The Secret Science of Magic

by Melissa Keil

  She laughs, wiping her face on her jacket sleeve. ‘Probably, once I’m subjected to my first pep rally or keg party? I’m not even sure what a keg party is, but it sounds sucky. I’ll probably change my mind every other day. I’m going to miss home like crazy. But I still want to do this.’

  ‘Okay. But will you … you’ll Skype and email and keep in touch. Right?’

  She rolls her eyes. ‘No. I will step on that plane and immediately subject myself to a brain wipe. Really, it’s the only way I can erase the memory of seeing Lucas Kelly’s wang in the Bio exam. Seriously, they really needed a class on how to work a zipper, just for him.’ Elsie must clock my expression, because she rolls her eyes again and adds, ‘I will text you as soon as I get off the plane. Okay?’

  I take a deep breath. ‘Elsie, I wanted to say … that is, I’ve been meaning to tell you … I’m sorry if I ever made you feel like you were alone. I know I’m sort of self-involved. And I’ve probably been a crap best friend. But I want you to know that, well, I don’t think I would have survived all this if it wasn’t for you. I know I probably made things hard, but you being my friend … it was the least lonely I’ve ever been. I just wanted you to know that.’

  Elsie bursts into tears again. Her mum, Raj and Colin and an assortment of cousins and aunts suddenly surround her, all hugs and proffered tissues, and slowly, she is drawn away from me.

  ‘Wait, wait,’ she hisses, untangling herself from her family. Rajesh swipes fitfully at his eyes, and Colin laughs at him, but he looks kind of misty, too.

  Elsie barrels back towards me and grabs the lapels of my dress. ‘I’ll see you at Christmas, okay? We can watch movies and eat Tim Tams and, well, not catch up, because I’m going to Skype you every second day – but it’ll be okay. Okay?’

  ‘Okay, Elsie.’ I say. My eyes are dry, but everything inside me feels like it’s dissolving.

  ‘And take care of the boy,’ she says with a lopsided smile. ‘I think he kind of likes you.’

  ‘Is that code for “stop being such a giant freakazoid”?’ I whisper.

  Elsie giggles through her tears. ‘I have a feeling it’s the freakazoidy bits he likes the most,’ she whispers back.

  I can’t help but smile, too. ‘What am I going to be when I grow up, Elsie?’

  She smooths back my hair and then takes a step away from me. ‘You, my friend, are going to be amazing.’

  She bounds over to Joshua, who is hovering awkwardly at the back of the crowd. She stands on her toes and throws her arms around his neck, and he hugs her back just as tightly. I can’t tell what she says to him, or what he says back, but I think I can hazard a guess by the way they both glance in my direction.

  There is a flurry of activity from Elsie’s family, who seem to have descended en masse. Her dad gives her a couple of encouraging slaps across the back, and her mum smooths down her jacket while crying quietly into a handkerchief. Elsie’s brothers don’t seem to be immune either – Raj and Colin and even stoic Ryan descend into the fray. Elsie disappears beneath a swirling mass of arms and hugs.

  She gathers her carry-on bag and her jacket, looking through damp eyes at her family, and her friends, and finally, me. She winks.

  Then she squares her shoulders and, without a backward glance, walks through the gaping mouth of the departure doors. And just like that, Elsie is gone.

  I don’t need to turn around. I feel rather than see him move, his strangely familiar presence appearing in the space behind me. He doesn’t say anything. I still can’t make myself look away from the gate. I am aware of a gaping space that has opened up somewhere beneath my belly, which I know won’t ever be filled in the same way again. But I find myself moving backwards, inch by inch, until I bump into the solid, reassuring wall behind me.

  ‘Okay?’ he asks quietly.

  ‘No. Not even a little bit.’

  He rests his chin on the top of my head. He doesn’t say anything, but his arms circle around me, and he doesn’t let go.

  ‘So. Anyone up for a kebab?’

  I turn my head. Joshua’s arm remains around my waist. With his other hand he clips Damien over the side of the head.

  ‘What? It’s proper depression food.’

  Rajesh appears beside us, still sniffling. ‘Yeah, I could go some food. I wouldn’t mind escaping this lot, too. Auntie Therese is trying to set me up with the chick in the Sunglass Hut.’ He shudders.

  Joshua takes my hand. He looks at me, patiently.

  I cast one last glance at the departure door. And then I look at my friends, and at Joshua’s hand, still clasped in mine.

  ‘Okay,’ I say, mustering a faint smile. ‘Let’s go.’

  We pile into Joshua’s dad’s car, and after some truly awful roadside kebabs, we drop Raj at home and Damien at the tram stop. We leave Damien armed with Mira’s phone number and a plan to catch up for pizza later in the week. He waves goodbye by jiggling his hands in front of his chest, as if he is gesticulating with imaginary breasts. I am still slightly confused as to how this boy became my friend.

  It’s much later, and I should be at home, but it’s Sunday night and my best friend is on her way to a new life on the other side of the world, and I have nothing to do tomorrow but sleep and crack the spine of an advanced geometry textbook.

  We’re side-by-side on Joshua’s bed, beneath the dark ceiling and his rows of bookshelves. I’m sitting cross-legged, fiddling with one of his new Japanese puzzle boxes, while Joshua stretches out beside me, cuddling a purring Narda. He runs his hands over the cat’s soft ears, and he watches my fingers as I work the wooden pieces and pegs. I can see how to solve this puzzle, so I set it aside. Instead, I lie down and watch Joshua. I can hear the faint sounds of Gillian’s music, but apart from the ticking of a few too many clocks, his room is quiet and still.

  ‘You know what’s weird?’ he says eventually.

