The Return of Abracadabra

by Michael Dahl

  Table of Contents

  1: The Premiere

  2: Like New

  3: The Great and Powerful Theopolis

  4: Joey Bingham, Reporter

  5: Proof

  6: Room 1307

  7: Empty

  8: The Black Stamp

  9: Video Proof

  10: The Closet

  11: The Big Finale

  12: An Announcement

  13: The Little Golden Key

  14: Filthy with Magicians

  15: Brack’s Party

  16: True Magic

  17: Stumped

  18: Full Reboot

  19: The Best Juggler Around

  20: Slamhammer!

  21: Four Magicians in One

  22: Pale in Comparison

  23: Assistance

  On Friday at three o’clock, Tyler Yu and Charlie Hitchcock stood together just inside the back doors of Blackstone Middle School.

  Each of them clutched a packet of bright yellow paper. All around them, other students took books from their lockers, packed their bags, and made plans for the weekend.

  It was an ordinary Friday afternoon. There was nothing at all unusual about the scene.

  Except that Ty was the biggest bully in school, and Charlie was a bookworm best known for his photographic memory, and they weren’t supposed to be friends.

  “Okay,” Ty said, looking down the hall. “This is where we split up.”

  Charlie nodded.

  “I’ll hand out flyers to the eighth-graders,” Ty went on. “I’ll also hand out flyers to the jocks, the cool kids, the cheerleaders, and the crew in detention.”

  “Who does that leave for me?” Charlie asked, looking up at Ty.

  “The dorks,” Ty said. He shrugged. “And the nerds.”

  Charlie rolled his eyes. “Don’t forget the geeks.”

  “Them too,” Ty agreed. He pointed toward the science wing. “You go that way.”

  “Obviously,” Charlie said. He walked off into the crowd.

  “And remember—you don’t know me,” Ty called after him.

  Charlie reached the first corner and stopped. Then he turned and saw Ty across the main hallway, handing some yellow sheets to two eighth-grade girls.

  “I think everyone will figure out that we know each other,” Charlie hollered, “when they realize that we’re handing out the exact same flyers!”

  Smiling, he headed down the science hallway.

  He would never have tried something like that a few weeks ago, but ever since Charlie helped Ty solve two magic mysteries at the Abracadabra Hotel, the two boys had become something like friends.

  Ty would probably deny that.

  Actually, Charlie was sure Ty would deny that.

  But he knew it was true.

  Thirty minutes later, the boys met up at the front of the school. All the flyers were handed out, except one, which Charlie still held in both hands.

  “Why did you save that one?” Ty said. “Did you give one to every kid?”

  Charlie nodded.

  “Chess club?” Ty asked.

  “Yup,” said Charlie.

  “Computer club?” Ty asked.

  “Of course,” said Charlie.

  “What about the chemistry club?” Ty suggested.

  “Got ‘em,” Charlie said. “I promise. I got everyone. This one is to hang up.”

  Charlie led the way to the office bulletin board. He handed the flyer to Ty. “Hold this,” he said. Then Charlie pulled two tacks from his pocket, took the flyer back from Ty, and tacked it into place on the bulletin board.

  “There,” Charlie said. The boys stood back and looked at the flyer.

  Everyone at the Abracadabra Hotel had a job to do for the hotel’s first magic show in decades.

  Ty’s job was to collect tickets. Before the show started, he stood at the door to the old theater. He tugged at the tight collar of his maroon tuxedo. There were still a few minutes until showtime.

  “That’s a good look for you,” Charlie said, walking over. He wore a simple dark suit. Everyone attending would be dressed up, like they did in the old days to go to the theater. He sat down on an old, red velvet bench near Ty’s door.

  Everything in the old theater had been cleaned and refurbished for the big opening night. The bench looked like it had been made yesterday, even though it was almost sixty years old—as old as the hotel itself. Even the old carved Tragedy and Comedy faces on the theater’s double doors had been polished within an inch of their lives.

