Melvin the Magnificent vs. Boy Wonder

If Paige was honest with herself, she couldn’t really explain how she’d gotten herself into this situation. Or, rather, she didn’t have a sensible explanation. Anyone in their right mind would be able to see she could’ve easily avoided this, but, then again, it’d have to be anyone in their right mind without a little brother because it was all Patrick’s fault, in the first place. Only a sibling could fully understand how they’d gotten here and the strange ties of family that had you doing things you looked back on and asked, “What were we thinking?”

It’d started exactly a week ago, for her. According to Patrick, however, it’d started before then on the day he’d seen a magician’s performance on the internet.

But if this got to be Paige’s telling, she was only backing up as far as last Friday when she’d been asked, “Are you coming with me or not?”

She’d squinted against the setting sun at her brother before grabbing her sunglasses off the dash of the car. Slipping them on, she’d said, “What are we even doing here? I still have no idea why we’re here.”

Here was the side parking lot of their high school. A not empty lot, mind you, despite it being the middle of summer and dinnertime. Why they weren’t at home sitting down at the dining table with their parents was the current mystery she was trying to crack. All she’d known was that her little brother was desperate to be there, and she’d thought it best not to let him bike off across town all by himself. Cue the big sister protective energy offering up the services of her driving abilities and car.

“Didn’t you see the sign out front? Don’t you know who’s performing in the auditorium right now?”

“Clearly not.”

Patrick had exhaled a heavy breath. He might as well have just asked, Are you blind? When he did use his words, he’d said, “It’s Melvin the Magnificent.”

Was that supposed to tell her something?

“Who?”

“Melvin. The magician? The guy who's gone viral on the internet for his tricks?”

Then she’d frowned at him. That’s what they were there for? As gently as she could, she’d let him know, “Listen, Pat, he’s probably a fake. I’m sure his tricks look cool, but they always have some explanation for how it really works and—”

“He’s not a fake, Paige!” Patrick’s arms crossed over his chest. “And we gotta get in there before he gets to the final act. I’m telling you, it’s important.”

Okay, she’d bite.

“What’s the final act?”

“He pulls something out of a hat.”

“Like…a bunny? That classic trick?”

“It’s not going to be a bunny!”

“Patrick, what do you think you know about this guy?”

Because, obviously, there was a whole lot of information she wasn’t privy to circling her brother's mind, and he probably thought all of it made sense. What he could know, though, was beyond Paige. Yes, she was aware of this Melvin the Magnificent’s rise on TikTok. Yes, she’d seen his most popular video and would agree that his schtick looked cool. But, no, she didn’t think there was anything worth getting riled up enough about to book it to the high school and barge in before the curtain went down. 

One semi-successful attempt at a calming breath later, Patrick had said, “Everyone thinks that what he does is little kid magic, you know? Stupid parlor tricks or whatever. But it’s not, Paige. It’s not. He got the real thing, and it’s not gonna be a bunny he pulls out of the hat because he has a collection of miniature, mythical creatures. There’s, like, a split second glimpse, if you look carefully, where you can see whatever it is before it just seems like all there is is a bunny. Or a squirrel. Or whatever. And then he makes it fly. It’s an illusion—unless you can see through it.”

Paige had squinted at him, not because of the sun this time but because she was quietly trying to decide if he’d lost his mind.

“Patrick, um—”

“I’m not crazy!”

“How do you feel about the word delusional?”

Losing all patience with her, he’d turned and started walking in the direction of the auditorium door. “Fine! Don’t believe me! You can’t stop me from going in, though!”

She went after him because of course she did. Only, they were too late and entered the auditorium to the sound of Melvin the Magnificent receiving a standing ovation. The scrunched brow on Patrick’s face told her everything she needed to know about his frustration.

Out in the lobby, they stood off to the side, watching enraptured and dazzled spectators filing out and raving about the spectacles they’d just seen. Maybe Paige needed to re-watch some of this guy’s tricks online. Was he really that good? The only time she’d seen a magician at-work was at their cousin’s fifth birthday party—when she was also five—and, even at that young, naïve age, she hadn’t been wowed. She’d spotted the colorful scarf up the amateur’s sleeve before he’d gotten to that sleight of hand.

Patrick was often even more perceptive than she was. Not that she’d be telling him that now; it would totally discredit the opinion she’d shared about him being delusional. Because it was one thing to get a glimpse of how some neighborhood, backyard entertainer pulled one over on a group of children and a completely different thing to genuinely believe a man had a secret horde of magical critters in his arsenal.

