“I admit all of it! It’s not my fault that the world’s too stupid to realize when it’s being suckered. I only show up where I know I can take advantage.” Bosso’s wild smirk grew on his face. “I’m an entertainer. People adore me.… Will that ever make me rich enough? Hardly! But that diamond sure will! So yeah, I took it. What are you gonna do about it, kid?”
“Only everything.” Carter smiled, dropping the bat on the floor. “Thank you, Mr. Bosso. That’s all we needed to hear.”
“We?” Bosso whispered.
Carter pulled a rope hidden in a far corner. The four walls and ceiling of the fake prop room fell away. Carter, Bosso, the Walrus, and the Spider-Lady were left standing on the center of the stage. The entire audience—cops and all—had heard everything Bosso had confessed.
“How?” Bosso screamed.
“You were chasing me backstage through curtain after curtain,” Carter said. “I led you in one big circle, straight into a trap. And just in case anyone missed your confession…” Carter moved the needle back on the gramophone record and switched it from Record to Play.
“I admit all of it! It’s not my fault that the world’s too stupid to realize when it’s being suckered.” Bosso’s recorded voice played back for the audience.
Ridley had been holding up a sign for the audience that said: SILENCE!! She tossed it on the floor and wheeled backstage with the others.
Then Ridley, Olly, Izzy, Leila, and Theo pushed a line of hotel room service carts, one tied to the next, onto the stage. They removed the silver tray lids, one after the other. Each cart was heaped with the stolen goods from Bosso’s bathtub: wallets, rings, bracelets, watches, wedding bands, and more.
“Police, townspeople, visitors,” Carter shouted. “Bosso tried to steal the Star of Africa, but he was also working with the sheriff and a dangerous band of pickpockets. If you lost something in the last few days, it’s probably here.”
“He stole my wedding ring!” someone in the audience shouted.
“He stole my wallet!”
“He stole my earrings and bracelet!”
“I spent my whole allowance on his dumb games!”
The entire audience began booing him.
Two police officers took the sheriff into custody, while the rest rushed the stage and surrounded Bosso and his goons. Theo asked, “Would you like to take a final bow?”
Leila ran off the stage and over to Mr. Vernon. She hugged her dad and said, “We did it!”
“Yes, you did,” Mr. Vernon said, rubbing at his bruised skull. “I never had a doubt in my mind.”
“Let me take those handcuffs off,” the policeman said.
“No need. I’ve been getting out of handcuffs since I could walk.” Mr. Vernon made a peculiar motion with his hands, and the cuffs fell off. He gave them to the police officer. “Voilà!”
“Brilliant,” Carter whispered.
TWENTY-ONE
From the top of the stationary train car in the train yard, Carter could see the Grand Oak Resort, the quiet town of Mineral Wells, and the tents of Bosso’s carnival, which was silent and still in the morning light. After everything that had happened in the last few days, Carter wondered if he was beginning to believe in magic. Not the kind where you can actually make things disappear or cast a spell, but the kind where you can’t sleep because you’re so full of joy that you stay awake and watch the sun come up.
Carter was certain that he’d never seen such beautiful colors in the sky before. Sitting cross-legged on top of B. B. Bosso’s “loot car,” Carter watched below as the police cracked open the locks. When they finally got the metal train car door open, a mountain of wallets and watches and rings and more poured out. Later, the police would find that there had been a rash of thefts in every town B. B. Bosso’s carnival had been to.
Carter and the misfits had solved hundreds, if not thousands, of unsolved petty theft crimes.
While the police collected and boxed the goods, trying to figure out how to return everything to their proper owners, Carter continued to marvel at the sky’s streaks of yellow, orange, and red, all tied together like the multicolored silk handkerchiefs that his father had used in a magic trick long ago. As the brilliant sun crowned the horizon, it sent a fan of rays toward him, surrounding him with warmth.
A few tracks away, a freight train chugged off into the distance, fleeing from the rising light. Carter wondered what he would do next.
He couldn’t stay at Theo’s house for long. Mr. and Mrs. Stein-Meyer would only start asking questions. Should I hop a train, he wondered, just to see where it takes me next?
“You weren’t going to leave without saying good-bye, were you?” Mr. Vernon asked.
“Gaaah!” Carter screamed, startled to find he was no longer alone. The magician sat next to him, as if he had been there the whole time. “How do you do that?” Carter asked.
“Very quietly.” Mr. Vernon smiled. “Well, were you? Going to leave town?”
“I don’t want to,” Carter said. “But the police are already asking about my parents. I can’t go into foster care. Who knows where I’d end up?”
“A wise man once said that decisions are best made in the morning after a good night’s sleep, a shower, and a well-rounded breakfast. At this point, you’ve missed the sleep part, but the Other Mr. Vernon is making breakfast back at our home. And there are a few people who’d like to see you before you make a decision.”
“Breakfast sounds good,” Carter said, feeling his cheeks burn.
“Good. Come along,” Mr. Vernon said as he climbed down the train car ladder.
When he walked into Mr. Vernon’s dining room in the apartment above the magic shop, Carter was surprised to see the entire gang there. Theo, Ridley, Leila, Olly, and Izzy were all helping to set the table.
