by David Pogue
“Well, I guess I can look at the bright side,” Abby responded, glaring at him.
“What’s that, honey?” asked her mom.
“No little brothers.”
CHAPTER
5
Ben
IN EASTPORT, the beginning of summer is a great time to be a sixth grader. It’s not only the end of the school year, it’s also the end of all your years at elementary school. The weather is gorgeous, you can walk or ride your bike everywhere, and nobody can concentrate on anything serious. Not even the teachers.
For Abby, June meant a parade of special end-of-the-year days. There was Teacher Appreciation Day, the performance of the school musical, and Bad Hair Day (don’t ask). There was even a tiny graduation ceremony for the sixth graders called Moving Up Day, to celebrate the move to middle school.
Before she even knew what hit her, she and her family were piling into the minivan and starting the long drive to Camp Cadabra.
Abby never could read on long car rides; it gave her a headache. And her dad hadn’t been able to find the power adapter for the DVD player. So Abby spent the drive to Camp Cadabra working on her knitting project: a rainbow-colored ski hat. It did seem a little bizarre to be making a big thick cozy warm hat on a blazing hot day in late June, but it helped to kill the time.
It also helped her focus on something other than her excitement and fear. Going to camp for the first time had had its high points, like shopping for all the stuff she was going to need. Clothes. Pillow. New bathing suit. Books to read. A little case for holding magic props, even though she didn’t really have much yet.
But at the same time, Abby had no idea what she was getting herself into. All of it was new: sleep-away camp, not knowing anybody, and entering the realm of magic.
Still, she was grateful that the whole family had driven up to New Hampshire to drop her off—even her dad, who had just returned from twenty days of flying for his airline and was looking forward to two weeks at home.
Abby and Ryan were halfway through a game of Window Alphabet—you race to be the first person to find things outside of the car that start with the letters A to Z, in order—when the tires started making a crunching sound. Mr. Carnelia had just turned off of the main road.
“Now that’s what I call a proper summer-camp driveway,” he announced. They were on a long, crunchy gravel lane with towering pine trees on both sides.
Abby looked out the window just in time to see a new-looking, modern sign nailed to one of the pine trees: “Have a magical day at CAMP CADABRA!”
“S! S for ‘sign,’ ” said Ryan.
“We’re here, Ry,” said Abby. “Game’s over.”
Mr. Carnelia rolled down his window. “And that’s what I call proper summer-camp smell,” he boomed.
Sure enough, New Hampshire smelled nothing like Connecticut. It was piney, and sunny, and foresty.
“I’m hot,” announced Ryan.
“That’s sort of the point of summer camp, isn’t it?” asked Mr. Carnelia, running his hand over his bald spot. “Roughing it. The great outdoors. Eating mystery meat. Drinking bug juice. Short-sheeting a few beds.”
Abby was just about to ask what short-sheeting was when the driveway ended. Suddenly, she was looking out the window at a huge, dusty, sunny parking lot, filled with families unloading cars. It looked like a minivan convention.
Camp counselors in bright red T-shirts walked among the cars, clutching clipboards and directing traffic. Everyone was milling around, unloading, asking questions, hugging parents, taking pictures, and aiming camcorders.
Mr. Carnelia parked the car, opened the door, and stepped out. “Well, I’ll be hornswoggled,” he intoned. “So this is where they grow young magicians.”
The rest of the Carnelias got out of the car and looked around, blinking in the bright noon sunshine.
“I’ll go see if I can find somebody in charge,” said Abby’s mom. She headed off in the general direction of the buildings, whose roofs peeked out from the pine trees nearby.
Mr. Carnelia began unloading stuff from the trunk and carrying it over to a line of low tables marked LUGGAGE. Ryan ran over to a nearby minivan, where a boy was doing magic tricks for a couple of other kids.
Abby was just standing there, taking it all in, when she heard a voice coming from her right.
“Excuse me—do you know if there’s lunch?”
It was a tall, easy-moving boy, maybe fourteen, with freckles, hazel eyes, floppy brown hair.
Abby turned to him. “What?”
