41 - Bad Hare Day (2 page)

“That’s for sawing people in half,” Mr. Malik replied.

I examined the inside of the box, trying to figure out how it worked. I found
no secret compartments or panels or anything.

“How does it work?” I asked Mr. Malik.

“You going to buy it?” he demanded.

“Well—how much does it cost?”

“Two-fifty.”

“Two dollars and fifty cents? I can afford that.”

Mr. Malik waved me away and started toward the stockroom at the back of the
shop. “Two dollars and fifty cents,” he muttered. “In your dreams.”

“He meant two
hundred
and fifty dollars, Brainz-O,” Foz said.

I tried to cover myself. “I knew that. I was joking.”

Foz fiddled with a cool-looking trick in the corner. I moved closer to see.

“It’s a guillotine,” Foz said. “For chopping off heads.”

The guillotine had a place for the victim to rest his head at the bottom—and a razor-sharp blade at the top.

Mr. Malik emerged from the back room. “I’m closing up soon, boys,” he called.

“I just want to see how this works,” Foz said. He twisted a lever on the
guillotine.

“Foz—no!” I cried.

The blade slid down the guillotine.

And landed with a horrifying
thunk.

“My hand!” Foz shrieked. “My hand!”

Mr. Malik gasped. “I’ll call an ambulance! Nine-one-one!” He grabbed the
phone.

The guillotine blade had sliced right through Foz’s hand. He screamed in
pain.

“Oh!” Foz moaned. “I cut off my hand!” he wailed. “I’ll never write again!”

I started laughing.

“Why are you laughing?” Mr. Malik demanded. “This is an emergency!”

“No, it’s not.” Foz held up his hands to show that he was fine. “Got a paper
towel? I need to wipe off this fake blood.”

“Fake?” Mr. Malik stammered. “Fake blood?”

“We got you back for that sword trick,” I told him.

Mr. Malik clutched his sweaty forehead in his hands. “I’m so stupid! I know
that’s a trick guillotine. Why did I fall for such a dumb joke?”

“Hey,” Foz protested. “It was a lot funnier than your sword-in-the-stomach
joke.”

Mr. Malik wiped his brow and smiled. “All right, boys. Enough tricks. It’s
five o’clock. Get out of here.” He shoved us toward the door.

“Thanks for the tickets, Mr. Malik,” I called. “See you next week.”

“Sure. Next week, when I’ll have a new shipment of magic tricks you won’t
buy.”

The bell on the door jangled as we left the shop. Foz and I walked down Bank
Street toward home.

“Sure you won’t go to Midnight Mansion tomorrow night?” I asked him.

“I can’t. Your mom will never let you go, either.”

“I’ll find a way,” I insisted. “You’ll see.”

We paused in front of Foz’s house. “Come over to my house after school
tomorrow,” I said. “I’m giving another magic show. Only this time Ginny won’t
wreck it.”

“I’ll be there,” Foz promised.

“And bring your sister’s rabbit,” I added.

Foz shuffled his feet uncomfortably. “Clare is not going to like that…” he began.

“Please, Foz,” I begged. “I’m going to finish building my rabbit table
tonight. The rabbit trick is going to be so amazing—”

“I’ll try to bring the rabbit,” Foz said. “But if anything happens to it,
Clare will kill me.”

“Nothing will happen to it—I promise.”

I waved good-bye to Foz and went home. “The Great Swanzini is here!” I announced as I burst into the kitchen.

“You mean the Great Jerk,” Ginny mumbled. She sat at the kitchen table,
folding napkins. She reached up and flicked at my nose. “Boi-oi-oing.”

“Get off me.” I slapped her hand away.

Mom set a plate of chicken on the table. “Go wash up, Tim,” she ordered. “And
tell your father supper is ready.”

“Look, Mom.” I held up a quarter. Then, with a flick of my wrist, I slipped
it up my sleeve. “I made the quarter disappear!”

I showed her my two empty hands.

“Very nice. I see two hands that haven’t been washed yet,” Mom said
impatiently.

“I saw the quarter go up your sleeve,” Ginny sneered.

“No one appreciates me around here,” I complained. “Someday I’m going to be
the greatest magician in the world. And my own family doesn’t care!”

Mom strode to the kitchen door. “Bill!” she called upstairs to my dad.
“Supper!”

I made my way out of the kitchen to wash my hands. My parents didn’t take my
magic act seriously. They thought it was just a hobby.

