by Jeff Strand
“I can’t help but feel that you two have some sort of history,” said Marcus.
“Yes. A long, ugly history. He’s easily one of my top ten enemies. In fact, if Sinister Seamus hadn’t survived the whaling accident, Bernard Pinther might take the number-one spot.”
“I wish you hadn’t made that bet.”
Grandpa Zachary held up his hand. “It’ll be fine. Hey, look at that. My fingers are trembling with anger. I haven’t been this mad in a long time. It’s kind of refreshing. I can see why the Incredible Hulk enjoys it so much.”
Marcus lowered his voice so nobody else could hear him, even though people had long since stopped paying attention. “I’m working on tricks, but nothing like what you described. I can’t deliver what you promised. You’re going to lose the bet.”
“Nonsense! You have Zachary the Stupendous on your side. First thing tomorrow morning, you’re coming over to my apartment, and we’ll get to work.”
“I have to go to school tomorrow, Grandpa.”
“First thing tomorrow after school, you’re coming over to my apartment, and we’ll get to work.”
“I have to mow four lawns after school.”
“Don’t they have robots to do that?”
“Not yet.”
Grandpa Zachary frowned. “First thing tomorrow after you mow those lawns, you’re coming over to—wait, will you have homework?”
“Yeah.”
“I guess you should do your homework. So school, lawns, and homework. But no time for television, team sports, or girls. We’ve got work to do!”
“Can’t you just cancel the bet?” asked Marcus. “I’d love to work on a bewildering illusion that will shock, stun, and astonish everybody, but I’d rather do it under less scary circumstances.”
“He scoffed at your accomplishment. Nobody scoffs at a Millian and lives to tell the tale!”
“What?”
“That was an exaggeration, of course. I just mean that he’ll be emotionally destroyed.”
“I have a bad feeling about this.”
Grandpa Zachary placed his hand on Marcus’s shoulder. “I’m not going to pretend this wager wasn’t encouraged by resentment and a short temper. But I also believe in you. I wouldn’t put my honor on the line if I didn’t think you could do this. You have the talent, Marcus. You have the creativity and the passion. When I said that you could be one of the all-time greats, that wasn’t to annoy Bernard. I meant it.”
Marcus smiled. “Thanks, Grandpa.”
Donnie walked over to them. “I’m five.”
• • •
As Marcus lay in bed that night, his stomach felt as if it were filled with butterflies on energy drinks. He was excited about what he might accomplish. If he could do a trick in front of fifty people, why not fifty thousand? Why not fifty million? Or fifty-one million?
With Grandpa Zachary helping him, he could do this. He could indeed create and perform an illusion that would make everybody scream, “Aaaaiiieee! Burn the warlock!”
It was going to be awesome. Bernard Pinther being a jerk may have been the best thing to ever happen to Marcus Millian III.
• • •
Marcus finally fell asleep but woke up to the sound of his mother crying. It was 3:17 a.m.
He got out of bed to see what was wrong. Mom and Dad were in the living room, sitting on the couch. Mom was on her cell phone, but Dad waved for him to come over and sit next to them.
Before they even said anything, Marcus had a horrible, unexplainable feeling that he knew why Mom was crying—Grandpa Zachary had died.
4
Fourteen Years Ago
Zachary reached for one-year-old Marcus’s ear and then held up a shiny quarter.
“Look at this!” Zachary said as Marcus giggled. “His head is filled with cash! How much do you think we can get out of him?”
“Hopefully enough to pay for all of these diapers,” said Marcus’s mom. “Ugh. I think he needs changed again.”
“And for my next trick, I’ll make myself disappear!”
• • •
Thirteen Years Ago
“Grandpa, he’s way too young to learn card tricks,” said Marcus’s mom.
“Nonsense. You’re never too young to start learning the art of magic. He needs to get used to the feel of cards. Sleight of hand takes years of practice, but he’ll be the most talented illusionist in day care.”
“Or he’ll become a professional poker player.”
“Good. He can win all of the other kids’ juice boxes.”
• • •
Twelve Years Ago
“That top hat is way too big for him,” said Marcus’s dad.
“Because it covers his entire head?”
“I can’t see,” said Marcus.
“His head just needs to grow,” said Grandpa Zachary. “I think everybody here agrees that Marcus’s head will continue to grow as he gets older. That’s what heads do. Otherwise, he’ll become a fully grown boy with a teeny tiny head, and he’ll have much worse problems in life than just a hat that doesn’t fit.”
“Or we could exchange the hat,” Marcus’s mother suggested.
“No, it’s like returning food at a restaurant. If you take a hat back, the cashier spits in the new one.”
“I don’t think that’s true,” Marcus’s dad said.
Grandpa Zachary removed the hat. “Marcus, you’ve got some head-growing to do. I need you to close your eyes, put your fingers in your ears, hold your breath, and push as hard as you can.”
“Don’t do that, Marcus! Grandpa is just teasing,” said Marcus’s mother.
“Yes, I am.” Grandpa Zachary winked at Marcus. “I’ve got a smaller hat in the other bag.”
