The Magic Misfits: The Second Story Read online

  The woman spoke haltingly, glancing at her partner every few words. “Pammy and Bob Varalika. We… we drove an hour and a half just to see you, Madame Esmeralda.”

  “Do you know where our girl is?” asked the man, a desperate tinge to his voice.

  “I—I believe that I do,” Sandra stammered nervously. “As a matter of fact… your daughter is… She is…” It was as if Sandra couldn’t get the words out. “She’s right here tonight.”

  “Here?” the couple echoed in disbelief.

  When Sandra looked toward the Magic Misfits, Leila knew that she was searching for eye contact.

  “Was your daughter’s name Leila?” Sandra asked without looking away.

  Leila felt as though the entire room had dropped out from underneath her. She sensed a vague pulling as Ridley grasped her wrist.

  The Varalikas had both turned pale. The woman, Pammy, looked faint, and the man, Bob, clutched his wife’s shoulders as if to hold her up. “That’s correct,” said Bob. “Just like the girl who performed before you. The escape artist. But you don’t mean… She couldn’t be…” He followed Sandra’s gaze to the front row. By now, loud murmurs filled the room as the crowd’s agitation grew and grew.

  Wearing a sad look, Sandra held out her hand, her fingers trembling. “My dear Leila,” she whispered. “Come up and meet your birth parents.”

  TWENTY-TWO

  Leila couldn’t do it alone.

  Carter and Theo had to help her up the steps at the side of the stage as the audience clapped awkwardly. They seemed as confused as she was.

  Leila noticed her poppa pushing through the crowd, heading toward the stage. He wore a look of shock and hurt that Leila had never seen on him before. She knew that there was no meal he could cook up that would soothe his soul tonight.

  “Audience, it’s been a pleasure to share my gifts with you this evening,” Sandra said to the crowd, “but for now, we must offer privacy to this reunited family. May all of you take care.”

  With that, the heavy velvet curtain landed at the front of the stage with a resounding whump, blocking the audience’s view. The scattered applause died out and was replaced by the white noise of loud conversation. A thousand voices talking at once. Leila was struck suddenly with the thought that this news would fly around town quicker than she could pick a lock.

  The couple stood next to Sandra, who was holding out her arms to Leila. Leaving Carter and Theo behind, Leila fell into the embrace. Sandra squeezed her tightly. “It’s a miracle,” Sandra said quietly. “Your parents… your real parents have finally found you.” Leila couldn’t answer. She knew who her parents were. Neither of them was on this stage. She didn’t have to be psychic to comprehend that. Carter and Theo stood back near the stairs, giving the group some space, but Leila wished they’d come closer. A nameless fear was making her feel woozy.

  With the curtain closed, they had at least a little privacy. The stagehands stood in the wings, pretending to not listen.

  Sandra made introductions. The Varalikas stared at Leila as if she were a unicorn. Their eyes were wide and watery, their mouths slack with astonishment. Leila found it nearly impossible to look at them. Long ago, she’d promised herself to stop wondering where she’d come from. It was a shock to have the question whoosh back into her brain.

  The adults were talking to her—asking her things—but she couldn’t hear any of it. The only noise backstage was her heartbeat pounding at her eardrums. She didn’t know what to think or what to do. She felt as though a closet door were closing on her, as though shoelaces were biting into her skin as the girls at Mother Margaret’s Home tied her wrists before leaving her alone to figure out how to undo the knots. Instinct told her to run away. To leave everyone behind and protect herself. Leila had long ago learned to escape, but it was not often she wished to vanish as well.

  Suddenly, a reassuring voice called out from behind her. “Leila!” Her poppa was galumphing across the stage, his heavy footsteps shaking the floor. Then his warm arms were around her as he hugged her close. After, he stepped in front of her, as if to protect her from the strangers. “Who are you people?” he asked.

  “I’m a professor,” Mrs. Varalika answered.

  “I’m a banker,” said Mr. Varalika. They turned back to Leila. “And this is—we hope it is—our daughter. May we ask: Is your birthday on February twelfth?”