  Just then, Brack walked up.

  “Hello, young gentlemen,” he said.

  Brack was the old elevator operator, but he had a secret too, a secret as old as the hotel itself. And Charlie was the first person to discover it.

  Brack was actually Mr. Abracadabra, the founder and namesake of the hotel and one of the most famous magicians of all time.

  Charlie was the only one who knew.

  Brack had organized this magic show. He wanted to bring the spotlight back to the Abracadabra Hotel for one last amazing show, but today’s show wasn’t the full spectacle he had in mind. It was a kind of dress rehearsal for the really big show.

  Charlie couldn’t wait. But in the meantime, he couldn’t tell anyone that he knew Brack was anyone other than the elevator operator.

  Today, Brack wasn’t wearing his old-fashioned elevator operator uniform. Instead, he was dressed to the nines in a tuxedo with tails, a top hat, and a cane.

  Ty shook his head slowly. “That is totally not fair,” he grumbled quietly to Charlie. “Brack wears that cool tux, and I’m stuck dressed like a couch.”

  Charlie chuckled. “Is it just about showtime?” he asked.

  The old man pulled a gold watch from his pocket. It swung at the end of a long, thin gold chain.

  “Nice watch,” Ty said.

  “Thank you,” Brack said, admiring the antique. “It’s older than this hotel. It’s older than I am. In fact, I don’t know how old it is.”

  Charlie tried to get a glimpse of the watch as Brack twirled it on its chain.

  “Would you like to see it?” Brack asked. He stopped it from swinging, caught it in his palm with a thump, and held it out to the boys.

  “Thanks,” Charlie said, grinning. He grabbed the watch. The chain was quite long. He held it between himself and Ty so they could both get a look at it. The watch had exposed gears—it looked like dozens of them. It ticked and tocked loudly. When Ty hit a little button on top, the face swung open so they could see the time.

  Two minutes to noon. The show was about to start.

  “Thanks, Brack,” Charlie said. He handed the watch back and added, “You better get to your seat.”

  “And you boys better get inside too,” he said, walking past them. “I don’t think you’ll want to miss this show.”

  The boys watched Brack walk down the long aisle toward his special box in the front.

  “He’s up to something,” Ty said.

  Charlie shrugged. “Of course he is,” he said. “He always is.”

  Charlie and Ty headed into the darkening theater. Their seats were in the very front row of the balcony. They were far away from the stage, but they could see almost the whole theater.

  The spotlight thumped on, pointing right at Brack in his special box. He stood up and waved. The crowd clapped.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” Brack said, “and children of all ages! Welcome to the first performance of magic, illusion, and intrigue at Abracadabra Hotel in fifty ye
ars.”

  The crowd clapped and cheered. Charlie spotted a whole bunch of kids he recognized from school. They were all sitting in a group in the section behind Brack. The rest of the theater was sparsely filled, mostly with guests from the hotel.

  “Enjoy the show,” Brack said, and the spotlight switched off.

  The curtain went up, and the stage was lit. Charlie took a deep breath.

  The fire-eater was very exciting. The kids from Blackstone Middle School cheered and hollered when Madame Krzyscky swallowed a flaming sword as her grand finale.

  Professor Pontificate, the mind reader and hypnotist, convinced one of the hotel guests that she was a chicken. For the rest of the show, the poor woman waddled around the theater saying, “Cluck, cluck!” and trying to eat worms from the floor.

  Mr. Thursday had spent hours practicing, and it showed. His juggling act was wonderful. But everyone was waiting for the main attraction. At last, it was time for the Great Theopolis of Giljarri!

  The stage filled with smoke. A heavy black curtain closed across the middle of the stage, adding an air of gravity. Thunder clapped in the catwalks. Laughter—deep and dark and scary—filled the auditorium.

  Then a baritone voice boomed over the PA system: “Beware! We the demons of the Kingdom of Giljarri unleash the Great and Powerful Theopolis!”

