“Rumor has it Von Thurston continues to mistreat his assistants and never acknowledges their hard work,” she says, shaking her head. “Some men simply prefer bogarting the stage for themselves.”
“I guess you’re right, Miss Dupart. It’s why I love Angela’s show,” I say. “She always finds a way of allowing the audience to participate. Her assistants are given their own time to shine, too.”
Angela is too cool. When she’s not doing performances like this, she shares the stage with two other female magicians. I really admire that about her. Who wants to enjoy the limelight by themselves? The more the merrier, I say.
We finally arrive in front of Miss Dupart’s hotel room.
“I hope you enjoyed yourself, Miss Dupart,” I say as I hold open the door for her.
“I always do,” she says. “And now if you’ll excuse me, I must strip away this costume and ask the stars to bless me with their potent power.”
She pats my hands a couple of times, and I wait until she closes the door behind her. I like the idea of stars twinkling down on Miss Dupart as she slumbers away.
I finally grab hold of the bow tie around my neck and yank it off. Thank goodness I no longer have to wear this costume. Good-bye, strangling. Overall, my night dressed as a penguin went well. I didn’t spill iced tea on anyone, not even Derek Von Thurston. If that isn’t a magical feat of epic proportions, I don’t know what is.
Now if only I had magic to transport me to my bedroom so I could hit the sack.
Chapter Five
MY FEET ARE THROBBING. THEY’RE PERFORMING THEIR own show, and it’s a full-on Latin jazz percussion solo on the timbales. I bet I’m not the only one with drumming toes. Rob and Cheryl must be suffering as much as I am.
The one silver lining from working late last night is that today I don’t have to! I’m so jazzed! I jump out of bed and greet Dad with a big hug.
“Good morning, Daddio!”
“Well, someone woke up on the right side of the bed.” Dad sips his coffee.
“You bet I did! I don’t work today, which means I get to have fun.”
“Well, sunshine, you’re one lucky person,” Dad says as he gets up. “I, on the other hand, must clock in. Don’t forget. You’re still due at your mother’s for breakfast.”
Breakfast! My favorite meal of the day, especially when my mom’s cooking it.
“Hey, Dad. Did Angela ever find her missing silver ring last night?” I ask.
Dad shakes his head. “I’m sure it will show up today.”
He gives me a kiss on the forehead before heading out. “Any big plans for your day off?”
“Date with Diane. The biggest plan ever!”
“That is a big plan! Enjoy your day, sunshine. I love you.”
“Love you too, Dad.”
I rush to get dressed and get ready to hop on my bike. Mom is just a brief ride away. Mom and Dad are no longer married, but it’s not a big deal. We live close by, and when I’m not staying with Dad, I’m hanging with Mom over at her apartment.
Dad’s house is located on the grounds of the Crossed Palms Resort, so I pop into the main hotel. Because it’s so early, there’s barely anyone up. I say hello to the front-desk workers and those tidying up the lobby. It’s hard to imagine that the hotel was overrun by magicians just a few hours ago. It’s so quiet now.
Then I pedal up Main Street and take a deep breath. The smell of jasmine permeates the air. Not a cloud in the sky. It’s as if everyone and everything is aware of my date with Diane. Sure, last night was a bust, but that won’t be the case tonight.
I spot the restaurant I’m taking Diane to: Josephine’s. It’s closed, of course, but soon I’ll be seated out in the back somewhere with Diane, ordering French-sounding dishes. Would Diane want me to order for her? Hmmm. I don’t think so. I’ll let her decide.
Hold on. I hit my brakes. What was that on the door? I direct my bike to the entrance of the restaurant.
A sign affixed to the door reads in big bold letters: JOSEPHINE’S WILL BE CLOSED TONIGHT DUE TO AN UNEXPECTED PRIVATE EVENT. ALL RESERVATIONS WILL BE ACCOMMODATED AT A LATER DATE. SORRY FOR THE INCONVENIENCE.
“Noooooooo!”
What treachery is this? Who is to blame? Why are the stars conspiring against my date with Diane? What a complete bummer. But there’s nothing I can do about it right this second. All I can do is punch it over to Mom’s to figure out a plan B. Stat!