• • •
Eleven Years Ago
“Marcus, did I ever tell you that when I was fourteen years old, I ran away to join the circus?”
“What?” Marcus scooted up on Grandpa Zachary’s lap.
“That’s right.”
“Did you see elephants?”
“I saw more elephants than you can shake a stick at. Big elephants, small elephants…well, they’re all big, but baby elephants are smaller than grown-up elephants. I once saw an elephant smack a clown with its trunk. That was one angry clown, believe me.”
“Did you see panda bears?”
“There were no pandas at this circus, but they did have bears. Big brown ones. And lions…and chimpanzees…and jugglers…and tightrope walkers…and a lady who looked like a lizard.”
“Wow!” Marcus was always amazed and transfixed by Grandpa Zachary’s stories.
“You’re too young now, but when you’re seven years old, we’re going to run away with the circus together. How does that sound?”
“Hooray!”
• • •
Ten Years Ago
“Marcus, don’t ever do this trick at home, okay?”
“Okay,” said Marcus.
“You promise?”
“I promise.”
Grandpa Zachary reached for the napkin that was under his full glass of root beer…and yanked the napkin away. The glass didn’t move.
• • •
“I’ll pay to have the carpet cleaned, of course.”
“It’s okay, Grandpa,” said Marcus’s mom.
“I should never have shown him that trick.”
“It’s fine,” she said.
“Children should drink more water and less grape juice anyway.”
“Quit while you’re behind, Grandpa.”
• • •
Nine Years Ago
“Is this your card, Grandpa?”
“Nope.”
“Is this your card?”
“Nope.”
“Is this your card?�
�
“Nope.”
“Is this your card?”
“Nope.”
Twenty-eight cards later, it was.
• • •
Eight Years Ago
Grandpa Zachary walked through the front door, holding a colorfully wrapped box. Marcus was sitting on the couch, crying.
“What’s wrong with the poor boy? Nobody should cry on his birthday! That’s unacceptable! Your first twenty-nine birthdays are happy occasions!”
Marcus’s mom and dad looked kind of annoyed. Grandpa Zachary set the present on the table.
“Why don’t you ask him what’s wrong?” suggested Marcus’s mom.
Grandpa Zachary sat down on the couch. “What spoiled your birthday?”
“Mom and Dad say we’re not running away to the circus!”
“What?” Grandpa Zachary looked puzzled.
“You said that when I turned seven, we’d run away to join the circus.”
“Oh.” Grandpa Zachary shifted uncomfortably on the cushion. “How did you remember that? You were four.”
“I remember!”
Grandpa Zachary looked over at Marcus’s mom and dad. “This child is a genius. I can assure you that when I was seven, I didn’t remember anything that was said to me when I was four. His brain must be abnormally large. I knew the head-growing exercises would be good for him.”
“Mm-hmm,” said Marcus’s mom.
Grandpa Zachary turned his attention back to Marcus. “There aren’t any decent circuses to join right now. But when you turn eight—”
“Grandpa Zachary!” said Marcus’s mom in the same tone of voice she used when addressing Marcus by his full name.
“I made up the story about joining the circus,” Grandpa Zachary admitted. “I would never take you away from your mom and dad to be part of a smelly circus. I should never have said that. I didn’t run away until I was sixteen. So you’ll just have to be patient for nine more years—”
Marcus’s mom cleared her throat.
“What I mean is…wait until you graduate from high school—”
She cleared her throat again.
“When you graduate from college, then we’ll run away to the circus together. I promise. Okay?”
Marcus wiped some tears from his eyes and smiled. “Okay.”
• • •
Seven Years Ago
“Is this your card, Grandpa?”
“Nope.”
“Is this your card?”
“Nope.”
“Is this your card?”
“It is! Good job, boy!”
• • •
Six Years Ago
“You hold the four corners of the handkerchief together. No, see, when you do it like that, the hidden flap isn’t open. Here, let me move it just a bit. Yes, like that. Now if I’m standing right here, I can see exactly what flimflam is going on, so you need to be aware of your audience.” Grandpa Zachary sat down in his recliner. “From this perspective, I will be absolutely mystified.”
Marcus nodded.
“Let’s try it from the top. Hold up the empty handkerchief.”
Marcus held up the handkerchief by the top two corners, showing that it was without question a perfectly normal handkerchief that in no way varied from the handkerchiefs that normal people used to blow their normal noses on any normal day.
“Ask me for a coin.”
“I now need to borrow a coin from somebody in the audience,” said Marcus.
Grandpa Zachary reached into his pocket and held out a penny. “Say your line.”
“That’s very kind of you, sir, but magic is more exciting with real money at stake. Does anybody have a quarter or a silver dollar?”
“Perfect.” Grandpa Zachary handed Marcus a quarter. “Bunch the handkerchief into a sack.”
Marcus held the handkerchief by all four corners. “I will now make your hard-earned quarter…disappear!” He dropped the quarter into the sack, making sure it went into the hidden flap, and then released the bottom two corners. The handkerchief fell open, and the quarter was gone.
