Nothing Up My Sleeve Read online

  Ariel sighed. “You are so old-school, Dad.”

  Of course the accountant was her dad, Dominic realized. No wonder Ariel was a reigning champion. Her parents owned a magic shop!

  “Today’s audiences,” she went on, “don’t have the patience for your type of magic. They’re used to David Blaine and Criss Angel.”

  “Yeah!” Loop admitted. “Criss Angel’s my favorite. I love his geek magic.”

  “See?” Ariel said. “My generation has no idea who Eugene Burger or the Professor are.”

  This made the accountant stand up. “Show some respect,” he warned. “Those are classic magicians.”

  “‘Classic’ is just another way of calling someone old-fashioned, or just plain old.”

  “Now, that’s where you’re wrong. Classic acts never go out of style. They’re timeless and beautiful.”

  Ariel pretended to yawn. “They’re boring. Why do you think I’m the reigning champion of the Texas Association of Magicians’ teen stage contest? If you’re not moving forward, you’re moving backward. If I had followed your advice, I would have come in last place. But I decided to appeal to the newer, hip generation, and I won!”

  Her father’s mustache twitched. “Young lady, the classics never go out of style,” he said again, “and anyone can master magic with enough practice. It’s time you realized that and learned a little humility.”

  “Humility is for losers, not for people who are born with talent, like me.”

  Mr. Garza took off his baseball cap, ran his fingers through his hair, and put the cap back on. Then he reached into a drawer and pulled out some forms. He walked over to the boys and gave them the handouts. “Fill these out and get your parents’ signatures. You fellows are officially entering this year’s TAOM teen close-up contest. It’s in Houston at the end of August. You have three months to get ready, so we must begin our training immediately.”

  “Dad!” Ariel was appalled. “They can’t be in the competition.”

  “Sure they can,” he said. “One way or another, I’m going to show you that talent is earned, not given.” Then he turned to the boys. “Are you at least twelve years old?”

  The boys nodded.

  “Good. Every year, there’s a magic competition with a teen division for people twelve to seventeen years old. The contest alternates between stage and close-up acts. This year is a close-up year. You have to come up with a routine that lasts between four and seven minutes. Don’t worry. I can help you. I’ll even give you a fifteen percent discount on all merchandise as long as you promise to wear a Conjuring Cats T-shirt to the convention. How does that sound?”

  The boys could only nod.

  “Wait a minute!” Ariel said, but her father held up his hand to silence her. Then he returned to his desk and started tapping at the calculator again.

  Ariel glared at the boys. “Fine!” she told them. “If you want to make fools of yourselves in front of a whole bunch of people, be my guest.” Before Dominic and his friends could answer, before they could even process what had just happened, she stomped out.

  stage fright—

  when a performer gets nervous about being in front of an audience

  DOMINIC WAS STUNNED. One minute, he was botching his Hot Rod routine, and the next, he was entering a magic contest. He glanced at his friends. They didn’t seem stunned at all. They looked excited.

  After Ariel stormed off, Mr. Garza told them to pick lockers, pointing out that the one with the giant gold star was unavailable because it belonged to Ariel. “You can keep your supplies in here,” he explained. “You’ll have to bring your own locks, but at this point, no one else has earned a key to the Vault.” Then he gave them an overview of the contest. “You’ll perform in front of a live audience that includes three judges. They are professional magicians, and they’ll be judging your skills at handling magic, your creativity, and your delivery.” So far, Dominic had mastered none of these. “The winner is announced during an evening stage show. It is a great honor to win, but it is an even greater honor to participate.”

  The boys nodded.

  “But first, you must get your parents’ permission.” Mr. Garza went to his computer, pulled up the TAOM website, and printed copies of a brochure with all the rules. “Any questions?”

  The boys couldn’t think of any.

  “Good,” Mr. Garza said, nodding. “The training begins next week.” With that, he dismissed them.

  Dominic and his friends left, and as they walked through the store, Ariel glared at them again. She had totally mastered the look of an evil queen about to get her revenge. Dominic thought she might say, “Off with their heads!” but she didn’t—probably because her mom was there.

  “Good-bye, boys,” Mrs. Garza said.

  “’Bye,” they called back.

  When Dominic got home, he said hello to his mom and then went straight to his room, where he stood in front of the mirror with his Hot Rod. He repeated the routine. It worked every single time, even when he used blue as the favorite color.

  After a while, his mom peeked in.

  “What’s going on?” she said. “It’s time to get ready for dinner.”

  “I just want to get this perfect,” Dominic explained as he counted one, two, three, four from the top of his Hot Rod, his finger landing on the red gem as it should.

  “What happened? Your performance didn’t go well?”

  “It was awful.”

  She frowned. “Don’t worry, sweetie. You can always try again. It’s not easy to perform in front of an audience.”

  “I think I have stage fright,” Dominic explained. “I can do it perfectly when no one’s around.”

  She nodded. “I’m sure they’ll let you try again so you can get that key you were talking about.”

  “Oh, I did get it. It’s true that I messed up, but my paddle move was good enough for the key. I met Mr. Garza. He’s the guy in the Vault.”

