by Diana Lopez
“And then you planted evidence in Loop’s locker,” Z said, “forcing me to get mad at him.”
“I didn’t force you guys to do anything,” Ariel replied. “And trust me, I didn’t have to work very hard to get you mad at one another. I know all about your rivalries.”
“We don’t have any rivalries,” Dominic said.
“And all your jealousies,” Ariel went on.
“We’re not jealous,” Loop said.
“And every single insecurity that runs through your minuscule minds.”
“We’re not insecure,” Z said, and then, “Are we?”
Ariel laughed. “Of course you are—and jealous and always competing against one another. Each of you wants to be the best and hates it when the other guy wins, no matter how serious or silly the competition.” She walked to her dad’s desk, opened a drawer, and dumped the notebook inside. “How about this for some honesty? If you guys were better friends, you wouldn’t have been so eager to believe my… little stories.”
“Those were not little stories,” Loop said. “They were lies!” He didn’t mean to shout, but he was so sick and tired of people lying to him.
No one spoke for a whole minute. Then Dominic said, “We thought you were our friend.”
“We thought…” Z hesitated. “We thought you were nice.”
“She never had me fooled,” Loop said, crossing his arms.
If they had shouted at her, Ariel would have shouted right back, but scolding her in this quiet way must have made her feel ashamed. For the first time ever, she didn’t have a comeback. She looked down at her shoes and her ears got red. Then she clenched her lips as if holding back tears, but only for a second. Loop could tell she didn’t want to cry in front of them, no matter how bad she felt. She’d run out of the room first.
Before they could say anything else, Mr. Garza walked in. He was carrying his sombrero and a backpack. Today he wore a black T-shirt with the Conjuring Cats logo. “Is everything okay in here?” he asked without really noticing that Ariel looked like someone who had just been suspended from school. “Mrs. Garza says you were shouting earlier.”
Loop glanced at Dominic, since he was the one who usually spoke to the authority figures when they were in trouble. “We were,” Dominic admitted, “but everything’s okay now.”
Mr. Garza opened his backpack. Instead of books, it held his magic props. “So what were you fighting about?” he wanted to know as he put the items away. “It’s bad for friends to be angry.”
“It was just a misunderstanding,” Dominic said. “But we’re okay now. Honest.”
That’s when Mr. Garza noticed Ariel. Instead of suspended, she now looked like someone who had just been expelled. He squinted at her suspiciously. “Did you have anything to do with this?”
She looked up, her eyes wide. Loop almost snitched. After all, Ariel wasn’t the only one who liked to cause trouble. But his friends jumped in first.
“Ariel wasn’t even here,” Z said.
“That’s right,” Dominic added. “We were actually fighting about stuff that happened a long time ago—like, before we even met you guys.”
Loop nodded. There was enough truth in Dominic’s statement. Some of the stuff they brought up had happened years ago, even though that hadn’t been the main reason for today’s fight.
“Sometimes we argue a lot,” Dominic explained. “We didn’t mean to bring it into the Vault.”
“We won’t do it again,” Z said. “We promise.”
“Bueno.” Mr. Garza seemed satisfied. “We’re all amigos here, right?”
The boys nodded, and Ariel sighed with relief. Then Mr. Garza hung his sombrero on the wall, grabbed another mean dog T-shirt, and stepped into the restroom to change.
When he closed the door, Ariel said, “Thanks for not telling on me. I would have been grounded for sure.”
“Whatever,” Loop said as he grabbed his bag of merchandise. “We’re out of here.” Dominic and Z grabbed their things, too, and they all left the Vault.
As they walked down the street, Z said, “Did you see the look on her face? I thought she was going to cry. I started to feel sorry for her.”
“She wasn’t going to cry,” Loop said. “But if she had, I wouldn’t have felt sorry for her. Not one bit. Especially now that she owes me twenty-two dollars and fifty cents for my chop cup.”
“She owes me, too,” Dominic added.
“And me!” Z said. “I got really mad!” He looked at Loop. “I was ready to punch your face in.”
