The next morning, Carter woke up on the bench in front of the town hall where he’d spent the night. Someone had covered him with a bristly old blanket. He felt for his bag across his chest. Still there, thank goodness.
His vision spun as he took in the park across the street, to see if anyone might be watching him. Its crisp green grass reached out for several blocks in either direction. A grand-looking white gazebo stood directly in the center of the lawn. Quaint, colorful buildings lined the streets that surrounded the park. Whimsical wooden signs hung over doors to shops that weren’t yet open. There was one shaped like a tall boot, another like a striped piece of red-and-white candy, and another was an old-fashioned silver key. The area was empty except for a few well-dressed people out for a morning stroll, and no one looked in his direction.
He was relieved to see the sun. Not having a home was always hardest when it was raining. Carter got up, stretched, then peed behind some bushes. Something jangled inside his pants pocket. Reaching inside, Carter pulled out several coins. They must have come from the same person who’d covered him with the blanket. But who? Then he remembered: the circus crew. They’d probably followed him and were trying to convince him to join them. Unsure of who gave him the blanket, Carter folded it and stashed it beneath the bench in case he needed it again that night.
He was about to throw away the B-shaped pretzel from the previous night, but then he thought better of it and tore it into pieces, sharing most of it with a crowd of pigeons before taking a few bites for himself. At least some good came out of that horrible man.
Without Uncle Sly making the daily decisions, Carter wasn’t sure what to do next. He could choose his own fate. Should he leave town or stay? (He had no idea.) Should he join Bosso’s crime circus? (Absolutely not.) Should he search for Mr. Vernon? (Where would he start?)
He took Vernon’s ace card out of his sleeve and flipped it over in his hand. It was an ordinary card. But examining it closer, he noticed the tiniest crease. He held it up to the sunlight. Sure enough, there was an almost invisible fold down the center. He opened the crease and found that the ace of spades became a jack of diamonds. Except the image of the jack was holding a business card in his hand with an address on it: 1313 Main Street. “Whoa,” Carter whispered.
A warm feeling rose in his chest—it was an unfamiliar sensation. It made him feel awkward and vulnerable, so he tried to push it down. Perhaps Mr. Vernon would turn out to be a nice guy. But he could just as easily turn out to be as bad as Bosso or his uncle. Either way, Carter wouldn’t get his hopes up.
Carter circled the small park, found Main Street, then followed the numbers until he reached a small shop tucked between two taller office buildings. The sign over its door was shaped like a top hat. The hand-painted letters on the glass window read:
Vernon’s Magic Shop
Purveyors of the Impossible
When Carter entered, a tiny bell on the door rang out loud. A green-feathered parrot with a yellow neck squawked, “Hello, Carter! Welcome to Vernon’s Magic Shop!”
“How did that bird know my name?!” Carter asked, astounded.
“Magic, of course,” said a large-eyed girl sitting on the counter. She wore a white jacket with straps that tied her arms behind her back.
“There’s no such thing as magic,” Carter said, recalling this was the same conversation he’d had with Mr. Vernon the previous night. But as he looked around the shop, he felt something hopeful stir inside.
The two-story shop’s walls were covered floor to ceiling with bookshelves and autographed black-and-white photographs of famous magicians. Every surface was cluttered with magical items of every sort: crystal balls, decks of cards, top hats, wands, capes, and even a human skull. A wooden staircase curved up toward a small balcony, where there sat a small wooden table and two leather chairs. The table was empty except for a chessboard, mid-game.
Carter felt like a kid in a candy store—except hungrier. (Well, not as hungry as he was one night prior…) His gaze swept over the towering shelves packed with alphabetized boxes labeled things like FINGERTIPS, FLASH PAPER, FOG, and FOOLS’ GLASS. He wanted to ask what it was all for, but he felt embarrassed, so he promised himself that the next time he found a library, he’d look these things up. There were bouquets of rainbow feather flowers, jars filled with marbles of all sizes, a ventriloquist’s dummy in a tuxedo and a cape (very much like Mr. Vernon’s from the night before), even a white rabbit hopping across the floor!
“So you’re Carter?” the girl said.
“Yes,” Carter answered uncomfortably. He didn’t like strangers knowing his name. “Um… do you need help getting out of that?”
“My straitjacket? No, thanks! I’ve got this. But do me a favor and count to five.”
“One… two… three…”
“Forget it. I’m out!” she cried, shaking the jacket off. Underneath, she wore a formfitting black shirt and pants. She hopped down from the counter, walked confidently over to Carter, and extended her hand. “My name is Leila the Great, escape artist extraordinaire. Nice to meet you, Carter.” Brown irises sparkled with flecks of amber in her eyes. Her wavy dark hair draped to the nape of her neck and bounced whenever she moved her head.
“Were you expecting me?” Carter mumbled, taken aback.
“Nope. But my dad was,” Leila said.
“Who’s your dad?”
“That would be me,” a voice said from behind him. “I believe we’ve already met.”
Startled, Carter nearly jumped through the window. A moment before, he and Leila (and the parrot) had been alone in the shop. He was certain of it.
“Mr. Vernon!” Carter said. “Where’d you come from?”
“Here and there,” Mr. Vernon said, avoiding the question. “I see you found the store.”
“So I was right. You were selling something,” Carter said, motioning to the store. “No one does magic just for fun.”
“I do!” Leila proclaimed.
Mr. Vernon shook his head. “I wasn’t trying to sell you anything, Carter. On the contrary, I simply recognized a kindred spirit and shared something that brought a smile to your face. That’s hardly a crime, is it?”
Carter’s cheeks flushed as he remembered the kindness that this man had shown him at Bosso’s carnival. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to say thanks for the warning about Bosso, at least not in front of this girl. He was sure that she didn’t need to know about his predicament.
Mr. Vernon placed his hand over a stack of the business cards and made one flutter across the counter. It floated off the surface and danced on air. A moment later, the card dropped into his hand.
Carter felt that excitement stir in his stomach. It was an unfamiliar feeling. He found himself craving more. “How’d you do that?”
“Magic,” Mr. Vernon said simply.
“There’s no—” Carter started.