Chapter 5

WEDNESDAY, MAY 13

7:00 P.M.

HALL OF JUSTICE, MAGIX HEADQUARTERS

Oh boy. And I thought it was terrifying to stand up in front of my class to give a book report. . . . The Magix Committee was a million times more intimidating.

I felt puny, sitting in my little chair in the vast Hall of Justice while fifteen adults filed in to take their seats on elevated platforms so they could all scowl down in my direction.

Frank Lawden was the only face I recognized, but he wasn’t one of the fifteen. Instead, he stood off to one side at a podium with a large screen hanging behind him.

The focal point in the room—besides myself—was a huge thermometer. It stood on a pedestal, several feet tall, with the numbers representing Fahrenheit on one side and Celsius on the other. The red liquid bar had risen from the bottom, indicating that the temperature in the room was about 35 degrees Fahrenheit.

No wonder I was trembling! Although it didn’t feel cold in here, the thermometer showed that this room was nearly freezing!

“For the record,” Mr. Lawden said to me, “please state your name.”

“Mason Morrison,” I said.

“Your full name.”

I grimaced. “Mason Mortimer Morrison.”

Mr. Lawden cleared his throat. “The Magix Committee assembles at seven o’clock on the evening of Wednesday, May thirteenth, to review the charges against Mason Mortimer Morrison.”

I wanted to shout, “I’m innocent!” but I decided to wait. He told me I’d have a chance to defend myself.

“Will the defendant allow the use of a truth boon?” Lawden asked, looking at me. I knew enough from following my dad’s court case to know that I was the defendant.

“What’s a truth boon?” I asked. From the platforms, I heard some of the committee members scoff in annoyance. They probably thought I was being a smart aleck, but I really didn’t know.

“It is a magical boon that will force you to speak the truth.”

My eyes grew wide. This was it! This could save me and prove my innocence! “Yes!” I cried. “That’s an option? I’ll take it!”

“His eagerness is suspicious,” said one of the committee members with a noticeable French accent. “Perhaps he has come prepared for this moment, protecting himself with boons to counter the truth.”

“That’s crazy!” I shouted. “I didn’t even know magic was real until this afternoon.”

Mr. Lawden came toward me, holding something small covered by a cloth bag.

“You have to understand that the use of a truth boon does not guarantee anything,” he explained quietly. “It shows the committee that you’re willing to cooperate, but as it was mentioned, there are known ways to combat its effects.” He pulled off the cloth bag to reveal the item beneath.

It was a shoe. An old dirty black sneaker with frayed laces.

“Once your foot is inside the shoe, you will only be able to answer questions truthfully. Also, any information you voluntarily share must be the truth, and nothing but the truth. You may also choose not to answer our questions, although your silence will likely be as incriminating as an answer.” He handed me the shoe. “You are now educated and have the knowledge of this boon, which means you can activate its full magical power. Go ahead and put it on.”

I stooped over, slipping out of my regular shoe and into the dirty sneaker that Mr. Lawden had given me. I didn’t feel any different once it was on. It was a little big for me, but I didn’t need to run a mile in it. I just needed to answer some questions, and they’d see that I was innocent.

“Let us begin.” Back at the podium, Mr. Lawden lifted a remote and clicked a button. At once, the screen behind him lit up with the picture of a redbrick church. “Do you recognize this building?”

“I can tell it’s a church,” I said. The steeple was a giveaway.

“Have you ever been to this church?”

“No.” I heard a few of the committee members scoff again, so I added, “At least, I don’t think so.”

“This is the Church of the Faith at an undisclosed site in the eastern United States,” explained Lawden. “In truth, Magix uses this building as a top secret storage facility for over a hundred magical boons. Just over a month ago, on April third, at eight o’clock p.m., this facility was robbed of every single magical boon in storage. This represents the greatest theft of magic in the last two decades, making you Magix’s number one most wanted criminal.”

“Me?” I cried. “Why do you think I did this?”

“There were two guards on duty in the facility,” said Lawden. “They report that a person matching your description took them by surprise and quickly overpowered them. You then loaded the boons into a large hiking backpack—itself an illegal boon capable of reducing items in size and weight to fit—and exited the church. The guards gave pursuit, but you reportedly opened a music box and transported to an unknown location.”

“That’s crazy!” I yelled. “It wasn’t me. The guards are lying. I’m being framed!”

“Fortunately, we have more than the word of the guards,” said Lawden, pressing another button to change the slide behind him.

