by David Pogue
“It wasn’t me, I swear!” he said, grinning and tossing the bangs out of his eyes. “Whatever went wrong, I wasn’t there.”
Abby pushed him backward so that he plopped down onto a not-yet-painted illusion cabinet that lay on its side in the sawdust.
“No, you did. You helped me find what I came here for,” she beamed, panting.
“Whoa there, bronco. Maybe you should slow down and tell me what the heck you’re talking about.” He patted an empty place on the cabinet next to him.
But Abby couldn’t sit still. She paced in front of him, gesturing with her hands.
“Listen, ever since I discovered this thing I can do, it’s driven me crazy. I mean, it makes me feel like a freak. And nobody can explain it. Nobody has any idea how it’s happening, or what it means, or anything. And maybe you think it’d be cool to have a real power, even if it’s a really, really stupid power, but it’s not. It’s not that cool. It makes me feel lonely. I don’t like being the only weirdo on earth!”
Ben leaned back on his elbows. “Well, there are a few other weirdos around here,” he said with a half smile. “But okay, go on.”
“Okay. So you want to know what Ferd wanted to see me about after class this morning?”
He thought for a minute. “He wanted to borrow one of your hair doodads for his ponytail?”
“Funny. No. He told me that they’ve found other kids with pointless little powers. It’s really rare, but they’re out there.”
Ben straightened up, his face suddenly open and intent. “You’re kidding me.”
“No! And I’m invited to go to this sort of super camp, where these, like, famous genius experts are going to help us figure out what we have! Like work with us, help us expand our powers, meet these famous magicians and stuff.”
Ben was having trouble taking it all in. “You and these other kids? How—I mean, like—well, okay. Where is this place?”
Abby finally contained herself enough to stop pacing. She pushed a tray of pliers and screwdrivers farther down the cabinet to make room and then sat down next to Ben. “I don’t know. Pennsylvania or something. But isn’t that so cool? I’m supposed to call my parents after lunch and tell them.”
He cocked an eyebrow at her. “You seem pretty excited.”
“Well, this is what I wanted. This is why I came to magic camp! Not to learn tricks—to learn about my power. And it was you! It was your idea to do Camper Show. You said maybe it would get somebody’s attention, and it did!”
“Well, you’re welcome. It sounds like a total blast.” He turned his face up to scan the cotton-ball clouds, trying to make sense of what he was hearing. “When do you leave?”
“On Saturday. We’re driving. Nine hours in a van.” She squeezed her eyes closed for a moment, and then added, “I’m a little scared.”
He studied her face. “Nah, don’t be scared. Be excited. Be happy. It’s going to be awesome. I kind of wish I could go! But hey—looks like only a select few get picked for Super Camp. Mere magic rock stars like me don’t qualify.”
He stood up and stretched. “Listen, Abby Carnelia. I’m happy for you. But it’s kind of a shame you’re leaving halfway through Camp Cadabra. It’s been fun knowing you. Send me an e-mail or two from Super Camp, will you?”
She smiled at him. “I promise.”
As it turned out, she never did send Ben any e-mail.
“BILL!!! It’s Abby on the phone!”
Mrs. Carnelia leaned on the second-floor railing, shouting downstairs. “Ryan, run and get your dad, will you? Abby’s calling from camp.”
Ryan scampered downstairs, and Mrs. Carnelia retreated to the bedroom with the cordless phone. She sat on the bed.
“How are you, darling? We got your e-mail about being selected to be in the magic show in front of the whole camp—that’s wonderful! How did it go?”
“I wasn’t selected, Mom. Anyone can be in it. Whoever wants to be,” Abby replied. “Anyway, it went great. It went really well.”
She was in the Camp Cadabra offices, where Ferd had encouraged her to make a phone call home about his offer. Ferd himself was hovering nearby, pretending to flip through some magic magazines on the office coffee table but staying within listening range. Abby would have preferred some privacy, but at least he’d be nearby if there were any questions.
“Beetling?” It was Mr. Carnelia’s voice, picking up another line.