  “So he told you all the secrets?”

  “Not exactly. But his room is full of resources—books, videos, magic gimmicks. He said we could borrow anything we wanted.” He pointed to his dresser. “I checked out that book on mentalism. It’s going to teach me how to read people’s minds.”

  “Uh-oh,” she teased. “Now you’re going to know all my secrets.”

  “That’s the whole point,” Dominic said, and she laughed a bit. “But first, I have to get used to performing in front of people. I felt a little sick to my stomach. It was weird because I never freak out when I’m with Loop or Z.”

  “Everything’s easy when you’re with your friends.”

  “Yeah, I guess it is. That’s why we’re going to compete together.”

  “Compete? What do you mean?”

  Instead of answering her question, Dominic grabbed the contest form and handed it to her. As she read, he told her about the convention in August, how magicians from all over the world gathered to share their techniques and routines, and how there were competitions that got judged by professionals. “They’re always looking for new talent,” he said. “Loop, Z, and I are going to be a team, and Mr. Garza is going to coach us. His daughter was the champion last year.” His mom was still reading, making him impatient. “Can I go?” he asked. “I think it’s a great opportunity.”

  “Wait a minute. Let me see.” She studied the entry form and started adding under her breath. “You’re right,” she said. “It’s a great opportunity, but…”

  He moaned like someone had punched him in the gut.

  “Don’t do that,” she said.

  “I can’t help it,” he explained. “Every time you say ‘but,’ bad news follows. You’re about to tell me I can’t go, aren’t you? Just admit it.”

  She sighed. “Let me tell you why.”

  “I knew it!” Amazingly, he could already read her mind.

  “Look at this,” she said, showing him the form. “This is everything we need to pay in order for you to go: $150 to register for the con
vention and $50 to enter the contest, not to mention transportation to Houston, a room at the Hilton Americas—which is probably $150 to $200 per night—then food, and whatever supplies you need for your performance. It’ll cost hundreds of dollars.”

  Dominic moaned again.

  “We don’t have that kind of money, sweetie. We’re living paycheck—”

  “To paycheck,” he finished. “I know, Mom, but this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Please. I’m sure Dad will pay. He’s got money.”

  “You can’t go to your dad every time you want something.”

  “Why not?” A timer buzzed, so she rushed to the kitchen. Dominic followed. After she took a chicken from the oven, Dominic said, “What’s the big deal about asking Dad for money? He likes to help his kids. Maria Elena gets to take tap lessons and gymnastics. For her birthday, Dad rented a pony and an inflatable castle.”

  “And for your birthday, he took you and all your friends to Laser World.”

  “I know. It was great! Dad loves to do fun things.”

  His mom didn’t answer. She grabbed a catalog from the bar that separated the kitchen from the living room and tore out a page. “I would love to have fun, too,” she said as she folded the page in half and then in half again. “But some of us have to work.”

  “Dad works, too.”

  Instead of responding, his mother kept folding the paper into smaller and smaller squares.

  “I’m going to ask him about the contest when he picks me up for my summer visit,” Dominic said.

  “Of course you are,” his mother replied. Now the paper was as small as a bottle cap. She put it in her pocket and headed to her room. “I’ve got a headache,” she said before closing the door. “Go ahead and serve yourself. And put away the leftovers when you’re done.”

  She always got headaches when Dominic talked about his father, and she always went to her room and closed the door. Dominic glanced at the bathroom, where the medicine cabinet was. She’d feel better, he thought, if she’d take a Tylenol first.

  Bill Switch—

  a trick that allows a magician to take a low-denomination bill and transform it into a higher denomination

  Z FELT LIKE HE couldn’t do anything right. When he had tried Ariel’s moves, the cards fell all over the floor. But the worst part was messing up his routine—more proof that he was cursed. No wonder he’d forgotten to take a dollar for his trick and to set up the gimmick pen. Sure, he did okay in the end and got to see what was in the Vault, and sure, it had lots of cool stuff. But he knew Mrs. Garza gave him the key to be nice, not because she thought he deserved it. What did Ariel say? That she could do his trick when she was four? So he was as good as a four-year-old, huh? He bet she was keeping score in that little notebook of hers. He bet she had a secret point system and ranked him last. It was the only thing that made sense.

  When he got home, the house was quiet for once. His dad sat at the table with a sudoku puzzle, while his mom did a crossword. They always did brain teasers when the house was empty. It was the only time they could think.

  “Where is everybody?” Z asked.

  His mom said, “Working or out with friends.”

  Z joined his parents at the table. “Want to do a word search?” his dad asked, pushing a booklet toward him.

  “No,” Z said. “I’m kinda tired. Today was my big performance at the magic shop.”

  He waited for his parents to ask a follow-up question, but they were too focused on their puzzles. His dad counted to nine under his breath as he tapped squares on the paper, and his mom kept mumbling, “A six-letter word that begins with ‘w.’”

  Z elaborated anyway. “So I did my Pen-through-Dollar trick. I messed up, but Dominic and Loop messed up, too. I kinda messed up more than they did, but I still got a key to the Vault.”

  “Mm-hmm,” his parents said in unison.

