The Magician Read Free Page A

and all day long the day before. The main roads had been cleared, but the side streets were car traps, and now it was snowing again. Better allow plenty of time in case they got stuck. The school hired a professional orchestra for the prom every year, and two years ago had even had a professional magician, who was clumsy. This was the first time the main act would be performed by a student. He didn’t want to goof it. Or be late. There were two suitcases full of apparatus to unpack backstage, and he didn’t want any help from anyone who might see something he wasn’t supposed to see.
    His father helped him get the heavy suitcases into the car. Ed himself carried the brown one, which had the big pitcher in it, the only thing that could break easily. He was glad he had thought to put his tux pants inside his boots because the snow was high.
    The starter didn’t catch at first. It took a half-minute till it turned over in the cold. The waiting seconds brought back the stomach jump he had lain down to get rid of. His mouth felt dust-rag dry. He took the tiny breath sprayer out of his pocket and shot twice into his mouth.
    “What’s that?” asked his father, now easing the car out of the driveway, which had not been shoveled out too well.
    “Nothing,” said Ed, pocketing the spray.
    Once they got on Route 9, everything was okay. He reminded his father to turn off to Holbrook Road so he could pick up Lila.
    She was standing just inside the front door of her house, her face visible in the pane of glass. Ed got out of the car as she came down her walk, her dress buffeted by the swirling wind.
    As she slid into the front seat next to his father, she said, “Hi, Mr. Japhet. I appreciate your picking me up.”
    His father just nodded. It wouldn’t have killed him to say something.
    Ed got in. It was a tight squeeze. Lila seemed anxious not to sit too close to Ed’s father, as if she was afraid their legs might touch.
    She and Ed therefore sat very close, but didn’t talk. The windshield wipers swept two half-moons out of the fast-falling snow. Through them they peered at the road and the white lawns on either side. The wind whistled through the right-front vent window, which had never once closed air-tight since they bought the damn Dodge. He wished his father would hurry some.
    *
    The grade leading to the lit-up school stretched for a quarter of a mile ahead of them, the road an almost continuous chain of cars moving slowly, each afraid to come to a complete stop in case it had trouble getting started uphill again in the hard-packed snow. The last quarter-mile of inching along seemed so slow. Ed kept glancing at his watch, hoping he’d have enough time to prepare.
    “You’re making me nervous,” said his father.
    It was hopeless to get out and walk the distance with the heavy suitcases. Now, however, the cars started moving at a somewhat faster pace, and they could see the tiny figure of the policeman at the head of the line, trying to keep the unloading cars moving. That was the bottleneck. Though their windows were raised, they could hear the good-byeing and helloing.
    “We could get out here,” Ed said.
    “It’ll only be a couple of minutes more,” said his father. “The suitcases are heavy. I’ll help you backstage with them.”
    “No, it’s okay, I’ll manage. You can’t leave the car here, it’ll just block traffic.”
    He could pull off the road right there and not tie up anything, and he’d have the satisfaction of helping you, you are a shit, Ed Japhet.
    When the car stopped, there was some honking, as if it weren’t the star of the show but just some kid getting out. Lila ran for the doorway alone.
    Mr. Japhet helped Ed get the suitcases out as fast as possible, the cop yelling at them to hurry-up-you’re-holding-up-traffic, and then Mr. Japhet was back behind the wheel waving good-bye, which Ed didn’t see because he was already lumbering toward the door, one suitcase in each hand, feeling the