He held up the packet of papers in his hand. “The welcome stuff doesn’t say anything about lunch. You don’t know if there’s first-day lunch, do you?”
Abby shook her head. “No, I don’t know. We—we just got here about a minute ago.”
“Oh, okay. No biggie.” He glanced around the parking area as though he was considering whether to leave, but then he seemed to change his mind.
“I’m Ben. Close-up or illusionary?”
“Hi, I’m—I’m Abby. What did you say?”
“Close-up or illusionary?”
It was ancient Greek to her.
“Oh, I—I’m really new to all this,” she managed.
Ben was persistent. “No, I mean, what are you into? Close-up tricks or stage illusions?”
“Oh, right,” she said. She thought briefly about her trick—her one real trick. “Close-up, I guess.”
“Hey, really?” said Ben. “That’s awesome. Me, too. Check this out!”
He pulled a car key out of his jeans pocket and put it on his open palm.
“And now . . . this is the crazy part. I’m not going to touch this key. I’m not going to blow on it. No strings attached. It’s nothing more than . . . a momentary flux of gravity.”
He squeezed one eye shut—and that’s when it happened. The key, lying flat on his palm, slowly rose up on its edge and flopped over.
That’s all it did. But it happened so slowly, so clearly, and so close to Abby’s face, that she felt a shockwave of amazement.
Ben noticed her look and beamed happily. “I love close-up,” he said.
“That’s a really good trick,” she said, because it was. “Will you tell me how you did it?”
She knew that magicians weren’t supposed to reveal their secrets to their audience, but she didn’t know if magicians couldn’t tell other magicians. Maybe that kind of thing didn’t apply in an all-magician camp.
“Well, this is going to sound weird,” Ben said quietly, almost whispering, “but I don’t know. It’s just something that I seem to be able to do. I noticed one day that if I just squint one eye—”
And he did it again. He squinted one eye, and the key rolled up and over on his hand.
Abby’s stomach practically dropped out of her body. For a moment, she was struck speechless, motionless, and brainless. Could this be happening? Had she just met another person with some tiny magical power and no way to explain it? Maybe she wasn’t the only one!
This changed everything. This was huge. Ten minutes at summer camp and her sense of freakiness and isolation was starting to crumble.
“Are you kidding?” she gushed. She grabbed his forearm, not even noticing his surprise. “You really don’t know how you do it? Oh my gosh, I have to tell you something. I’m just like you! A few weeks ago, I was chopping eggs—well, never mind about that. See, I have a trick, too. Not a trick, really; the thing is—”
“Witches 3,” Mrs. Carnelia announced, appearing from nowhere, with a red-shirted camp counselor following just behind. She had chosen that exact moment to return. “Isn’t that cute? The boys’ cabins are all called Wizards, and the girls’ are all Witches.”
Abby was suddenly hot and frustrated. “Mom, just a second, okay? I’m kind of in the middle of something here.”
“Well, introduce us, honey!” Mrs. Carnelia nudged Abby’s shoulder.
For a second, Abby couldn’t remember his name. He rescued her.
&nb
sp; “I’m Ben Wheeler,” he said, offering his hand to Abby’s parents in what Abby was sure they’d think was a very mature way.
“Hello, Ben,” said Mr. Carnelia. “We’re Abby’s parents.” He glanced around. “There’s supposed to be a brother, too.”
“Wheeler, Wheeler,” muttered the counselor, checking her clipboard. “Here we go—Wheeler, Benjamin. You’re in Wizards 4. You’re gonna be with Tony—he’s your counselor. You’ll love him; he’s great. Want me to introduce you?”
Abby’s brain answered for Ben: No no no no! I mean, no, thank you. I’m going to hang out here with my new friend Abby. I’ve just discovered that we have the most astonishing thing in common—
But Ben’s brain had other plans. “Sure,” he said, shrugging.
The counselor wagged a finger toward the Carnelias. “You guys are all set?”
Mr. Carnelia nodded. “Witches 3, up the hill past the dining hall. We’ll find it. Thanks.”
“Okeydoke. Come on, Ben, I’ll take you to meet Tony, and then I’ll show you where lunch is set up.”
