“But real magic....” Ryan swallowed. He didn’t want to anger the other boy. “Real magic doesn’t exist.” He winced, expecting to get slapped.
Matthew didn’t move, though, his expression neutral. “How come you’re so sure of that?”
“Well, everyone knows that.” Ryan’s stomach turned to knots, and throwing up his plastic-tasting lunch seemed a possibility.
“Ah.” Matthew stepped back. “So you’re one of those kids who believe everything others say? So if Timothy says bad things about you, we all just have to believe him.”
“That’s... that’s different.”
“Is it now?” Matthew arched an eyebrow. “You think magic doesn’t exist, because others have told you it doesn’t. What if I told you that it does exist?”
Ryan couldn’t respond. His jaw dropped open. Does he really believe this? Is he insane?
“What if I told you,” Matthew continued, “that I can help you do magic. Real magic. No tricks. I’m talking about the real stuff here.”
“Like conjuring a real rabbit from my hat?”
“Yes, but way more than that.” Matthew’s eyes sparkled. The hungry look in his eyes brought back the army of spiders that had crawled over Ryan’s back earlier.
“You could use magic to make kids like Timothy disappear, or to get your favorite food during lunch. You could use it to make your friend the best violin player in the world, or to make your dad come back.”
“Wait... what?” Ryan’s voice trembled. “How do you know all that?”
“Because I’m a magician too, Ryan. A real one. And I can help you, give you real magic.” Matthew had gotten so close now that his breath swirled upon Ryan’s face. “What do you say? Do you want to be a real magician?”
“I... I don’t know.”
“Or do you want to be a loser forever? The kid who others pick on. The kid who is so boring his dad doesn’t even care about him.”
“No!” Ryan clenched his fists. “No... I don’t want to be that kid.”
“Do you want to make them pay? Those kids who’ve hurt you, who’ve bullied you?”
“Yes. Yes, I want to hurt them too.” The thought had crossed his mind many times, but his parents had always told him violence didn’t solve anything, so he’d met Timothy’s words and slaps without ever hitting back. Not just because of what his parents said, but also because the older boy, who went kick-boxing every weekend and dwarfed Ryan both in length and size, scared him. But if he had magic, then Timothy wouldn’t stand a chance.
“Good. Good.” Matthew wrung his hands as if he’d just won the lottery. “Then I’ll give you magic, as much magic as you need to hurt everyone who stands in your way.”
“In my way for what?”
“For becoming the greatest magician ever, of course.”
Matthew took a step back, and Ryan could finally breathe again. “Tonight, at midnight, you will receive your magic. Use it well. Don’t disappoint me.”
Matthew turned and left.
Ryan slumped against the lockers. His head throbbed as if someone had just hit him with a hammer, and his stomach hurt.
Matthew is crazy. Or could he be telling the truth? Either way, he got Timothy off my back, but.... Magic? Real? I don’t think so.
He dragged himself to class, even though his legs had turned to jelly, and he wobbled from one side of the hallway to the other.
Chapter 4
Ryan couldn’t focus on homework. His watch beeped, indicating eight o’clock. Usually he would have finished homework hours ago, but today he struggled to concentrate. He’d been staring at the same math problem for half an hour.
The events of this afternoon replayed in his mind. Matthew had always bothered him. Not in the way Timothy did, with his loud, babbling mouth, but he’d rather fight ten battles with Timothy than one with Matthew. He couldn’t pinpoint what seemed so terrifying about the gangly boy, though.
Ryan felt drained, as if he’d run a marathon. He yawned out loud and shot a longing look at his bed, which looked more inviting with every passing minute.
A knock on the door startled him. Two seconds later, his mom walked in carrying his favorite mug, a blue one with Donald Duck painted on it. Steam rose from the mug, and the smell of hot cocoa filled the room.
“Here you go, champ.” She put the mug down on the side of his desk, and ruffled through his hair. His Mom looked years older than before Dad left. Her blonde hair hung lifelessly around her face, her hollow cheeks showed she’d lost a lot of weight—she drowned in her clothes—and her eyes had lost the sparkle they’d once displayed.