Loop shrugged. “It would have been pointless because I would have blocked it and knocked you out with an uppercut.”
“Well, if somebody tried to punch me,” Dominic said, “I would have responded with a body slam, lucha libre style.”
“That stuff’s fake,” Z said.
“Yeah,” Loop said, “if you want to end a fight, try a rear naked choke like an MMA fighter.”
“Or an arm bar,” Z suggested.
“I don’t need a rear naked choke or an arm bar if I’m fighting you guys,” Dominic teased. “You’d probably tap out if I pulled your pinkie finger.”
They all laughed. Then Loop held up his little finger and in a silly voice said, “Leave my pinkie alone!”
And Z pretended to be a sportscaster. “The referee calls an end to this contest at one and a half seconds in the very first round for a win by pinkie-pull submission.” He lifted Dominic’s hand. “Let’s hear it for Dominic the Cominic!”
Dominic blew kisses at an imaginary crowd.
Z then turned his attention to Loop. “Let’s take a closer look at that pinkie,” he said. “How badly is it injured?”
Loop held up his finger. “I’m just glad I have two pinkies, because I really need them to pick my nose.”
The boys cracked up. They couldn’t stop themselves. They got tears in their eyes, and their stomachs started hurting from all the laughter. It felt so good to be friends again.
Soon they found themselves at the intersection with the stoplight, so Loop pushed the button for the cross sign. As they waited, he remembered the last time they had been there. They were fighting and ran across the street at different times, all that traffic between them, and he smiled because now they were going to cross together.
Miser’s Dream—
a miser is a person who tries to keep all his riches to himself; in magic, this refers to a trick where coins appear out of nowhere
FOR THE NEXT THREE weeks, Z spent all his time looking for jobs and practicing magic. He hadn’t worked at the apartment complex since Dominic had returned because he knew Dominic got an allowance for doing chores at home. As for Dominic’s neighbors, they were supposed to call Z if they needed extra help, but so far, no one had touched base.
Z actually missed going to the complex. As promised, Dominic’s mom had introduced him to her friends, and they had paid Z to do things like walk dogs, put plants in bigger pots, or scoop out leaves from the pool when the regular pool guy got sick. Z had done jobs for Dominic’s mom, too, and while he worked, they talked. She had some great stories. She used to run track in high school, and during out-of-town track meets, she would sneak out with friends in the middle of the night to hang out at twenty-four-hour places like Whataburger or Walgreens, whatever was close by. “It’s a wonder we never got in trouble,” she’d said.
But ever since Dominic got back, Z was stuck bugging his own family and neighbors. Once in a while, they gave him something to do, but it wasn’t enough. He desperately needed more work.
At least he had time to work on his Ambitious Card routine. So far it looked good, but he needed a twist in order to stand out, especially if others were doing card tricks, too. So he went to Conjuring Cats to see if Mr. Garza had any suggestions.
When he stepped into the store, Ariel was at the counter flipping through magazines.
“Where’s your mom?” he asked, since Mrs. Garza was usually the person who worked up front.
> “There weren’t any customers, so she decided to take a lunch break. She’s in the Vault.”
Z glanced at the purple velvet curtain, wondering if he should disturb Mr. and Mrs. Garza.
“It’s okay to go back there,” Ariel said, somehow reading his mind. Z nodded, but before he could head toward the Vault, Ariel stopped him. “Hey, Z?”
“Yeah?” he said.
“So… um… well… are you getting ready for the competition?”
“Yeah.”
“Do you know what trick you’re going to do?”
“Yeah.”
“Why don’t you show it to me?” She closed her magazine and cleared space on the counter.
“I don’t think so,” Z said.
“Why not?”
“You’ll probably make fun of me.”
“I won’t. Promise.” She crossed her heart to prove it.
Z tried to believe her, but he couldn’t. He just didn’t trust her anymore. “That’s okay. Maybe another time,” he said, and he left her there, alone.
