Cutlery came flying in from the hallway. The plates spun like tops; the floating glasses tossed their water into the air and caught it again; forks and knives and spoons were clanging together to a beat. Lennie’s mouth hung open as she watched.
Her awe grew even greater as the food followed the cutlery. The potatoes rolled on the floor with a rumble. The chicken drumsticks swung through the air like pendulums. The broccoli casserole spun into the room like a tornado.
Poppop stood in the middle like a conductor, directing them all. Then, as the last dessert came straggling in, Poppop groaned and shed his woolen outer robe.
“WHO THOUGHT IT WAS A GOOD IDEA TO WEAR WOOL IN JULY?” he shouted, stamping on his robe.
“Um . . . you,” Estella said. “You said, Estella, fetch me my wool robe out of the storage closet, and I said Mortimer, it’s far too hot, I think you should wear silk, and you said, Estella! I shall wear my finest, most impressive wool, and that is the end of the conversation!”
“Right well,” Poppop said, clearing his throat loudly. “I don’t recall—”
“And then I said, I think you’ll regret it, and you said You’re not the boss of me! Nah-nah-nah-nah boo-boo!”
“OHHHHH-KAYYYY!” Poppop said, his cheeks growing red above his gray beard.
Then her poppop—the great Prime Wizard Mortimer de Pomporromp—took his spot on the throne.
Lennie sat up straight, trying to look every bit as graceful and powerful as a future Prime Wizard should look. Even though she’d seen Poppop every summer for as long as she could remember, there was only one chance to make a good eleventh impression.
Poppop stared out at his descendants. The silence was so loud and so long, it was almost painful. Lennie could cut the tension with a knife. Or a spoon. Or even with a stuffed animal. Michael began to twitch next to her, and she knew that if someone didn’t break the silence soon, he’d yell out something totally inappropriate.
At last, Poppop cleared his throat. “Well, don’t let the food get cold!” he said. “I spent three whole minutes whipping it up!”
Then, at once, it was a mad rush to the serving table. Kids and adults alike pushed and shoved for the chance to load their plates up with dinner. And right when Lennie reached for one of the serving spoons, Anya cut in front of her.
“Hey!” Lennie said.
“Snooze you lose!” Anya said, sticking her tongue out.
Lennie huffed. Anya had to be first at everything, and it was the most annoying habit.
Lennie waited until a few people got in between her and Anya before she turned back to the serving plates. There was a chocolate cake that exploded whenever someone tried to cut a slice. There were noodles that danced and meatballs that rolled away from your spoon.
And—most disturbingly—there was a plate full of carrots that talked. (“Take that other guy! He’s sooooo much more delicious!” “Look at the bruising on my side—you definitely don’t want to nibble on this!” “Please don’t eat me! I have baby carrots!”)
Lennie grabbed herself a turkey leg, potatoes, and a chocolate chip cookie. Only, when she got back to her table, she found that the turkey tasted like apple pie, the potatoes tasted like orange juice, and the chocolate chip cookie tasted like rotted fish.
“MADE YOU EAT!” Poppop shouted, chortling with laughter as family members all up and down both tables began spitting out their foods. “FOOLED YOU GOOD!”
Lennie spit the fishy cookie into her napkin and folded it into a ball. She was suddenly homesick for her dad’s adobo.
“He did that every day he was at our house last August,” Anya said, shaking her head. “He kept switching tastes around on us and laughing at our grossed-out reactions.”
“It was disgusting,” Jonathan said. “And the worst part about it was that there was no way to get him back!”
Ellington poked at her roast beef tentatively. “I don’t even want to try this anymore.” With a twist of her wrist, she floated the roast beef off her plate and back to the serving table, using her magic.
“Well, I think it’s awesome,” Michael said, shoveling handfuls of brussels sprouts in his cheeks. “I wish I could do that to people.”
“You do enough damage,” Lennie said. She turned to her cousins. “He broke two glasses in the past week.”
“HEY!” he said.
“Careful, Len, or he’ll break a third!” Jonathan joked, pointing to the glasses on her face.
