Nothing Up My Sleeve Read online

  His mom was satisfied with his report, so he rode his skateboard to Conjuring Cats. After saying hello to Mrs. Garza and petting Diamonds and Spades, he went into the Vault.

  Mr. Garza sat at the computer as usual, but Ariel wasn’t around.

  “She’s at the movies with some friends,” Mr. Garza explained.

  This surprised Loop. He didn’t know Ariel had friends or even watched movies. In fact, he couldn’t imagine her outside of Conjuring Cats, the same way he couldn’t imagine his teachers outside of their classrooms. Certain people, it seemed, existed in specific places, and it was hard to remember that they existed in other places, too.

  Mr. Garza turned away from his computer. He was wearing his ASSASSIN’S BREED T-shirt again. “Have you come up with an idea for your routine?”

  Loop explained that he liked geek magic because he wanted to freak people out. “I’m not going to put a sword through my neck or swallow razor blades,” he explained. “Instead, I’m going to do one of Criss Angel’s tricks.” Criss Angel was Loop’s favorite geek magician. “I’ve been studying his YouTube videos and practicing his techniques. I’m even getting an outfit so I can look just like him.”

  “Hmmm…” Mr. Garza said. He did a full 360 in his chair before continuing. “I’m glad you found a magician you admire. It’s a good idea to model your heroes, especially when you’re in your development stage, but if you want to win the contest, you have to come up with your own routine. ¿Entiendes?”

  Loop shook his head because he didn’t understand. “How can I come up with my own routine? I don’t know enough.”

  Mr. Garza thought a moment. “Have you ever used odds and ends to make something?”

  “No,” Loop replied, thinking about how Dr. Frankenstein had used odds and ends to make a monster.

  “Have you ever made a collage using pictures from different magazines?”

  “No.”

  “How about cooking? Have you ever cooked anything?”

  “No.”

  “Well, what do you do?” Mr. Garza asked. “Besides magic, that is.”

  Loop took a deep breath and stared at the ceiling for a while. He didn’t do anything except play video games, read Frankenstein, and draw pictures. So that’s what he said.

  “What kind of pictures?” Mr. Garza wanted to know.

  “Right now, I’m drawing comic strips about the book. I don’t really want to. My mom’s making me do it because I got bad grades in school.”

  “Are your comic strips a direct copy of someone else’s?”

  “No. That would be plagiarism.” Loop stopped himself because he didn’t want Mr. Garza to know that he had plagiarized an important paper once and that his teacher had sent him to in-school suspension and had a conference with his parents.

  “So what you’re doing,” Mr. Garza went on, “is taking elements from the book and examples of comics, and combining them to create something new.”

  Loop nodded. “I think I get it,” he said. “Instead of copying Criss Angel, you want me to take a few elements from his acts and maybe a few elements from something else, like video games or the Frankenstein book, and blend them together.”

  “That’s right. And remember, above all…”

  “… be natural,” Loop said to complete the sentence.

  “Exactly.”

  Loop thought for a moment. “This is going to be tough,” he admitted.

  “You’re a smart young man. I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

  With that, Mr. Garza turned back to his computer. Meanwhile, Loop had a giant smile on his face. Mr. Garza didn’t know Loop as a student in school. He knew him only as a student at Conjuring Cats. That meant that Mr. Garza knew the real Loop. And I am smart, Loop thought to himself. I’m going to prove it, too.

  He found a memo pad and a pencil so he could brainstorm. Every time he heard that word—“brainstorm”—he imagined lightning and thunder inside himself, so Loop sketched an outline of his head with a storm inside. He could almost feel the booms of thunder and the jolts of electric lightning. In a way, brainstorming was what happened when Dr. Frankenstein flipped the switch on his monster, so Loop sketched Dr. Frankenstein’s monster, even though it had nothing to do with his magic routine. He was just letting his mind wander. Next, it wandered over to Criss Angel, and Loop drew him with his long black hair and clunky silver crosses. Then Loop wrote a list of all of Criss Angel’s tricks. He drew boxes around some and then arrows to mark the starting points of other lists. He wrote down props and sleights, underlining some and crossing out others. He flipped pages when he ran out of space. Finally, he drew a circle and wrote “other non-magic details,” and then he drew spokes coming out from the circle. One said “costume,” another said “makeup,” and a third said “sound effects.” He drew circles around these words and more spokes with more words, and on and on until he ran out of pages. And then he shook out his hand because he had never written so much in one hour.

