Hocus Pocus Hotel by Michael Dahl Page A

on?”
    â€œHe’s another performer,” explained Charlie. “Like the magicians who live here. And just like any performer, he has to practice every single day.”
    â€œBut why do you practice down here?” asked Tyler.
    â€œBecause the ceiling’s high enough,” said Mr. Thursday.
    â€œSo we were hearing you practice through the vents,” said Tyler. “The vents next to this wall must go right up to the ninth floor. So, who is this Mister Ken guy?”
    â€œMister Ken?” Mr. Thursday said. “Who’s that?”
    Charlie smiled. “He wasn’t saying Mister Ken,” he said. “We just thought he was. I finally figured it out when I realized what all three objects had in common.”
    â€œWhat do you mean?” Tyler asked.
    Charlie explained, “I was thinking, ‘What would someone use rings, spoons, and bowling pins for?’ Then I thought, ‘Of course! Juggling!’ Then I realized that what we were hearing was Mr. Thursday rehearsing his act.”
    â€œWhat does that have to do with Mister Ken?” Tyler asked.
    Charlie smiled again. “There is no Mister Ken,” he said.
    â€œOkay, I really don’t get it,” Tyler said.
    Charlie said, “Whenever he dropped a spoon or ring or pin, he would say to himself, ‘Missed again, missed again.’ That’s what we were hearing. We just thought he was saying Mister Ken, but he was giving himself a hard time for screwing up while practicing.”
    Thursday blushed above his beard. “It’s a bad habit of mine,” he said.
    â€œIt just sounded like ‘Mister Ken,’” said Charlie.
    â€œI have to practice every day, otherwise I get rusty,” said Thursday. “I would have asked to use these things, but it was supposed to be a surprise.”
    â€œA surprise for what?” asked Tyler.
    â€œFor the magic show,” said Mr. Thursday. “Of course.”

“Wait a second,” Tyler said. “What magic show? I haven’t heard about any magic show.”
    â€œA magic show like the ones the Abracadabra had in the old days,” said Thursday. His voice was full of excitement. “And you haven’t heard about it because it’s a surprise,” he added. “The magicians here are all organizing it.”
    â€œWow!” said Tyler. “Mom will be so excited about all this. She’ll love it!”
    â€œDo me a favor,” Thursday said. “Keep it a surprise, for now. There are going to be a few shows coming up. The big one will take us a while to prepare.”
    â€œGot it,” Tyler said. Charlie nodded.
    Thursday rubbed at his beard. “Uh, you don’t mind if I keep practicing, then, do you?” he asked.
    â€œWhat? Oh, no, knock yourself out,” said Tyler. “But it would be better if you used your own stuff, since it’s here. Can you help me take these bowling pins back upstairs?”
    â€œNo problem,” said Thursday.
    * * *
    Later, after Charlie, Tyler, and Mr. Thursday had returned the missing objects to their rightful places, Charlie stood in the lobby next to the front doors. It was still raining outside.
    He stared at the tall painting of the former Abracadabra, the hotel’s founder. He was studying the magician’s eyes.

    Tyler walked up to him. “Hey, you might want this,” he said. He handed Charlie an umbrella. “People always forget theirs when they leave the hotel, so we have lots of extra ones lying around.”
    â€œThanks,” said Charlie.
    â€œNo problem,” said Tyler. “Well, so it wasn’t a ghost after all. And Mom won’t deduct my money now to pay for the missing stuff.”
    â€œGreat,” said Charlie.
    â€œWell, see you at school,” said Tyler. He started to walk away. But then he stopped, turned, and added, “But remember, don’t talk to me in the halls.”
    Charlie