The Magic Misfits: The Second Story Page 11

  The audience gasped, impressed that a group of kids was capable of something impossible. All the hours that she and Carter had spent practicing had been worth it. The sound of applause sent shivers down Leila’s spine. She wanted to feel it again.

  She called out, “Some folks say that girls like me should be quiet and polite. That we should mind our manners and speak only when spoken to. To these people, I’d ask that you watch this next trick closely and see what girls like me are capable of!”

  A worried murmur fluttered through the auditorium, filling Leila with excitement.

  Carter placed a chair in the center of the stage. Leila sat as Theo and Ridley very clearly tied her hands together in her lap. Then they wrapped another rope around her chest and the back of the chair so that it seemed she could barely move. Her friends then turned the chair around so that the crowd could see the knots that Leila had taught them to make. Ridley went so far as to tug on the ropes, and Leila grunted in what sounded like pain.

  What the crowd didn’t know was that while Theo and Ridley were tying her, Leila had been tensing her muscles and keeping her wrists wide apart. As they’d looped the coils around her chest, she’d inhaled as much breath as her lungs would allow, so that when it was time to escape, all she had to do was make herself smaller again.

  Exhaling and relaxing, the ropes became loose around her, and Leila was able to slip out from inside them. In a blink, she was free, clutching the knotted bindings in her tight fists. She leapt up on the chair and did a little jig.

  The audience loved it. And they loved her. Leila let their energy feed her. “Thank you!” she said with a bow, trying to keep her voice from shattering into a million giddy pieces.

  “And now it’s time for my big finale. One that is so impossible, so claustrophobic, you’ll wonder if I’ve lost my mind for attempting it.” From one of the wings, Carter and Theo had wheeled out a small trunk, only a little bit larger than a suitcase. From the other side of the stage, Olly and Izzy strolled out carrying Leila’s bleached, white straitjacket, its long arms and buckles dragging across the floor.

  When the audience saw these props, they grew frenzied with worry and excitement, talking to one another noisily.

  The twins winked as they helped Leila get into the straitjacket. She reached across her chest, bringing her arms into an X shape. Click-click-click. The locks were in place now, and the jacket fit snugly, but not too snugly. She called out to the audience, “This time, I’ll need a little help from all of you. If you would, as soon as the trunk is closed and locked with me inside it, please count me down from thirty.”

  Leila ducked into the trunk, the twins closed the lid, and the audience began counting down: “Thirty… twenty-nine… twenty-eight…!”

  The other Misfits riled up the crowd, shouting, “Louder! Louder!” and “She can’t hear you!” and “Go, Leila, go!”

  “Twenty! Nineteen! Eighteen! Seventeen! Sixteen! Fifteen!”

  Inside the box, Leila wiggled and worked to free herself. She listened to the audience as she methodically worked one arm loose. She raised it to her mouth and pulled the fake skin away, moving her lucky lockpicks between her lips before snatching them with her newly freed fingers. From there, she struggled to reach each of the locks that the twins had attached to the jacket. There was very little room for her to shift her body inside the trunk, but after years of practice, this feat had become one of her favorites to perform for her fathers back at the magic shop.

  “Eleven! Ten! Nine!” But before the audience could say “Eight!” Leila popped out of the trunk. Everyone gasped in surprise. With a simple shimmy of her shoulders, the jacket slipped away, and she held up her arms in triumph.

  The noise in the auditorium was more than Leila could have expected. Her eardrums rattled like castanets. She was so pleased she fought with all her might to keep in the happy tears. She reached out for her friends and gathered them together for a final bow. Hopefully, this show would be the first of many.

  Peering past the glare of the stage lights, she saw her poppa clapping ecstatically and waving to her. The sight of him filled her with rainbow reflections, sunny skies, memories of hot chocolate, and the warmest laughter in the whole world.

  TWENTY

  While the stagehands prepped the stage for the main act, the stage manager directed the kids to a group of open seats in the first row. Strangers kept patting Leila on the back and congratulating her. A few random kids even rushed up to her and asked, “Can we have your autograph?”

