Almost Magic

by Kathleen Bullock

  I brushed a bit of broken plaster off the chair arms and stared at the pitiful fire.

  “Don’t worry.” Posey held tight to her brother’s yellow-gloved hand, as if he might disappear again. “Things will work out.” Her optimism amazed (and irritated) me. “Apple’s dad will thaw any minute now and get his mojo back. Those Wizard Commando guys will hunt down the renegade. We’ll call Uncle Reynard to come and help. He’s very magical, Aunt Buttercup says.”

  “But I want to do something now!” I clasped my hands beneath my chin. “I keep thinking about what you said a while ago, Posey. That a miracle was waiting to happen. That someone—somewhere—somehow—will come to our rescue. If only I had that Eye from the Place with No Name, I’d…” My head jerked up. “What’s that annoying sound?”

  A static, crackly noise emanated from Marsh’s open mouth. His tongue flicked in and out and he cranked his head from side to side like a robot.

  Posey poked her brother and frowned. “Stop acting crazy.”

  Marsh jerked spastically toward us on stiff legs and outstretched arms as if he had no knees or elbows. Like an imitation of Frankenstein. The cap on his head would not stop bouncing, causing the bells on the ends to jingle and rattle while his buggy eyes looked down at his funny jester slippers. “Have feet!” he said, admiring them.

  “What?” I asked, leaning forward. “What did you say?” When had I heard a similar phrase before?

  “Hands good looking, too!” The boy blinked repeatedly. “Eyes working. Human body system very fine. Happy I am to inhabit this excellent, and colorful, corporeal human body.”

  Marsh’s head snapped at a forty-five-degree angle to look at me. “Apollonia Louise Bramblewood. It is pleasuring to exchange visuals with you at last.”

  “Phil?” I held my breath. Could it be? For a moment I thought I might start sobbing with relief. Or faint. “Is it really you, Phil?”

  The corners of Marsh’s mouth lifted in a semblance of a grin. “Yes. It is I, Phyllus-ZR-20 from the Place with No Name. The All-Seeing, All-Knowing Mighty Apex, sensing your distress, sent me when you called.”

  “I called?” My heart started dancing. My feet got on board with the idea and toe-tapped on the floor. I looked at Posey and nodded. “We’re going to be saved.”

  Across the room, Posey chewed her thumbnail nervously. “Make Marsh stop talking like that, Apple. He’s scaring me.”

  The Being of Light and Energy ignored Posey. “Apollonia Bramblewood must hurry. The Apex says greatest harm to humankind is still avoidable with correct swift action. What is your plan?”

  “My plan, Phil?” I stopped dancing. A mixture of desperate hope and sharpened anxiety caused me to hyperventilate. “Aren’t you here to fix things?”

  “Yes, or maybe no. The Mighty Apex, that All-Powerful Deity, sends help—not solution. This Deity, owing Apollonia Bramblewood abundant gratitude, allows her One Favor. It is Apollonia Bramblewood’s duty to choose correctly. Sorry, that is how He is.”

  Phil lifted Marsh’s arm and extended a gloved palm. The Third Eye plopped onto it in all its blobby glory. The Eye stared impassively at a speck of nothingness.

  Phil the Alien spoke. “The Mighty Apex says Apollonia Bramblewood is a good witch girl with guttiness.” (He probably meant “gutsiness,” but whatever.) “Is she also wise? Will she choose the right wish?” I fidgeted like crazy, yet never took my gaze off the Eye. “Can’t you just tell me what to do? We are in a crisis here.”

  ZR-20, a.k.a. Marsh the Joker, shrugged. “No.”

  Posey had been right—there was one last big spell of magic to save the day. But one wish, and one wish only? What should it be?

  “Kill the evil sorcerer!” shouted Posey with a bloodthirsty glint in her eye. “Isn’t that obvious?”

