AbrakaPOW

by Isaiah Campbell

  The teacher, a woman named Mrs. Conrad with a hooked nose and poorly applied lipstick, read Max’s letter of introduction through Coke-bottle glasses and then showed her to a seat surrounded by three girls, all of whom had red ribbons in their hair, and all of whom crossed their legs exactly the same.

  “This is Judy, Margaret, and Natalie. They’re military as well. You’ll get along just fine.” That was the only introduction Mrs. Conrad gave her.

  Max plopped into her seat, glanced at the six legs surrounding her, and tried her best to cross hers the same way. It wasn’t comfortable at all.

  The girl behind her leaned forward and offered her a stick of gum. “I’m Judy. My pop is over in France.” She patted Max on her back. “Margeret’s is in the Pacific somewhere. Natalie’s got three cousins in the war, one in Africa and the others in Europe, and her dad is with mine in France.”

  Max accepted the gum and put it in her mouth. Since Wrigley’s Spearmint was a military-only gum, you could get it only at the PX, which made her feel like she and Judy had a special connection. Perhaps this wasn’t so bad after all.

  “Thanks,” she said.

  “Who do you got out there?”

  “My dad,” Max said. “Though he’s not ‘out there.’ He’s in charge of the guards at Camp Barkeley.”

  “Oh, so he’s here,” Judy said. “That must be nice.” Then she sat back with an air that implied it actually wasn’t nice at all, and that perhaps if Max was a better American, the major would still be dodging bullets in the heat of the desert. It made the gum in Max’s mouth taste flat. Which turned out to be a good thing, because Mrs. Conrad’s hand was hovering in front of her face, beckoning the gum be expelled into her palm. Max let it roll off her tongue into custody.

  “I don’t know how they run schools back east—”

  “Brooklyn,” Max said.

  Mrs. Conrad clicked her tongue. “Back east. But here, we don’t chew gum in school.”

  Max glanced at the girls sitting next to her, both of their jaws subtly kneading the Wrigley’s in their mouths. A lesser-skilled eleven-year-old may have felt it unfair that they were enjoying their contraband while she was singled out for the crime on her first day, but she was well-versed in the art of trickery. In fact, she admired the fact that they were using her as a diversion for a few brief moments of gummy goodness.

  See, Mom? Everyone loves a good magician.

  Mrs. Conrad resumed her post at the front of the room and ordained that the students be quiet. Max hadn’t noticed any noise before this moment, but she most certainly noticed the silence that followed.

  “We’re starting late,” Mrs. Conrad said with a tone that implied the horror she felt over this malfeasance. She glared at Max. “But I suppose it could not be helped.”

  Judy stifled a giggle. Mrs. Conrad’s glare redirected momentarily.

  “I will now call roll,” she said, sliding her glasses down her nose and picking up the paper from her desk. As her voice droned along reading all the Browns and Davises on her list, Max started to feel the effects of her limited breakfast. Her eyes grew heavy, her muscles were losing control, and she knew it would be only moments before she’d be snoring in her seat. An act that would definitely destroy her first-day reputation. Unfortunately, she was far too sleepy to care.

  Fortunately, that was when the list got interesting.

  “Shoji Jingu,” Mrs. Conrad barked across the room. Max perked up. What sort of a name is that?

  “Here,” a voice in the back answered. Max turned completely around to try and see who was the heir to the strangest surname in the world.

  Mrs. Conrad clucked at her. “And we already know Maxine Larousse is here.”

  “It’s pronounced ‘La Roo,’” Max replied as she turned back around.

  Mrs. Conrad clucked again and made a note, then she resumed her monotonous roll call.

  “Were you trying to see Shoji?” Natalie whispered to Max.

  “Just wondering what kind of name that is,” Max said.

  “Japanese,” Natalie replied. “He’s one of those nisei. Claims his daddy is fighting in Europe, too. But everyone knows you can’t trust a Jap, so he’s probably lying.” She gently tugged on the edges of her eyes. “Oh, velly honolable father fighting against honolable Nazis please.” She giggled at her own attempt at a Japanese accent.