A video started playing on the screen, the time in the bottom right of the screen showing 8:02 p.m. It wasn’t great quality and looked like footage from a security camera. In view was an empty street approaching twilight, but in the background, I could clearly see the Church of the Faith. As I watched, a kid wearing a sweatshirt exactly like one of mine came running into view, a large black-and-blue hiking backpack flapping empty on his back. He skipped up the front steps and blasted forcefully through the front door.

“That wasn’t me!” I said. “Just because I have the same sweatshirt. . . . You couldn’t even see his face!”

“Please hold your comments until the end of the video,” said Mr. Lawden. He sped through the next several minutes and slowed the video again at 8:13 p.m. The church’s front door opened and the kid reappeared, his large backpack bulging. He glanced around nervously and then moved down the steps. At this point, I could see his face. But it was far away. I guess he sort of looked like me, but it wasn’t enough to accuse me like this!

The kid in the video moved around the right side of the church, disappearing from view.

“That could have been anybody,” I said. “Lots of kids look like me. There’s a fifth grader in Mr. Marchant’s class. People get us mixed up all the time . . .”

I faded away as Mr. Lawden pointed back to the screen. For some reason, the thief had reentered the frame. And this time, he was moving right toward the camera!

As strange as it was, I began to be convinced. With every step, the person looked more like me. Then he paused in the middle of the street. I could see the music box carefully cradled in his hands. Then the boy looked directly up at the camera. At this close distance, there was no mistaking it.

“That’s me,” I whispered. At least, it looked exactly like me, down to the big freckle on my forehead. The church door opened behind me, and the two guards ran down the steps. The boy that looked like me ducked under the camera and out of sight.

“I don’t understand,” I muttered as the video ended. “That was me.”

“Then he admits to the theft,” said one of the committee members.

“No!” I shouted. “I didn’t steal anything from that church! You know I can’t lie!” I wiggled my right foot to remind them of the sneaker.

“He’s clearly found a way to immunize himself against the truth shoe,” said another committee member with an accent I didn’t recognize. “We cannot trust his word.”

“How can you be sure that was me?” I asked. “Maybe somebody used a magical item to create an evil twin. Or disguise themselves like me . . .”

“That is not possible,” said Mr. Lawden. “Magical effects cannot be recorded by common cameras. And this footage was from an ordinary security camera belonging to a company of storage units across the street from the church.”

“You can’t record magic?” I said.

Mr. Lawden shook his head. “In the event that a common camera attempts to record magic in action, something will always interfere to prevent it—something will obstruct the view, or the lens will break, or the camera’s battery will suddenly die. Magic cannot be recorded. Which is why we know the person in the video must be you.”

“No, I—it’s not—” I stammered. “What about . . . what about the backpack? You said it was magic, but I could see it on the video.”

“The backpack is a boon, but it was not doing anything magical in the video,” explained Lawden.

“Then maybe someone was wearing a mask,” I said. “Not a normal mask, it looked too realistic for that. But what about a magical mask that—”

“I oversee the Boon Identification Division,” a voice from the committee said, cutting me off. “We had detectors analyze the video. I can personally assure you that the only two boons in play were the backpack and the music box.”

I swallowed hard and folded my arms. This was looking bad for me.

“Do you recognize any of these items?” Mr. Lawden clicked his remote. The screen showed a mash-up of several ordinary-looking things.

“Of course,” I answered. “That’s a hockey stick, a coffee mug, a blanket, a flowerpot, and a motorcycle helmet.” I hoped this wasn’t a trick question. Even if it was, I wasn’t supposed to be able to lie with that shoe on my foot.

“Shortly after your arrest this afternoon, a Magix Artifact Recovery team located these five magical items in your bedroom.”

“My bedroom?” I repeated. “Like, at my house? That’s not possible! I’ve never seen any of these things before.”

“These five items were all registered boons being stored in the church,” said Lawden. “They were reported stolen on April third and were found in your bedroom on May thirteenth.”

“Well, I don’t know how they got there!” I cried. “I’m innocent. I didn’t steal anything.”

“We found stolen items in your room,” called a committee member. “We have a video of you fleeing the crime scene! What more do you want?”

“Like father, like son,” another person mumbled from the stands.

“What did you say?” I spat, rising from my chair. My hands were in fists at my sides, and I could feel my face turn hot.

“I’m only saying that your determination to deny obvious evidence is unsurprisingly like your father,” the committee member continued.

“What do you know about my father?” I pressed. “Leave him out of this!”