“Thanks.”
“How was school today?” She sat down on his desk and crossed her legs.
He swallowed and stared at the cup. The steam rose in circles, forming shapes as it swirled up in the air. “All right.”
“How did your magic act go?”
“It went all right.” His voice broke, but he didn’t have the strength to tell her how it really went. He’d never told her anything about the bullying, and he wasn’t about to start now. If Dad hadn’t left him, then maybe he would’ve told his parents, but now he couldn’t bring himself to give his Mom something else to worry about. He cleared his throat and conjured up a smile. “The others loved it. Aaron thought I did great.”
Mom’s smile didn’t reach her eyes, but any smile was better than her usual sad look. “I’m glad you did well. Listen, Ryan, your dad called.”
The words lingered in the air, as if Mom had spoken a foreign language neither of them understood.
“He....” She paused and licked her lips. “He’s very busy, and he won’t be able to see you next week.”
Next week? Oh, that’s right. Dad had promised to take Ryan to Disney World, which was a three-hour drive away. He’d wanted to visit the park for ages, and had even made a picture book about it. “Oh.”
Disappointment made his stomach turn upside down. He didn’t expect much from Dad anymore, but he hadn’t expected he’d dump him for their day out—especially since he hadn’t seen Ryan in months.
“I’m sorry.” Mom grabbed his hand and squeezed it. “I’m sure he didn’t mean to hurt you. He’s just busy.”
Ryan nodded, unable to speak. His throat was glued shut.
“Anyway, I’ll let you go on with your work.” She kissed him on the cheek and left.
He sat quiet for a few seconds. Then, before he could stop to think about it, he grabbed his homework, tore it into shreds, and aimed the pieces straight for the recycling bin.
I wish I could make Dad come back, turn back in time to the way things were before.
He wanted to make Timothy pay for bullying him, too. He wished he could make the world right again, instead of it being one wrong thing on top of another.
***
When he went to bed, his knuckles still turned white from how hard he grabbed the blanket. Eventually he did drift off.
But then he woke up again. A tingling sensation spread through his legs, like bugs crawling up his skin. He blinked and reached for the night lamp. Seconds later, a warm, glowing light spread through the room.
His room felt warm—too warm, as if he’d stumbled into a sauna. Sweat dripped down his forehead, and his skin felt feverish. He kicked the blanket back and stared at his legs. They looked as they always did—no sign of any bug bites or a rash—but they still tingled.
He looked at his watch: one minute to twelve.
Ryan’s blood froze in his veins. What had Matthew said again? ‘Tonight, at midnight, you will receive your magic. Use it well. Don’t disappoint me.’
He’d never believed in magic, not really. Even strange Matthew couldn’t do real magic.
Now, with his legs tingling, and him waking up at exactly one minute to twelve, a part of him started hoping maybe Matthew had told him the truth after all.
The tingling sensation crept up to his upper legs, and then to his stomach. Now it felt more like pleasant warmth, like a b
lanket protecting him from the cold.
He lifted up his pajama shirt to stare at his tingling belly.
His skin glowed.
Ryan’s jaw dropped, and he started trembling all over. He pulled up his pants to see that his legs had the same color. An eerie golden glow crawled up his body, slowly turning him into a statue of liquid gold.
The glow kept on spreading. It reached his chest now, and a sharp, violent tug at his heart scared him.
This can’t be happening. It feels wrong. Matthew must’ve tricked me. I don’t want this! Stop!
He wanted to throw up, needed to throw up, but he couldn’t move. The golden glow had reached his neck now.
His breath came out ragged; he sounded like an old man with pneumonia. Screaming was impossible, so he let out a tiny peep instead.
The glow crawled across his face, gluing his lips shut, then his eyes. He wanted to cry, but his eyes couldn’t cry anymore.
The clock of the nearby church started to chime: one... two... three....