  “Of course!” Leila agreed. “But only if my friends sign as well.” The Misfits beamed as they passed the pens and paper around.

  Soon, the auditorium lights dimmed and the audience hushed. Madame Esmeralda’s show was starting.

  There were whispers in the row behind the Misfits about yesterday’s séance:

  “Did you see what that psychic did?”

  “Those flashing lights were terrifying.”

  “She must be really special if she quieted those ghosts.”

  A voice boomed out, shocking everyone into silence. “And now… please join the Grand Oak Resort in welcoming an illustrious talent to our stage. Guard your mind, steel your spirit, harden your nerves. Because you are about to encounter the world’s most confounding clairvoyant… Madame Esmeralda!!!”

  From the darkened stage came a blast of noise and light and smoke, and then Madame Esmeralda appeared, walking out of a fog. Her smile lit up the room as she bowed, then she raised her arms in gratitude toward the crowd.

  Her performance was as sleek and polished as crow feathers. She began by collecting little note cards on which audience volunteers had written statements about themselves. Reading through a few of them, she walked off the stage and moved through the aisles, the spotlight following her from above, surrounding her in a halo of chilly light.

  To a red-haired woman, she said, “Your mother worked for a midwestern bank!”

  To a tie-wearing man: “Your favorite color is mayonnaise white!”

  To a teenage girl: “Your middle name is Anna-Rose!”

  And to an old man of small stature: “You were once bitten by a shark near the island of Saint John.”

  Madame Esmeralda spoke to more and more people, and each of them stared at her in shock. “From the stunned looks on your faces,” she called out, “it seems like I’ve struck some major chords.” The crowd murmured, conferring with one another. “Was I correct?” Each of the volunteers stood and said, “Yes!” The audience burst into surprised applause, and the volunteers sat down again.

  “For my next feat, we must all become a mite more mystical.” She returned to the stage and removed a thin white candle from a pocket within her clothes. She dramatically struck a match. “Lights, please!” she called out to the people up in the theater booth. The stage lights faded into an overwhelming blackness. The candlelight flickered just below Madame Esmeralda’s face, throwing spooky shadows across her features. She shouted, “I call upon the ancestors of this crowd to join us here tonight!” A hush fell over the audience. Then, growing subdued, Madame Esmeralda closed her eyes and whispered, “Be still!” With a small grin, she added, “Allow them to say hello.”

  From around the cavernous room, there came sudden shouts and cries of fear.

  Someone called out, “It touched my neck!”

  Another: “Something pinched my arm!”

  Another person shrieked and shouted, “Its fingers are cold!”

  Another: “My hair!”

  And again: “My foot!”

  Leila glanced around, wondering if one of the spirits might try to touch her too.

  “Lights!” Madame Esmeralda proclaimed just as the audience seemed about to revolt and dash through the exit doors, fleeing into the hotel and out into the night. Her voice was a strong and steady comfort. “There is no reason to be scared. Spirits do not travel from the other side to hurt us. They’re simply reminding us that they once lived here too.

 
; “I shall now invite these spirits to speak through me!” The crowd grew restless again, talking among themselves. “But first, I need volunteers. If I point to you, please come up on stage with me.” Madame Esmeralda randomly plucked seven people from all around the auditorium.

  The seven stood in a line beside the psychic, each of them looking nervously into the glare of the stage lights. There was a stout, middle-aged woman wearing a stiff aqua gown; a taller, stooped gentleman in a pair of slacks, a white shirt, and a black tie; a very small boy dressed in a sailor outfit; and a girl, who was a bit taller than the boy beside her, wearing an A-shaped black-and-white polka-dot dress. A large man with broad shoulders wore a brown floor-length fur coat over a dark suit. (Leila thought this was odd, since it was so warm outside, but apparently he didn’t like the air-conditioned atmosphere inside the auditorium.) His wire-rimmed glasses were oversize and completely round, and his long beard tickled the bottom of his collar.

