Nothing Up My Sleeve Page 9

  “No.”

  “A roach?” His brother started hopping around and singing. “La cucaracha, la cucaracha, ya no puede caminar.”

  Z shivered. “I hate those things.”

  Boxer Boy pulled on some jeans and took a black T-shirt from the drawer. “So who are you talking to?” he asked again. “What’s with all the secrecy?”

  “Okay, okay,” Z said. “It’s a magic trick I’m working on. For that competition.”

  His brother slipped on his shirt, then looked at Z. “What competition?”

  “The one I’ve been talking about for three whole weeks. I can’t believe you don’t remember. Houston? The convention? That’s why I go to Conjuring Cats every day.” He was frustrated. He knew his family never paid attention to him, but this was major. Not knowing about his magic was like not knowing he had brown hair or that their house was in Victoria, Texas.

  “Hey, snap out of it,” Boxer Boy said. He danced around and threw a fake punch. Then he patted Z’s back. “I’m just messing with you, li’l bro. Of course I know you like magic. I just didn’t think you were serious about that competition.”

  Z clenched his fist. If Pierre were alive, he’d be gasping for air. “I’m totally serious.”

  “Okay, man. Don’t get your panties in a twist.”

  “I don’t wear panties!”

  His brother laughed. “I’m messing with you again. Can’t you take a joke?”

  Z glared at him and secretly vowed to take jujitsu lessons so he could get this clown in a rear naked choke next time he messed around.

  His brother sat on the edge of the bed and began putting on his shoes. “Seriously,” he said, “I think the competition’s a great idea. I bet you’ll win the whole thing.”

  Z lightened up, even loosened his grip on Pierre, but he still felt suspicious. “Really?”

  “Sure.”

  “How would you know? You haven’t seen me do anything.”

  “No one spends that much time at a magic shop without learning something.”

  Z nodded. Maybe Boxer Boy was cool after all. “So can I show you what I’ve been working on?” he asked.

  “Sure,” his brother replied, but when Z cleared his throat and held out Pierre, his brother interrupted. “You mean right now?”

  Z closed his hand again. He was definitely stopping by the jujitsu gym and asking for lessons.

  “Forget it,” he said, stomping out.

  Z headed to the living room, where his sisters were watching a cooking show. They always watched TV, and normally, he didn’t care. But since he was in a bad mood, he found that he did care today. The way they talked during the show really bugged him. Besides, why did they get to control the TV all the time? Especially when they weren’t paying attention. Without saying a word, he grabbed the remote and switched the channel, thinking they wouldn’t notice, but they did.

  “Hey! What’s up with you?” Bossy asked as she snatched back the remote and returned to the cooking show.

  Z didn’t answer. Instead, he bounced Pierre a few times.

  Then Boxer Boy stepped in. “I got him all mad,” he said.

  “Well, he changed the channel on us,” Bossy said, “so we missed the most important ingredient for crêpes soufflé mariposa.” Z wondered if that was a French dish and if he could sneak it into his routine.

  “Yeah!” said Copycat. “He wouldn’t act like a brat if you’d leave him alone.”

  “I’m not a brat!” Z said.

  “Changing the channel is definitely a bratty thing to do,” Bossy answered.

  “And who made you the queen of our TV?” Z snapped back.

  “That’s telling her,” Boxer Boy said. Z and his brother might fight all the time, but they always ganged up when the sisters were around.

  “I’m the oldest person in the house,” she explained. “That’s what makes me the queen.”

  “You’re not the oldest.” Z glanced around, and then he called out, “Mom! Dad!” But no one came.

  “Like I said, I’m the oldest in the house. The folks are out running errands, so I’m in charge of babysitting.”

  “You don’t need to babysit me,” Z said.

  Smiley stood up and messed with his hair. “You are so cute,” she said.

  “So cute. Especially when you’re mad,” Copycat added.

  Z hated the way they treated him like a baby when he was already twelve years old. When would they take him seriously?

  Just then, his other brother stepped in. They called him Toenail because once, when they were a lot younger, he got his toe stuck in a bicycle chain and yanked it out. The nail came off at its root, and he had to get stitches. It totally freaked Z out, and even though his brother had a normal toe again, Z couldn’t forget how ugly it used to look.