“Hi, Dad!” said Abby. “How’s everything at home?”
“In the five days since you left? Oh, everything’s completely different now,” he joked.
“I got a toad!!” An unmistakable squeaky voice chimed in from yet another phone in the Carnelia house.
“Hi, Ry,” said Abby. “That’s great. Where’d you get it?”
“Found it at camp,” he said. “He’s my new pet. His name is Barfy.”
“He’s taking that thing right back to camp tomorrow morning,” Mrs. Carnelia added quickly. “We’re not a family that’s good with pets. Especially ones that require live insects as food.”
Abby smiled and leaned back on the office couch. “Well, that’s great, Ry,” she said. “Sounds like you like your camp.”
“It’s wicked!” shouted Ryan into the phone. “You should go there next year! If you’re not too old and stuff.”
“I’ll think about it,” Abby said.
“To what do we owe the pleasure of this call?” asked her father. “Does the Abbster crave the sound of our mellifluous voices?”
“No, not really,” said Abby. “I mean yeah, of course. But I’m supposed to ask you for permission for something. They’re going to send you some forms you have to fill out, and I’m supposed to explain what it’s all about.”
“Sure,” said her mom. “What’s going on?”
“Okay, well, you know about Camp Cadabra, right? You know there’s more than one of them around the country,” she began.
“Right.”
“Okay, well, I guess they also have this—this, like, super camp. And they invite just a few people, like a couple campers, from each of the regular camps, to go hang out at the super camp. It’s for people who are really, really talented, and you get to work with some of the most famous people in magic. And it’s free and everything—they pay for everything.”
Abby was closing her eyes tight. She wasn’t lying, at least not exactly; there was a super camp, and there were only a couple people from each camp who got to go there. At least that’s what Ferd had said.
But she was leaving out one small detail: that the people chosen to visit the super camp weren’t just talented magicians—they were, according to Ferd, people with powers like hers. Considering how complicated it had been trying to explain her power to her family in the first place, Abby thought that it might be best if she left out that aspect of the super camp.
Abby’s mother was impressed. “And you got picked?”
“Well, yeah, pretty much,” Abby responded. “It’s in Pennsylvania somewhere.”
“Pennsylvania!” she heard her dad proclaim. “From upper New Hampshire? Ye gods! That’s some field trip.”
“I think it’s wonderful, Abby,” said her mom. “For them to choose you over all those kids who’ve been doing magic since they were little? That’s a real honor!”
They didn’t pick me, Abby thought. My power picked me.
But all she said was, “Yeah, I’m pretty psyched.”
“When do you go, Ab?” asked Mr. Carnelia.
“In a couple days,” she said. “I’d have to skip the rest of the regular camp, and the big show at the end, and stuff like that. But it seems like it’d be fun in its own way, you know?”
“Of course it will,” said her mom. “I’m so proud of you. It’s just that—well, I have a lot of questions, honey. It’s a little peculiar for them to pluck you out of one camp and take you to another halfway through, isn’t it?”
“Mom! Don’t go all worrywart. They’re going to send you a bunch of b
rochures and forms and stuff like that. You can ask ’em anything you want. But it’s totally fine. I’m a big girl; I can handle a drive to Pennsylvania.”
“That you can, McAbbister,” boomed her dad. “That you can. Have them send over whatever the forms are, and we’ll get them filled out. And find out if there’s any kind of extra fee, so I can send a check.”
“No, Dad, I told you. It’s totally free.”
“How can they afford to run it for free?” said Mrs. Carnelia. “Camp Cadabra is cheap enough as it is! Honey, just ask them to make sure there’s not some kind of extra cost. And don’t make any promises until we’ve seen those brochures.”
“Okay, Mom,” Abby said. “I will.”
They chatted some more, exchanged news and gossip, promised to e-mail often, and then said goodbye.
Abby handed the phone back to Ferd, who seemed pleased.
“It’s all set?” he asked.
“They’re basically fine with it,” she said, standing.