  Max couldn’t argue with that logic, but she still really, really wanted to meet this Shoji character. She’d always heard the best illusions came from the Orient. Perhaps they could exchange knowledge. Perhaps it would start a move toward world peace.

  Probably not, but at least she could expand her repertoire.

  It didn’t take more than thirty minutes for Max to realize that this school was at least two months behind her school in Brooklyn. This fact made the already boring task of listening to Mrs. Conrad lecture as tedious as sorting beads with her grandmother. She balanced a textbook on her leg in hopes it would keep her awake. It barely worked.

  Max was fairly certain she was old enough to be a grandmother herself by the time they were dismissed for lunch. As they filed outside to eat, Judy linked arms with her and directed her over to a mesquite tree that offered marginal shade.

  “It’s time for the lunch exchange,” she said.

  Max felt a sense of foreboding as they joined Natalie and Margaret and sat on the ground next to the knobbed roots of the ugly tree. She tossed a glass bottle out of the way and tried to keep from getting dirty. She knew it was a worthless effort.

  Judy took the lunch sack Max’s mother had packed and unloaded its contents for the others to see. It was a ham salad sandwich, an orange, a bag of potato chips, and a bottle of Coca-Cola.

  “Since you’re the new girl, your lunch is up first,” Judy said.

  Natalie opened the ham salad sandwich and gagged. “Ew, it looks like throw-up.”

  “Don’t you people have ham salad here?” Max asked. The little version of her mother who lived inside her head swatted her subconscious. “I mean, it’s really good.”

  Margaret sniffed it. “It smells good. But it really does look like throw-up.” She opened her lunch sack and pulled out a pickle. She broke it in half and set one part on Max’s lunch sack. Then she took the sandwich.

  Judy snatched the Coca-Cola and plopped a half-pint of milk in its place.

  “Well, I love potato chips,” Natalie said. She took the bag and gave a banana.

  “Hold on, girls,” Judy said. “Let’s make sure our new friend feels like this has been a fair trading session.” She raised her eyebrows at Max, like one might if they were coaxing first words out of a baby. “What do you say? Are you gonna be our new friend and share your lunch, or would you rather have it all back and go sit by yourself?”

  Max took a moment to assess the nutritional value of a half pickle, banana, orange, and a half-pint of milk, hoping that her mental mother would make an exception to the “try to fit in” decree. That didn’t work, unfortunately, so instead she channeled THE AMAZING MAX.

  “Absolutely, this has been a most fair exchange of delicacies,” she said. “And, as your new friend, I’d like to perhaps offer some entertainment. And a bit of a wager.”

  Judy smiled and batted her eyes. “I knew you’d fit right in. What’s the wager?”

  “First let’s cover the stakes. If you win this wager, I will return to you every item you have given me, and I will only eat the orange for my lunch. On the other hand, if you lose, I keep what you gave me and you must give me back the items from my lunch.”

  Natalie shook her head. “No way. I’m starving.”

  “Let’s hear her out,” Judy said. “What’s the challenge?”

  THE AMAZING MAX grinned. With a flair, she retrieved the glass bottle she’d tossed earlier and set it upright in the center of their circle. Then she plucked some toothpicks out of her pocket. She set one of the toothpicks across the mouth of the bottle, making sure there was an equal amount hanging off both e
nds.

  “The challenge,” she said, “is to coax this toothpick to jump off the bottle.”

  Judy leaned in to examine the bottle. “So we just have to knock the toothpick off the bottle? What’s the catch?”

  “No, not knock the toothpick off. Coax it to jump off. There’s a difference. The toothpick has to jump off on its own.”

  “You’re crazy,” Natalie said. “Toothpicks can’t do anything on their own.”

  Judy scrunched up her forehead. “It doesn’t seem very fair. You’re asking us to do something impossible.”

  “Oh, never,” MAX said. “I assure you, it can be done.”

  “No it can’t,” Natalie said.

  MAX simply shrugged. “Not with that attitude it can’t.”