Michael’s eyes lit up, and he reached for her glasses with an invisible hand—but Anya froze Michael into place with her magic. His eyes darted around in panic, but the rest of him was stuck solid. Mollie clapped for her older sister, and Raina giggled.
“Thank you, Anya!” Lennie said. “And don’t you dare!” she said to her brother. “You know I can barely see without these! And I need to see for Wizardmatch!”
At the reminder of the upcoming competition, Lennie glanced over at the Netherly side of the kids’ table, where redheaded Ethan was changing his hair shape, growing it and shrinking it into different styles. Even the baby was giggling as Ethan morphed his hair into the shape of a walrus.
As Lennie observed the other cousins, Poppop Pomporromp stood up grandly, holding his arms in the air.
“HEAR YE, HEAR YE!” he shouted, stomping his rubber ducky staff on the floor. His voice was ten times louder than normal and echoing around the dining room. At once, everyone hushed. “Welcome to the magnificent Pomporromp estate. As you all know, I am ready to retire, which means I need to find the next Prime Wizard among my grandchildren. I shall explain the rules and provide insight into the mysterious challenges that are to come.” He swung his beard onto his shoulder and cleared his throat. “Wizardmatch consists of THREE different tests, with one test every few days. After each test, I will eliminate a handful of contestants. And I shall determine—once and for all—the winner of Wizardmatch after a third and final test.”
Lennie took a deep breath. No matter what challenges came her way, she could handle them. She’d have to.
“So without further ado. That’s a funny word,” Mortimer said, scratching his beard. “Ado, ado. You know, I could say nonsense for hours and you’d have to listen to me!” He let out a great belly-shaking laugh before turning to Estella. “What was I saying again?”
“Nonsense.”
“Ah, yes, now I remember—I was choosing a Prime Wizard!” Poppop continued. “Once the next Prime Wizard has been chosen, I will gift them my powers. They will get stronger and more powerful, while I get weaker and more brittle until I shrivel away and die.”
“Mortimer!” hissed Estella.
“Honestly, Estella, what’s the point of even hosting Wizardmatch if I don’t get to be dramatic? Okay, I’ll lose all my magic, but will retire to a nice beach in the neighborhood of Snorkenblossom.”
Michael turned to her. “Where’s Snorkenblossom?”
“Shhhhhhh!” she said, careful not to take her eyes off her grandfather.
“The competitors must be under the age of fifteen, of course,” her poppop said.
Lennie looked around the table. Emma was scowling, and Jonathan was sulking.
She felt a pang of sympathy for them. It must be awful to be the only two cousins not allowed to participate.
“I hope you are ready,” Poppop said. “Because this summer you will fight to the death!”
“Mortimer!”
“Okay, fine! You will fight until you are severely injured or maimed.”
“Mortimer!”
“Okay, fine! You will all be returned perfectly safely to your homes. ARE YOU HAPPY NOW, ESTELLA?” he shouted, stamping his foot. “Wizardmatch will push you to the brink physically and mentally. It will be challenging and cutthroat, and only one of you will walk away satisfied. And . . . well, it’s time to admit: I have a little surprise for you all
. A change in the rules. A twist.”
A twist? The whole Pomporromp family erupted into whispers, and Lennie’s stomach swooped. She didn’t like the sound of a twist.
Poppop grinned, his dentures sparkling. “When I was a boy, Wizardmatch destroyed my relationship with my family. We were never able to recover from bitter competing. Henceforth, and from now on, we shall have no sibling against sibling in Wizardmatch!”
He turned to the adult table.
“Only one child per family can compete. And, my sons and daughters, you will choose the contenders.”
Lennie’s brain was spinning. Dread struck her. “But wait a second!” she whispered to Michael. “If we can only have one competitor in our family, then . . .” She stood up and looked over at the adult table. Seeing her mom’s tormented face, she suddenly knew:
Her mom was going to have to choose between Lennie and Michael.
Playing Favorites
The dining hall erupted into outrage.