  Loop stretched and yawned. That’s how tired he was.

  “I’ve got a few ideas,” he announced. “This is going to be the awesomest routine in the world.”

  “I have no doubt,” Mr. Garza said.

  Loop was ready to go, so he grabbed the memo pad and the chop cup, which was on the counter just like Ariel had said. He put these items in a plastic bag and headed home. When he got to his room, he reviewed his notes. Little by little, a routine was forming in his mind. He couldn’t wait to start working on it. In the meantime, he decided to mess around with the chop cup, but when he picked it up, he noticed something weird. The little balls weren’t disappearing like they were supposed to. He double-checked his process. He was doing everything right, but still, the balls wouldn’t disappear!

  And then he remembered Dominic’s experiment—Dominic must have broken the gimmick. This was deliberate sabotage!

  Loop thought about his conversation with his mother earlier, about the true consequences of experiments. Well, here was a true consequence for Dominic. Not only had he ruined the chop cup, but he had also ruined their friendship!

  Ambitious Card—

  a trick featuring a card that continually rises to the top of the deck

  Z SPENT A WHOLE week looking for jobs. “I’ll clean your room,” he told his brothers, and they said, “Nice try, it’s your room, too.” To his sisters, he tried, “I’ll wash your clothes,” but they said, “We don’t want you touching our underwear.”

  So he went around the neighborhood with the lawn mower, but since it hadn’t rained, the yards were all dried up. Only Mr. Crane’s yard had grass because he ignored the water restrictions and used the sprinkler every morning. But Z couldn’t mow his lawn because Mr. Crane did it himself.

  “I don’t know what to do,” he complained after another day of failing to find a job.

  His oldest brothers and sisters had jobs at fast-food places or clothing stores, but Boxer Boy and Copycat didn’t work. Like Z, they helped around the house without getting paid. Right now, Boxer Boy was outside giving the dog a bath, and Copycat was washing dishes while their mom ironed clothes.

  “There’s a lot to do here,” his sister said. “You want to wash these dishes for me?”

  “Are you going to pay me?”

  She laughed. “Very funny,” she said.

  He plopped on the couch. “I’m never going to make enough money for the magic convention.”

  “Speaking of magic,” his mom said, “your friend Loop left a message last week. I’m sorry I forgot to tell you before. He said something about a deck of cards. A spaghetti deck or something?”

  “You mean ‘Svengali’?”

  She shrugged.

  “What else did he say?”

  “He wants it back.”

  This surprised Z because Loop never did card tricks. “Are you sure? He hates messing around with cards. Besides, he has all kinds of magic tricks because his parents can afford to buy him anything he wants. He doesn’t have to sha
re everything with a bunch of brothers and sisters.”

  His mom gave him a stern look. “You should be grateful for your brothers and sisters,” she said.

  “Yeah,” Copycat said. “Aren’t you grateful for me?” She curtsied.

  Z ignored her. “So far,” he went on, “I’ve made exactly zero dollars and zero cents. This is definite proof that I’m cursed. Loop has the messiest room, but he still gets an allowance just because he was born. He doesn’t have to lift a finger, and his parents still give him money.”

  “And what about your other friend?” his sister asked. “Does he get money just because he was born?”

  “No, he does chores.”

  “Qué bueno,” his mom said.

  “But he gets paid when he does chores. Shouldn’t I get something for helping out? I swept the driveway yesterday, and all Dad gave me was a glass of water. Then he told me to sweep the back patio. I feel like a slave sometimes!”