  “You don’t have to answer them, Leila,” Poppa said, turning to her. He looked her in the eyes. “If you want to, you can, but you don’t have to. Tell me what you want, and I’ll support you.” He squeezed her hand, reassuringly.

  Finally, after a long time, she nodded to the couple. “Yes, that’s my birthday. At least according to the note pinned to the basket that Mother Margaret found me in.” The couple’s eyes grew glassy and wet.

  “Tell me,” said Mrs. Varalika. “Do you still have the pair of freckles that look like owl eyes on the back of your ankle?” Leila’s skin prickled. She lifted the cuff of her pants to show the woman that she was right. “It is her!” Mrs. Varalika whispered to her husband. “Our daughter! I can’t believe this!”

  “Neither do I,” Poppa growled. He stared daggers at Sandra and the couple. “I’m not trying to be rude, but you must understand—this is a lot to take in. This is my daughter, and—”

  Sandra stared at the floor. The Varalikas’ expressions were of worry and confusion. Mr. Varalika whispered, “We understand. This is an impossible situation. But we’d love to just sit and talk with Leila for a while. Would that be all right?”

  “I—I honestly don’t know,” the Other Mr. Vernon said. He looked at Leila, who hadn’t shed a tear but was filled to brimming on the inside. She felt as if she might burst. Poppa could see her turmoil. And he answered the Varalikas: “Perhaps another time. Right now, I need to get my daughter home. If you’ll excuse us.”

  Poppa took her hand and led her back to the stairs at the side of the stage. She turned to glance at the couple one last time. The woman raised a mournful hand as if to say good-bye, and a phantom pain bloomed in Leila’s chest, right underneath the key.

  The Misfits followed their friend and her father down the hall and into his work kitchen. Then Leila’s poppa phoned her other dad to explain what had happened. Poppa’s voice hitched, and he put his hand over the receiver, covering his mouth at the same time to mask the conversation. The two Mr. Vernons spoke on the phone while the kids sat around one of the island counters in the center of the resort kitchen.

  “Leila,” Ridley started, hugging her friend. “What was that all about? Was it part of the act?”

  Leila was too stunned to respond.

  “Of course it was,” said Izzy.

  “Every act needs a little drama,” Olly added. “Or in this case, a lot!”

  Izzy punched her brother in the arm. “Let’s practice the quiet game, Mr. Insensitive.”

  Carter took hold of Leila’s limp hand while Theo squeezed her shoulder, as if either of those actions might shock her into responding.

  Ridley rubbed Leila’s arm. “You’re gonna be okay.”

  “But that’s the question,” Leila said with a groan. “Am I?”

  The others looked at her as if she’d just said a swear. But she was too upset and confused to apologize. Carter and Theo winced. Even Olly and Izzy, who almost always wore smiles, looked worried.

  “We’re here for you,” said Ridley.

  Leila blinked. “I just hope I can still be here with you.”

  “Of course,” said Theo. “Where else would you be?”

  “With them.” Leila nodded in the direction of the auditorium, as if that was where the Varalikas lived now.

  “But they can’t do that,” said Carter. “The Vernons adopted you. We’re your family.”

  “I know. But do the Varalikas know that?”

  “Does Sandra?” asked Ridley.

  “Of course she does,” said Leila. “She’s one of my dad’s oldest friends. I’m sure that wha
t happened on the stage hurt her as much as it did the rest of us. It was almost as if she didn’t want to share the revelation. But she knew she had to tell the truth.”

  Ridley stared at her for a moment. “I’m sure you’re right.” But Ridley didn’t look at all sure about any of it.

  Leila returned with Carter and her poppa to the apartment above the magic shop. Her dad greeted her with the tightest hug he’d ever given her. “Oh, sweetheart…”

  Leila felt her frame shaking. For a moment, she wasn’t sure which of them was crying before she realized they both were. She let it out. All the fear. All the anger. It poured down her cheeks and soaked his jacket. Leila allowed herself to settle into the rhythm of his breathing, and soon, they landed together after her dizzying flight of worry. Finally, he asked, “Are you okay?”

