Free EllRay Jakes Is Magic by Sally Warner Page A

the small sofa in his office. “Did you talk to Mr. James?”
    “Who’s Mr. James?” I ask, my heart thudding, because— UH-OH . Did I forget some important assignment Mom or Dad gave me?
    Oh, my poor aching brain!
    “He’s been your principal for the past couple of years, EllRay,” Dad says in his too-patient voice. “Honestly. I think you have a mental block about some things.”
    One
mental block? I have a whole toy box full of them, Dad!
    I nod my head. “I saw him,” I report, sighing. “And I told him why I should drop out of the show. And he said he understood, but no way. He said the program was already being printed up with my name on it. And that’s just dumb. Like some copy machine is the boss,” I say, these last words tumbling out. “Because he could have made an announcement. You know, about how I wasn’t going to be in the show.”
    “I suppose he thinks it’s no big deal,” Dad says as if he’s trying to put himself inside the principal’s probably hairy brain. “He must figure that you’ll just be onstage for a few minutes, and then it will be over.”
    “Then
everything
will be over,” I say in my gloomiest voice. “Because I’ll be a flop, and then my reputation will be ruined forever. Or at least for the next three years. ‘EllRay the Magnificent.’ Hah!”
    “I think that saying your reputation would be ruined is something of an exaggeration, EllRay,” my dad says. “But I thought that’s what your principal might say. And yet your mother tells me you’ve been practicing your two illusions all afternoon,” he says, looking thoughtful.
    “Well, yeah,” I say. “I want to try as hard as I can, at least.”
    Uh-oh. I said “yeah” instead of “yes.” But for once, Dad ignores my so-called lazy tongue. “That’s excellent,” he says, smiling as he brushes the palm of his big hand across the top of my head, the closest he gets to being mushy with me. “But I have a surprise for you, son.”
    “In the box?” I ask, peeking over at his desk.
    “That’s right,” my dad says. “I did some pretty major research online Tuesday night, after you and I talked, and I found three really good illusions I think you can do. Ones that will work well in a big auditorium. My research took some time, but I hope you’ll think the results are worth it.”
    “You bought me three brand-new magic tricks? Tricks that we didn’t make at home, out of string and straws?” I say, forgetting to use the word “illusions” for a second, I’m so excited—and surprised.
    Because like I’ve said before, my dad is thrifty, and that’s putting it mildly. “Thrifty” means he doesn’t like spending money if he doesn’t have to. He likes to
save
—for college for Alfie and me, for retirement, for Christmas.
    You name it, he saves for it.
    Yet he studied the magic store sites online, when he could have been thinking about his radio isotopes, whatever they are, and then he bought me three probably expensive illusions? Not to mention the extra money he spent for super-fast delivery!
    They print the postage cost on the box, and it was so high it made me blink.
    This whole thing is just so—so
un-Dad.
    He nods. “I did,” he tells me, smiling some more. “I could see how important it was to you, EllRay. And your mother and I thought you should at least have a
chance
at making the splash you want to at the talent show.”
    “It’s not so much about making a splash,” I try to explain. “It’ll be the big kids who do that, and maybe even Jared and Stanley dancing hip hop. I just want to be able to hold my head up high when it’s over. But—but—I can’t believe it,” I sputter, staring at the white box sitting on Dad’s desk. “Three new illusions? What are they?”
    There could be anything in that box!
    I hope not a magician’s live white rabbit, though. There aren’t any airholes in FedEx boxes.
    “Well, let’s open it up and see,” Dad says with a laugh. “Because