But Ginny’s karate lessons were the most important thing in the world, of
course. Mom always said, “Girls need to know how to defend themselves.” Now I needed to defend myself against my own sister!

I returned to the kitchen and sat down. Mom plunked a piece of chicken down
beside the rice on my plate. Dad and Ginny were already eating.

“I had a terrible day at work today,” Mom grumbled, ripping into her chicken.
She’s a high school guidance counselor. “First Michael Lamb threatened to beat
up another boy. His teacher yelled at him, and he threatened to beat her up,
too. She sent him to my office. When I tried to talk to him, he said he’d beat
me
up. So I called his mother in—and
she
tried to beat me up. I
had to call the police!”

“That’s a piece of cake next to
my
day,” Dad complained. Dad sells
cars. “Some guy came in and said he wanted to test-drive the new minivan. I
handed him the keys, and he took off. He never came back. He stole the car!”

I sighed and shoveled rice into my mouth. Dinner is like this every night.
Both of my parents hate their jobs.

“I had a really tough day, too,” Ginny put in. “Michael Franklin teased me.
So I had to karate-kick him in the leg!”

I smirked. “Poor you.”

Mom’s forehead wrinkled—her concerned look. “You didn’t hurt yourself, did
you, Ginny?”

“No,” Ginny replied. “But I
could
have.”

“What about me?” I protested.
“I’m
the one who got kicked in the
stomach. And it hurt a lot!”

“You seem to be fine now,” Dad chimed in.

I gave up. I knew that arguing would get me nowhere. Mom and Dad always take
Ginny’s side.

“Is there any dessert?” Ginny demanded.

“Ice cream,” Mom answered.

“I’ll clear the table,” I offered, hoping it would put Mom in a better mood.
I needed both Mom and Dad to be in a good mood.

Because I was about to ask the big question.

Would they let me go to Midnight Mansion tomorrow night?

Would they?

I stood up, collecting dirty plates. “Guess what? Amaz-O is doing his act at
Midnight Mansion tomorrow night. Mr. Malik gave me two free passes.” I held my
breath, waiting for their answer.

“Excellent!” Ginny cried. “That means I can go too!”

“I’m not taking you,” I told her. “I’ll ask Mark or Jesse or somebody.
Anybody but you.” I dropped the plates in the sink. They crashed but didn’t
break.

“Careful, Tim,” Mom warned.

Ginny slithered over to the sink and tried to hug me. “Please, Tim. I’m your
sister. Your only sister in the whole world. I’d do
anything
for you. You
have to take me with you!”

“Neither one of you is going,” Dad said quietly. “It’s a school night.”

“But Dad, it’s free!” I protested. “Just this once. Amaz-O is my hero. I’ll never get another chance to see him in person!”

“What time does the show start?” Mom asked.

“Ten o’clock,” I told her.

She shook her head. “Absolutely not. You’re not going out at ten o’clock on a
school night. Especially not to a nightclub. You’re much too young.” She
furiously spooned ice cream into a bowl.

“Mom—please!” I begged. “I’m twelve. I can handle it.”

“You heard your mother,” Dad said. “You’ll have other chances to see Amaz-O,
Tim. Don’t worry.”

Mom offered me a bowl of ice cream. “I don’t want it,” I grumbled. I stormed
out of the kitchen. As I left, I heard Ginny say, “Good. Now I’ll get two bowls
of ice cream.”

Stupid Ginny, I thought. Stupid Mom and stupid Dad. My one chance to see my
idol, the great Amaz-O—and they won’t let me go.

I wandered into the garage. In the corner stood a new trick I was building—the rabbit table. It was a square table that came up to my waist. The top had a
hole in it that led to a secret compartment under the table.

I planned to hide a rabbit in the compartment and cover the hole with my
magic top hat. When I pressed a pedal at the foot of the table, the bottom of the secret compartment would rise up. Then I’d lift my hat—and
there would be the rabbit!

The table was almost finished. I turned it upside down and hammered on the
bottom of the secret compartment.

This trick is going to knock everybody out tomorrow afternoon, I thought.
I’ll be almost as amazing as Amaz-O!

I was so busy hammering I didn’t hear the garage door open. Two baby blue
high-tops suddenly appeared in front of me. I didn’t have to look up. I knew
Ginny’s smelly sneakers when I saw them.

“Go away,” I commanded.

She never listens to me. “You going to do the rabbit trick tomorrow?” she
asked.