  His mother held up the iron. It looked like she wanted to brand him. “Around here,” she said, “we work because it’s our responsibility to help one another. We don’t do it for money. Besides, you get an allowance when we have a little extra.”

  “That’s right,” his sister added. “I’m not getting a cent for washing these dishes today.”

  “But—”

  Before Z could finish, his mom said, “Go do chores at your friend’s house if you want to get paid.” With that, she pressed the iron hard against some slacks, and steam rose from it, making the iron seem as angry as she was. For a minute, Z felt guilty about upsetting her, but then he realized that she had just made a great suggestion.

  He jumped from the couch and kissed her on the cheek. “You’re a genius!” he said. “Dominic’s out of town, so there’s no one to help his mom!”

  He ran out the door and raced to the apartment complex. When Dominic’s mom answered the door, she said, “I’m afraid Dominic’s not back yet. He’s staying one more week at his father’s house.”

  “That’s okay,” Z said. “I’m not here to see him. I’m here to see you.”

  “Really?” she said. “Well, that’s wonderful. I was getting lonely all by myself.” She let him in, and Z took a seat on the couch. Then she asked if he wanted some milk and cookies. He said yes, so she went to the kitchen for his snack. Z finished the cookies and milk in less than a minute. With his giant family, he had to rush through meals if he wanted seconds, so he was used to eating fast.

  “These are so delicious,” he said, his mouth still full.

  Dominic’s mom smiled. “I’m glad you enjoyed them. Now, what brings you to the apartment?”

  Z told her the whole story—how his parents were running out of money because business was slow and they had too many kids and how his brothers and sisters ignored him because he was the youngest and how he was always last so there was never anything left for him. “That’s why I have to compete in that magic contest,” he explained. “I know I can win, because I’m really good at every card trick that has ever been invented. My parents said I can go, but only if I raise some money. Even though they’re broke, they went and bought a car for all my brothers and sisters, but not for me, since I can’t drive yet. So all I get is a little bit of money. See what I mean?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “I’ve been all over the place looking for lawns to mow or cars to wash, but I’m not having any luck. So then I thought about you and how you’re by yourself this week. Maybe I can take over Dominic’s chores while he’s gone, and you can give me his allowance.”

  She thought a moment and then said, “You’re an enterprising young man, Z.”

  He didn’t know what “enterprising” meant, but it sounded like a compliment, so he said, “Thanks!”

  “I’m more than happy to give you some money in exchange for help this week, but I’m afraid it won’t be enough to cover the whole convention.”

  “I know,” Z said. “I’ll need to bug a lot of people to give me jobs.”

  “I’m glad to hear about your perseverance in spite of all the obstacles.”

  Perseverance? With all this vocabulary, Z thought, no wonder Dominic is smart.

  “I have a lot of friends around the apartment complex,” she continued. “I’ll see if anyone else needs help. In the meantime, I was about to wash clothes. Maybe you can help me carry the baskets and wait for the loads to finish. I don’t like to leave them unattended because once someone stole my towels straight from the dryer. I know it sounds boring, but you can read one of Dominic’s books while you wait.”

  “Thanks, but I’ve got cards.” Z showed them to her. “I’ll practice while I wait.”

  “Excellent way to multitask,” she said.

  Z helped Dominic’s mom take the baskets to the laundry room, which was right by a swimming pool. She loaded the machines and showed him how to work the dryers and which settings she preferred. Then she left him alone to wait.

  He was all by himself, but that was okay. He played a little game with his cards, lifting some and guessing how many were in his hand without spreading them out. He had a special talent for it.

  He’d watched dozens of YouTube videos and couldn’t believe how many tricks could be done with a simple deck of cards. But one trick interested him more than the others. It was called the Ambitious Card. Z liked it because he was ambitious, too.

