The Third Movement

by Neil Patrick Harris

  One final member sat between Sandra and Kalagan: a boy holding a dummy. A boy whose brown hair was parted down the middle, whose wire spectacles were large and round, whose eyebrows were lifted in sweet surprise, as if he had been caught off guard by the camera’s flash.

  “That’s him!” said Ridley. “The man on the poster is the boy from the picture!”

  “And look,” added Theo. “The dummy is the same as well.”

  Leila gulped. “The ventriloquist from the Emerald Ring is coming here?”

  “Why?” Carter asked. “Why would he come here?”

  Theo was afraid he knew the answer.

  SIX

  “Wendel Whispers will be performing here starting sometime in the next few days,” said Olly, not noticing Theo’s uneasy expression. “He has a lot of shows scheduled. Maybe even through the end of the summer! At least that’s the word around the Grand Oak.”

  “He’s supposed to be really popular,” said Izzy. She scrunched her nose. “Even more popular than us.”

  “And that’s saying a lot,” said Olly.

  “No,” said Izzy. “This is saying ‘a lot.’” She paused, then said, “A… lot!”

  Another angry spray shot out of Ridley’s wheelchair.

  “But is it really the boy from the Emerald Ring?” asked Leila. “Because if it is—”

  “It means trouble,” Theo concluded.

  “Big trouble,” said Carter.

  “Bosso-bonus trouble,” Leila added.

  “Sandra-sized trouble,” said Ridley.

  “Kalagan-crazy trouble,” said Theo. “Wendel Whispers is up to something.”

  “And we’ve got to figure out what,” said Carter.

  Olly and Izzy gave each other a high five. The poster dropped from their hands, fell to the floor, and rolled up tightly. Theo pulled his violin bow out of his pants pocket and pointed it at the rolled poster, which lifted from the floor as if by invisible hands. It floated to Ridley, who grabbed it and put it in her wheelchair for safekeeping. “This Wendel person is working with Kalagan—I’m certain of that,” she said.

  “We were thinking the same thing,” Olly exclaimed.

  “So, what do we do?” asked Carter.

  “Let’s confront him!” Leila blurted out. “Ask him straight to his face what he’s up to.”

  Ridley shook her head. “I’m all for being blunt, but let’s think this through. The ventriloquist could simply deny knowing what we’re talking about, and then go about his dastardly plan anyway.”

  “Remember what Mr. Vernon said at the train station?” asked Theo. “We have to be prepared for all sorts of circumstances.”

  “Exactly,” said Carter. “We need to gather evidence. See what he’s up to. It’s the only way we can beat this Whispers person. Him and Kalagan.”

  “And the dummy!” said Olly.

  “Who are you calling a dummy?” Izzy goaded him.

  “I’m calling the dummy a dummy. Who did you think?”

  “Nobody, ya dummy.”

  “So, what, we become spies?” Leila interrupted.

  “Exactly!” said Izzy, always ready for a change of subject. “I have a fake mustache I can wear.”

  “I have a fake nose!” said Olly.

  “I have fake teeth!”

  “I have fake horns!”

  Theo spoke up. “I think we should continue practicing for the talent show, and keep our ears open a little wider.”

  “We have fake ears too!” Izzy went on.

  Theo ignored them. “We find the ventriloquist. Follow him secretly. We pick up clues. We spy, but not in any obvious way. We prepare for different outcomes, just like Mr. Vernon suggested, so that when we figure out what Mr. Whispers has planned, we will know exactly what to do.”

  “Agreed,” said Ridley.

  “Agreed!” chirped the rest of the Misfits.

  “Agreed!” Mr. and Mrs. Golden cheered from the kitchen doorway. “What are we agreeing to?” The Misfits turned to find the couple standing shoulder-to-shoulder in the frame, where they appeared to be stuck.

  “You first,” said Mr. Golden, holding a tray of steaming buttermilk biscuits.

  “No, honey, I insist,” said Mrs. Golden, holding a platter with a jar of jam and a ceramic butter container. “Go ahead.”