“Carter!” they screamed, running over to hug him.
“We did it! We really did it!” Leila said. “We took down Bosso and his circle of stooges.”
“Not all of them,” Theo said. “The police arrested Bosso, the Sideshowers, and the Pock-Pickets, but they never found the frown clowns.”
“A worry for another day,” the Other Mr. Vernon said, walking into the room with a platter stacked high with pancakes and strawberries. “For now, it’s time to eat.”
“Perhaps after presents?” Mr. Vernon suggested. He presented four boxes and placed them before Carter, Theo, Leila, and Ridley. “I’m sorry, Olly and Izzy, but I didn’t know we’d be having two more join us.”
“No worries!” Olly said, stuffing his mouth. “These pancakes are treat enough.”
When the four misfits opened their packages, they found what they had thought lost—Leila’s lucky lockpicks, Ridley’s journal, Theo’s bow, and Carter’s wooden box. Carter held the small, carved box to his chest, tracing his fingers over the initials LWL. “But how?” Carter asked.
“A good magician never tells,” Mr. Vernon said.
But Carter’s quick mind began to sort through the details of the last few days. When he first met Mr. Vernon, he’d given Carter the book about the “vanishing object on the podium” trick. Mr. Vernon was old friends with B. B. “Bobby” Bosso. He must have known that Bosso would try to steal the diamond, and how. He also must have pickpocketed the Pock-Pickets along the way and retrieved the misfits’ things.
“We were never on our own, were we?” Carter concluded. “You were looking after us from the beginning, making sure we were never in any real danger.… The coins in my pocket…? The blanket in the park…?”
Leila squinted. “What coins? What blanket?”
“I have no idea what he’s talking about.” Mr. Vernon smiled, helping himself to a pancake.
“What will you do now, Carter?” Theo asked.
Carter shrugged. After everything they’d been through together, after everything they’d done for him, how could he tell his friends what he’d been planning only an hour earlier? The thought made him feel empty inside. He didn’t want to
leave Mineral Wells or his new friends, but what other option did he have?
The others must have been able to read it all in Carter’s face. “You can’t leave!” Leila blurted out. “You have to stay!” Theo patted Carter on the back, and even Ridley seemed to frown.
“Actually, I may have one more trick up my sleeve,” Mr. Vernon said. He waved the kids to follow him out of the apartment and into the connecting magic shop. Theo, always a gentleman, held the door open for everyone.
“Woof-woof. I’m a rabbit,” squawked Presto.
“Silly bird.” Leila laughed.
Mr. Vernon led the kids and the Other Mr. Vernon into the secret room and over to the wall covered in photos. On it were dozens of black-and-white images of different magicians. But near the bottom, there was one that stood out. It was a sepia-toned photo of six kids, their arms around one another.
“Who are they?” Leila asked, studying the photo.
“The Emerald Ring,” said Mr. Vernon. “There’s me as a boy, about your age, and that’s Bosso. Back then he went by the name Bobby Boscowitz.”
“You knew each other?” Ridley asked.
“We did. We were the best of friends,” Mr. Vernon said. “Bosso, myself, and the rest of our friends were all misfits, just like you lot. But that’s not what I wanted to show you. I wanted to draw Carter’s attention to Lyle.” He pointed to one of the boys in the photograph.
“He looks kind of like Carter,” Leila said.
“Lyle was my dad’s name,” Carter whispered, confused.
“Just as I suspected,” Mr. Vernon said, tears forming in his eyes. “From the first time I saw you, I wondered… but I decided it was impossible, that my old mind was playing tricks on me. Then this evening, when I pickpocketed the Pock-Pickets, I found your box with the initials LWL. By chance, do they stand for Lyle Wylder Locke?”
Carter nodded, stunned. “You knew my dad?”
“I did, and very well too,” Mr. Vernon said. “Lyle was my cousin.”
Something welled up inside Carter, forming a baseball-size lump in his throat. Other than Uncle Sly, he didn’t think he had any family. “Your cousin?”
“When Lyle met your mother, they moved to the West Coast to be closer to her family,” Mr. Vernon explained. “After your parents… you know… I knew that you ended up living with another relative, but no one seemed to know who, or where. For years, I looked for you. I never gave up, but I never imagined that fate would bring you to Mineral Wells.”
“Not fate,” Leila said. “Magic.”
Magic, fate, or coincidence. Carter wasn’t sure which was which anymore. He remembered hopping onto the yellow train car several days earlier like it was the right thing to do. Then again, all the tracks were leading in the same direction. Magic. Fate. Coincidence. Maybe at a certain point, thought Carter, all of these ideas start to blur together.
“Carter, would you like to come live with us?” Mr. Vernon asked. Carter didn’t have any words. So he just nodded yes.
The four friends gathered in the secret room hidden inside the magic shop. After they’d gotten their faces in the local paper for saving the day, they decided they should keep practicing magic and see what they could really do.
“Should we have a name for our organization?” Theo asked.
“What about the Emerald Ring?” said Leila. “Just like my dad’s group from when he was a kid?”
