The Plastic Magician (A Paper Magician Novel)
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Alvie sat in her chair a long moment, not thinking of anything in particular or looking at anything specific. After that moment, however, she opened another drawer, which contained a short typed paper titled “The Merging of Materials: A Theory of Bending.” It would never be published or taken seriously unless she could repeat whatever it was she did in that cabin. As she moved to return it to its drawer, however, she hesitated. Considered. Glanced at the locks. Then, tucking her diagram inside the papers, she folded them into thirds and tucked them into an envelope, on which she wrote her home address beneath the name Gunter Brechenmacher.
The rest she’d worry about later.
Alvie sat in the fourth row of the enormous Royal Albert Hall in London, her hands clasped tightly together, her back erect to help her better see the stage. The Gaffer lights hanging from the ornate chandeliers above had been dimmed, while the ones illuminating the stage burned bright. Her chair was upholstered in scarlet to match the carpeted aisles. Large balconies filled with seating loomed behind her, but no one occupied those. This was a grand occasion, but not the sort a person bought tickets to attend. Alvie had asked her new maid, Jane, to do her hair so its waves were tamed and partially held back by the water-lily barrette she’d purchased in Oxford. It matched the slightly green tint of her pants. She had intended to wear a dress, as this was a formal occasion, but Bennet had asked her not to. “It isn’t you, Alvie,” he’d said in their most recent Mimic spell book, which was tucked securely into her new purse.
Mg. Pritwin Bailey sat beside her. He didn’t talk much. Or look at much. He had a pale complexion made all the paler by his dark hair. He wore thin, silver-rimmed glasses—Alvie wished, not for the first time, that she could wear glasses so small. She’d mentioned plastic lenses to him earlier, a topic that had appeared to utterly bore him. He did, however, become a little more animated when she mentioned the textbooks at the Discovery Convention. They’d also discussed the amount of wattage that would be required to keep the Royal Albert Hall alight should the Gaffer lights be replaced by electric ones.
She tried to imagine having Mg. Bailey as a mentor and decided she was much better off with Mg. Praff, who was off in Romford all week attending various meetings. Fred was well again and back to work, fortunately. He’d dropped her off at the hall about an hour ago.
Mg. Bailey suddenly straightened. Alvie’s gaze flew back to the stage. Two rows of chairs occupied its left side—her left—and she smiled at the man next in line.
From a podium on the right, an aging man—Mg. Tagis Praff, Mg. Praff’s uncle—said, “Magician Bennet John Cooper, District Six.”
Alvie clapped as loudly as she could as Bennet, looking smart in his white Folder’s uniform, stood and crossed the stage. He smiled as he shook Mg. Tagis Praff’s hand and accepted his magician’s certificate.
He’d done it, just like Alvie had known he would. She continued clapping until he exited the stage and sat in the front row with the other new magicians, two of whom wore green Polymaker’s uniforms. That would be her, soon enough. She’d estimated completing her apprenticeship in two years, seven months, one week, and two-point-six days that morning. That would put her own graduation ceremony in December or January.
But today wasn’t about her. Her eyes watched Bennet, his hair bright even beneath the dimmed lights. The rest of the graduates passed by in a blur. Beside her, Mg. Bailey had also lost interest.
Once the last person exited the stage, Mg. Tagis Praff addressed the audience: “Ladies and gentlemen, let us give these new magicians another round of applause.”
Alvie clapped until her hands hurt.
“It has been a long road for these men and women, but they have prevailed. They have overcome difficulties of all kinds to be sitting here today, representing their disciplines. I give them the highest praise.” He turned and cleared his throat. “To you magicians, I give you the admonition to continue to persevere. Make your mark on this world. Expand your gifts. Reach out to those in need, and reach high to your Maker. Treat your magic with respect and loyalty, and it will do likewise. Leave this world a better place than it was when you entered it. The future calls to you. Now is the time to answer.”
The audience clapped again. Mg. Tagis Praff bowed once and exited the stage. Mg. Aviosky, the Gaffer who had been present at Alvie’s bonding, stepped onto the stage and congratulated the magicians, announced the location of a reception hall should anyone wish to attend and speak to the new graduates, and closed the meeting. The Gaffer lights overhead brightened to their full power, stinging Alvie’s eyes.
She grabbed her purse and jumped to her feet, waiting for her row to clear so she could make it to the aisle. Mg. Bailey seemed more interested in something behind him than in escaping his chair. Alvie followed his gaze, and for a moment, she thought she saw the magician from the post office. But the flash of orange hair disappeared out one of the hall’s many doors, out of sight.
Finally freed, Alvie hurried down the aisle and toward the stage, where Bennet stood with his family. She paused behind his mother for a moment, waiting for a gap in the conversation between Bennet and his father, when she caught Bennet’s eye.