“Hey, babe! Is that you?”
I hear Mom from the kitchen. The smell of bacon wafting out is heavenly, but it’s not enough to comfort me after this catastrophic change of plans.
“Mom! Josephine’s is closed,” I yell before collapsing onto the sofa.
“Well, of course it is. It’s only eight o’clock in the morning. They don’t open until later.” Mom walks into the living room wearing a loose-fitting blue housedress. Her hair is up in a ponytail.
“No, I mean it’s closed all day, and I had reservations for tonight!”
Mom gives me a warm hug. “I’m sorry about that, babe. Is it a private event?” I nod. “It must be something big to have rented out the whole restaurant. It probably has to do with the magic convention, don’t you think?” She leads me away from the sofa and to the kitchen table. “Eat up. I made your favorites.”
Love really is bacon, eggs, and pancakes. “Thanks, Mom.”
“I’m sure you’ll find somewhere else to take Diane.”
She’s right. I can’t keep fuming over Josephine’s closing. I’ll come up with another fun plan. At least I hope I will.
“How did last night go?” Mom asks. “The Mermaid Club was open all night. Magicians sure love mermaids.”
Mom works as a dancing mermaid at the always-popular Mermaid Club. She swims underwater for long periods of time, like a sea goddess.
“My feet still hurt from standing and serving endless pitchers of iced tea.”
“I bet, babe.”
“I also met this boy named Derek Von Thurston, the son of the great Dr. Von Thurston. Would you believe he gave me this card?” I pull out Derek’s now-wrinkled business card and hand it to Mom.
“Part-time magician and part-time detective? You two must have so much in common.”
I scrunch up my face.
“No?” she asks while pouring me a glass of orange juice. I’m so glad it’s not iced tea. I don’t think I’ll ever drink a glass of iced tea for as long as I live.
“He’s a bit of an explainer. He likes to have the answer for absolutely everything,” I say. “It’s a tiny bit annoying.”
Mom sits down and cracks open a boiled egg. The sun’s rays are blanketing the kitchen with a soft, luminous glow. Mornings here are enchanting.
“You might want to give Derek another try,” she says. “He must travel all over the world with his father. It’s probably hard for him to make new friends. And think about having to carve out time to be with your father when he’s constantly working.”
I hate to say it, but maybe Mom is right. Derek may like to yak it up, but maybe he’s overcompensating. Mom and Dad both live very busy lives, but they always make sure I’m getting enough attention and love. It seemed like Dr. Von Thurston was constantly performing last night with his many stories and jokes. Perhaps Derek was just doing the same thing.
“I didn’t think about that,” I say.
“Now, I’m not saying you have to be best friends,” Mom says. “Just try to understand where his actions may be stemming from.”
Derek Von Thurston is a guest at the resort. I’ll try my best to not shut him down so quickly.
“Better enjoy your breakfast. You’ll need your fuel for today.”
I do as she says. Adventure is just a bike ride away. I’ll figure out somewhere else to take Diane.
“Thanks, Mom,” I say. We eat while I tell her everything about Angela’s dove performance.
A couple of hours later, I arrive back at the hotel. I lean my bike against the hotel wall, in a
little nook that seems specially made for it. Unlike the emptiness and stillness of a couple of hours ago, the resort is brimming with action. The convention is in full swing today.
“Good morning, Cheryl!”
Cheryl also has the day off, but I’m not surprised to see her here. We always seem to gravitate to the places we love. Rob is around here somewhere. I’m sure of it.
“Hi, Goldie. I’ve got something for you.” Cheryl’s ditched her usual pink blazer for a snazzy teal summer dress. She walks behind the hotel’s front desk and pulls out a badge with a picture of a top hat and a magic wand on it.
“What’s this?” I ask.
“It’s just a little something. Since we worked so hard last night, we’re allowed to take as many magic workshops as we’d like. It’s free access!”
Neato! Free is always a great word to hear.
“Hey, penguins! How’s it waddling?” Rob asks.