  Toenail had been walking the dog, and he freed it from its leash as soon as they got inside. The dog went around and sniffed everyone’s shoes.

  “What’s up?” Toenail asked.

  “Z was about to show us a magic trick,” Boxer Boy said.

  “Ooh! Show us some magic,” Copycat said as she rubbed her hands in anticipation.

  “Forget it,” Z replied. He looked at his sisters. “I wouldn’t want to interrupt your precious cooking show.” Then he looked at Boxer Boy. “And you obviously have better things to do.”

  “Well, I changed my plans,” he answered. “First thing on my to-do list is to figure out what you were saying to that little ball in your hands.” He glanced at Pierre. “That’s right.” He laughed. “You’re totally busted. I know you were having a conversation with your imaginary friend.”

  “I was practicing!” Z insisted.

  “Okay, then. Prove it.”

  Bossy muted the TV. “Everybody, take a seat,” she said. “Z’s going to show us something.”

  Because his sisters took up the whole couch, Z’s brothers sat on the armrests. Even the dog joined the audience, jumping onto the couch, too. For once, Z had everyone’s attention, but even though he finally had his wish, he felt nervous. He just stared at them for a few seconds.

  “Well?” Bossy moved her hand in circles as if to say, “Let’s get the ball rolling.”

  So Z cleared his throat, wiped Pierre against his shirt, and cleared his throat again. Then he held out the ball so that his family could see the little face he’d drawn. “This is Pierre,” he said. “And Pierre likes to disappear.” He attempted the French drop, but instead of disappearing, Pierre fell on the ground and bounced all over the floor. His siblings laughed. Z caught the ball and said, “Pierre! You were supposed to disappear.” Then he deepened his voice, and in the best French accent he could manage, he made the little ball speak. “Excusez-moi.”

  Again, Z held out the ball. “This is Pierre, my friends, and the one thing Pierre loves to do is disappear.” When he tried the French drop, Pierre slipped from his hands and bounced all over the floor again. This time his siblings laughed and the dog barked. Z was totally messing up his routine, but he was doing it on purpose. “Pierre!” he scolded as he caught the ball. “You are making a liar out of me.” The little ball lowered his face and said, “Excusez-moi.”

  “Give it up,” Toenail heckled.

  Z ignored him. He held the ball once again. “This is Pierre,” he repeated. “And he does not love to disappear. Instead, he loves to bounce all over the floor.” He did the French drop, and this time, the ball disappeared! Z acted surprised as he put his hands on his hips to search the floor. Everyone followed his gaze, even the dog.

  “Where’d it go?” they asked. And a moment later, Smiley clapped and said, “You made it disappear!”

  “Nah,” Toenail said, “it’s in his hands.”

  Z held out his hands. They were empty. He had secretly slipped the ball into his pocket when he’d put his hands on his hips.

  “That’s so amazing,” Smiley said. “How’d you do that?”

  “Yeah, how’d you do that?” Copycat repeated.

&
nbsp; Z put his finger to his lips. “A magician never tells his secrets.”

  double backer—

  a card that has the picture from the back printed on both sides; some cards are “two-faced,” meaning they have the face of the card printed on both sides

  LOOP DIDN’T FEEL ONE ounce of guilt when Rubén bought him stuff. As far as Loop was concerned, Rubén owed him. So when Loop saw David Blaine holding his breath in a giant tank with hundreds of GloFish, he mentioned it, thinking he’d get tickets to a David Blaine show or a big tank so he could practice holding his breath for an impossibly long time. Wouldn’t that up his cool factor? And didn’t he also mention that Houdini could escape from handcuffs while he was underwater? But no. Rubén completely ignored Loop’s interest in magic. He heard about the trick and ignored every detail except the fish, so instead of a giant tank, he bought a ten-gallon aquarium. He even bought glow-in-the-dark gravel, a sunken ship, and a black light. Then he took Loop to PetSmart to buy the fish. Loop dragged his feet, but he had no choice after his mom yelled at him for being ungrateful when he complained that fish were lame.