“That’s splendid, Miss Carnelia,” said Ferd. “Prepare yourself for the adventure of a lifetime.”
CHAPTER
11
Van
ON THE MORNING SHE WAS SUPPOSED to leave for super camp, Abby sat on the floor of Witches 3, packing up her duffel bag. No-H Sara didn’t exactly help her pack, but did lend emotional support. All right, she didn’t exactly do that either. But she did keep Abby company.
“I just don’t get why it’s you,” Sara said, flouncing onto Abby’s deep, soft mattress. “I mean, your egg thing was amazing, totally amazing. But I mean, did you see that kid’s fire trick last night? It was like crazy!”
Abby smiled as she rolled up a pair of socks. “Thanks for the vote of confidence,” she said sardonically.
“No, no, no, no, no, I didn’t mean it that way. I’m just saying—why not him, too? It’s like, ‘Hmmm. Spin an egg? Or make fire come out of your fingers?’ You know?”
“When are you going to sign up for Camper Show?” asked Abby. She had noticed that although No-H Sara was very good at critiquing other people’s performances, she hadn’t done much in the way of performing herself.
“Next week for sure,” Sara said.
Abby stood up, checked the bureau drawers, looked under her bed, and took a last look in the bathroom, just to make sure she had everything.
“I guess that’s it,” she announced. She picked up one end of her duffel bag, tipping it onto its back wheels. “I’m gonna head down to the parking lot.”
Sara sprang out of the bed and threw her arms around Abby. “Bye, Abby!” she said. “Have a great time, and send a lot of e-mail!”
Abby returned the hug. “I will,” she promised, and she turned to go.
Sara put her hand on Abby’s shoulder. “Oh—and Abby?”
“Yeah?”
Sara looked up tenderly into Abby’s face, her blond frizzy hair like cotton candy in the morning sun.
“Can I have your bunk? Mine has a lump.”
Abby grinned. “Go for it,” she said.
And with that, she rolled out of Witches 3 forever.
When Abby arrived at the parking lot, she saw the bright red Camp Cadabra van waiting with its rear doors thrown open for luggage, and its side doors flung open for passengers. As she approached, she saw one familiar sight—Ferd’s expansive body and bouncing ponytail—and two campers she didn’t recognize.
“Hi!” she said as she arrived, slightly out of breath.
“Ah, yes, Miss Carnelia,” said Ferd grandly. “Pleased to see you on time and ready to roll. Do you know your fellow camp mates Richard and Eliza?”
“It’s Ricky,” corrected the short boy with the perfectly spherical head. Seriously. If he had been wearing a T-shirt with a big zigzag on it, you would have thought he was Charlie Brown.
He stuck out his hand, which was how he had been introducing himself to people since he was three years old.
“Hi, I’m Abby,” she said, shaking his sweaty hand delicately.
“That’s funny,” Ricky responded.
She didn’t get it. “My name?”
“Abby Cadabra. Get it?”
She got it. She rewarded him with one-third of a smile.
“Hello, Abby Cadabra. I’m Eliza,” said Eliza.
Her dominant color was orange. Red hair, red lipstick, lots of freckles, and an orange-and-red tie-dyed T-shirt. A big T-shirt, size XXXXXXXL, about six hundred times too big for her. It could have fit Abby’s entire family.
They stood there for a moment, awkwardly glancing around.
“What cabin you in?” said Eliza.
“Witches 3?” said Abby helpfully. “How ’bout you?”
“Witches 2,” said Eliza.
“Ah.”
“What grade are you guys?”
“Going into seventh,” said Abby. “Me, too,” said Eliza. “What about you?”
“Eighth,” said Ricky.
“You’re going into eighth grade?” Eliza asked, looking at him skeptically. Ricky’s very round head came up almost to her shoulder.
“I skipped a year,” was all he said.
Ferd had been pacing a few yards away, but now he returned to the van. “Climb aboard,” he told them. “We must commence our journey posthaste.”