  Finally, beside him, a couple stood holding hands. The woman’s red hair was coiffed in a high poodle-cut. The man was smaller than her, and on his head was an obvious black toupee that didn’t match the graying hair at his temples. They were dressed conservatively in a brown dress and brown suit. Their wide eyes were hopeful.

  Something about these last two seemed familiar to Leila. She racked her memory for where she might have met them before. Maybe they’d come into the magic shop this week. Had they been the ones who Presto had accosted with the strange message? Or had Leila seen them earlier than that? A long time ago…

  TWENTY-ONE

  “It shall work like this,” Madame Esmeralda addressed her seven volunteers. “The spirits who have arrived will approach and secretly reveal details to me. I shall share these details one at a time with you. If at any point one of you feels that I am speaking about someone you’ve loved and lost, raise your hand and let me know. Okay?”

  The small group nodded at the same time. Madame Esmeralda closed her eyes and began to hum, “Ohmmmmm.”

  After a few seconds, she held up a finger and then pressed it directly into the center of her forehead. She blinked her eyes open wide, staring out above the audience as if she could see things floating there. “I see a woman. She is neither tall nor short. Her hair is long and brown. She wears an apron. I think… I think she works in a bakery. No. She owns the bakery.” A hubbub rose from the audience, but none of the seven spoke up. “Her specialty was… rugelach. Her raspberry variety won the blue ribbon at a county fair.… She’s a kind person, a mother to two daughters.… She was born overseas… Eastern Europe… and immigrated here as a teenager.”

  The stout woman in the aqua dress on the far left of the group waved her hand and shouted out, “That’s my bubbe! There’s no doubt about it!”

  Madame Esmeralda strolled over to the woman and said, “Your bubbe says she misses you and loves you.” The stout woman held her fingers to her lips as they quivered. Madame Esmeralda placed a comforting hand on her arm. “Do you ever hear birds singing inside your house?”

  The stout woman’s eyes flew open wide. “Yes, I do!”

  “That is a sign your bubbe is there, visiting you.”

  “I can’t believe it. How did you know so much about her?”

  Madame Esmeralda answered with a smile. “She told me. She says to check behind your dresser in your bedroom. There, you will find something you’ve always treasured, but recently misplaced. Does this make sense?”

  “Yes, it does! My wedding ring! Oh, thank you, Madame Esmeralda! I’ll look as soon as I get home!”

  By the time the stout woman sat back down in the auditorium, she was sniffling, and most of the audience was touched. The psychic turned to the six others left on stage. They stared back at her in awe and worry.

  For the next twenty minutes, she described the spirits who were visiting the Grand Oak auditorium. “Here’s a tall and handsome white man with silver hair and a long forehead.” Or “A short brown woman with thick curls is smiling the grandest smile I’ve ever seen.” If none of the volunteers spoke up, she would follow with additional information. “I sense the first name might begin with F. Or maybe P?” Or “This person was a descendant of someone from South America. I think… Uruguay?” And then something like “They were a machinist.” Or “They walked with a cane.” Or “I think this person might have been quite gassy,” a statement that received as many gasps from the crowd as it did guffaws. As Madame Esmeralda gave more and more details about each spirit she was hearing from, eventually one of the volunteers would raise a hand. “That’s my deceased wife!” exclaimed the slouching man in the overalls. “My grandfather!” the boy in the sailor suit blurted out. “My aunt Mabel!” shouted the girl in the A-shaped dress. “My cousin Gary,” whispered the man in the fur coat.

  Leila felt chills each time Sandra’s predictions proved true, but the Misfits kept whispering around her.

  “I bet she researched the histories of these people before the show,” Ridley guessed.

  “How?” Leila asked. “The show was too last-minute.”

  “If you think about it,” said Theo, “she is doing exactly what she did for us during dinner the other night. She begins vaguely, luring the volunteers into admitting a connection that they might feel is tenuous at best.”