Lennie felt sick. This was the worst news she’d ever heard in her whole life. She was prepared to compete against Michael. But now, one of them wouldn’t get the chance to compete at all. Lennie stared at Poppop, who was holding up his hand for silence. How could he do this? What is he thinking? Who is Mom going to pick? Michael was quiet beside her, and she could tell he was just as anxious as she was.
“WHY!?” cried Uncle Philip #2. “Why are you doing this?”
“To save you from yourselves!” Poppop said dramatically. “I care about family. Family is all I’ve got—well, besides talent and power and fame and fortune.”
Her aunts and uncles had begun to shout. Some of the cousins, too. Lennie sat there, stunned.
“My decision is final! SILENCE!” Poppop bellowed. Then he smacked his staff on the floor, and a white fog rolled out from the rubber ducky’s mouth.
Lennie murmured to Michael, “This is not fai—”
But as the fog reached her, she found she could not finish her sentence. Her voice was gone—stolen by Poppop’s spell! And it wasn’t just her: The whole dining hall had hushed. It was so silent Lennie could’ve heard a mouse poop.
“I said silence!” Poppop said. Then he addressed the adult table. “My sons and daughters—if you have multiple eligible children, then together we will privately discuss which child should compete. I will make my recommendations, but the final choice is ultimately up to you. You will announce your decision tomorrow evening.”
All the adults looked steaming mad.
“Ahhhh . . . this silence is nice! Perhaps I should keep you like this!” Poppop said. “GOOD DAY, GOOD-BYE, GOOD RIDDANCE!” Then he stomped his magical staff on the floor again and POOFed into thin air.
The moment he was gone, the spell was broken, and everyone began complaining again.
“See the list outside the dining hall for your appointment time!” Estella shouted over the murmuring as they all shuffled toward the exit.
After dinner, the adults crowded around the appointment list, and out of sheer curiosity, Lennie took a peek, too. Her mom’s appointment was at nine that night. Her stomach dropped a bit when she saw it.
Lennie and Michael headed back to their room in silence. Every time they caught each other’s eyes, they looked away. She didn’t know what to say. What would happen now that only one of them could compete?
All sorts of complicated thoughts burst in Lennie’s head. To be Prime Wizard—to awaken her magic and get to live in the Pomporromp Castle—was her dream come true. She wanted it hungrily, deep in her bones. She wanted it more than unlimited ice cream. More than a million dollars. More than a PUPPY—and she’d been asking for a puppy her whole life!
Finally, they reached their room and closed the door behind them.
“What are we going to do?” Michael said.
“I don’t know,” Lennie said, climbing onto the top hamburger bunk and pulling Michael up with her. Together, they lay on their stomachs, staring out through the red tomato window. From this distance, Lennie could see the pool of pudding wobbling in the wind. And she gnawed on her lip as she thought deeply about their situation.
She had to stand up for her dreams. Would it be a betrayal to Michael if she begged her mom to compete? As her mom always liked to remind them, she wasn’t a mind reader—and if they wanted something, they had to use their voices and ask nicely for it.
But maybe Lennie didn’t even have to worry. She was two years older than Michael, clearly more interested in magic—and better at it, too. Her mom knew how hard she practiced her magic. Her mom had to know how badly she wanted this.
“This is sooooooo dumb!” Michael said.
“I know,” Lennie said gently, “but it’s Poppop’s decision. He runs the competition, so he makes the rules.”
“It’s still a dumb rule!” Michael said. “One of us isn’t even going to have a chance!”
There was a pause.
“You’re going to get it,” Michael finally said. “You’re older. Also, you’re perfect. You’re Mom’s favorite.”
“Mom doesn’t have a favorite.”
“Favorite, favorite, favorite!” Michael chanted.
“Stop saying that—”
“Faaaaaavvvvveeee,” he said, “rit!”
“You’re being obnoxious!”
“You’re being obnoxious!” he mimicked.
“Stop copying me!”
“Stop copying me!”
Lennie sucked in a deep, angry breath. Mimic this. “I’m a huge poop face,” she said.