  Judy sat up. “True. Okay, we’ll agree.” Margeret started to whine in protest, but Judy covered her mouth with her hand. “But the only way we lose is if we can’t do it but you can.”

  MAX fought the grin that wanted so badly to emerge on her lips. Only the best magicians could make their audience believe that they themselves had chosen the parameters of the illusion to which they would soon fall prey. And these girls had stepped into the trap of their own making faster than she’d expected.

  “Sounds fantastic,” MAX said and then she stood up. “But don’t start till I get back. I can’t drink milk, so I’m going to get some water.” She headed over to the water cooler, got a paper cup, and filled it. While she was walking back, she noticed another group of kids eating together all the way on the other side of the school yard. But while the girls under the mesquite tree were cookie-cutter versions of each other, the group sitting out by the fence was a grab bag of assorted novelties.

  There was a Japanese boy, whom she assumed was Shoji. Then there was a kid who looked at least three years too old to be enrolled in their grade. Next to him was a girl, and she was so tiny that together they looked like an encyclopedia entry for “opposites.” Rounding out the gang was a boy with an eye patch and a crooked smile. They all seemed to be having a great deal more fun than the girls under the mesquite tree. And they all had their own lunch. It really was a shame she hadn’t been around for social-circle-recruitment day.

  Plain-Old Max took a sip of water and forced herself to return to her more professional persona. There was no time to fret over the condition of her lunchtime. THE AMAZING MAX had a fantastic illusion to execute. She returned to the girls under the tree.

  She sat and watched as first Natalie, then Margaret, and finally Judy attempted to knock the toothpick off by blowing it, hitting the ground next to the bottle, or tossing a rock at it. And each time the toothpick would fall, she’d remind them that they had knocked it off, it hadn’t jumped on its own, which would lead them to pound the ground in frustration. This is plenty entertaining. At least for today, she thought.

  Finally Judy threw her hands in the air. “Okay, we give up.”

  “Told you it was impossible,” Margaret said.

  MAX nodded. “True, it is very nearly impossible.” She moved over to the bottle and began to wave her hand over it. “But I’d assumed, since we’re in the land of cowboys, you would have known the answer. How do cowboys make a cow jump over a fence?”

  “With a cattle prod,” Natalie said. “They zap their heinies, and the cows jump as high as the moon.”

  MAX nodded again and picked up a second toothpick. “Exactly. Now, with a magic incantation—Zim-Zala-Bim—I will electrify this toothpick and turn it into a cattle prod.”

  While Margeret scoffed and Judy rolled her eyes, MAX held the now-electrified toothpick between her thumb and finger and moved it to barely tap the reluctant one on the bottle. As soon as they touched, there was a loud POP and the rascally toothpick jumped six inches off the bottle and into the air.

  Natalie yelped. Judy wrinkled up her forehead. Margaret’s eyes got so wide, they almost expanded past the boundaries of her face. THE AMAZING MAX blew on the toothpick in her hand and dropped it in her cup of water like it was as hot as a coal from a grill.

  “May I have my food back?” Plain-Old Max asked.

  “How’d you do that?” Judy asked in return.

  “A good magician never reveals her tricks.”

  Judy examined Max’s eyes as she gave her back the Coca-Cola. “So you’re a magician?”

  “Looks like it.” Max popped the cap off and took a sip of victory.

  “Golly,” Natalie said. “You’re a witch?”

  “No, a magician.” Max snatched her bag of potato chips and crunched through four of them.

  Margaret held out the ham salad sandwich. “Well, I guess you deserve this then.”

  Max waved it away. “No, you were right, it does look like throw-up. You can have it.”

  Judy laughed and put her arm around Max. “You’re going to fit right in with us. I’m a performer too. An actress.”

  Max tried to hide her skepticism about such a foolish, star-studded dream. She apparently didn’t do it very well.

  “Hey, don’t believe me all you want,” Judy said. “But I’m going to be the first girl from Abilene to ever stand in the spotlight. Mark my words.”

  Max didn’t feel threatened by this statement, mainly because she would never consider herself to be a girl from Abilene, so Judy could hold that title at will.

