller, The King of Chaos!”
I touch the red crinkly paper in my pocket and take a deep breath. This is it.
The spotlight wraps me in a surreal glow. I nod to the guy backstage, and the familiar music of Scott Joplin’s “The Entertainer” fills the room and helps put me in the magic zone. I make a dignified bow and my top hat falls off, revealing a gold crown underneath. I hold up a huge, glittery sign with letters all jumbled up, then turn it around to the unscrambled side: THE KING OF CHAOS.
I start off my act with one mini marshmallow and three silver cups on a small table. As I shuffle them around, one marshmallow becomes two, two turn into three, and three become four. The music speeds up, and I begin to juggle them. Then I pop the marshmallows into my mou
th, rub my stomach, and four more appear in my hand out of nowhere. With a wave of my wand, they turn into one large pink marshmallow.
I make a face, like “Huh?” Then shrug and pop it into my mouth. I start to move the cups out of the way, when another little marshmallow appears, and another… I pop them into my mouth—except I miss one! It dive-bombs straight onto the stage floor.
I can’t believe it. This never happened at home. I practiced a trillion times, and it always worked. The lively, happy music keeps going, but I don’t. My body freezes while my mind races like crazy, trying to figure out what to do. Keep going? Run offstage and hide somewhere? Pretend nothing went wrong?
Pretend, like Freddy does…
“Oops?” I say.
To my surprise, the audience laughs!
I pick the fallen marshmallow off the floor and look at it, like I’m debating whether to eat it or not. I shrug and put it in my left pocket. Then I take another marshmallow from my right pocket and eat that instead, then continue where I left off. I decide to drop another one on purpose, and say “Oops” again, hoping the audience will think it’s all part of my act—and they laugh again!
I pop the last one into my mouth, but something is wrong. I make a face and pull a brown egg (hard-boiled this time) out of my mouth. With a shrug, I start to juggle it, along with two of the silver cups. The music gets faster again, and so does my juggling. The second the last note sounds, I “drop” the egg into my top hat. I look inside, make a disgusted face like it’s cracked open, and pull out a rubber chicken.
Everything else goes smoothly and I get a lot of applause at the end, so I guess it worked.
I just don’t know if it worked enough to make the top five.
“I can’t believe it!” Amelia and I shout in unison.
Thirty-eight magicians are going home disappointed, not getting the chance to perform again tonight… but not Amelia. And not me. We both made the top five!
She steps toward me and for a second I’m afraid she’s going to hug me or something. Luckily, at the last second, she reaches out and we do a high five.
There’s just enough time for Chris and me to celebrate with a quick pizza (one slice is all I can manage) before I need to get ready for the main event. I wonder if Amelia is as excited—and terrified—as I am. Somehow I doubt it. She seems so cool and collected all the time. It probably helps that she’s got her family here for support.
I’ve been trying to call my family since I found out about making the top five, but no one answers. Not even their cell phones. I’m starting to get a bad feeling.…
It’s almost time to go. I’m supposed to be backstage forty-five minutes before the show. But I really need to talk to Mom or Dad. Even Freddy would make me feel better at this point.
I try one last time, but Mom’s phone just rings and rings. I can’t even leave a voice message because the box is full.
“I don’t know why no one’s answering,” I say.
“Why don’t you try your grandparents?” Chris asks.
“Good idea.” I dial the number and wait. One ring, two rings, three… I’m about to give up when I hear Freddy’s voice on the other end.
“Freddy? Guess what? I’m in the top five! And my friend, Amazing Amelia, is, too!” I pause to take a breath and wait to hear him let out a shout of congratulations.
But it’s quiet on the other end. Too quiet.
“Freddy? Where is everybody? I tried calling all afternoon, but—”
“I’m not supposed to tell you,” he says.
“Tell me what?”
“About Jake…”
My stomach twists itself into a knot and my throat goes dry. “What about him?”
“Freddy?” I hear Emma’s voice. “Who is it?”
“Ethan.”
“Give me the phone,” I hear her say. “Hello, Ethan?”
“What’s going on with Jake?”
“How’s Magic Fest?” she asks, dodging my question.
“How’s Jake?”
There’s a long pause. “He… had a setback. He’s back in Intensive Care.”
“What? Why didn’t anyone call me?”
“You worked so hard to be in the competition. Your mom didn’t want to ruin it for you.”
I can’t believe this is happening. “I need to talk to her, now!”
Emma starts to argue, then gives in and tells me the number for the hospital.
My hands are shaking. The numbers are blurry. It takes me three tries to dial it correctly.
“Hello?” It’s Mom. She sounds really tired.