Mr. Lawden stepped away from his podium, motioning for me to take a seat. “Mason, please. The committee has been reviewing every aspect of your case. Your father’s bank robbery and trial was a relevant bit of backstory.”

“How is it relevant?” I asked, refusing to sit.

“It is a sad truth that children with criminal parents are more than twice as likely to commit crimes themselves,” said the committee member. “It’s a pattern of behavior that passes from father to son—”

“Crime isn’t genetic!” I cut him off. “And my dad didn’t actually rob that bank!” It had been months since I’d said that out loud. It felt good to shout it again.

“Five hundred thousand dollars,” said another. “The bank recovered most of it in the trunk of your father’s car, but he managed to squirrel away a hundred thousand dollars that is still unaccounted for.”

“He didn’t—” I tried.

“Go ahead and roll the footage, Lawden,” continued the man.

“Footage?” I said. “Of the bank robbery? They said the bank’s cameras were cut.”

“Yes,” the committee member said. “But much like your situation, an outdoor camera captured it all.”

Mr. Lawden pressed a button and another video started. I sat forward in plain curiosity. I’d heard there was footage, but it was supposed to be confidential. Magix seemed to get anything it wanted.

On the screen, I saw someone who looked exactly like my dad run into view, holding four huge bags of cash. He exited the frame quickly, and a moment later I saw his car veering away. I could still see my dad behind the wheel, swerving out of control. He was almost out of view when he crashed into the back of a delivery truck carrying custom windows and mirrors. Broken glass sprayed everywhere, and it looked like the truck slammed against the pole where the security camera was mounted, causing the picture to shake as my dad’s car sped out of sight.

Then the video stopped and everyone stared down at me. But seeing the footage hadn’t convinced me of anything. In fact, it had done the opposite. I knew I wasn’t guilty. There had to be some kind of magical explanation. And maybe that same explanation meant my dad was as innocent as I was.

“I think that shows what kind of household young Mason was raised in,” said the committee member.

“Not at all!” I shouted. “My dad is a good person! He never broke the law!”

Mr. Lawden held up his hand. “Mason is the one on trial tonight. Not his father. Let us return to the case.” He moved back to his podium. I finally sat down again, still breathing heavily from seeing that footage of my dad.

“After stealing the church boons, the defendant kept a low profile,” said Mr. Lawden, “until today when—”

“Hold on,” I cut in. “You’ve known who I was for over a month?”

“It wasn’t difficult to get a positive ID off that video,” Lawden said.

“Why didn’t you just surround my house and arrest me right away?” I asked. “Or grab me on the way home from school? Why’d you have to wait and do it in front of my whole class?”

“We needed to recover the music box,” Mr. Lawden explained. “We had identified it from the security video, but there was no way of knowing where you had stashed it. So we placed an alert on its magical signal. The alert went off the moment you opened the music box in your classroom. We dispatched Agents Clarkston and Nguyen immediately.”

“But I had already transported Mrs. Dunlow and my class to Antarctica,” I said.

“So, you admit to doing that?” asked one of the committee members.

“Sure,” I replied. “But how was I supposed to know it was a crime? How was I supposed to know that music box did anything other than play a little song?”

“That was the nature of the boon,” answered Lawden. “When you opened the box, you were transported to an uninhabited region of the world. Anyone looking at you, or anyone looking at them, was transported with you.”

It was nice to finally understand how that had worked.

“Nguyen and Clarkston traced your music box to Antarctica, then to the Caribbean, and then to the Sahara Desert, where they quickly caught up. You resisted arrest, endangered civilian Ignorants, and put Magix agents in harm’s way. Do you deny that this happened?”

“No,” I said. “But I didn’t understand what was going on. I still don’t. I had no idea what that music box would do when I opened it.”

This comment really sent the committee into a tizzy. Many of them started talking at once. Several rose from their seats in loud protest. It took Frank Lawden slamming his hand against the podium to get everyone quieted down again.

“You claim you activated the music-box boon without any knowledge of its true magical potential?” he asked me.

“Yes,” I said without wavering.

“Now we know he’s just messing with us, Director,” called a committee member. “He has figured out a way to block the truth shoe, and he’s making a mockery of this committee and the very foundational rules of magic. You shouldn’t tolerate this kind of behavior. We have plenty of evidence. I think we’re all convinced.” She looked side to side for support from the others.

My heart sank as I saw every head nodding.

Behind the podium, Mr. Lawden sighed deeply. “The committee will adjourn to the council room for final deliberation. We’ll convene again once a verdict has been reached.”