  “Anyway, I guess this trio just became a quartet,” Judy said.

  Max shot a look over at the ensemble by the fence, which still seemed to be having three times the fun of those under the mesquite tree. She sighed.

  I’m doing this for you, Mother.

  Chapter Five

  Max had never been the sort to walk home with people, especially not birds-of-a-feather like Judy, Natalie, and Margaret. Yet that was the position in which she found herself after school, walking, arms linked with the Mesquite Tree Girls, attempting to find common ground with their giggling and gossiping as they escorted her back to her drab and dreary domicile.

  “So do you do any vanishing tricks?” Natalie asked.

  “Oh, sure,” Max said. “What kind of magician doesn’t have vanishing tricks?”

  Margaret clapped her hands. “Oh, that’s fun. What’s the biggest thing you’ve made disappear?”

  “Maybe, like, some birds?” Natalie asked.

  Max thought about the question. “I guess probably a vase with flowers in it.”

  “Well, if you could make flowers from Frank Sinatra appear at my doorstep tomorrow, that’d be great,” Judy said, and then the other two set off giggling. Judy was something of a comedienne, Max was realizing, and she had the show-biz sense to keep her best audience around her at all times. She might even make a fine assistant.

  The Mesquite Tree Girls had collectively decided to go to Max’s house after school so they could meet Houdini and also watch Max perform her finest tricks for their amusement. Max had held her tongue from informing them that she was not a dancing bear and didn’t even perform at birthday parties without adequate payment, let alone put on a private show for three girls who really ought to be getting on to their homework. She decided that she’d instead use subtle mind-control over her mother and trust she would provide the necessary diversion.

  When they turned the corner to head down her street, a strange gloom began to grow on Margaret’s face. She still giggled at Judy’s jokes, but she’d stopped skipping, and Max couldn’t help but notice that every few steps elicited a panicked glance up the street from Margaret’s eyes. Finally, just two houses away from Max’s, Margaret stopped walking altogether. Her face grew pale.

  “I have to go,” she said abruptly.

  “They have a restroom, Margy,” Judy said.

  Margaret didn’t respond. She turned around and ran back up the street, leaving the rest of them to listen to her heels clack on the pavement until she disappeared around the corner.

  “Well that’s strange,” Natalie said.

  Judy shrugged. “More ferret for me, then.”

 
They continued walking, but Max, always on the lookout for hidden mirrors and wires, examined the house that had inspired such a reaction from poor Margaret. It wasn’t well kept, barely looked inhabited, and cast an overall uninviting air that would even drive away an angel sent to guard its inhabitants.

  Then, while she was looking, the blinds in the window moved.

  Max suddenly sympathized with Margaret, just a little, and tried to hurry the pace of the others as they made their way to Max’s house.

  When they entered the Larousse’s, Max was relieved to see her mother entertaining a guest in the front room. Even though this entire excursion with the Mesquite Tree Girls was to appease her mother, there was nothing more mortifying to Max than having an act of obedience noticed in front of her peers. Her parents believed their words of affirmation built up her confidence and improved her future behavior, but in reality all it did was establish to the general populace that their child was little more than a trained monkey dancing in a tutu on command.

  Max hurried Judy and Natalie along to her room and then went through the seven-minute ritual of ferreting out the ferret from whatever cozy corner Houdini had chosen for his hourly nap. She finally found him curled up inside her left snow boot. The location of her right snow boot was a mystery Houdini was guarding with all his might. Which meant she’d find it later when he stole her hair brush.

  “Oh my gosh, he’s so cute!” Natalie squealed when Houdini yawned and licked his chops before collapsing back into Max’s arm. He was not yet ready to leave behind the magical world of ferret sleep.

  “Does he do tricks?” Judy asked.

  “All the time,” Max said and plopped him down on her bed. He immediately tunneled into the folds of her blanket. “But never on command. So he’s probably the worst magician’s pet ever.”

  Houdini lunged out from the far end of the blanket and attacked Natalie’s foot, which she’d been bobbing enticingly off the edge of the bed. Natalie yelped a yelp of surprise and delight.