With a sigh, she turned to her brother, who’d shifted to face a poster on the wall next to them. “So, what’s the plan now, Boy Wonder?”

“We follow him.”

“Excuse me?”

Patrick pointed to the poster, and she took a look at it, too. She read: Modern-Day Magic—As Never Seen Before! Underneath those bold words was a sketch of a man with his back turned. He was of average height with dark hair shaggy enough to reach down to the nape of his neck. The costume he wore was simple, really, if interesting in color. At the angle provided by the poster, it was nothing more than a purple suit, complete with coat-tails. One of those old-timely top hats dangled in the grip of one of his hands.

The bottom of the poster listed out the cities Melvin was visiting on this magical, modern-day tour of his and the dates he’d be there. Apparently, their hometown was the third city on the itinerary. Next up was—

“Chicago? You think you’re going to get to Chicago by tomorrow night?” She threw an incredulous look at Patrick.

Serious, intense eyes met hers as he clarified, “We’re going to get to Chicago by tomorrow night.”

First, she had to follow him, once again, around to the hallway that led to the auditorium’s backstage door because, as he said, “This could save us 500 miles.” Like he really thought he’d be able to sneak into Melvin’s props and what? Sneak off with one of those fantastical creatures? Paige couldn’t say just what her brother’s plan had been, but, not fifteen minutes after the show had ended, they opened the backstage door—to find no trace of anyone or anything. There was no post-performance running around, packing up, anything. Melvin and his entourage may as well have vanished.

Time, then, to fabricate stories their parents would believe about which friends’ houses they were going to sleepover at and hit the road. Both Paige and Patrick had raced up to their rooms, stashed every last nickel and dollar into their backpacks, and were back in her car faster than any morning they’d almost been late to school. Their parents hadn’t asked too many questions, assuming the kids had packed their pajamas and toothbrushes and were eager to go hang out with pals. 

Paige drove them out of town hoping not a whisper of this idiocy would get back to their mom and dad.

At one point during their drive, she asked, “Pat, what are you even going to do with one of these animals, if you get your hands on one?”

“It’ll be my pet. Duh.”

“Okay, but how? Where are you going to keep it?”

“You’re going off to college next year. Don’t you figure your room would be a great spot?”

“Kid.”

“I’ve got a plan, Paige. Don’t worry.”

Highly unlikely, that. Patrick’s plans were not exactly foolproof, and that was when it came to ordinary things, like trying out for the soccer team or building his own computer. The kid was a walking, breathing comedy of errors, and Paige really ought to have turned the car around and saved them both from whatever problems were about to arise from this latest scheme.

Yet, she didn’t, and that was how the two of them found themselves buying tickets at the entrance of a small theater called The Playground. It was a relatively small, cozy venue, and they had their pick of seats. Patrick was allowed to choose their spot, and he opted for off to the side, deep in the back. Interesting. 

“Are you going to be able to see well from over here?” she asked.

He nodded. “This is good.”

Paige people-watched as more folks trickled in and situated themselves, settling in for a mystical show. It was, she quickly realized, going to be a full house. Wow, this guy really had built up a following for himself. Were they all there for the usual tricks, or was anyone else there like them? On a mission to capture and claim a supposedly unusual pet? 

Patrick, on the other hand, was more interested in noting every last detail about the venue itself. He scrutinized the ceiling, the lighting fixtures, the length of the stage, all of it. Apparently, those things were more interesting than the gathering faces. 

And then, without further ado, the house lights dimmed, and a beaming young lady sashayed out onto that stage. Her smile was fit for a dentist office’s waiting room decor, all perfect, white teeth not a fraction out of place. If Paige could see that from their seats, she reasoned perhaps her brother had, after all, picked a decent spot for them to catch every last illusion Melvin had in store for them—and the secrets for how they were being done.

“Good evening, everyone,” the woman said, as cheery and chipper as would be expected for entertainment of this variety. “It’s with great pleasure that I introduce to you the one and only—Melvin the Magnificent!”

Clapping. Loads of clapping and whooping and the man hadn’t even started yet. Hadn’t shown them one ounce of cleverness. Paige’s modest clapping died out much faster than the rest of the crowd’s, and she thought, Okay, let’s get on with it.

With a poof of smoke center stage and crackling sparkles, the magician appeared. He, in that vintage, purple suit, whisked off his top hat and bowed to the audience. Their loud approval had yet to quiet down. It took Melvin raising his hand for them to finally cease. Paige tried to share a look with her brother, but Patrick was focused on the man of the hour. 