  I considered. “My first instinct, too, but that would leave twenty-one fire-breathing dragons on the loose, Mom, Dad, and everyone else spellbound, and our wands lost forever. No, there’s got to be a better way.” I raised my eyebrows at ZR-20. “May I wish for many wishes?”

  ZR-20 made Marsh’s face scowl. “It is decreed! One wish only! Hurry, Apollonia Bramblewood. We sense that the Evil Sorcerer Herkimer P. Azelbomb is within sight of his destination.”

  My mind raced over the possibilities. “The something I need is—is—is—” I snapped my fingers. “Of course! The Nebbula necklace! That’s it! That’s it! I know it. Eye, bring me the Nebbula!”

  The Third Eye blinked and the Nebbula appeared around my throat.

  Phil/Marsh bowed, looking exceptionally comical in the funny joker suit. (I should talk, since I was still in my jammies.) “Farewell, Apollonia Bramblewood, my friend. Maybe we are meeting again.”

  The Third Eye vanished and Marsh Meadows slumped to the floor, rubbing his painted eyes.

  As I fingered the stones, they warmed. “I wish I knew how to use this necklace. If only it came with instructions. Nebbula, please use your power to send the evil Sorcerer, Herkimer P. Azelbomb—no, no! Wait! I can’t do that yet. First—I must send the twenty baby dragons to Colorado and bring Watermelon home. Then send the Sorcerer Azelbomb back to the fourteenth century and make sure the rift is closed again forever.”

  Instantly, Watermelon appeared in the painting and I waved to him with delight. “It worked!” This was fun.

  I ran merrily through the house, shouting orders for the Nebbula to obey. “Wake my parents. Douse any fires. Wake up Bob and Corny, but give my sister a teensy headache. Heal Bob’s injuries and send him home to his dragons. Remove the isolation spell around the house and repair all the damage better than new. And finally, bring back our wands!”

  Wanda materialized in my hand, a little cleaner and straighter than usual. “Oh, Wanda, Wanda, Wandering Wanda. How I’ve missed you.”

  She greeted me with a fizzle of sparks.

  My mother and father appeared together, holding hands. Grizzwald looked around and muttered. “I don’t know what happened, my dear. I was reading a book on ancient artifacts, and that’s the last thing I recall.”

  Magdella, no longer as flat as a pancake, said, “Don’t worry, I’ll tell you the whole story, Grizzie. I saw it all. I heard it all. Apple is our hero.”

  “I knew that,” Dad said with a smile.

  Corny staggered in from the other room, rubbing her temples and frowning. “Oh, my head aches!” She looked up and her eyes rested on the Nebbula around my neck.

  “It’s just as you always suspected, Mother. Apple will end up—without the slightest effort—being the greatest wizard of all. That’s why I’ve always felt inferior, and striven to be the best I could.”

  My ears burned. I pointed an accusing finger at Corny. “You’re making that up!”

  “Yes, but as long as you’re wearing that necklace, I plan on being very nice to you.” Corny caught her first glimpse of Marsh in his ridiculous outfit, and screamed. “Apple! What did you do?”

  “Why do you always blame me?”

  “Because it’s usually true! Just look at my… my friend!”

  My mother scolded, “Apple saved us. Be grateful, Cornelia.”

  I wrinkled my nose. “Thank you, Mom. Unfortunately, both of you are a little bit right.” I fingered the stones with concern. They were cooling rapidly and I didn’t know why. “Make Marsh as he was before,” I whispered, not to satisfy Corny, but because I was happy to do it.

  Grinning impishly, Posey limped to her brother’s side. “And I was just getting used to the thought of having a bona fide jester for a brother. Think live entertainment at parties!”

  I smiled at my new friend. “I saved the best for last! Nebbula, make Posey well, and never need a brace again.”

  Posey’s pink face went through a variety of emotions—shock, fear, hope, anticipation, but mostly disbelief. Everyone held their breaths and waited. Nothing happened. The stones under my fingers lay dead and cold. “What’s wrong?” I took off the necklace and shook it.