  Z knew they weren’t paying attention, so he decided to test them. “And then I floated in the air for thirty seconds.” He waited, but they didn’t respond. “No strings attached,” he added.

  “That’s nice,” his mom said.

  No one else was in the room, not even the dog. For once, he had his parents all to himself, but instead of listening to him, they stared at their puzzles.

  “You didn’t hear a word I said!”

  His mom and dad looked up.

  “Watch your tone,” his father warned.

  “But I’m talking, and you’re not listening. You never listen to me!”

  His parents glanced at each other, and then they put down their pencils. “We’re sorry,” his mother said. “We were just enjoying a quiet moment. We didn’t mean to ignore you.”

  “Talk to us,” his dad said. “What’s on your mind, mijo?”

  “Okay,” Z began. “I’ve got an entry form for a magic competition.” He pushed it toward them. “I really want to go.”

  “This is wonderful,” his mother said. “Everybody needs an interest—like my crossword puzzles and your brother’s boxing.”

  “And my floors,” his dad added, since he knew everything about floors.

  “So can I go?” Z asked. “Dominic and Loop will be there, too.”

  His mother studied the form. “It looks expensive,” she said, handing it to his father. He glanced at it and handed it back to Z without reading a single word!

  “Go put it on my desk,” his father said. “We’ll look at it later.”

  “But can I go?” Z asked again.

  His mother reached across the table and squeezed his hand. “For something like this,” she explained, “your father and I have to talk. There’s a lot to consider before we give you permission.”

  Z knew this was code for “we don’t have the money,” but since the competition wasn’t until the end of the summer, maybe his parents could find a way to save enough. He thought about the Bill Switch, where a magician took a one-dollar bill, folded it up, and then unfolded it to reveal a ten- or twenty-dollar bill instead. So maybe it was possible to take a little bit of money and turn it into a lot.

  He decided to hope for the best as he went to his parents’ bedroom, where his dad’s desk was. There was a computer and printer on it. There was a giant calendar with his floor appointments. There were envelopes, some opened and some still sealed. There were pencils, pens, markers, catalogs, and a Bible. Z took a Post-it and wrote a note. “Please look at this. It’s very important. I know it costs money, but I really want to enter this contest.” He signed it with a big “Z,” just like Zorro. Then he put it on the desk, hoping that it wouldn’t be invisible, like him.

  transposition—

  a sleight allowing the magician to secretly trade one thing for another

  WHEN LOOP GOT HOME, his mom said, “How did your audition go?”

  “Fine.”

  “Did you have fun?”

  “I guess.”

  She said, “Good. Now it’s time to get to work. I want you to read the first chapter of a book I left by your door.”

  Loop saluted her and said, “Yes, ma’am,” because his probation was more like a boot camp, even though in a real boot camp, soldiers did marching drills, push-ups, and obstacle courses. They fired guns and learned military strategy. They did not read books.

  When he got to his room, he found a copy of Frankenstein propped against the door. At least his mom had respected the crime scene tape. Loop picked up the paperback and flipped through the pages. No pictures? Was she kidding? There were dozens of comic books about Frankenstein, but his mom got the version with no pictures.

  He went to the kitchen, where she was chopping veggies for dinner. He waved the book in front of her face.

  She said, “Oh, good. You found it. You’ve been drawing stitches on your body and painting your fingernails black.”

  “So?”

  “So it reminded me of Frankenstein. That’s why I want you to read that book.”

  “I already know the story, Mom. There’s movies and everything
.”

  “And movies are never as good as books.”

  He put Frankenstein on the counter. “But I only read comic books. I’ve told you a hundred times.”

  She put down the knife, placed her hands on her hips, and gave him the don’t-talk-back-to-me look. “Is that right?”

  “Absolutely.” She looked at him a bit longer, and he looked at her. She didn’t blink, and he didn’t blink. She was a stone, not even breathing. She just kept staring at him, not blinking, and Loop tried to do the same, but it took all his concentration. Soon he was fidgeting. Couldn’t help it. Over a minute had passed—a minute that felt longer than an hour. “Fine!” he said, giving in.

  She picked up the knife again. “Since it doesn’t have any pictures,” she said over the sound of her chopping, “I want you to illustrate every chapter.”

  “Are you kidding?”

  “You’re the one who says you only read comic books. So turn this into a comic book.”

  He opened his mouth, but then shut it before getting into deeper trouble. The best choice was to head back to his room. He’d give anything to be at the magic shop, where he wouldn’t have to think about books or his mom trying to teach him a lesson.

  Loop removed the crime scene tape from his door and stepped in. He took off his shoes and dumped them in the corner. Then he plopped on his bed to read, but he fell asleep before the second page. He couldn’t tell how long he had slept before he heard knocking.

  Loop sat up, shook himself awake, and used his horror-film voice. “Enter at your own risk.”

  Rubén stepped in. “What’s up?”

  Loop said, “Not much. Just reading this stupid book as part of my penance.”

  “Hand it over. Let me see.” Loop gave it to him, and Rubén studied the cover. “I read this a long time ago. It’s a good book.”

  Loop shrugged. “If you say so.”