  There was one more flash of lightning, and one more great clap of thunder, and there, in the middle of the stage, appeared the Great and Powerful Theopolis himself. He wore a long, shining black robe, with a hood up over his head. He stuck out his arms and threw his head back. The hood flipped off.

  The kids from Blackstone went crazy cheering.

  “Wow,” Charlie said. “You’d think they were all big fans or something.”

  Ty was on his feet, clapping like mad. “After an entrance like that, who wouldn’t be?” he said, eyes on the stage.

  Charlie shrugged. He didn’t think it was such a big deal. Anyone could use a smoke machine and similar special effects. He wanted to see some impressive illusions. Then he’d think about becoming a fan.

  The first few magic tricks Theopolis performed were nothing special. He sawed his assistant in half, levitated a piano, and produced a demon from the “Kingdom of Giljarri.”

  Charlie could tell how each trick was done, even from way up in the balcony. He kept whispering the magician’s technique to Ty, but finally Ty turned and said, “Quit it. You’re ruining the fun.”

  “Sorry,” Charlie muttered. “To me, figuring it out is the fun part.”

  “For my finale,” Theopolis announced, “I will need a volunteer.”

  Hands shot up all over the theater. Ty jumped to his feet and waved wildly.

  “How are you going to volunteer from way up here?” Charlie said.

  “Oh yeah,” Ty said. He sat down.

  “I’m told,” Theopolis said, “that there is a large group from the local middle school here today.”

  “Who told him?” Charlie asked.

  Ty shrugged. “Not me,” he said.

  The kids from Blackstone cheered and hollered. Theopolis smiled at them. “Perhaps one of you would make a good volunteer,” he said. “Perhaps . . . you!”

  He pointed at a boy right in the middle of the large group of kids. Charlie recognized the boy, but didn’t know his name.

  “Lucky kid,” Ty said. “Man, I can’t wait to talk to him about this at school on Monday.”

  “You know him?” Charlie said.

  Ty nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “I gave him the flyer yesterday. His name’s Paul Juke. It was funny, actually. He was the only kid I gave a flyer to who already knew about the show.”

  On the stage, Theopolis and Paul watched as two stagehands—both dressed in hooded robes—wheeled on a huge wardrobe. They placed it in the center of the stage, right up against the heavy black curtain. The wardrobe was made of wood and looked older than the hotel.

  Charlie rolled his eyes. “I’ve seen this wardrobe,” he said. “That’s the same wardrobe they used in the 1950s. It has a false bottom, and it’s over the trapdoor. Brack showed me the other day.”

  “Quiet!” Ty said. “Don’t ruin the trick.”

  “This wardrobe,” Theopolis announced from the stage in his booming, demonic voice, “was used during the last show, fifty years ago. Back then, they put in a volunteer, closed the door, and said a few magic words. The person inside would disappear.”

  The crowd oohed and ahhed.

  “But today, I’ll be doing things a little differently,” Theopolis said. “Anyone can open a trapdoor. But for today’s performances, I’ve had the trapdoors in this stage nailed closed.”

  Charlie leaned forward.

  “I will make this boy, this brave volunteer, truly vanish,” Theopolis said. “This will be no illusion. It will be genuine magic, magic I learned from the demons of Giljarri.”

  Paul stepped into the wardrobe. Theopolis closed the door behind him. He locked it with a key, and carefully slipped the key into a pocket in his robe.

  He pulled on his hood, and the lights dimmed. Smoke flowed across the stage floor. The demon voices cackled and boomed. Theopolis muttered words in a language no one could understand.

  “The boy is ours now,” said the deep voices. Thunder clapped and lightning streaked across the theater.

  Suddenly the stage lights came back up. Theopolis pulled off his hood.

  “It is done,” he said, pulling the key from his pocket. “Behold!”

  He opened the wardrobe.

  Paul was gone.

  The crowd went wild. Theopolis stepped up to the edge of the stage and bowed deeply several times.