“That’ll only make me think of Bosso and his goons,” Ridley added. “Thanks, but no thanks!”
“How about the Olly and Izzy Gang?” Olly said.
“Or the Izzy and Olly Gang,” Izzy said.
“Where’d you two come from?” Ridley asked, annoyed.
“You’re not the only ones who know tricks,” the twins said together.
Olly added, “And we’re happy to join. We have our own performance to perfect, but we don’t mind showing up from time to time.”
“As guest stars,” Izzy finished. “So yes, count us in too.”
“This is awkward,” Ridley said, nodding toward the twins. “But we are forming a gang of magicians.”
“Yeah, awesome!” cried Olly.
“Does this mean we get special outfits?” asked Izzy.
Ridley shook her head. “You don’t understand. You can’t be in it. Neither of you know illusion work.”
“That’s not true!” said Olly. He grabbed Izzy’s hand and tried to pull off her thumb.
“Ouch!” Izzy cried, smacking her brother.
“I think magic is about more than stagecraft,” Carter said. “It’s about happiness. It’s about laughter. It’s about that feeling you get inside. I think Olly and Izzy do that.”
“Well put,” Theo said, patting Carter on the back.
“I agree!” Leila said.
“Fine.” Ridley gave in. “But in the future, new members will be subject to a rigorous nomination process.”
“So, what are we going to call ourselves?” Leila asked.
“How about the Magical Greats?” suggested Ridley.
“The Magic Diamonds?” tried Carter.
“We need something unique, just like us,” said Theo.
Then Carter said, “Seems like everyone’s been calling us misfits. Bosso. The Pock-Pickets.”
“I like the idea of using the bad guys’ label for us,” said Ridley. “That is powerful.”
“Misfits,” Leila repeated, trying out the word. “Nice.”
“Agreed,” Olly and Izzy said.
Theo gave a thumbs-up.
“The Magic Misfits,” Carter said. He loved it. It was almost as if the fact that he’d never fit in was what made him belong right here at this table. “Well, now that we have our name, what should we do first?”
“Teach ourselves more magic, of course,” Leila said.
Carter had learned how to do magic tricks from his uncle. But those were just that: tricks. There was no magic involved. From his new family and friends, Carter was learning that real magic did exist. You just had to know where to look.
HOW TO…
Read Another Person’s Mind!
No! Don’t go yet! The book isn’t over. I have one more trick to teach you before you leave. Also, have I mentioned this is only the first book in the series? There are three more tales to go, each one bigger and grander than the previous. And in each, you’ll learn even more magic. Dare I say by the end of this series—if you’ve practiced, practiced, practiced—you’ll be a true magician! I’m rambling, aren’t I? Where was I? Oh yes, another magic trick!
In the Magic Misfits’ next adventure, they shall encounter a dangerous villain who claims to have psychic powers.
I’m not going to declare that there are—or are not—people who can actually read your mind. But I can tell you that with a little know-how, you too can learn how to READ SOMEONE ELSE’S MIND! Yes, you read that right.
Here’s how to know the number that someone is thinking! You can do this with anyone and with any number. All you need are these instructions and a little math! (You may even use this to boggle your math teacher! Though he or she may say, “I told you so.… Math is useful!”)
WHAT YOU NEED:
Paper and pencil–unless you’re really good at math.
You can also use a calculator!
STEPS:
1. Ask someone to think of a number. Any number! Make sure they write it down and put it in their pocket. (You can also do this trick over the phone.)
2. Now tell that friend to subtract 1 from that number.
3. Have them multiply that number by 2.
4. Then have your friend add their original number to that new number.
5. Now have him or her reveal that new number to you.
**Secret magician math: Now, as quick as you can (this is where those math classes come in handy): In your head, take that new number, and add 2.
**Second secret magician math: Then, in your head, divide that number by 3.
6. Finally, you can announce
their original number, and they will think you are AMAZING. TA-DA!
You are now a psychic—or really good at math. (Or both!) Either way, you’re well on your way to being the next great magician. Now what do you need to do? That’s right: Practice, practice, practice. (And then nap and snack and practice again. I shouldn’t even have to say it at this point, should I?)
When the Misfits return, they’ll be bringing more magic with them! Be ready.…
ONE LAST THING…
Hold on. Don’t go. Please stay just a few moments longer.
You didn’t think I’d let you close the book on Carter’s tale so easily, did you? What good is any worthwhile magic show—or story, for that matter—without one last shocking reveal?
For my final trick, I request that you look at the previous page and… Pick a card. Any card.
Now concentrate on that card, very hard. Put all your energy into it. Maybe try squinting your eyes for a moment. Concentrate! With all your might! You can do it! I believe in you! Yes! Brilliant!
You’ve done it. Now, while still concentrating on your card, think back on the story you’ve just read. Try to remember if you’ve seen your card on any of the pages throughout this book. Go back and flip through the whole thing again. See if you can find it. I am more than willing to wait.…
Did you find your card? Oh really? How interesting.
By now, I’m sure you’ve realized that what I’m playing at here is merely a bit of misdirection. You are well aware that this trick isn’t about the card you picked—it is about the cards you observed while flipping through the book. What do they mean?