  Loop didn’t want a pet, but if he had to get one, he’d get a snake. One of his teachers had a snake, and Loop thought it was cool the way it dislocated its jaw to eat a giant rat and then there was a big lump in its body as the rat was slowly being digested. If David Blaine had jumped into a pit of venomous rattlers or escaped from the deadly grasp of a boa constrictor, Rubén would have bought a snake, and Loop would have named it Jaw or Wrath or Rage. He’d be showing it to his friends and making it a part of his magic routine. But instead, he had an aquarium with zebra fish in fluorescent colors like Sunburst Orange, Starfire Red, Galactic Purple, and Electric Green. At least they weren’t guppies. His fish actually glowed in the dark, which was kinda cool, and since they were made in a science lab, Loop called them Frankenfish after the book he was reading. Yup, he was still reading that dumb book.

  Loop dropped a pinch of food into the aquarium and watched the fish dart around to eat. He thought about how simple they were, how they felt hungry or startled or safe, and that was about it. They couldn’t even feel bored. You had to be smart to be bored. You had to be smart to be mad, too. Plus, the fish couldn’t talk, which meant they couldn’t lie or be lied to.

  His grandma had a saying: “El silencio es oro”—silence is golden. Loop totally agreed. That’s why he kept thinking about Ariel’s idea, how you didn’t need patter for magic because you could tell a wordless story, and it’d be pure and true. Didn’t people believe that actions spoke louder than words?

  So he was going to do a French drop routine without patter. Sure, he was ignoring Mr. Garza’s instructions, but didn’t Mr. Garza say that a magician had to act natural? For Loop, ignoring his teacher was totally natural.

  Time to get to work, he said to himself.

  He placed a large metal bolt on the floor. Then he hooked his iPod to a speaker and selected his “robo-tunes” mix, electronic music heavy on bass and synthesizers. He tapped his foot to catch the beat. Once he found it, he straightened his shoulders and lifted his arms in a classic Frankenstein’s monster pose. He did a series of stiff robotic moves. Then he tilted his head to the floor and spotted the silver bolt. He picked it up, moving like a G.I. Joe action figure, stiffly bending his knees, hips, and elbows. Loop put the bolt to his nose and sniffed, then to his ear and listened, and finally into his mouth. He gulped it down and stuck out his tongue to prove he’d actually swallowed it. Then he paused a few seconds. His eyes got wide as he started to gag and choke. Finally, he covered his mouth and coughed out the bolt. He examined it, and then used the French drop to make it disappear.

  Before he could go on, he heard clapping. His grandma had opened the door to spy on him, completely ignoring his crime scene tape.

  She pulled the tape free, stepped into the room, and held out her arms for a hug. Loop tried to pat her on the back instead, but she grabbed him and squeezed. Then she held his face in her hands and called him chulo.

  “I’m so glad you’re still alive,” she said, her voice playful. “I almost gave you CPR when I saw you choking, but I was waiting for you to turn blue first.”

  Loop rolled his eyes. Then he went to his iPod and turned it off.

  “I should have used the Heimlich maneuver.”

  “Grandma,” he said, all bothered by how corny she could be, “I didn’t really have the bolt in my mouth.”

  “Well, you sure had me fooled.” She grabbed his hands. Today he had outlined the veins on his arms and the lifelines on his palms. “Why do you do this?” she asked.

  He shrugged. “I like drawing.”

  “You should draw on paper, then—not on your skin.”

  “I do,” Loop said, grabbing his sketchpad. “I’m illustrating a book. Check it out.”

  His grandma flipped through the pages. The first showed a ship stuck in ice. The second had a cartoon strip. In the first picture, a man—he was all bandaged up—spoke to the captain. His speech bubble said, “I’m Dr. Frankenstein, and I had a very happy childhood.” The next pictures showed Frankenstein playing with other children, then reading a book by Cornelius Agrippa, and then holding hands with a pretty girl. The third page had another cartoon strip opening with a speech bubble that said, “I loved science more than anything.” The pictures that followed showed Frankenstein facing away from his family as he read books, then setting up a lab, then putting a zombielike man on an examination table, and finally, Frankenstein holding a box with a button that said “on.”

