DOMINIC HAD BEEN IN Corpus for a whole week, and he’d spent most of his time practicing magic. Luckily, his dad was 100 percent supportive. He took Dominic to a local magic shop, and even though Dominic felt guilty about not buying from Conjuring Cats, he couldn’t resist a new mentalism trick called Die-ception. It used a die—not the small kind that came with board games, but a four-inch cube. According to the instructions, you asked people to choose a number, and then you guessed it even when it was hidden inside a cloth sack. Dominic figured out how it worked. It was actually easy. The real challenge was writing patter.

He took the prediction die and a notepad to the dining table, and he brainstormed all morning, finally coming up with patter for the trick—and this time, he wasn’t going to talk about the evaporation cycle. Now all he had to do was practice. Little by little, using patter while performing his tricks got easier and easier, so as soon as his dad came home from work, Dominic asked if he wanted to see what he’d come up with.

“You bet,” his dad said. He had the mail in his hand, so he placed it on the table and took a seat.

Then Dominic had a great idea. When he’d finally called his mom back last week, she made him promise to touch base every day, even if only with a text message. Perhaps he could touch base right now, while he was performing his new trick. “Mom’s home from work,” he told his dad. “Why don’t we Skype her, so she can see the trick, too?” His dad seemed to hesitate. “You don’t have to talk to her. But it’ll be like both of you being in the same place at the same time.” He got no response from his dad. “For the trick,” Dominic added.

“Well, son,” his dad finally said. “Your mom’s probably tired. Why don’t you show her your trick later? That way, she can have you all to herself.”

Dominic wanted to say that she always had him to herself, but he knew it was pointless. He decided to shrug it off and get to his routine. He took a deep breath, cleared his throat, and took a deep breath again. He desperately needed to calm down because he was getting anxious.

“This here,” he said, “is a regular die. See for yourself.” His dad looked at it, examining all the sides. “I’m going to turn away,” Dominic went on, “and while my back is turned, I want you to choose a number on the die. Place the die on the table with the number facing up and then cover it with this handkerchief.” He caught his father nodding as he turned away.

A few seconds passed. “Okay,” his dad said. “I picked a number and covered it up.”

Dominic turned around. “Don’t tell me what it is,” he warned. “I’m going to read your mind. Are you ready?”

His father nodded.

“Now concentrate really hard as you think of the number.” He squinted his eyes. “Wait a minute,” he said, “concentrate on the die, not on the number pi.”

He thought the rhyme was funny, but his dad didn’t laugh.

Dominic continued. He closed his eyes and touched his father’s head. “You sure have a lot of numbers in there—credit card accounts, math equations, the number of miles on your car—but one number keeps rising to the top. It’s getting bigger and bigger. It’s flashing red now. This has to be it!” He opened his eyes. “You picked the number four.”

His dad clapped. “That’s exactly right!” he said as Dominic lifted the handkerchief and revealed the four.

“Maybe you think I cheated,” Dominic went on. “Maybe you think this handkerchief is see-through. Let’s try this again, but this time put the die in this sack. Make sure the number you choose is facing up and then close the sack. I won’t be able to see what you picked because the bag’s made of impenetrable fabric. See for yourself.” His dad examined the bag. “This bag is as thick as a telephone book.”

His simile got no reaction.

“Okay,” Dominic said. “I’m going to turn around again. Go ahead and pick a number and put the die in the bag.”

He turned and heard shuffling sounds, and then his dad said, “I’m ready.”

Dominic faced his dad again. Instead of closing his eyes, he stared not at the bag but at his father. “Cyclops,” he said. “Ears. Tricycle. Square. Hand. Guitar… aha! Guitar!”

“Guitar?” his dad repeated, all confused.

“I knew you weren’t going to think of the number, that you’d try to fool me, so I used an associative technique.”

“An associative technique?”

“Let me put it this way. One eye on a Cyclops. Two ears on a head. Three wheels on a tricycle, four corners on a square, five fingers on a hand, and six strings on a guitar.”

His dad just stared at him.

“As soon as I said ‘guitar,’ your mind flashed a six.” He waved his hand over the bag. “You may now reveal the die.”

His dad opened the sack, and the die was a six as predicted. He clapped, and Dominic took a bow.

“So what did you think?” Dominic asked.

“You’re great at reading my mind. Both times you figured out the number.”

“But was I funny?”

“Well, son.” His dad leaned back and took a deep breath. “Being funny is not your thing, but that’s okay. Really. You’re a smart kid, and I’m proud to have a smart kid like you.”

“But, Dad, did it make sense at least? Not the trick, but the stuff I said?”

“I’m sure it would make sense to smart people, but your old man isn’t one of them.” He glanced back to make sure no one else was in the room. “You got that from your mother. I’m sure she’ll completely understand your trick when you show it to her later.”

Dominic dropped his head. He knew his dad was complimenting him by saying he was smart, but he was also saying that Dominic was boring, even if those weren’t the exact words he used. Why else would he compare Dominic to his mom? She had a lot of great qualities, but being interesting wasn’t one of them. And it isn’t one of my great qualities, either, Dominic thought to himself.

“Cheer up,” his dad said. “You can’t ace everything. Maybe the die trick isn’t for you.” He grabbed the mail and shuffled through the envelopes, handing one to Dominic. “Look. It’s for you,” he said.

It was from Conjuring Cats! Dominic had been waiting the whole week. “It’s my quarter shell,” he announced. He ripped open the package and pulled out the quarter shell, but it was too heavy. When he turned it around, a quarter was stuck in it. He tried to take out the coin, but it wouldn’t budge. Then he remembered his conversation with Ariel. She’d mentioned that Z was practicing with the quarter shell because he wanted to expand his repertoire. But he wasn’t expanding his repertoire…, Dominic realized.

“What’s wrong?” his father asked.

“Z glued a quarter in the shell. It’s totally useless now.”

“Why would he do that?”

“I don’t know,” Dominic said. “But as soon as I get back, I’m going to find out.”