  Corny frowned. �
��Didn’t you bother to research the properties of the most wonderful gift ever given to a silly little wizard girl? Each owner only gets one wish for each stone. I looked it up.” She counted. “Right now, there are thirteen stones. Surely you haven’t made thirteen wishes already?”

  I began to count on my fingers, messed up, and started to count again. I felt desperately foolish.

  “You are such an infant, Apple.” Corny shook her head. “Thank you for saving me from eternal petrification, but once you sent the Evil One back in time and called for our wands, what more did you need? You could have saved the rest of the stones for a different emergency and used Wanda for everything else.” Corny sighed. “Sorry, kid, but your power is gone. Used up. You’re back to being plain old Apple.” She cocked her head and batted her eyes at Magdella. “May I have a turn at the necklace now, Mother? Please?”

  Magdella ignored her and put her arms around me and Posey. “Don’t listen to Cornelia,” she said. “Apple, you are neither old, nor plain. You are my hero, and would be a hero to the world if they could only know. Posey…” Magdella faltered and hugged her tighter. “The Bramblewood family will find a way to help you. Wizards and witches do not ordinarily have the power to make the lame walk, or the blind see, or to keep people from dying, except in rare cases when they’ve been cursed by magic, but there are other things we can do. Let’s put our heads together and think of something.”

  My heart was crushed. I’d let my best and only friend down by wishing willy-nilly on the stones, when a smarter witch would have known the difference between ordinary magic and the fantastic. “I’m so sorry, Posey. I should have realized such power was too good to be true. I wasted it.”

  Posey’s lips skewed. “You saved the world, so who am I to complain? Sure, it would have been nice,” she wiped her nose, “to kick off this brace and walk and run and dance again, but it would be awful to have a fire-breathing dragon turn me into a charcoal briquette.” Posey blinked. “School starts soon. Think of all the fun we’ll have with your regular old garden-variety magic next year. I can’t wait!” She clapped her hands and grinned like a little imp.

  I nodded and acted as if of course we’d be together at school in another few weeks. In my heart, I knew I’d blown the aptitude tests for attending eighth grade at John Quincy Adams Middle School. They’d probably slot me into that school for the “alternatives.” Funny, I’d just been through the gates of Hell and back, but the mundane problems of day-to-day life still loomed.

  Magdella hugged Posey, wished her goodbye and pulled out her wand. “Give my best to your grandmother. We’d love to meet her sometime.”

  “Oh, yes. I will.” Then Posey seemed to remember something. She pulled a small, ratty book out of her pocket. “Here, Apple. I found this on the floor of your bedroom. Call me!”

  With a flick of Mom’s wand, Posey disappeared.

  I ran my thumbs over the worn cover of my journal and wondered if I should take it into the woods and bury it. It was worth thinking about. I slipped it into my pocket before Corny got too curious.

  I needn’t have worried. Corny was still under a different kind of spell. She linked her arm through Marsh’s. “Mom, Marsh and I are going to take a walk. See you soon, but not too soon.”

  I went to the window and looked out over the yard. Trickle Creek gurgled gently and the trees swayed in the luminous glow of the moonlight.

  “I smell food,” said Dad, hurrying off to the kitchen.

  I tugged up my droopy Tinker Bell jammies and followed. I was starving!

  Dear Journal,

  I haven’t abandoned you, though I probably should. Corny has promised to find the magic key that locks you, and that will help.

  Things seem normal again in the quaint universe of Bramblewood Heights. But deep inside, I know I’ll never be the same. I am a witch (not a fancy-dancy wizard), and witches have to abide by the many rules that govern the way we interact with the world and the people around us. Witches have a duty to be as good as we are powerful, and to use our gifts wisely.

  I’m still learning.