Without missing a beat, Cheryl hands Rob a pass and a pamphlet.
I notice how the other hotel workers are eyeing us. That can mean only one thing: They’re about to ask us to do some work, and we can’t have that. It’s time to take this meeting out of the hot zone.
“Let’s get out of here before you know what happens.” I give them a look, which is our look, not to be confused with any other looks. Now that I think about it, there are a lot of different looks to juggle. Thankfully, Cheryl and Rob get it.
We head over to the resort’s cool atrium before someone can corner us. The atrium is located toward the back of the resort and is filled with beautiful, lush plants and flowers. It’s a perfect place for us to talk and not be disturbed.
“What kind of workshops are we talking about?” I ask.
We each open up our own copy of the pamphlet and study the dense schedule. I had no idea the League of Magical Arts Convention would feature so many different workshops, seminars, and speakers. Not only is the Crossed Palms Resort host to a multitude of magic shows, both big and small, throughout the two-day convention, but there are also plenty of classes to perfect your spellbinding training.
“‘Shuffle Set-up: Speed Dating for Magicians’?” Cheryl asks.
“‘Flash Paper: Light Your Act on Fire’?” Rob suggests.
“‘Abraca-Yoga’!” I yell.
Hundreds of different classes to choose from. It’s amazing. How to be a great assistant. What the best wands are. A seminar on sleight-of-hand exercises. Mime exercises. How to work with animals. How to work with children. Even how to perform in a cape. It’s a cornucopia of tricks.
“I’m interested in finding out what chemicals they use for the flashy tricks,” Cheryl says. “What about you two?”
“I think I want to attend classes on how to be a better friend to a magician,” Rob says. “Also, any workshop with Dr. Von Thurston’s name attached to it.”
I locate my pen and hand it over to Rob. He circles the classes he wants to take. Cheryl does the same. Then I get an idea.
“Do you think Diane would be interested in seeing a magic show with me?” I ask.
“What happened to Josephine’s?” Cheryl asks.
“It’s closed for a private event tonight,” I say. I look back down at my pamphlet. “Hmmm, maybe I could take her to some magic workshops. What do you think?”
Cheryl and Rob both nod in agreement.
“With your pass, you’re allowed to invite one guest. You could bring Diane along,” Cheryl says. “I think it’d be a lot of fun!”
“A magic show,” I say. “Like a real unexpected adventure.”
I like this idea the more I think about it. Diane and I can explore the magical arts. It will be a new experience we can share.
“I think you two are right. I’m going to give her a call and ask,” I say.
Cheryl comes up with another brilliant idea: We pick one class where we’ll all meet so we can catch up. It takes a while for us to decide which class to choose. Cheryl finally finds the perfect one.
“Let’s meet at ‘Now You See Us, Now You Don’t Soiree: A Get-Together for Assistants.’”
“Deal!”
We each circle the party, and our plans for our day off are set. I go to call Diane about the date while Rob and Cheryl head to their first workshop. Today is going to be a magical-wonderland kind of day, and I can’t wait.
Chapter Six
THERE’S A BIT OF A LINE TO GET INTO THE ABRACA-yoga class. I knew it would be a popular one! I felt it in my bones, bones that will inevitably be bent and wrapped in a magical pretzel.
“Just one,” I say to the woman at the check-in table.
“One pillow is available in the front row, if you want to scoot and take it,” she says before checking my badge. “You can leave your shoes over there.”
She points to a wall where shoes are lined up. All the chairs in the room have been replaced with large pillows. The curtains are drawn, adding a calm, cozy feeling to the room. After taking off my shoes, I plop down on a pillow between a woman toying with a piece of silk and a man jotting down notes in a leather-bound notebook.
“Abraca-yoga!” I exclaim, and they both laugh.
“Ganapati Socar is a renowned movement magician from India,” the woman to my right explains. “He travels the world sharing his practice with so many. You’re in for a treat.”
“Movement magician?” I say. “I had no idea there were so many types of magicians.”
The man beside me flips through his notebook and points to a page. “There are thousands of types! The goal is to stand out. You have to find your gimmick. What’s yours?”