He clenched his fists and grabbed the blanket, but he couldn’t move anything besides his fingers.
...Four... five....
He tried to scream, but his lips stayed locked.
...Six... seven....
In his mind, he screamed. The golden glow didn’t hurt, but an unpleasant vibe washed over him, as if an alien was digging its way into his body.
...Eight... nine....
His Mom would miss him so much if something happened to him. His heart broke just thinking about it.
...Ten... eleven....
He couldn’t die. No, his Mom needed him. He had to get through this, had to survive this. He wished he’d never performed that stupid magic trick in class.
Twelve.
His skin burned, as if he’d been lit on fire. The golden glow intensified, until the entire room bathed in light, bright as sunlight, as if an angel had come down and filled the entire room with its golden glow.
A sound, loud as a bomb exploding, filled up his bedroom—filled up the entire world.
Then, it was over.
The golden glow had vanished, and the noise quieted down. The temperature dropped again, leaving only Ryan, lying in his bed and clutching his blanket.
He could breathe again. His chest popped up and down fast, and he breathed in and out as much as he could.
Slowly, he got up, resting on his elbows to prop himself up, still taking in ragged breaths. Sweat dripped from his damp hair.
It took a long time before he managed to kick his legs over the edge of the bed. The room looked just as he remembered it, with his magic kit in the corner, his cape thrown over a chair, his desk a cluttered mess.
At the same time, it felt different. Or maybe he had changed.
He grabbed the wall for support as he lifted himself up from his bed. Something had happened, sure, but whether or not he had magic powers now, as Matthew said he would, was an entirely different question.
His legs trembled, and he had to keep on grabbing the wall for support while he made his way to the desk. He bent down and grabbed his fumbled homework from the recycling bin.
How did magic work? Should he say magic words? Or just wish for something with his mind?
Ryan licked his lips. Okay, it’s worth a shot. Even if it fails, no one will know, so they can’t make fun of me.
“Please make my homework, and write down all the correct answers.”
The words sounded silly, as if by just wanting something, it could actually happen. Besides, did magic even work this way? Maybe he asked for too much at once.
Nothing happened.
A pang of disappointment rushed through his mind, but he didn’t want to give up that easily. He repeated his sentence, changing “please” to “I wish.” Again, nothing.
All right, time for something easier.
He held up his pencil. “I want this pencil to be sharp.”
When nothing happened, he pictured the pencil, sharpened. He opened his eyes again, but the pencil looked untouched.
He hadn’t imagined the golden glow though. Something had happened, but either he didn’t know how to activate his magic, or it had failed, and he still couldn’t use magic.
He stifled a yawn and returned back to bed, too tired to think about it. Tomorrow, he’d ask Matthew, but for now he just wanted to get some sleep.
Chapter 5
Ryan’s alarm clock rang, and the tune of Spongebob Squarepants echoed through his room. He narrowed his eyes and yawned out loud. His back and shoulders hurt.
Dizzy from sleep, he stumbled out of his bed and toward his closet. He couldn’t go back to school wearing his magician’s cape, so he had to look for some new clothes. He suppressed another yawn while he wobbled past his desk.
Wait a minute.
He paused, turned his head at the desk, and blinked to get rid of the sleep dust gathering in the corners of his eyes.
His mouth dropped to the floor.
On his desk lay a pile of papers, filled in neat writing with solutions to every math exercise in his book. Not just the exercises he needed to do for his homework, though—all of them.
He coursed through the pages, his eyes growing wider with every page he read. Oh my God. The magic is real.
His pencil lay in the middle of the desk, sharpened. As was every pencil he checked.
A loud, bubbling laugh escaped his throat. Oh God, I can’t believe it, but it’s real. Magic is real!
“Play,” he said to his music player, and old disk player he’d received from his cousin who’d bought it back when disk players were still cool. Without any pause, the music player turned on by itself and blasted the tune Ryan had in mind, something upbeat with a fast rhythm.