  “Thank you, dear!” Mr. Golden tried to wiggle away, but he managed only to wiggle in place.

  “I’ll help!” shouted Olly, racing across the room.

  “Me too!” yelled Izzy, following her brother.

  The twins each took a tray, then they turned and walked away, leaving their parents still trapped. Olly and Izzy sat down on the silver couch and called over to the Misfits, “Who wants breakfast?”

  Despite the seriousness of the situation with Mr. Whispers, Theo almost laughed out loud. And he again felt a pang of envy that the twins and their parents all loved the same things.

  Suddenly, Mr. and Mrs. Golden barreled out from the doorway, having become unstuck. Mrs. Golden fell forward into a somersault. Mr. Golden rushed toward her, and at the last moment she stood up, catching him by his hips and raising his skinny frame up over her head, spinning slowly in place.

  “Good one, Mom!”

  “Nice job, Dad!”

  As Mrs. Golden lowered her husband to the floor, she bowed to the kids. “We’ve been working on that for weeks,” she said to the Misfits. “What do you think?”

  “I think they’re all crazy,” Ridley whispered to Theo. He held back a grin.

  “I think it was stupendous,” Theo replied.

  An hour later, Theo’s heart went thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump as the wheel of the dining cart went squeak-squeak, squeak-squeak, squeak-squeak.

  The man pushing the cart was dressed in a bellhop’s uniform, because, well, he was a bellhop. Dean was one of the oldest employees at the resort, long past the usual age of retirement, but he was still going strong. The Misfits had recruited him to help by proclaiming that they could not wait to get a peek at the hotel’s next guest performer. Dean now walked several dozen feet ahead of them down the hallway. On his dining cart sat a gleaming silver platter with a mirrorlike dome atop it.

  “Psst!” Leila called out from around the corner where the Misfits were hiding. Dean paused, tilting his head to the side but not turning. Olly and Izzy had told him that it was of utmost importance that he pretend not to know they were watching. “That’s his door on the right!” Leila whispered loudly. “Number 506.”

  “Oh!” said Dean, turning and peering closely at the digits nailed to the hotel door. He knocked, waited, and then knocked again.

  Theo crossed his arms tightly and held his breath. What if the ventriloquist had heard Leila just now? What if he answered the door and noticed them all watching? Or what if he didn’t answer the door at all? Maybe he was already down in Mineral Wells, meeting with vile contacts, setting his wicked plan in motion!

  But then there was a click of a latch and a squeak of hinges, and Dean stepped back. “Pardon me, sir,” he said. “But we’ve brought—”

  No, Dean! Theo thought. Do not say “we.”

  “I didn’t order any food,” said a voice at the door. It was a low, rumbling kind of voice, and it sent chills up Theo’s neck. A tall figure stepped slightly out into the hallway. He was dressed in a white terry-cloth robe and slippers. His big round glasses glinted in the light.

  “Compliments of the house,” said Dean.

  “Help!” said another voice, high-pitched and squeaky. “Let me out of here!” This voice sounded muffled, like it was coming from underneath the silver dome on the cart.

  Dean flinched and hopped away from it.

  The ventriloquist burst out laughing. “So sorry. I couldn’t help myself.” He lifted the dome to reveal a turkey sandwich. “I’ve been practicing that one for a couple weeks, and here was the perfect opportunity for me to use it. Ever seen a ventriloquist before?”

  Dean smiled a crinkled grin and hel
d his hand to his chest. “That was good. You had me going!” He started making hiccupping sounds. For a moment, Theo worried that the old man might be in trouble. But when the hiccups continued, he realized that Dean was simply laughing. “I’ll have to buy a ticket to your show, Mr. Whispers.” Dean gave a slight bow.

  “Call me Wendel,” said the ventriloquist.

  Dean peered at him. “Say, have we met? You seem so familiar to me.”

  “Huh. It’s possible. People tell me that a lot. I guess I just have a familiar face.”

  “You’ve visited Mineral Wells before?” Dean asked.

  The Misfits tittered nervously. Leila had begged the bellhop to try to work that question into the conversation.