  I glance at him. I let my eyes travel, deliberately, over his beloved collection of magic memorabilia, old and new, and over Felipe, Elsie’s skeleton, that my best friend gifted to my boyfriend with great fanfare. Felipe reclines against Joshua’s lowest bookshelf, and is currently wearing his velour cape and tweed cap. The skeleton holds a gleaming fencing foil, a prop from Joshua’s new obsession – the fencing club at his university. My eyes skim over the spilled innards of the carriage clock on his desk, and the poster of Mandrake the Magician that has pride of place near his bed. I look back at him with a raised eyebrow.

  He laughs and leans over to drop a kiss on my cheek. ‘Okay, weird being relative. But, you know, you never call me Josh? Only ever Joshua.’

  I prop myself on one elbow. ‘Huh. I guess I don’t. I don’t know why. Josh. Joshhh,’ I say experimentally. The word sits strangely on my tongue. I shake my head. ‘No. It’s not right.’ ‘Oh?’

  ‘Well, it’s just that, it’s so small. Four letters. One syllable. It just doesn’t seem enough for you. Does that bother you, Joshua?’

  He smiles, flopping onto his back again. ‘Nah. I like it. When you say my name it always sounds …’ He looks up at his blue ceiling. ‘Momentous,’ he says with a grin.

  I roll my eyes. I think he will always be far more effusive than me. But then he kisses me with his eyes wide open, and I can’t bring myself to mind.

  I’m not sure where any of this is leading, what the future holds for either of us. I still want my neat ending, my elegant proof. I think I will always be searching for irrefutable answers. Maybe it’s a good thing I have maths for that.

  I never did hear from Perelman. I can only speculate on what my beardy friend is doing these days, what led to his vanishing act. There are way too many unknowns to calculate. Maybe he is in the midst of some great new discovery, sequestered away while he figures out the answers. Maybe it was just too much for him, the burden of so much expectation. Or maybe he had achieved everything he needed to achieve, and is happily spending his days with crosswords and Netflix. Maybe he fell in love? Who knows. I hope he’s okay,
whatever he is doing. More than anything, I hope that the maths still brings him joy.

  Joshua holds my hand, clasped lightly between us. Our knees are pressed together, our shoulders a little apart, and we’re looking at each other but not saying a thing. His eyes are all soft and warm, those strange moo-eyes that, inconceivably, only ever seem to be aimed at me. It’s kind of extraordinary, our moments like this, just quiet and still. Well, one of us is still. Joshua’s other hand flicks distractedly through a crisp new deck of playing cards, as always, forever moving.

  He’s told me before that the fundamental key to all magic is simple – supposedly, it’s all about timing. I don’t know about that. I think I can safely say that by and large, my timing sucks balls.

  But here’s the thing.

  I don’t think I’m running out of it just yet. My time may not be infinite; I doubt I will ever find my TARDIS, a way to cheat time and space with a wormhole inside a letterbox. But perhaps I have enough of it to figure out a few mysteries of my own.

  In any case, I think that I will give myself the time to try.

  Acknowledgements

  This book has been a long time in the making, and would not have made it over the finish line without the support of my publishing team. As always, giant hugs and thanks to my superstar editor Marisa Pintado for shepherding this manuscript through the mire of my angst and self-doubt – I can’t tell you how much your unwavering belief in these characters has meant over the past few years. Special thanks also to Penelope White, Vanessa Lanaway and the fabulous Hardie Grant Egmont team, and to Evi O for the truly genius cover design.

  Thank you to my writing group – Jo Horsburgh, Benjamin Laird, Nean McKenzie, Simon Mitchell, Jacinda Woodhead and Kate Goldsworthy, and to Sophie Splatt and Frances Egan, who have both endured countless writing sessions listening to me lament at how hard it is to write a book – legends, all of you.

  I have picked the brains of far too many maths-nerd mates to list, but a big thank you to all the teachers and friends who have provided insight, inspiration and research help over the past few years, with a very special thanks to my brilliant cousins for fielding my last-minute panicked queries. While I may not ever fully wrap my brain around the intricacies of the Poincaré conjecture, I highly recommend Perfect Rigour, Masha Gessen’s excellent biography of Grigori Perelman. And a big thank you also to Kellie Jasper (Assoc MAPS) for your wonderfully nuanced feedback on teen anxiety.

  And finally, a very special shout out to the wonderful #LoveOzYA crew – the amazing fans, reviewers, festival organisers, booksellers, librarians, and my always-awesome fellow writers for your friendship, advice, encouragement and support – I am so very blessed to be part of this world.

  Melissa Keil is a writer, children’s editor and compulsive book-buyer. She has lived in Minnesota, London and the Middle East, and currently resides in her home town of Melbourne. She was the inaugural winner of the Ampersand Prize, Hardie Grant Egmont’s ground-breaking award for debut novelists. Her first two books – Life in Outer Space and The Incredible Adventures of Cinnamon Girl – have been published all around the world and were shortlisted for a number of prizes, including the Children’s Book Council of Australia Book of the Year, Prime Minister’s Literary Awards and the Centre for Youth Literature’s Gold Inky.

  Say hello at www.melissakeil.com

  or www.facebook.com/MissMisch77

  or find her on Twitter @MissMisch77

  The Secret Science of Magic

  first published in 2017 by

  Hardie Grant Egmont

  Ground Floor, Building 1, 658 Church Street

  Richmond, Victoria 3121, Australia

  www.hardiegrantegmont.com.au

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publishers and copyright holders.

  A CiP record for this title is available from the National Library of Australia.

  eISBN 9781743584842

  Text copyright © 2017 Melissa Keil

  Cover design by Evi O

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