interesting teaching style.”
“Those tricks he pulled were amazing,” Brendan opined. “The chalk changing colour and the hummingbird? Cool.”
“I’m sure he must have had the chalk up his sleeve,” Dmitri said, “Or in a false pocket in his vesk.”
“Vest,” Brendan corrected. “Not vesk.”
“Vest!” Dmitri repeated. “Right.”
“And he totally shut down Chester, that’s for sure,” Harold said with a grin. He had flipped the page in the sketch pad and was feverishly carving a portrait of Mr. Greenleaf with a lump of charcoal on a fresh sheet of white. “I bet he’s a magician!” Harold offered, “and maybe he had an accident during a show. Like he accidentally sawed a woman in half for real. On stage. That would be wicked, right?”
“I think that’s highly unlikely,” Dmitri commented.
“Still, it’d be wicked, right? Am I right?”
“Blah, blah, blah,” Kim suddenly cut in. “Who cares. He made a bird appear! Big deal. You guys act like he’s some kind of genius. Anybody can learn a magic trick. He buys a book at a joke shop and you guys think he’s Gandalf.”
Brendan frowned. “Oh, yeah? Like you could do a magic trick.” It was a lame thing to say but he was just annoyed.
She sneered and reached over her shoulder to grip the handle of her ever-present field hockey stick, jutting out of her knapsack. “Why don’t I put you to sleep with my magic wand.”
“Ha-ha!” Brendan sneered back. “Do you want me to push that for a while?” He pointed at her scooter which she was currently guiding along, holding the handlebars. Her silver helmet dangled by its strap from the field hockey stick.
Kim smiled. “Naw. Thanks. I can manage.”
Brendan loved that scooter. It was a lustrous, lovingly restored Vespa in metallic candy-apple red with a black leather seat. He had begged Kim on a number of occasions to give him a ride, but she always said no. The insurance wouldn’t allow it. He envied her having such an amazing ride. Kim leaned her scooter against a telephone pole outside Papa Ceo’s Pizza and they joined the line for slices.
Brendan marvelled that Kim never bothered to lock her scooter. “Aren’t you worried that someone’s gonna steal it?”
Kim grinned wolfishly. “Who’d dare to steal from me?” Looking at that smile, Brendan decided he wouldn’t want to cross her.
They got their slices and sat on the bench outside the window. Brendan bit into the hot, melting cheese and savoured the garlicky tomato sauce beneath. No one did a better slice than Papa Ceo. Harold looked on with a woeful expression until Brendan inevitably said, “I can’t eat all mine. You want half, Harold?”
Harold gladly accepted the half slice. It had become a ritual between them. Kim shook her head at Brendan.
“You aren’t helping,” Kim scolded.
“Aw, it’s only a half slice,” Brendan said, shrugging. “No harm done.”
Dmitri was holding a veggie slice that was easily bigger than his whole head. Brendan had bought it for him. Dmitri’s family didn’t have a lot of money so Brendan spotted him a slice or a pop from time to time. He thought that the tutoring Dmitri gave him in science and mathematics was easily more valuable than a slice or two.
“I don’t like him,” Kim said suddenly. “If I were you guys, I’d keep away from him.” She said this to all of them but she looked at Brendan when she spoke. To accentuate her warning, she popped a giant jalapeño in her mouth and chewed. No matter how much junk food Kim ate, she always stayed lean.
Harold shook his head, gazing enviously at her pizza. He had already inhaled his. “And it was pretty cool how he knew everybody’s names, like right away. That just proves he’s a magician. How else do you explain the bird?” Harold demanded.
“Sleight of hand,” Dmitri mumbled, with his mouth full. “I’ve seen magic shows on TV. It’s all illusion.”
“Looked pretty real to me,” Harold said. “Hey,
“Those tricks he pulled were amazing,” Brendan opined. “The chalk changing colour and the hummingbird? Cool.”
“I’m sure he must have had the chalk up his sleeve,” Dmitri said, “Or in a false pocket in his vesk.”
“Vest,” Brendan corrected. “Not vesk.”
“Vest!” Dmitri repeated. “Right.”
“And he totally shut down Chester, that’s for sure,” Harold said with a grin. He had flipped the page in the sketch pad and was feverishly carving a portrait of Mr. Greenleaf with a lump of charcoal on a fresh sheet of white. “I bet he’s a magician!” Harold offered, “and maybe he had an accident during a show. Like he accidentally sawed a woman in half for real. On stage. That would be wicked, right?”
“I think that’s highly unlikely,” Dmitri commented.
“Still, it’d be wicked, right? Am I right?”
“Blah, blah, blah,” Kim suddenly cut in. “Who cares. He made a bird appear! Big deal. You guys act like he’s some kind of genius. Anybody can learn a magic trick. He buys a book at a joke shop and you guys think he’s Gandalf.”
Brendan frowned. “Oh, yeah? Like you could do a magic trick.” It was a lame thing to say but he was just annoyed.
She sneered and reached over her shoulder to grip the handle of her ever-present field hockey stick, jutting out of her knapsack. “Why don’t I put you to sleep with my magic wand.”
“Ha-ha!” Brendan sneered back. “Do you want me to push that for a while?” He pointed at her scooter which she was currently guiding along, holding the handlebars. Her silver helmet dangled by its strap from the field hockey stick.
Kim smiled. “Naw. Thanks. I can manage.”
Brendan loved that scooter. It was a lustrous, lovingly restored Vespa in metallic candy-apple red with a black leather seat. He had begged Kim on a number of occasions to give him a ride, but she always said no. The insurance wouldn’t allow it. He envied her having such an amazing ride. Kim leaned her scooter against a telephone pole outside Papa Ceo’s Pizza and they joined the line for slices.
Brendan marvelled that Kim never bothered to lock her scooter. “Aren’t you worried that someone’s gonna steal it?”
Kim grinned wolfishly. “Who’d dare to steal from me?” Looking at that smile, Brendan decided he wouldn’t want to cross her.
They got their slices and sat on the bench outside the window. Brendan bit into the hot, melting cheese and savoured the garlicky tomato sauce beneath. No one did a better slice than Papa Ceo. Harold looked on with a woeful expression until Brendan inevitably said, “I can’t eat all mine. You want half, Harold?”
Harold gladly accepted the half slice. It had become a ritual between them. Kim shook her head at Brendan.
“You aren’t helping,” Kim scolded.
“Aw, it’s only a half slice,” Brendan said, shrugging. “No harm done.”
Dmitri was holding a veggie slice that was easily bigger than his whole head. Brendan had bought it for him. Dmitri’s family didn’t have a lot of money so Brendan spotted him a slice or a pop from time to time. He thought that the tutoring Dmitri gave him in science and mathematics was easily more valuable than a slice or two.
“I don’t like him,” Kim said suddenly. “If I were you guys, I’d keep away from him.” She said this to all of them but she looked at Brendan when she spoke. To accentuate her warning, she popped a giant jalapeño in her mouth and chewed. No matter how much junk food Kim ate, she always stayed lean.
Harold shook his head, gazing enviously at her pizza. He had already inhaled his. “And it was pretty cool how he knew everybody’s names, like right away. That just proves he’s a magician. How else do you explain the bird?” Harold demanded.
“Sleight of hand,” Dmitri mumbled, with his mouth full. “I’ve seen magic shows on TV. It’s all illusion.”
“Looked pretty real to me,” Harold said. “Hey,
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