When he stepped into the Vault, Mr. and Mrs. Garza had just finished lunch. Today Mr. Garza’s T-shirt had a picture of an angry pit bull with the words MEAN MUGGIN’ written across the top. Z told the Garzas about his routine while they rinsed their plates and wiped the counters. “I would love to see what you’re working on,” Mrs. Garza said, but then she had to leave because the bell from the shop jingled and Ariel peeked in to tell her someone had entered the store.
Luckily, Mr. Garza was still in the Vault, so he took a seat at the table. “Show me what you’ve got.”
Z grabbed the deck of cards from his back pocket, shuffled them a few times, and began. He went through the whole routine without messing up. He was so proud of himself, especially when Mr. Garza clapped and said, “Bravo! Your card-handling skills have improved immensely.”
“Thanks,” Z said as he did a few cuts. “But… I don’t know… it’s not good enough. I need something more if I’m going to win—like an interesting twist. Do you have any ideas?”
Mr. Garza stroked his chin for a while. “I think I do,” he said.
They spent the next hour revising the routine. Mr. Garza’s idea for an interesting twist required some rope, a slight modification to the cards, and lots of practice. Once Mr. Garza demonstrated the moves, he returned to his computer so Z could rehearse.
Z did the sleights over and over. Most were familiar, but a couple of them were new. With so much repetition, his hands began to move automatically, leaving him time to think about the Ambitious Card routine and how one card insisted on rising to the top no matter how many times you stuck it in the middle of the deck. Of all the card tricks, this one made the most sense to Z because, like the card, he wanted to be at the top—to be first! That’s why he needed to win this contest—to show everyone that he could be the best at something.
He visualized the contest, especially the moment when they announced the winner—him! And he saw himself taking a bow and accepting the trophy, the whole audience giving him a standing ovation. Wouldn’t that be great? A standing ovation just for him!
He caught himself smiling about it, and then all at once his daydream shut down. He froze, the cards locked in his hands.
Mr. Garza must have noticed that Z had stopped practicing, because he turned around and asked, “¿Qué pasó? Is the trick too hard?”
“No,” Z said. He took a seat, put down the cards, and pushed them away. He felt so defeated.
Mr. Garza left his desk and took a chair across the table. “Talk to me.”
Z sighed. “I don’t know why I’m practicing because I can’t even go to the convention. I have all these brothers and sisters, and after buying groceries and paying bills, my parents are broke. We never go on vacation. We never go anywhere. And all I ever get is hand-me-downs. I know we’re not as poor as other people. We always have food. And we have cable and Internet, and I know you don’t absolutely need those things, but what about other stuff? Like this convention? I tried to get the money myself, but it’s impossible. I’m just a kid. Even with a head start from my parents, there’s no way I’m going to make enough!”
Mr. Garza thought for a moment, and then he said, “I have just the thing for you.” He went to the wall, took down his sombrero, and put it on. Then he went to the cabinets and grabbed a big coffee can, handing it to Z. “Look inside.”
Z looked. “It’s empty.”
“Good, good.” Mr. Garza took the can back. “Look here,” he said, “nothing up my sleeve, right?”
“You’re wearing a T-shirt,” Z said.
“That’s right. That’s how you know there’s nothing up my sleeve.” He placed the can on the table, straightened his sombrero, and shook out his hands. “Now watch what Señor Surprise has for you,” he said, all dramatic.
He picked up the can and, once again, showed Z that it was empty. Then Señor Surprise peeked into it, too, his face exaggeratedly disappointed. He shook the can a little, nothing. He shook it again, still nothing. He shook it a third time, and it jingled. Señor Surprise peeked again. Now his face showed total amazement. He reached into the can, pulled out a quarter, and made a big show of waving it in front of Z’s face. Then Señor Surprise held the quarter to the sky, rubbed his fingers together, and one coin turned into two. He dropped them into the can. Now it made even more noise when he shook it. But he wasn’t finished. He sneezed and out came a quarter. He tugged his earlobe and out came a quarter. He scratched his underarm—another quarter!—each of them clinking in the coffee can. Then he bowed, and when he bent forward, several coins rained from his sombrero and dropped into the can, clinking and jingling as Señor Surprise shook it like a kid with a piggy bank.