  “A long, long time ago, yes,” said Wendel Whispers. “It’s amazing to me how little has changed.”

  “We Mineral Wellsians pride ourselves on that,” said Dean. “No one here actually likes change.”

  “That’s one thing I can’t help with. Change comes to us all. It will come to Mineral Wells someday too, I’m afraid.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Carter whispered to his friends.

  “Not sure,” said Ridley. “It sounded pretty cryptic.”

  “It sounded like a threat,” Leila asserted.

  “Exactly,” said Theo.

  “Speaking of change, let me give you a tip,” Wendel said, reaching into the pocket of his robe.

  But Dean held up his hands. “I couldn’t possibly. You’re the resort’s guest of honor.”

  “I must pay you, man!” Wendel Whispers insisted, digging around in his pocket.

  Shaking his head, the bellhop stood up straighter. “But there is something you could do.” He leaned close. “I’d sure love to see… him.”

  Theo felt his stomach drop, but he did not understand why.

  “See… who?” asked Wendel. Quickly realizing the answer, he added, “Ah!” Then he disappeared into the room.

  A second later, a new figure emerged through the doorway. The little wooden man, only about three feet tall, wore a shabby tuxedo of faded black. Brown hair parted down the middle. A puffy red bow tied underneath his mechanical jowls and pink lips. Wide eyes and bushy eyebrows with a pert, snidely turned-up nose. Theo could make out part of an arm emerging from its backside. The rest of the arm disappeared through the doorway. This was no man.

  Darling Daniel’s mouth clacked open and shut, and a nasally voice seemed to kazoo forth from within. “A ticket to the show, then!” said the dummy. “I’ll make sure the box office knows. Dean, is it?” The bellhop nodded, touching his name tag. “Done and done. See you around… Dean,” the thing finished, sounding almost threatening.

  “See you,” Dean replied uneasily, darting a glance toward the kids.

  Theo was about to breathe a sigh of relief when something terrible happened. The dummy turned its head slightly toward the Misfits, its glass eyes seeming to stare at them, as if it had known the whole time that they were hiding around the corner. Mr. Whispers then leaned his torso out of the room, and he followed his dummy’s gaze.

  Theo felt his body stiffen. Beside him, his friends gasped.

  The puppet’s hand rose and gave them a little wave. Then, in a blur of shadow, it flew backward into the room, and the door slammed shut.

  Dean rushed with the cart as fast as he could back to where the Misfits stood trembling. “Was that good enough?” he wheezed at them.

  “He knew we were here!” Carter said to the others.

  “So what?” said the bellhop. “You’re just a group of fans, right?”

  “R-right,” said Carter.

  The twins gulped. Leila hugged herself. Ridley’s knuckles were white from gripping her armrests, but no water streamed out. Instead, it pooled on the floor under her wheelchair.

  “It was perfect, Dean,” Leila said finally, tugging on the sleeves of her jacket, straightening the seams. She turned to her friends. “Now we need to think about what we saw and learned.”

  “We got to see the dummy,” said Olly.

  “The creepy dummy,” Carter added.

  “Hey!” said Izzy. “Who are you calling a creepy dummy?”

  It was then that everyone realized this joke was going to grow old very quickly.

  HOW TO…

  Levitate a Bread Roll

  While the Magic Misfits are on their way back down to the kitchen, now seems like a good time to teach you a food-based magic trick. Mmm… Are you feeling suddenly hungry? That’s not hypnosis—that’s your stomach! Go get a snack, then come back quickly so we can get on with our lesson.

  WHAT YOU’LL NEED:

  A fork

  A small bun or roll of bread (one about the size of a hamburger bun should work well)

  A table

  A cloth napkin

  A chair

  HELPFUL HINT:

  Before your show begins, you will want to set up the trick. First, stick the fork into the bun, then rest the fork’s handle on the table, pointing toward your chair. Next, cover the bun and fork with the napkin. Finally, when your audience arrives, sit down in the chair.