“Ladies and gentleman,” Melvin greeted them all, “thank you for being here tonight. I’m most gratified that you’ve taken the time to come see my tricks and talents. With the help of my assistant here, I promise you sights you’ve never seen before.”

His voice was smooth, his tone steady and confident, as he moved to produce his first feat: Reaching into his back pocket and pulling out a bottle of champagne. One vague waving of his hand in front of the alcohol made the cork pop loose, startling the front row. He flashed them a grin, poured some of the bubbling beverage into small cups his assistant had appeared at his side with, and offered those startled front-row-sitters some refreshment. 

After they’d been served, Melvin took a swig from the bottle himself before smashing it down onto the stage.

Instead of bursting and sending shards of glass everywhere, more smoke fogged up and, when it faded, revealed a large, black cabinet. Paige found herself craning her neck to see if a puddle of champagne was left as evidence that the bottle’d been thrown down at all. Nothing. No droplets to detect.

All right, she thought, maybe this guy actually has some skills.

Melvin, with jaunty steps, went to the front of the cabinet and opened both doors wide. Inside was nothing more than a bookshelf filling the whole space from top to bottom. Books—thick and thin and old and new—were neatly shelved. He pulled one out, opened to somewhere in the middle, and flipped it upside down, shaking it.

Out fell a green and white-checkered cape, and, as he carried it across the stage to where his assistant was now perched on an ordinary stool, Paige was pretty sure those were flower petals falling from the folds in the cloth. They drifted to rest on the stage, and Melvin seemed oblivious to them.

Except, a good magician knows what he’s doing, and those petals had everything to do with his next trick.

He swooshed the cape in front of and around his assistant. When that movement finished, the assistant was sitting there with an afro of flowers as her new hair-do. Gasps from the crowd as they took it in.

Melvin smiled at them all, a charming thing, really. “Would anyone else care for my stylist services? I’d be more than happy to oblige.”

One lucky child in the second row on one of the aisles was chosen after enthusiastically waving their hand in the air. Melvin strode over, went through the same motions as before, and stunned everyone with the tendrils of ivy he left weaving through the child’s braids. Amazing. 

Now, when Paige clapped, it wasn’t simply modest or polite appreciation she communicated. She was right there with everyone else in their sheer delight at such a trick.

Melvin’s show went on this way: One incredible, beautiful display of magic after another. He wove in simpler sleights of hand, too, but, for the most part, he showed off new wonders with every stride across the stage. All that seemed to be required was selecting a new book from the cabinet and then, voilá, a new marvel to behold.

After he’d put his assistant in a box that Paige was certain would lead to the age-old “cut in half” bit but, instead, resulted in said box spinning a full 360 degrees and said assistant emerging with a second person attached to her, she, jaw dropping, whipped around to see what Patrick’s reaction was. This was wild, right?

Her mouth snapped shut as now it was her gut dropping because her brother’s seat was empty, and there was absolutely no sign of the kid when she tried to get a look around.

Dread crept over her, and she was effectively yoinked from the magical ambiance Melvin had wrapped them all up in. If she didn’t know Patrick so well nor knew that they were at this show for a specific reason, she maybe could have figured he’d just slipped out to use the restroom quick.

But he had been driven by niche purpose, and he’d been nothing but intense since they’d first sat down in the place. Where would he have gone? Where could he have gone? Was he, right now, trying to break in backstage or something? She should have made him sit on the inside, should have paid more attention to him than to the show.

“And now,” Melvin said, reclaiming her attention, “I have one, final trick for you lovely folks before I release you back to your ordinary lives. Darla, if you please.”

His assistant—technically, one and a half assistants now—moved her stool front and center so the magician could place his top hat upside on it. Then she stood there in an expectant pose, still smiling and as chipper as she was at the beginning.

Then, for the first time all evening, Melvin the Magnificent stooped to a cheesy, hoaky gesture: Sticking out his arms toward the hat and wiggling his fingers at it, of all things. 

Paige couldn’t look away because she didn’t want to. If she could, if Patrick was really right in his belief about this being the part of the show an exotic little creature emerged for the tiniest second before being masked to look normal and flying around, she wanted to see it for herself. She wanted to catch that split second before it was gone.

At the edge of her seat, she held her breath.

“And now,” Melvin reached a hand into the hat, “I present to you—”

More gasps from the crowd. A groan from Paige.

Melvin frowned at the boy’s head—Patrick’s head—he’d started pulling out. “Who the hell are you?”