  When the clothes finished, Dominic’s mom gave Z five dollars and told him to come back the next day to help her friends. Then she handed him a ziplock bag with extra cookies. “For later,” she said. Z beamed. The cookies would be his secret. He wasn’t going to share them with anyone—especially not his brothers and sisters.

  prediction—

  when a magician guesses what the audience is going to say or choose

  DOMINIC HAD BEEN IN Corpus for a whole week, and he’d spent most of his time practicing magic. Luckily, his dad was 100 percent supportive. He took Dominic to a local magic shop, and even though Dominic felt guilty about not buying from Conjuring Cats, he couldn’t resist a new mentalism trick called Die-ception. It used a die—not the small kind that came with board games, but a four-inch cube. According to the instructions, you asked people to choose a number, and then you guessed it even when it was hidden inside a cloth sack. Dominic figured out how it worked. It was actually easy. The real challenge was writing patter.

  He took the prediction die and a notepad to the dining table, and he brainstormed all morning, finally coming up with patter for the trick—and this time, he wasn’t going to talk about the evaporation cycle. Now all he had to do was practice. Little by little, using patter while performing his tricks got easier and easier, so as soon as his dad came home from work, Dominic asked if he wanted to see what he’d come up with.

  “You bet,” his dad said. He had the mail in his hand, so he placed it on the table and took a seat.

  Then Dominic had a great idea. When he’d finally called his mom back last week, she made him promise to touch base every day, even if only with a text message. Perhaps he could touch base right now, while he was performing his new trick. “Mom’s home from work,” he told his dad. “Why don’t we Skype her, so she can see the trick, too?” His dad seemed to hesitate. “You don’t have to talk to her. But it’ll be like both of you being in the same place at the same time.” He got no response from his dad. “For the trick,” Dominic added.

  “Well, son,” his dad finally said. “Your mom’s probably tired. Why don’t you show her your trick later? That way, she can have you all to herself.”

  Dominic wanted to say that she always had him to herself, but he knew it was pointless. He decided to shrug it off and get to his routine. He took a deep breath, cleared his throat, and took a deep breath again. He desperately needed to calm down because he was getting anxious.

  “This here,” he said, “is a regular die. See for yourself.” His dad looked at it, examining all the sides. “I’m going to turn away,” Dominic went on, “and while my back is turned, I
want you to choose a number on the die. Place the die on the table with the number facing up and then cover it with this handkerchief.” He caught his father nodding as he turned away.

  A few seconds passed. “Okay,” his dad said. “I picked a number and covered it up.”

  Dominic turned around. “Don’t tell me what it is,” he warned. “I’m going to read your mind. Are you ready?”

  His father nodded.

  “Now concentrate really hard as you think of the number.” He squinted his eyes. “Wait a minute,” he said, “concentrate on the die, not on the number pi.”

  He thought the rhyme was funny, but his dad didn’t laugh.

  Dominic continued. He closed his eyes and touched his father’s head. “You sure have a lot of numbers in there—credit card accounts, math equations, the number of miles on your car—but one number keeps rising to the top. It’s getting bigger and bigger. It’s flashing red now. This has to be it!” He opened his eyes. “You picked the number four.”

  His dad clapped. “That’s exactly right!” he said as Dominic lifted the handkerchief and revealed the four.

  “Maybe you think I cheated,” Dominic went on. “Maybe you think this handkerchief is see-through. Let’s try this again, but this time put the die in this sack. Make sure the number you choose is facing up and then close the sack. I won’t be able to see what you picked because the bag’s made of impenetrable fabric. See for yourself.” His dad examined the bag. “This bag is as thick as a telephone book.”

  His simile got no reaction.

  “Okay,” Dominic said. “I’m going to turn around again. Go ahead and pick a number and put the die in the bag.”

  He turned and heard shuffling sounds, and then his dad said, “I’m ready.”

  Dominic faced his dad again. Instead of closing his eyes, he stared not at the bag but at his father. “Cyclops,” he said. “Ears. Tricycle. Square. Hand. Guitar… aha! Guitar!”