  “Ooh, big words!” said Izzy.

  “I know some bigger words,” Olly added. “Luminous. Magnanimous. Hippopotamus.”

  Leila shook her head. “And what about the bubbe and the bakery? Sandra knew all that, and the woman said nothing.”

  “Good counterpoint,” Theo replied.

  “Maybe all these people on stage are working for her,” Carter suggested.

  “No, they’re not,” Leila answered, annoyed at herself for feeling exasperated.

  “I think it’s just easy for people to believe something is real when they need it to be,” said Ridley.

  “Exactly,” Theo said.

  “Believing in something doesn’t make it automatically not real,” Leila whispered.

  Someone in the seats behind shushed them. Leila turned and quickly apologized. She thought back to when they’d all gone to Bosso’s circus, and how Carter had taken them into a tent to speak with a woman called Madame Helga who’d told them, Alone you are weak. Together you are strong. Ridley had used the quote to help them learn Morse code. The experience with Madame Helga had bonded the group closely and made them believe that they were fated to stick together, even if they had differences of opinion. But it bothered Leila that she couldn’t dismiss what Sandra was doing on the stage as easily as Ridley or Carter or Theo.

  Still, Leila knew there was something powerful about seeing Madame Esmeralda do her thing. She was as wonderful at predictions as Leila was at escape artistry. The proof was in the faces of the audience as they watched and listened in awe. And despite the reservations Leila was feeling, she couldn’t wait to talk to her dad’s old friend after the show and learn how all of it worked.

  On the stage, only the conservative-looking couple was left standing with the psychic. Madame Esmeralda grew quiet and still and serious. “A moment, audience… I am trying to speak with the other side.…” She walked toward the red curtain at the rear of the stage and tilted her head as if listening to the voice of another spirit. She whispered something under her breath.

  From the front row, Leila concentrated on the psychic’s lips. She could have sworn Sandra said something like “I won’t do it.”

  Leila remembered hearing Sandra argue with herself in the resort’s lounge the other day. Were spirits attacking her? Leila was just starting to worry that the show was about to go off the rails when, with no warning, Madame Esmeralda removed the turban from her head and threw it off stage. Two messy braids had been hidden underneath, and they fell to her shoulders. She wasn’t Madame Esmeralda anymore. She’d transformed into Sandra again. Her star-shaped earrings swung furiously as she stared up into the spotlight, holding her fingertips to her temples.

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nbsp; “I’m sorry,” she said weakly to the couple. Everyone in the audience leaned forward in rapt attention. “There’s something I must tell you, as much as it might pain me, and others.…” The couple cringed, as if Sandra might suddenly leap at them. “You came here tonight looking for answers, did you not?”

  The man in the brown suit cleared his throat and wrapped his arm around his wife, in the brown dress. She nodded to Sandra, who continued, “Then you won’t be surprised to learn… your answers are here in this very room right now.”

  The woman’s mouth dropped open, and she wiped at a tear that was creeping from the corner of her eye.

  “This is about your daughter, is it not?” Sandra asked.

  “It is,” said the man. “We lost our girl a long, long time ago.”

  “We were so young then,” said the woman. “We were broke and didn’t have the means to provide her a good life. Before she was born, we agreed to give her up, but then we saw her smile.…” She glanced at the man, as if asking for permission to continue. He nodded. “We wanted desperately to keep her; we wanted to give her everything, treat her like a little princess, but it wasn’t realistic. With the help of a trusted friend, we relinquished custody.… But not a day has passed that we haven’t thought about her. Every day since, we have hoped that she is well. But now… now we want her back.”

  “We’ve always wanted her back,” said the man. “We’ve worked hard to make something of ourselves, so that we could give her the life she deserves.…”

  Whispering rose up from the audience. People seemed to be wondering if this was actually part of the show. It felt so different from what had come before.

  Sandra stared at the two intensely, as if she were ransacking their memories. She brought her index finger up to the center of her forehead. Closing her eyes, she asked, “Your names… please tell me.”