“Uh-huh. Now go away.”

“Where are you going to get the rabbit?”

I set down my hammer. “I’m going to turn
you
into a rabbit.”

“Ha ha.” She flipped her wavy blond hair. “You know what this table would be
perfect for?” she asked. “Karate-chopping. I’ll bet I could chop it in half with
one hand.”

“Try it and I’ll—”

“You’ll what?” she taunted.

What could I do to her? Not much. “I’ll turn you into a rabbit for
real,”
I threatened.

“Oh, yeah? How are you going to do that?”

“It’s easy,” I replied. “Mr. Malik showed me how. Tonight, while you’re sleeping, I’m going to sneak into your room and
turn you into a rabbit.”

“Give me a break,” Ginny said. “That is so dumb.”

“Maybe. Maybe not. I guess we’ll find out tonight.” I picked up my hammer
again. “I hope you like carrots,” I told her.

“You’re crazy,” she said. She hurried out of the garage.

Well, I thought. At least that got rid of her for a while.

I set the table on its legs again. All I had to do was paint it, and it would
be ready.

Wouldn’t it be great? I thought as I opened a can of blue paint. Wouldn’t it
be great if I really
could
turn Ginny into a rabbit?

But that was impossible. Wasn’t it?

“We want the rabbit trick! We want the rabbit trick!”

Ginny sat in the grass in our backyard. Six or seven other kids sat around. I
was in the middle of my magic act. Ginny was stirring up trouble.

She knew I didn’t have a rabbit for the trick. I was still waiting for Foz to
show up.

Where is he? I wondered. He’s ruining my show!

The other kids joined in Ginny’s chant. “The rabbit trick! The rabbit trick!”

I tried to stall them. “The amazing, incredible rabbit trick is coming up,” I
promised. “But first—wouldn’t you like to see me pull a quarter out of Ginny’s
ear again?”

“No!” the kids yelled. “Boo!”

“Karate fight!” Sue called. “We want a karate fight. Ginny versus Tim!”

Things were getting ugly.

At last I glimpsed Foz at the side of the house. He waved at me frantically.

“Intermission!” I announced. “I’ll be back in two minutes. And then—I’ll
pull a rabbit out of my hat!”

I hurried over to Foz. A big cardboard box sat at his feet.

“What took you so long?” I demanded.

“I’m sorry,” Foz said. “I almost had to rip the rabbit out of Clare’s hands.”

I opened the box. Clare’s big white rabbit lifted its nose and sniffed at me.
I grabbed it and stuffed it under my jacket.

“Be careful!” Foz warned. “If anything happens to it, my sister will chop me
into rabbit food!”

“The rabbit will be fine,” I told him. “What could happen to it?”

I sneaked the rabbit to the table. With my back to the audience, I stuffed it
into the secret compartment and plopped my hat on top.

Then I turned to face the kids. None of them had seen the rabbit. Perfect.

“Ladies and gentlemen!” I called. “Thanks for being so patient. Here is the
moment you’ve all been waiting for—”

“Karate fight!” Ginny called.

“Even better than a karate fight!” I said. “I, the Great Timothini, will now
pull a rabbit out of my hat!”

Ginny snorted. “The Great Timothini?”

I pointed at her. “You, in the front row. Quiet!”

“You be quiet!” Ginny shot back.

“Get on with it!” Jesse called.

“Okay. I need complete silence now. I must concentrate.”

To my surprise, the kids actually quieted down. Even Ginny. Everyone stared
up at me, waiting.

I lifted my hat off the table. “As you can see, my hat is empty. It’s an
ordinary, everyday top hat. Sue, will you please examine the hat?”

I passed the hat to Sue. She turned it over. “It looks like a regular hat to
me,” she declared.

I set the hat on the table, covering the secret compartment. “Thank you, Sue.
Now—watch carefully.”

I waved my arms over the hat. “Abracadabra, abracadeer, rabbit, rabbit,
rabbit—
appear!”

I stepped on the pedal to make the rabbit rise up. Then I lifted the hat with
a flourish.

Nothing there. The hat stood empty.

I checked the secret compartment. No rabbit there, either.

My heart pounded. How could this be?

“The rabbit!” I cried. “It’s gone!”

What have I done? I thought in horror.

My trick must have worked better than I thought!

I glanced up and saw Ginny pointing across the backyard. “There it goes!” she
cried. “There’s the rabbit!”

I whirled around. Clare’s white rabbit was hopping away.