  Her instinct was to smile and brush away the tears, but she didn’t wish to lie to him. “I’m happy to be home,” she answered.

  The phone rang. No one moved. None of them wanted the interruption. But when it went on and on, the jangling, clanging noise began to sound like an alarm. Mr. Vernon answered it. “What is it?” he asked. Almost immediately, his face turned bright red. “Oh, they have, have they? Tomorrow morning? No, that’s not going to be good for us.… Fine. If it must be done, I suppose we don’t have a choice. We’ll be there.”

  “What’s wrong?” asked the Other Mr. Vernon. “Who was that?”

  Mr. Vernon glanced at Leila and Carter with a look of doubt, as if he thought that maybe they shouldn’t hear what he had to say. But then he just let it all out. “That couple, the Varalikas, booked a room at the resort and contacted a local lawyer. That was him. He’s demanding we meet with them—all of us, including Leila and Carter—tomorrow morning at his office.”

  “Why?” Leila asked. “Are they going to try to take me away from you?”

  Her fathers couldn’t hide the worried look that passed between them. “Of course not,” said Mr. Vernon. “They only want to talk to us. That’s all.”

  In the dead of night, Leila was lying in bed, staring at the ceiling like she’d done earlier that week. She was trying to not cry. She clasped her special key in her fist so tightly that she wondered if it might unlock something inside her, a secret she’d secured for forgotten reasons. It felt like the night of the circus monkey’s arrival had been a hundred years ago. Was the little creature still out there? Maybe it was watching her right now, she thought.

  On this night, Leila was not visited by the ghosts of things past. No Mother Margaret’s Home for Children. No dark closets. No shoes tied together by naughty housemates. Now Leila worried about the phantom presence of an uncertain future. A future in which she might have to leave this place and the people she loved, all to follow a pair of strangers along a mist-enshrouded and possibly perilous trail.

  There came a knocking at the wall—taps and scratching that created a peculiar but meaningful pattern. Carter was awake, sending her a message. Morse code.

  She worked out the letters from the dots and dashes, thankful for the distraction. When she figured it out, she smiled. She thought for a while, then knocked her knuckles and dragged her fingertips against the wallpaper in reply.

  My apologies! I was so caught up in the Morse code at the end of the previous chapter, I kept right on going. If you don’t already know Morse code, I suggest checking the back of this book.…

  Anywho… Another night, another magic lesson. Are you up for it? Good. Let’s learn one of Leila’s escape tricks! Here goes!

  WHAT YOU’LL NEED:

  First, you’ll need to be dressed in a long-sleeve shirt.

  A length of string or thin rope (a spare shoelace will do in a pinch)

  A piece of paper

  A pair of scissors (Remember what I said about grown-ups and sharp objects? They go together like toast and jam. In other words, keep one around for safety.)

  A dark handkerchief or small towel

  A volunteer from the audience

  TO PREPARE:

  You will need to cut out two identical rings from the paper. They should be big enough to fit the string through their centers—a few inches wide at most. In fact, you might as well cut out several more rings while you’re at it so that you can use them to practice, practice, practice. However, for the trick itself, you’ll only need two.

  SECRET MAGIC MOVE:

  Before your audience arrives, hide one of the paper rings inside your sleeve.

  STEPS:

  1. Choose a volunteer from your audience.

  2. Slip the second paper ring onto the string, then hand the ends of the string to your volunteer. Ask them to hold on tightly and then have them raise the string loosely for all to see.

  3. Explain that you plan on removing the ring from the string without damaging the ring, the string, the handkerchief, or your volunteer’s fingers… all in fewer than ten seconds.

  4. Cover the string (and the ring) with the handkerchief and begin your countdown. TEN, NINE, EIGHT, and so forth. Place your hands beneath the cloth.

  SECRET MAGIC MOVE:

  Carefully tear the paper ring off the string and slip it inside the cuff of your empty sleeve. Then remove the hidden ring from your other sleeve.