“That was great!” Z said.
“It’s called the Miser’s Dream.” Señor Surprise took off his sombrero. He was Mr. Garza again. “If you want to see a great Miser’s Dream performance, look for Jeff McBride’s version.” He looked at the ceiling, all dreamy. “I can only aspire.” Then he shook the can again. The quarters were still inside. Somehow Z thought they would disappear once the trick was over. “Cup your hands,” Mr. Garza said. Z did as he was told, and Mr. Garza poured the coins into his hands. “You can keep them.”
Z counted. Twelve quarters. He was grateful for every cent he could get, but twelve quarters were not going to solve his problem.
“I don’t get it,” Z said. “How is this trick supposed to help me? I mean, we both know three bucks isn’t enough, and I know you can’t make coins appear from thin air.”
“Maybe not,” Mr. Garza said, “but sometimes things that seem empty”—he pointed at the coffee can again—“are actually full of hidden treasures.”
Z still didn’t understand, but he was too embarrassed to ask for a better explanation. His best guess was that Mr. Garza was trying to make him believe in magic, real magic, but Z knew the world didn’t work that way. In the real world, money didn’t fall from the sky, from your nose, or from the brim of your hat. Z could blow on his fist and wave a magic wand all he wanted, but when he opened his hand, it would still be empty.
Homing Card—
in magic, this trick features a card that continually returns to your hand after you put it away
WHILE Z SPENT THREE weeks trying to raise money, Loop spent them reading Frankenstein. It had taken him such a long time to get through the book—partly because he spent time with his chores, magic, and friends, but also because he didn’t like the last chapters, when the monster started killing people. Usually, Loop didn’t mind blood and guts—like in movies and video games. But when the monster got violent, Loop felt betrayed. He’d put the creature in the “good guy” category like the cartoon monsters in Beauty and the Beast and Shrek. Wasn’t the moral of the story supposed to be “Don’t judge a book by its cover”? But this book seemed to be saying the opposite—sometimes ugly on the outside meant ugly on the inside, too.
In Loop’s last set of pictures, the
monster was a shadow figure in the dark corners of rooms and gardens. The book ended with him hiking through the Arctic, so Loop drew a snowy landscape with giant footprints disappearing into the horizon.
When he was all done, he took the pictures to his mom. She was at the kitchen table with the newspaper, but she put it aside when Loop joined her.
“Here,” he said, placing them in front of her. “I read the entire book, so no more summer homework, okay? I need to focus on my magic. The contest is less than two weeks away.”
“Okay,” she said. “That’s fine.” She carefully examined the drawings. “So tell me. Did you like the book?”
Loop shrugged. “I guess,” he admitted. “But with those old-fashioned words, it was hard to understand sometimes.”
“Most people wait till high school to read it.”
“Really?” He straightened up, feeling proud in spite of himself. “That’s cool. I guess I’m not as dumb as you thought.”
His mom smiled at him. “I never thought you were dumb. Just lazy. There’s a big difference. Look at what you can do when you work hard.” She nodded at his drawings. “I just want you to apply yourself.”
Loop thought a moment. “Okay,” he said, grabbing his work. “So can I apply myself to magic now?”
She rolled her eyes, but she chuckled, too. Then she waved him away. “Go, go. Practice your magic.”
Loop called his friends to invite them to Conjuring Cats. Z said he’d stop by after his job search, but Dominic said he’d meet him right away. They timed it perfectly, arriving at the same moment.
When the boys entered the store, they saw Mr. Garza wearing a T-shirt with a picture of dogs smoking cigars and playing poker. Dominic said, “How come you always wear dog shirts when your shop is called Conjuring Cats?”
Mr. Garza grumbled, so Mrs. Garza answered for him. “He wanted to call the shop Houdini Dogs or Top Hat Dogs, but I wanted Conjuring Cats.”