Ben perked up. “Lunch?” he said. “There’s lunch?”
Ben and the counselor walked away.
Mr. and Mrs. Carnelia set about rounding up Ryan and getting Abby signed in. If they saw any of the excitement and confusion on Abby’s face, they didn’t say so.
CHAPTER
6
Camp
“LEMME HEAR YOU SAY YEAH, Witchezzz!” said Claudia.
She was the red-shirted, college-age, slightly pudgy, completely pumped-up counselor in front of Abby’s cabin. Every time she shouted, her side-mounted ponytail flounced like a pom-pom.
“Yeah!” shouted Abby and the other girls.
“Lemme hear you say Rock, Witchezzzz!” said the counselor, louder now.
“Rock!” shouted the girls, louder still.
“All right, now, gimme the W!” She thrust her hand into the middle of the circle of girls, with her three middle fingers sticking up like a letter “W,” and they all knocked fists in midair. It was a corny way to build cabin togetherness and spirit, Abby knew, but she had to admit that it was working. She was already feeling some sisterly affection for the five other girl magicians in her cabin.
“All riiiiiight!” shouted Claudia, pumping her fist in the air by itself now. “Listen up, Witches. I’m gonna be straight with you: there are at least three times as many boys as girls at this camp. But this is day one, Witches. And by day fourteen, you know what we’re going to show the world? That girls make just as good magicians as boys. Or better, right?”
“Right!” shouted the girls, definitely pumped up now.
“All right, so listen up, ladies. You are in Witches 3. It’s the coolest, classiest cabin in Camp Cadabra. Oh, sure, it may look just like the other girls’ cabins. It may be on the same hill as the other girls’ cabins. It may have the same view as the other girls’ cabins. But it’s not the same. This one is special. You know why, Witches?”
The girls shook their heads, grinning.
“Because only Witches 3 has Claudia. That’s me. And only Witches 3 has the six of you. And as you shall see, that is what makes this cabin the coolest and the classiest. Now let’s get inside so I can show you around.”
Fired up with excitement, the girls pushed their way into the cabin.
Now, a word about the Camp Cadabra cabins. When you read the word cabin, you’re probably thinking of, say, a log cabin, or a camp cabin, or a cabin in the woods. Something simple, and bare bones, and woodsy.
But the cabins at Camp Cadabra were quite another story.
This camp, Abby soon discovered, was not all about “roughing it.” Abby had never seen any other sleep-away summer camps, but she could tell right away that on the comfort scale, this one was Extra Cushy.
It was brand new, for one thing. Absolutely spotless. It even had that fresh-cut lumber smell that seemed to say, “You’re the first people who ever slept here.”
The cabin was air-conditioned, too. The cots weren’t cots—they were like hotel beds, deep and comfortable. When you lay down, you felt like you were sinking down halfway to China.
Each cabin had both indoor and outdoor showers, complete with marble tile floors, and a fridge for late-night snacks. There was even a laptop on a desk in the corner, always connected to the Internet—“so you can write to your folks and tell them what a blast you’re having,” as Claudia put it.
It’s a good thing Dad didn’t stay long enough to really see this place, Abby thought. He’d have hated all the luxury.
“Tell you what, Witches,” Claudia was saying after the girls had picked out their beds and stashed their suitcases and duffel bags. “Why don’t we go around and introduce ourselves? Tell me your name, what grade you’re going into, where you’re from, and what makes you magic.”
Abby felt a little shiver when she heard that phrase.
One by one, the girls gave their introductions. There was an Allison, a Debbie, a Becky, two Sarahs (actually, one Sarah and one Sara, with no “h”) and, of course, Abby. They were all going into sixth or seventh grade.
Abby began to worry, though, when she heard their magic backgrounds.
“I’ve been doing magic since I was six,” said Debbie.
“I do magic shows at my street’s block party every summer,” said Becky.
“I won second place in our school’s talent show. I did the Professor’s Nightmare,” said one of the Sarahs.
“And how about you, Abby?” asked Claudia, her sidesaddle ponytail flouncing.