“Holy cow on a Popsicle stick!” said Grandpa Zachary. “It’s vanished into the netherworld!”
“Can I keep the quarter?” asked Marcus.
“In your dreams. Let’s try it ten more times before we show your mom and dad. You can keep their quarters.”
• • •
Five Years Ago
“So how long are you grounded?”
“Two weeks.”
Grandpa Zachary whistled. “That’s brutal.”
“Yeah. I don’t get to go to the carnival and see the giant pig and the fire-eaters.”
“Do you understand why it upset your mother when you pretended to pop your eyeball out?”
“Yeah.”
“We make important choices in life. We must weigh our decisions against the possible consequences. When you pretended to pop out your eyeball, you knew you were going to get in trouble, right?”
“I guess.”
“The reward for your action was that you got to hear your mom scream at the top of her lungs when she thought you knocked your own eyeball right out of your head. Then you got to hear her scream again when you popped it into your mouth. You got a lot of value out of that. In two weeks you won’t remember what you missed when you were grounded, but you’ll remember the glory of that moment for the rest of your life. I’ve got to be honest with you. I think you’re getting a pretty fair deal.”
Marcus shrugged. “Maybe.” He’d been looking forward to seeing the fire-eaters for weeks.
“It’s important that you accept your punishment. You deserve this grounding. You made your dear, sweet mother believe she had a one-eyed son. So I expect you to accept the consequences without whining, complaining, or trying to get her to change her mind. And as you sit up here in your dark, lonely room, remember the joy of a well-executed magic trick and how it was worth it.”
“Thanks, Grandpa.” Marcus had to admit that he felt a little better.
“And don’t use so much ketchup next time. That’s just gross.”
• • •
Four Years Ago
“Is this your card, Grandpa?”
Grandpa Zachary beamed. “Yes, indeed!”
• • •
Three Years Ago
“It’s okay, Marcus. We’ve all thrown up at school. Nothing to be ashamed of.”
“Sure it is! Everybody was laughing at me!”
“That’s because it’s delightfully amusing to watch somebody regurgitate.” Grandpa Zachary grinned. “I’m just kidding. When they laugh, it’s nothing against you. What they’re really saying is, ‘Thank goodness it wasn’t me!’”
“I know! But it was me! Mrs. Pollert asked me to go up in front of the class and do my book report, and I just… I don’t know. I just got so nervous that I felt like I was gonna throw up. And then I did.”
“Why were you so nervous? You’ve talked in front of the class before, right?”
“Lots of times. I’ve always felt kind of sick when I had to do math problems at the board or give reports or whatever, but it’s never been this bad. And it’ll be even worse the next time because I’ll know that I really could throw up in front of everybody.”
“Being anxious is normal. When I used to do magic shows, I was always anxious beforehand. No matter how much I practiced, I was always worried that this would be the performance where I made a mistake. And sometimes it was. I wasn’t a flawless magician. But you have to think, What’s the worst that can happen?”
Marcus groaned. “I throw up in front of everybody.”
“No, the worst would be wetting your pants. But those years are behind you. Look, the other kids will make fun of you for losing your lunch. It’s i
nevitable. They may even give you a nickname to mark the occasion. Something like…hmmm, are there any synonyms for vomit that start with the letter M?”
“I’m not sure,” said Marcus. “I can’t think of any.”
“There has to be at least one. Let’s just start rattling off words.”
“Puke, barf, retch, spew—”
“Upchuck—” Grandpa Zachary added.
“Heave, hurl—”
“Be sick—”
“Purge, maybe. I don’t know. I’m sure there are thousands, but that’s all I can come up with.”
“Then you’re in luck,” said Grandpa Zachary. “None of those will make good nicknames. What are they going to call you, Barfing Marcus? Actually, that one has a nice ring to it. Don’t say it out loud in front of anybody. What I’m saying—poorly—is that stage fright is a normal part of the performance process. It never completely goes away, but it gets better, I promise. And do you want to know the most important thing?”
Marcus nodded. “Sure.”
“When you get up on stage and have a good performance, none of your previous bad performances matter. Not at all. You could’ve regurgitated in front of your class every day for a full week, and it won’t take away that amazing feeling of when you do a show and know the audience loves you.”
“I’m not doing magic shows though. This was a book report.”
“Right. But you get my point, don’t you?”
Marcus shrugged. “Not really.”
“I’m better at stage patter than advice. But don’t worry about what happened today. One day soon it won’t matter.”
“I’m not sure I can be a magician if I can’t even talk in school.”
“Yes, you can. I promise.”
• • •
Two Years Ago
“Who is that you were talking to outside?”
“Kimberly.”
“Is she your girlfriend?”
“No, she just moved here.”
“She’s beautiful. You’d better snatch her up quickly before somebody else does.”
“Yeah, right.”
“Confidence, Marcus! Confidence! You didn’t inherit my looks, so you stand a chance!”
• • •
One Year Ago
“Don’t ever scare us like that again,” said Marcus’s mom as the whole family walked out of the emergency room.