“Oh, I don’t have a gimmick. I’m just a casual observer,” I say. “A fan.”
Ringing chimes alert us that the workshop is about to begin. Suddenly, the elevated stage becomes engulfed in fog. You can barely see a thing. I squint to get a view. It’s no use.
“Namaste.”
A voice from within the fog greets us. It’s a very soothing voice, just the right tone. I’m already feeling relaxed. “Please repeat after me. Namaste.”
Everyone in the room repeats the word, and as soon as we finish saying it, the fog lifts to reveal a young man dressed in a long bright-blue tunic with matching pants. He sits crisscrossed with no shoes. His eyes are rimmed with dark eyeliner and his thick black hair hits just below his shoulders.
“Welcome to abraca-yoga—a way not only to find enlightenment in the arts but also to expand the very limits of mind, body, and soul,” he says. “To better attune ourselves to listening to these elements, let us begin with a five-minute meditation. Close your eyes.”
I take a quick look around. Meditation is something I’ve tried a couple of times. I don’t think it’s really up my alley. My eyes are constantly in hawk mode, searching and checking for anything out of the ordinary. Still, I do my best. I shut my eyes tight and listen to Ganapati Socar guide us into a calm state of being, or something like that. Unfortunately, I can still hear the woman beside me fidgeting with the silk in the palm of her hand and the man beside me stowing his notepad away. Somewhere nearby a person coughs. Another moves. Trying to be quiet can be so loud.
“As you open your eyes, try to leave behind your worries,” Ganapati says. “The following movements we’ll be engaging in are meant to prepare us for the rest of the convention. Consider this a blessing to your limbs.”
“My toes need extra blessings,” I say. The man beside me shushes me.
Oops. I guess abraca-yoga means no yakking. Who knew?
Ganapati leads us into a couple of poses. Mountain pose. Warrior. Cobra. They’re pretty easy to follow.
“Now that we’ve acquainted ourselves with the basic poses, make sure to incorporate them into your every day,” he says. “We will now take abraca-yoga to the next level: communicating with your chakras through the use of the Chakra Cards.”
“This is what he’s known for,” whispers the woman to my side.
“The Chakra Cards have been passed down from generation
to generation.” Ganapati paces back and forth on the small stage. “No one else has devised a way of incorporating the supernatural elements of being a magician with yoga, not only to supplement your life but also to empower you.”
Ganapati sits crisscross again and closes his eyes. He rests his hands on his knees and mutters a couple of sayings I can’t quite make out. The room is deathly quiet. Something is about to happen! I wait with anticipation. Suddenly, Ganapati begins to levitate. Actually levitate. He floats just a few inches off the floor. I immediately want to get up and place my hand under to see how he’s doing it. Is there a clear platform raising him up? I can’t figure it out.
Ganapati eventually lowers back down to the stage, and I am in awe.
“How did you do it?” I shout. Those around me shush me. How can they not be asking the same question?
The abraca-yoga instructor smiles gently and walks over to where I’m sitting. I’ll tell you this much: No matter how many mountain poses I do, I will never levitate. There’s just no way.
“My child, you never divulge what is truly inside you. You just… do,” he says. “Let us turn to the Chakra Cards and see what they have in store for each of us, including you.”
Ganapati turns back to his stage. While he goes to retrieve his Chakra Cards, the rest of us drink water and loosen our bodies a bit. Walt appears at the door and I go to greet him. He’s not dressed to do abraca-yoga, which is too bad. Walt could use some relaxing lessons.
“Good morning, Walt!” I say. “There’s room in the front row if you want to join in on the Chakra Card–yoga pose stuff.”
“Good morning, Goldie,” he says. “Just making the rounds to see if any new information has come to light about the missing ring. Have anything to report?”
“Do I ever! Ganapati just floated above that stage for a full five minutes!” I say. “It’s the living end!”
Walt presses his lips together. I guess it’s not exactly what he’s looking for. Oh yeah. Levitation is probably just par for the course at a magic convention.
Goldie Vance--The Hocus-Pocus Hoax Page 4