“Mom! What’s going on? Is Jake all right?”
“He’s hanging on…”
“What does that mean?”
“I’ll try to call you later, all right?”
“No! I want to know what’s happening!”
“Ethan, this isn’t a good time. I have to—”
“Wait!”
“Jake loves you.…” Her voice cracks.
I wait for more, but her end of the phone has gone quiet. “Mom? Are you there?”
A few seconds pass, then a different voice comes on the phone. “E?”
“Dad? How’s Jake?” I wait again, but he doesn’t say anything. “Dad. How is—”
“Not good.”
“But… he’s gonna get better, right?” The other end of the line is silent. “I mean, I know he had a setback, but… he’s gonna be okay. Right? He’s Super Jake.…”
“I don’t know.”
“What do you mean you don’t know?” I can barely get the words out. Every inch of me feels sick.
“I’m sorry.…”
“There must be something I can do to help!”
“I wish there were, but all any of us can do is wait and see.…”
But I don’t want to wait.
I can’t.
Dad tells me he loves me and hangs up and my throat hurts and my cheeks are wet and—
“Hey.” Chris has my gold crown in his hand. “We have to go,” he says softly.
My eyes are on the crown… but my fingers are wrapped around Jake’s crinkly paper. “Yeah,” I tell him. “We do.”
I grab my suitcase.
“What are you doing?” Chris asks.
“Jake needs me.”
“We can leave the minute this is over,” Chris says, still holding my crown.
He’s right. We could. After all this work and all this time, I’m so close. I actually have a chance to win this whole thing.
But what about Jake? What are his chances?
If I wait, like Dad said—it could be too late.
“No,” I tell Chris. “We have to go now.”
It’s hard to believe four hours ago I was in Atlantic City, and now I’m about to walk into a hospital, not knowing what I’ll find or how Jake will be.
Before Chris and I left the competition, I went backstage and told the first judge I saw that I was leaving because of a family emergency. She was really nice about it, and I was doing okay… until I saw Amazing Amelia.
“Why aren’t you in costume?” she asked.
I looked at her, all dressed up in a tuxedo and top hat. “My little brother is really sick and I need to be with him.”
She took a step toward me and, instead of a high five, this time she hugged me. And I hugged her back.
Hospitals are usually depressing, but this one is different. Like Chris explained, it’s for children only. Everywhere I look, I see cheerful drawings on the walls, bears on the ceilings, and happy colors everywhere. There’s even a high school band performing in the lobby. I hope Jake hears the music; the trumpets might make him feel more at home.
Wherever I look there are kids: in baby carriers and strollers, on crutches, in wheelchairs.…
“Are they all sick like Jake?” I whisper.
“I dunno,” Chris says. “I hope not.”
We follow the signs down one corridor and up another, then around a corner to a bank of elevators
. Chris pushes the up button. When the doors open, there’s already a family inside: a mom, a dad, and a skinny little kid around Freddy’s age, with big brown eyes, a friendly smile, and a pole with an IV. I try not to stare at him, but I can’t help it. He stares at me, too, then waves and gives a shy smile. I smile back.
The doors open again, and Chris and I head down a long hallway with rainbows and teddy bears and big red hearts. I feel my own heart beating extra hard and fast, and think how scared Jake must’ve been all this time. I mean, it seems like a nice place and all; it’s just that home is so much nicer.
We stop at a set of double doors and Chris presses a buzzer. After a minute or two, Mom and Dad come through the doors. Mom gives us each a hug. Her lips are smiling but her eyes are sad, and her clothes are all wrinkled, like she slept in them.
“Where’s Jake?” I ask.
“He’s with Freddy and your grandparents,” Dad says.
“You’ll see him soon,” Mom says. She bites her lip and looks at Dad.
“We want to talk to you first.” Dad looks at Chris.
“How about I go visit with Jake?” Chris says.
Mom asks one of the nurses to show him the way, then she and Dad take me to a little room barely big enough for the three of us, with just a table and some chairs.
“We know how badly you want to see Jake. He wants to see you, too.…” Mom breaks off and looks at Dad again.
“The thing is,” Dad says, “he might not look the way you expect. He’s hooked up to machines, and his eyes are shut, and…” His voice cracks and his eyes get watery.
My stomach muscles tighten and my throat feels like it’s closing up.
We sit in silence for a while. Finally, Dad gets up and leads us back to the double doors. He presses the buzzer and the big doors swing open. I follow them through a maze of beds separated by nothing but thin curtains. There are doctors wearing serious expressions and nurses who smile at us. We come to a stop at one curtain, and Mom says, “Jake, guess who’s here?”
Super Jake and the King of Chaos Page 12