As the three campers climbed into the van, Ferd dragged their bags around and loaded them into the back. Abby and Eliza shared the first bench seat, behind the driver’s seat; Ricky took the row behind that.
Abby couldn’t stand the silence. Weren’t these exactly the people she’d dreamed of knowing—other people with powers? Didn’t they have a world of notes to compare? Shouldn’t they all be talking at once?
It was as though there were an elephant in the room, and nobody was talking about it.
She was just summoning her courage to ask a couple of more—well, personal questions of Eliza and Ricky, when the driver’s door snapped open. Ferd hauled himself into the driver’s seat and put the key into the ignition. “My people, we have a nine-hour drive before us. This would be a fine opportunity to avail yourselves of the bathroom facilities. Anybody?”
Nobody said anything.
“Excellent then! Let’s blow this clambake,” he said. He started the van.
Suddenly, a metallic banging came from the back of the van. Somebody was trying to get Ferd’s attention.
All three kids turned to see who it was. Through the rear window, they could see a red T-shirt. It was a male counselor, yelling something.
“What impeccable timing,” said Ferd.
The rear doors flew open, and the red-shirted counselor hauled one more duffel bag into the back.
“Our final passenger has arrived,” Ferd said.
The rear doors closed. The side door opened. The last passenger climbed in.
It was Ben.
CHAPTER
12
Ricky
“BEN!” ABBY YELPED, a smile growing. “What—what are you doing here?”
He squeezed past her and swung into the seat behind her.
“Same as you,” he grinned. “Going for a super-long van ride.”
Abby was completely confused.
“Buckle up, my people,” said Ferd at the wheel. “That’s the full load. Vámanos!”
The van pulled forward with a crunch of gravel. After a moment, it was bumping along the piney road out of camp.
Abby stole a look back at Ben over her shoulder. He grinned back at her through his stringy bangs and, when he was sure nobody else was looking, quickly signaled her by putting his finger to his lips in a Shhhh! motion.
“As long as there’s no conversation back there,” Ferd said after a minute, “then I intend to fill the silence with a bit of musical entertainment.” With one hand, he reached out on the seat next to him, feeling for his CD case. “I have the complete works of Beethoven played on bagpipes.”
There was an instant reaction.
“Hi, I’m Ricky!” “I’m Ben.” “Yo
u’re Abby, right?” “I call her Abby Cadabra.” “I’m Eliza.” “Nice to meet you.”
Ferd shook his head in mock disappointment. “You don’t like classical? You young people today have no taste at all.”
“So, I mean . . .” Abby began. “Do you guys all have—”
She looked from face to face, hoping that somebody, anybody, would start explaining what was going on here. But she didn’t want to dive right in and start talking about how she had a true magical power. That hadn’t worked out so great the last time she told someone.
“Special talents?” It was Ricky, finishing her sentence.
She turned. “Yeah!” she said. “Do you?”
“Kinda,” he said. He looked around at the others, nervously.
“Tell us!” said Eliza.
Ricky looked down at his lap, too embarrassed to speak.
“Don’t be shy, dude,” Ben chimed gently.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” said Ferd suddenly. “You should know that you’ll be spending the next week together—as a unit, as it were. You have been selected for your mutual abilities. So it would be my suggestion that you cherish your similarity. Nobody will make fun of you here, my people. You’re among friends.”
“So,” said Eliza. “Will you tell us about yourself, Ricky?”
He looked up. “What do you want to know?”
“At least tell us all the boring stuff. How old you are, brothers and sisters, all that junk,” Abby said.
“I’m twelve. I have three older sisters. I live in New York City. I have a rat.”
“A rat?” said Eliza.
“Yeah. A pet,” said Ricky. “What’s wrong with that?”
“It’s just gross,” said Eliza.
“How’s it any grosser than a mouse?” asked Ricky, annoyed. “It’s just a big mouse.”
Ben, who was still new to the concept that there might be people with actual supernatural powers, was leaning forward and listening hard.
“Tell us about your magic, Ricky,” he said.