  “It’s from this book,” Loop said, holding up his copy of Frankenstein. “Mom’s making me read it for punishment.”

  “Reading? A punishment? Sounds like fun to me. I love books, and so should you.”

  “Grandma,” Loop said as if talking to a five-year-old, “I’m from the twenty-first century. The only reason you like books is because you didn’t have TV or video games when you were growing up.”

  She punched him. “I had TV.”

  “And video games?”

  “Maybe I didn’t have video games when I was a kid, but I did play them when they first came out. Ever heard of PONG?”

  Loop moaned. And then he felt sorry for his grandma because PONG was the lamest video game on the planet. There were no graphics, unless you counted a black screen with two white bars and a little white dot. The whole point of the game was to move the bars up and down to hit the dot. No background music or avatars or world building. No wonder she liked books.

  “Trust me, Grandma,” Loop said. “If you had Minecraft when you were growing up, you wouldn’t waste your time reading.”

  She sighed. “My poor, lost child.” Then she reached into her bag and pulled out a Sacred Heart of Jesus candle. “You know what we need to do?”

  Loop moaned again.

  “That’s right,” she said. “We need to pray for your soul.”

  Loop glanced at his GloFish. Lucky things. No one asked them to pray.

  He put on his altar-boy face, but he was pretending. Sure, he liked God, Jesus, and La Virgen de Guadalupe, but he didn’t like to pray. He’d rather choke on a bolt for real and get mouth-to-mouth resuscitation from his grandma, no matter how gross it was. That’s why he felt like a double backer, or a two-faced gaff card, with the same thing printed on both sides. They fooled you because you thought they were normal cards, but instead, they were total fakes.

  His grandma grabbed two pillows and placed them before the retablo. She dusted the little statue of Mary and made room for the candle. Then she lit it and knelt down.

  “Come on,” she said to Loop, pulling on his arm.

  He plopped down next to her. “I never know what to say after the Our Father and Hail Mary.”

  “Just have a conversation,” she suggested.

  “About what? I mean, what do you talk about?”

  “Well.” His grandma paused a moment. “First I give gratitude for all the good things in my life—like my
family and friends, and all the times we’re safe, and for the food on the table and good weather, and beautiful things like rivers and roses. Then I make petitions so I can ask for help. I always need help. Like with my doctor’s appointments. And the people I love need help, too, so I pray for them, hoping they forgive each other no matter how mad they are.” At that, she looked directly at Loop. He got the hint. She wanted him to forgive his mom and Rubén, but it wasn’t that easy.

  He shrugged it off. No need to get his grandma upset. “Say thanks and ask for things?” he said. “That’s all I gotta do?”

  She nodded. Then she turned to the retablo and made the sign of the cross. Loop made the sign of the cross, too… only his looked more like a squiggle. He took a deep breath before rushing through the prayers, his “Our Father, who art in heaven” turning into “Are there warts in heav’n?” Then it was time to give thanks.

  “Okay, God,” he said, but not out loud, “thanks for the GloFish, even though I didn’t ask for them. I guess they’re your creatures, too. So what do you think about scientists injecting them with jellyfish genes so they’ll glow in the dark?” He paused a moment as if listening to the answer. “And thanks for the chop cup,” he went on. “I’ll be able to do some cool tricks with that. And for the liquid latex so I could make some fake skin.” At this point, he made a mental note: Get chop cup from Dominic before he thinks it’s his. And Z still has the Svengali deck. They need to buy their own magic stuff from now on, especially after hightailing it yesterday and leaving me to walk home alone.

  Thinking about all the things he had lent his friends made Loop lose his concentration, so he glanced at the ceiling, wondering what else to be grateful for. When he couldn’t think of anything, he switched to making petitions. His grandma said you shouldn’t ask for objects, since that was being materialistic. Instead, you should ask for ways to improve your life.

  But how could he improve his life when all his mistakes had already happened? It wasn’t like he could fix them by time traveling to the past. Of course, winning the magic contest would improve his life. Maybe you didn’t win money, but you could win respect. Everyone thought he was a slacker. If he won, he could prove them wrong, but that wasn’t going to happen when his friends took his props all the time.