  STEPS:

  1. Greet your audience cheerfully and explain that you know how to make a piece of bread float all by itself.

  2. Lift the part of the napkin that is facing your audience. Show them the bread (but keep the fork covered). Say some magic words as you cover the bread again.

  3. Grasp the corners of the napkin that are closest to you. At the same time, secretly take hold of the end of the fork.

  4. Use the fork to make the bread bounce into the air, keeping the bun in the center of the napkin. (Make some ooohing and aaahing sounds to encourage your audience to do the same!)

  Optional challenge: While holding the corners of the napkin, allow the cloth to drape toward the table. Use the fork to lift the bun partially over the top edge of the napkin. Try to bite the bun, but then make it float away from you again!

  5. Using your free hand—the one that is not holding the fork—let go of one of the napkin’s corners. Grasp the bun and pull it off the fork. Move your hand toward the audience, showing them the bun.

  6. At the same time, move the napkin and fork back toward your chest and then drop the fork quietly into your lap.

  7. Shake out the napkin as you show your audience the bread roll.

  8. Take a bite… then a bow!

  SEVEN

  Taking the elevator back to the ground floor, the Misfits said good-bye to Dean and headed for the kitchen, Leila pushing the dining cart. Theo opened the door for her and almost walked directly into the Other Mr. Vernon.

  “Whoa there!” he said, catching Theo by the shoulders.

  “Poppa!” said Leila, pushing the cart to the side. She threw her arms around her father and squeezed him. He squeezed back and smiled.

  “What’s this I hear about my cooks making the six of you a single turkey sandwich? That’s not nearly enough food for all of you. Come. Sit. Who’s hungry?”

  The Misfits gathered at a small table in the corner of the kitchen as the Other Mr. Vernon rushed around, preparing finger sandwiches and a summer squash soup for them. “No crusts, Trixie!” he instructed one of his assistants. “Very good ladling, Katia,” he said to the other.

  When he was finally satisfied with their lunch, he joined the Misfits, and Leila told him everything they’d learned. He took the news well, but then, Theo knew that he would. The Other Mr. Vernon was always kind and supportive. He asked them only to be careful, to remain vigilant, but to stay out of Mr. Whispers’s way. When the Other Mr. Vernon mentioned that he wanted to check in with the ventriloquist himself, Leila interrupted. “But we don’t want him to know we’re onto him. If he thinks we’re clueless, maybe he won’t be so careful, and then we can learn his plan.” The Other Mr. Vernon reluctantly agreed to stay away but said he would check with Dante as soon as he called, just to make sure they had all the facts. Then he left their table and began rolling out a del
icious-looking dough.

  “Let’s review what we know,” said Ridley, taking out her notebook and pencil. “Whispers is staying in room 506.” She jotted down some notes.

  “He told Dean that this is not the first time he has been to Mineral Wells,” said Carter.

  “Obviously,” answered Ridley with a scowl. “He was a member of the Emerald Ring, remember?”

  Theo shook his head. “We cannot be sure yet. This is the point of our spying, no? To learn the facts without making assumptions?”

  “The reason we’re watching him at all is because we know he was a member of Vernon’s old magic club,” said Ridley. She pointed to Carter’s satchel, and Carter pulled out the photo. “I mean, that’s him, isn’t it?”

  Theo breathed out through his nose. He adored Ridley and her fierce loyalty, but he hated when she treated other people like they were stupid. “That is what we are trying to find out.” He glanced around the table and realized that everyone was staring strangely at Ridley and him. Arguing was unusual for them. “Mr. Vernon was adamant that we think like magicians, that we seek out all possible outcomes. One of those outcomes could be that Wendel Whispers is not the boy from the picture.”

  This seemed to do the trick. Something clicked in Ridley’s head, and she wrote down what he had said.

  A yelp bleated from behind them. Trixie and Katia had been tending to the dining tray Dean had used to bring the turkey sandwich to Mr. Whispers. When they had lifted the dome, a little doll about eight inches in height was sitting on the silver platter.

  Theo instantly recognized it. He rushed over and picked it up. “Darling Daniel,” he announced to the Misfits.