Abby smiled nervously and looked around the room. What was she supposed to say? Um, I can make an egg spin by itself, but otherwise, I’ve never done a single trick in my life? And by the way, it has to be hard-boiled, and I have to be pulling on my ears?
“Um,” she began. “Actually, I’m really just—just kind of a beginner. I want to learn more about magic, and I figured this would be the place.” She managed a weak smile.
“Excellent,” said Claudia, beaming. She reached over to give Abby a supportive shoulder squeeze. “This really is the place.”
Abby was not so sure.
No-H Sara was a tiny little person, skinny and short—even her blond hair was sort of fuzzy and lightweight. Abby half worried that if the wind ever picked up, No-H Sara would have to be weighted down so she wouldn’t blow away.
But as far as Abby was concerned, there were two great things about No-H Sara. First, she was a cheery little chatterbox—and since she felt like she was about a thousand miles from home, that kind of perkiness was just what Abby needed.
Second, without any discussion, No-H Sara had simply adopted Abby. This was Camp Cadabra’s very first summer of operation, but No-H Sara acted as though she owned the place.
“Did you notice anything about the buildings?” No-H Sara was saying. She and Abby meandered toward the cafeteria building in the last half hour before dinner. The beautifully groomed path dipped in and out of the woods, which offered cooler air than the grassy hillside itself.
Abby shook her head.
Sara spread her hands wide. “The Dumbledore building? Hermione Cafeteria? Wormtail Game Room? Hello?”
“Ahhhhh,” Abby said, smiling as she picked up a pinecone to study it as they walked. “Harry Potter. Everything’s named after Harry Potter?”
“Exactly. I mean, we’re not exactly walking around with robes and memorizing spells and flying on brooms and stuff. Although that would be kinda cool.”
Abby nodded. “It makes the buildings easy to remember, though.”
“The thing is, if you ask me, this place is really only half a magic camp,” No-H Sara continued. “I mean, in the morning, yeah, we have our three magic classes. But after lunch, it’s just like a regular summer camp with regular activities. Look at this stuff!”
She held up the shiny, colorful pages of the “red book”—the camper handbook that Claudia had given them. “Tennis, archery, soccer, arts and crafts, hors
eback riding. Or waterfront. If you sign up for waterfront, you get to do sailing, water-skiing, or parasailing. I love parasailing.”
Abby peered over at the photos. “What’s parasailing?”
“Oh, you know,” said Sara matter-of-factly. “Where they hook you up to a big giant kite on a rope, and then they pull you along with a motorboat so you fly way up in the air.”
Abby was amazed. “And you’ve done that before?”
“Oh yeah.” Sara cocked her head as she nodded. “I’m from Florida.”
Abby raised her eyebrows, impressed. “And have you done this before?”
“What?”
“Magic camp? Summer camp?”
“Well, nobody’s done this camp. They just opened up,” said No-H Sara the Tour Guide. “But I’ve been going to summer camps, like, forever. My parents believe in exposing us to the world.”
Sara stepped up onto a gleaming wooden bench, walked along its length like a tightrope walker, then hopped down at the far end to join Abby. “So what are you gonna sign up for? I’m gonna do Stage Magic. You wanna do it with me?”
Already, Abby had heard plenty about Stage Magic. It was the most popular morning class by far, because that’s where you got to work with the big flashy illusions, like making people float in the air or chopping them into thirds.
And it’s easy to understand why those classes were so popular. After all, when you’re at home, you hardly ever get to try that kind of magic, since you need a lot of big, expensive, special equipment to do it. “All the world’s a stage,” Shakespeare once wrote, but he forgot the part about how hard it is to fit those six-foot cabinets into the back of your parents’ Toyota Camry.
Abby couldn’t help smiling at the thought of tiny Sara, the human hummingbird, flittering about the stage among the gigantic Cabinets of Mystery.
But Abby had no interest in striding across the stage, gesturing grandly at assistants wearing sparkly leotards. In fact, although she didn’t dare let anybody at Cadabra know it, she didn’t have much interest in performing at all. She just wanted to discover the secrets of her magical power.