  5. As you count down to ONE, remove your hand holding the intact paper ring from underneath the cloth. Huh—what?

  6. Using your other hand, pull away the handkerchief from the string, showing the audience that the string is whole and that the volunteer never let go. Huzzah!

  7. Take a bow!

  TWENTY-THREE

  The morning was bright and the sky was clear. By the time Leila, Carter, and the two Mr. Vernons made it to the lawyer’s address, the sun was well on its way to wilting the lush valley and warming the rivers that snaked through the surrounding hills.

  The brick building was two stories tall. Empty lots bordered the property on each side, and beyond those were thick patches of brush and brambles. A train horn blew in the distance, and a warm wind rocked the trees all around. The lawyer’s name on the door appeared to be freshly painted, causing Mr. Vernon to raise an eyebrow.

  The Other Mr. Vernon pulled open the door. At the far end of a long space, there was a big desk and several chairs arranged in a half circle. The two on the left were occupied by Mr. and Mrs. Varalika. The couple stood, practically trembling, as the Vernons approached with the kids.

  Behind the desk sat a tall man in a stiff gray suit. His blond hair was brushed straight back, and his long nose reminded Leila of the beak of an eagle or some other bird of prey. “You must be the Vernons.” The tall man rose to his feet and held out his hand, but only Mr. Vernon took it, and he did so reluctantly.

  “I am Sammy Falsk, Esquire,” the lawyer said. He turned his withering gaze toward Leila, and when he smiled, she shuddered. His teeth were as yellow as canary birds in a coal mine. “This young lady must be Leila. The Varalikas have filled me in on your plight. Please sit.”

  There was a sound back by the front door. Leila turned and saw a second desk, where another man was working—an unusually short man with a thick black mustache and a black bowler hat—typing away at an ancient typewriter. He looked like he might be a partner or colleague of Mr. Falsk’s. He paid her no attention.

  The Other Mr. Vernon eased himself into one of the stiff chairs, glancing suspiciously at the mostly empty space. “Looks like you’re still moving in,” he muttered.

  “Yes, yes, new to town, lovely place,” Sammy Falsk, Esquire, answered.

  As Leila sat, she searched for herself in the faces of the Varalikas, trying to pick out features she might have seen in her own mirror. The woman’s nostrils looked sort of familiar. And the man’s earlobes were high and tight, like her own. But that was about it: a birth mother’s nostrils and a birth father’s earlobes. Not all children resemble their parents exactly, but Leila’s genetic connection with the Varalikas did not appear to be strong. This was no relief.

  She’d managed to make i
t through her entire performance without freezing with stage fright, but she feared that if anyone were to ask her a question now, her lips would seize up, and she’d look like she didn’t know how to speak. It felt like a trap from which she would not escape. Carter caught her eye, and he winked. That helped a little bit. Thank goodness for him, she thought.

  Sammy Falsk, Esquire, sat at the big desk and motioned for everyone else to sit too. He launched immediately into a grand spiel. “I have been an expert in family law for as long as I can remember, which, let me tell you, is a very long time. My first case involved a couple who was trying to regain custody of their child after both of them had gone missing during an expedition to…” His voice droned on and on.

  All that Leila could think about was what she would do if she were forced to go live with these people who she didn’t even know. How different would a professor and banker’s home be from living over an actual magic shop?

  “…after which,” continued the lawyer, “I took a lovely vacation to Madrid with my third wife, whose full name was Francesca Domingue De Louisa Maria Benedictine Marzipan, who grew up in the south of…”

  Leila tried to follow his story, but it was so nonsensical that her mind kept drifting and her eyes scanned the sad little office space. She noticed the lawyer near the front door was humming a tune under his breath. Leila thought it was a really odd thing to do during a serious legal discussion. The dust in the room was thick; the morning light filtering through the newspapered windows was a drowsy amber. Her fathers listened politely but wore stern expressions, their brows low, their mouths pinched, their hands folded in their laps. The Varalikas’ smiles did not leave their faces.