  When the cheering died down, he put up his arms and announced, “Thank you for coming. Good night.” As he spoke, the hooded stagehands returned. They wheeled the wardrobe away.

  A confused murmur ran across the theater. “Where is the boy?” voices said. “Isn’t he going to bring him back?”

  “My friends, my friends,” Theopolis said, trying to calm the crowd. Charlie noticed he was smiling. “I will produce the boy at the evening show.”

  The houselights came up, and Theopolis dashed backstage.

  “That was weird,” Ty said. “And you have to admit, pretty amazing.”

  Charlie frowned. “Let’s go check it out,” he said. “Something’s fishy with this guy.”

  “Of course something’s fishy with this guy,” Ty said. “He’s a demon master!”

  Charlie rolled his eyes. “Let’s go,” he said, tugging on Ty’s maroon sleeve.

  “Fine,” Ty said. “Just make sure no one from school sees us hanging out together.”

  The boys hurried down to the stage level. As the crowd slowly filed out, Charlie followed Ty onto the stage.

  “Hey, who’s that over there?” asked Charlie. Some kids were half-hidden in the shadows just offstage.

  “They’re just some of your nerd friends from the A/V Club,” said Ty. “Annie said they asked to film the show for a school project.”

  “They’re not nerds,” Charlie said, frowning. “They’re geeks. There’s a difference: geeks are smarter.”

  “Whatever,” said Ty. “Your geek friends, then.”

  Charlie rolled his eyes. Then he quickly found the trapdoor in the stage—the one they used to use for disappearing acts like this one. Rows of shiny nailheads marked the sides.

  “Look,” Charlie said, squatting near the trapdoor. “He wasn’t lying. It really has been nailed shut.”

  Ty stood next to Charlie and crossed his arms. “There’s no mystery here,” he said. “The Great Theopolis is a real magician.”

  Charlie stood and shook his head. “I’ll figure it out,” he said, looking around, “and I’ll start with that wardrobe. Where is it?”

  “The stagehands p
robably would have put it back in storage, under the stage,” Ty said. “Follow me.”

  In the center of the big, dusty, musty under-stage space, the boys found the wardrobe they were looking for.

  Charlie pulled open the doors. It was very big—bigger than he could have guessed from the balcony. The inside was blond wood, but the outside had been painted red with a bright gold trim.

  “What are we looking for?” Ty said.

  “First of all, Paul,” Charlie said.

  “He’s not inside,” Ty said. “Now what?”

  Charlie didn’t answer. He felt around the box, looking for secret doors or handles or anything. On the floor of the wardrobe, he found a hidden switch. The floor snapped and swung down, but not all the way.

  “If this were over the trapdoor in the stage, it would open all the way,” Charlie said.

  “Right,” said Ty. “If the trapdoor wasn’t nailed down. Then the person inside could drop down into this room.”

  Charlie nodded. “Of course, we already checked the stage trapdoor, and it was sealed,” he said. He stared into the open wardrobe. “Something’s not right here,” he said, tapping his chin.

  “Uh, yeah,” Ty said. “Paul is missing. It’s why we’re here, remember?”

  “That’s not what I mean,” Charlie said. “I mean—”

  But he didn’t finish his thought, because at that very moment, a light flashed in his eyes.

  “Perfect!” said . . . someone. Charlie couldn’t see well enough yet to know who.

  “Who are you?” Ty asked.

  Charlie squinted. Ty rubbed his eyes.

  “Oh, sorry about the flash,” said a young man. He held a big, old-fashioned camera. “It’s just too dark down here to shoot without it.”

  “Why are you taking our picture?” Charlie asked.

  “Well, I wanted a good shot of the magic wardrobe,” the man said. “Having a couple of kids in the picture seemed like good idea, for that human-interest angle. I’m Joey Bingham, by the way. I’m a reporter for Channel Fifty.”

  “I thought I recognized you,” Ty said.