He held out his arms and whirled around, dancing and swirling to the music until he became dizzy, and laughing as if he’d woken up on Christmas and gotten every present he’d hoped for.
Today is the best day of my life, hands down.
***
Two hours later, he wore his magician’s cape at school. Most kids frowned when he walked past them, just like they’d done yesterday, but he didn’t care because now he was a real magician. He had real magic.
“Hey!” Aaron yelled from behind him. “Wait up.”
Ryan swirled around, giving his friend his largest smile. “Hey.”
Aaron arched his eyebrows. “Why are you still wearing the cape?” He slowed down and stopped right in front of his friend.
“Because I’m doing the trick again, and this time, it’ll work.”
“Oh.” Aaron looked at the ground for a second, as if contemplating whether or not to support Ryan’s idea. “Okay,” he said after a while. “If that’s what you want to do, then I’m one hundred percent behind you.”
“Don’t worry. Nothing will go wrong this time, I promise.” Ryan patted his friend on the shoulder, and then wrapped his cape around himself. “Everything will go according to plan.”
“You look like Dracula when you do that. Come on, let’s head to class. I don’t want to be late.”
Ryan nodded and fell in pace with his friend as they walked to the classroom. When they walked in, he went straight over to Mrs. Bell.
“I’d like to do my magic act again.” He held up his magic top hat, and pointed at his cape. “I know why it didn’t work yesterday.”
Mrs. Bells looked up from her desk and pursed her lips. “I don’t know, Ryan. I should be teaching you math and history today, not talking about your hobbies again.”
“Please?” He tried his best to look helpless and hurt, like a wounded animal.
Mrs. Bells sighed. “All right, then, but you only get one shot this time.”
A swarm of kids entered the classroom. “What? Are you going to do your stupid magic act again?” Timothy gazed at Ryan’s cape. “You already bored us with that once.” He pulled up his nose, as if he smelled something stinky.
Ryan didn’t bother responding. Whatever he said, it wou
ld be the wrong answer anyway.
Eventually Timothy shrugged and went to his seat.
Ryan walked to the middle of the class and bowed. “Boys and girls, today I’m going to show you a magic act of the likes you’ll never forget. My name is Ryan Norwood, and I’m a magician.” He bowed again, spreading his cape wide like a bat in flight.
Some kids applauded. Aaron slammed his hands together as if clapping to the beat of a marching band.
Timothy leaned back in his seat, hands crossed behind his head, disinterested.
Ryan took a deep breath and held his top hat up to the class. “See this hat? It looks just like any other, ordinary hat, right? Can you check it for me please?” He handed the hat to Addy, a blonde girl sitting in the front row.
The girl sighed but checked the hat. She even held it upside down. “Looks normal to me.” She handed it back.
“But the hat is anything but normal,” Ryan said. “It’s a magic hat. Behold.”
He used his newfound magic to wish for a rabbit. He closed his eyes for a second, picturing a rabbit in the hat. Then he opened his eyes again, and stared straight at a rabbit hiding inside the hat, its fur completely white, looking up at him with red eyes.
He reached for the rabbit, careful not to hurt it, and lifted it up with both hands. Then he showed it to the other kids.
One by one, all their mouths dropped open. Even Aaron’s. He gazed at Ryan, his eyes as wide as flying saucers, mouthing ‘what the heck’. Every time they’d practiced this trick, they used a stuffed animal—never a real one.
The rabbit wriggled in Ryan’s hands, and he patted it on its head.
“That looks just like my rabbit,” Ricky yelled from the back of class. “Hey, Mr. Fluff!”
“You call your rabbit Mr. Fluff?” Timothy’s voice dripped with venom, but still, he couldn’t keep his eyes from the rabbit either.
“And now, I’ll make the rabbit disappear again!” Ryan put the little bunny back into the hat, closed his eyes, and wished it to be gone.
Weirdville: The Clumsy Magician (Lower Grade Spooky Fun Adventure) Page 2