  (Oh, before I forget…I’ve mastered one important Level-A magical spell. Yesterday, I transported from the solarium to the magical workshop and back again!! Yes, really! One half of the bargain I made with my parents is now fulfilled. But I hold little hope for happy test results. I’ve tried to prepare myself not to be crushed. I wonder if there’s a magic spell for that).

  Cornelia and I were given cell phones (the kind used by Ordinaries) as rewards for the part we played in saving the world from an evil tyrant.

  “Just consider it a good-deed-done bonus. Welcome to the family business,” my father joked.

  Corny had long begged for her own phone, and now it tinkled the melody of “Greensleeves” night and day. She had more friends than most people have freckles. Except for a trial call from Corny, my phone hadn’t rung at all. So I jumped a foot when something in my pocket jingled eight bars from “When the Saints Go Marching In”.

  “That’s your customized ringtone,” Corny yelled. “Answer the phone!”

  I cautiously put the slim object to my ear.

  “Hi, Apple.” Posey’s voice sounded small and fuzzy and very, very far away. “I got my school placement letter today. I’ll be taking eighth grade classes on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays, and ninth grade at the high school on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Ain’t that a kick? How about you? I sure hope we have at least one class together.”

  I stopped breathing for a second, and then sputtered. “I—I don’t know yet. I haven’t checked the mail today. Can I call you back?”

  I pushed the OFF button and slumped back in my chair. I’d known this day would come, but I wasn’t prepared for it. Disappointment at what I might find in my mailbox hardly covered it.

  I had tried to prepare my mother for the inevitable bad news of my failure by dropping hints about the difficulty of the test. Magdella hadn’t seemed concerned, even when she heard about the quill pen incident. “Bramblewoods don’t fail,” she said. “You’ll pass.”

  The mailbox was at the end of the drive, a long, steep walk. Birds chirped merrily as a soft wind rustled the leaves of their perch. Sure, they were happy. What did they know about life and school and rejection? The dead weight in my stomach grew heavier.

  When I reached the mailbox, my hands were trembling. From inside I pulled out a postcard from Bob Bibbetty, an advertising brochure from Wondering Wizards Quarterly, and three letters. The top one, clear as could be, was addressed to Miss Abigail Bramblewood.

  My fingers trembled as I ripped the envelope open.

  Dear Abigail,

  We are pleased to welcome you to John Quincy Adams Middle School…

  Herkimer P. Azelbomb

  (1250 A.D. – 1315 A.D.)

  In his early years, Azelbomb showed promise as an Attractor, a rare and little-understood gift. Working hand in glove with many of the era’s foremost Wizard lords, he often used his Attracting powers to solve the most delicate situations. In mid-life, he became interested in breeding dragons. Despite his efforts, the dragon population continued to diminish, finally going extinct in the fourteenth century. Rightly or wrongly, much of the Wizarding world blamed Azelbomb for his unorthodox methods. In 1304, he tried to convince his fellows at the Council of Magical Inquiry that he’d been to the future, a well-known impossibility. The High Chancellor at the time, Elbert Magnifica, proclaimed him of unsound mind and committed him to a facility for the magically insane. Herkimer Azelbomb died there, a disappointed failure, penniless, and mostly forgotten.

  “The Encyclopedia of Lesser-Known Personages of the Fourteenth Century”, Eunice Rosebathe, Doctor of Medieval Magic and Lore

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  I am most indebted to Editor Jennifer Carson for all her help, insight, and polishing. She saw the things I couldn’t. The book Almost Magic and all its parts grew so much better under her guidance.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  K
athleen Bullock grew up the oldest of ten siblings. There never was a better apprenticeship for a budding storyteller and artist than that. She has two published middle-grade novels and authored and/or illustrated twelve picturebooks for children. A past winner of the Before Columbus Award for Illustration, she also won first place for fiction in the 2011 Surrey International Writing Competition. Kathleen currently works as an illustrator for Incentive Publications and has illustrated over one hundred educational products for them. She lives with her ever-expanding, extended, and boisterous family in beautiful Southern Oregon.