He grinned and stepped forward, taking her hand and pulling her up next to him. “This is Alvie,” he said to his father.
His father was a broad man with a thick brown mustache and thicker brown hair. He also had brown eyes—that was where Bennet and Ethel had gotten theirs from. “Well, I’ll be. The woman I’ve always heard of but never seen. It’s a pleasure, lass.”
Alvie smiled and offered her hand—Mr. Cooper shook it vigorously. He had quite the grip. “It’s nice to meet you.”
Bennet introduced her to his two other sisters—Elizabeth, who was married and sat between Bennet and Ethel in age, and Hattie, the youngest at nineteen. She was the only one who shared her father’s dark hair. All of them had his dark eyes. Alvie had already met Mrs. Cooper, but she let Bennet make the introduction all the same. Mrs. Cooper seemed much more amiable this time around than when Alvie had popped up on her doorstep in the rain.
She turned to him when the introductions were finished. “You did it!” She beamed. “You’re a Folder now. Oh, Bennet, there’s so much you can do! Are you going to specialize?”
He laughed. “Probably, but I haven’t decided on a focus yet. I’m sure you’re full of ideas.”
She nodded but, glancing at the family, figured now was not the time to blather about how excellent he would be in ancient text restoration or banquet décor.
The group chatted a little more before Mr. Cooper directed them to the reception hall, after which they’d go out to dinner to celebrate. Alvie laced her fingers with Bennet’s, and as they shuffled from the grand chamber, Ethel weaved her arm through Alvie’s. Plastic fingers closed softly around her forearm.
Alvie nearly jumped at the touch. “Ethel! You’re getting so good at it!” In the first weeks with her prosthesis, Ethel’s grip had been hard and painful.
She grinned. “I know! And watch!” She stared hard at the false hand and lifted her index finger, middle finger, and ring finger, each one separate from the others. She frowned. “That little finger is still giving me trouble.”
“No one needs pinkies,” Alvie offered.
Ethel rolled her eyes. “You can’t properly drink tea without a little finger!”
Bennet said, “You drink tea with your right hand.”
She shrugged. “I want to have the option.”
Alvie laughed. It thrilled her to no end that Ethel was doing so well with the prosthesis and that she was getting out of the house more because of it. The plastic hand wasn’t quick or weighted enough to let her play the piano, not yet, but there was always the option for a second model, and a third, and a fourth. Perhaps that would be Alvie’s specialty, once she became a Polymaker. And after that, she’d create something new, something unheard of. Something to present at conventions all over the world. Something to sign her name to.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
So many people helped me make this book happen. The support system I had to rely on was so strong, and I’m so incredibly thankful for every leaf on the vine, so to speak. I first want to thank my husband, Jordan, and my dad, Phil, for letting me bounce ideas off them when this book was still titled Polymaker and I was still scared to tell anyone else about it. Then, of course, I want to thank my agent, Marlene Stringer, and my editor, Jason Kirk, for the enthusiasm with which this project was received and the trust they put in me to make it good. My gratitude also to Angela Polidoro and all the copyeditors, proofreaders, designers, etc., whose work polished this novel.
Further along the vine are my alpha readers, to whom I owe major gratitude: Caitlyn Hair, L. T. Elliot, Laura Christensen, and Rachel Maltby. Then came my valiant, nitpicking beta readers: Whitney Hanks, Leah O’Neill, Leanne Glentworth, and Teresa Garner (the Tess to whom this book is dedicated). Thank you, thank you, thank you.
Another thank-you to my sister Alex; my babysitter, Shelby; and my assistant, Cerena, who, by helping me out at home, enabled me to write and edit this thing (Jordan helped immensely, too, but I already thanked him). And thank you to Marko Kloos, for being both German and helpful.
Thanks to my kids for not being total hellions and for still taking naps.
And, as always, my utmost appreciation to the Big Guy Upstairs for His guidance, mercy, and the sparks of creativity He occasionally tosses down to me.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Born in Salt Lake City, Charlie N. Holmberg was raised a Trekkie alongside three sisters who also have boy names. She is a proud BYU alumna, plays the ukulele, owns too many pairs of glasses, and finally adopted a dog. Her fantasy Paper Magician Series, which includes The Paper Magician, The Glass Magician, and The Master Magician, has been optioned by the Walt Disney Company. Her stand-alone novel, Followed by Frost, was nominated for a 2016 RITA Award for Best Young Adult Romance. She currently lives with her family in Utah. Visit her at www.charlienholmberg.com.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
CONTENTS
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
CONTENTS
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
CONTENTS
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
ABOUT THE AUTHOR