“You’re a huge poop face!” Michael said.
Ugh! She slid off the bed in a huff. “Fine! I’m leaving!”
“BYE!” he said, and she slammed the door behind her.
What’s his problem? she thought. She skateboarded down the ramp, her dark hair flapping in her face. She figured she’d find Ellington in her room on the third floor and talk this out with her. But when she reached Ellington and Raina’s cinnamon-roll-themed room, no one answered the door.
Rats, she thought. Where could her cousins be? Were they somewhere together, as a family? Ellington’s mom was going to have to talk to Poppop at some point tonight, just like all of her aunts and uncles and mom . . .
She perked up. A wickedly brilliant idea had popped into her head. Why didn’t she think of this before? She could go invisible and listen in on Mom and Poppop’s meeting!
Peering at her map, heart pounding, Lennie scanned for any clue of where Poppop might hold these top-secret meetings. Her eyes locked on the Pomporromp Penthouse, which took up the top three stories.
That was it! That was where she needed to be!
She checked the clock in the hall: 9:03.
The meeting had already started. She had to hurry before she missed all of it!
She ran back through the hall so quickly that she slipped and banged her knee, but she didn’t care. She was in a rush!
The skateboard whirled her up the ramp, past the fancy dining room, past the Jelly Floor, past the Cheeseburger Chamber, past many more floors that Lennie hadn’t yet explored. At the forty-seventh story, she hopped off the skateboard.
There was a big, glittery, golden door at the top of the ramp. It was the entrance to Poppop’s penthouse. Carved right into the gold itself was: DOOM AND DEVASTATION AND DEATH AWAIT ALL WHO ENTER!
Which was such a Poppop Pomporromp way of saying, “Please keep out.”
Lennie put her ear to the door. There were two voices, but they were muffled.
“Mumble mumble mumble Lennie mumble mumble,” came the sound of her mother’s voice.
“But Michael mumble mumble mumble whisper,” replied Poppop Pomporromp.
“Grumble grumble magic mumble grumble Wizardmatch,” said her mom.
She had to get closer!
Lennie took a deep br
eath. If she used her invisibility, she had fifteen seconds to get inside and hide before her magical energy drained and she became visible again. I can do this, I can do this, I CAN DO THIS, she thought.
She flickered invisible. One. Very slowly, very carefully, she pulled the door open. Two. She tiptoed inside. Three.
She looked around. Four. The room was lined with hundreds of pictures of Poppop. In the center of the room, there was something that looked like an enormous screwdriver, twisting into an upstairs floor. Five. And behind the giant screwdriver was a desk—where her poppop was seated. A plushy chair faced the desk—where her mom was sitting with folded hands. Six.
But where to hide?
Then, Lennie saw it: a window curtain behind Poppop—one that draped to the floor, long enough to cover her feet. Seven. Lennie rushed forward. Eight.
Step, step, step. Nine.
Step, step—creeeeeaaaaak.
She froze.
“Did you hear something?” her mother asked her poppop.
Ten! Eleven! Twelve!
“It’s an old house,” her poppop said. “Now back to Wizardmatch.”
Lennie held her breath. She was an arm’s length away, with only three seconds to reach the drapes without her mom noticing. She crept forward—as quickly and quietly as she could. Thirteen!
She peeled back a side of the drapes. Fourteen! She tucked herself behind them just in time. Fifteen! Lennie flickered back into view. Sweat dribbled down her back. Her muscles ached.
But did she get away with it? Did her mom see the drape move?
Lennie held her breath and listened.
“But they’re not matched, Dad,” her mother said. “Lennie is stronger.”
“By what, a millisecond?” Poppop said with a snort.
“Actually by two seconds. And every second counts.”
“Pfffffffffffttttttt!” Poppop said, blowing a raspberry. “Six of a dozen, half a dozen of a dozen!”
“What does that mean?”
“It’s all the same,” Poppop said. “Two seconds of a difference is no difference to me! Once the winner gets my unlimited powers, it won’t matter that Lennie had two seconds on Michael.”
Wizardmatch Page 5
