15. THE BALANCING SHOW

THE NIGHT OF THE performance arrived. Everyone gathered before the makeshift stage that Duane had put together. There was a hum of excitement. No one had a clue as to what the others would do that would be scary and daring for them. Magic did join the group after being so long hidden in her den. She was not her usual excitable self, but quite the opposite, quiet and subdued. The others did not ignore her; each said a polite hello, and she in turn smiled timidly back. Duane thought Magic appeared so shy and hesitant, she could have been Boo’s reflection. Then, thinking of Boo, Duane looked around, hoping she might have shown up. There was no sign of her yet. Maybe it was asking too much. In any case, everyone was getting restless. To Duane’s delight, Sun Girl suddenly appeared.

“I heard there was to be a show,” she said, sitting next to Duane.

“It’s so good to see you, but didn’t the Pack want to come?”

Sun Girl shrugged. “I asked them, but they said no. It’s a Tuesday. Unexpected things happen.”

“Tuesdays,” said Duane, nodding in agreement. He stood up to address everyone. Doing so, in the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of Boo’s face within the shadows at the back, among the berry bushes. So she came after all, he thought happily. Duane did not stare, nor did he make any gesture of recognition. He allowed Boo her privacy and instead turned forward to talk. “We should probably begin. C.C. had volunteered earlier to start us off.”

The friends sat or perched before the stage where C.C. was now standing next to a blanket that hung from a horizontal rod all the way down to the stage floor. That rod was attached to a vertical rod, like a flagpole, which was weighted at the bottom. C.C. spoke. “As you well know, I am a scientist. I deal with what is. I have no tolerance for frivolous things, like magic, for example.” Then, as if it suddenly occurred to her for the very first time, C.C. looked over at Magic and added, “I mean magic with a small ‘m,’ the act of illusion. Not Magic the fox, such as yourself, whom I can tolerate… in small doses.”

Having straightened that out, C.C. continued. “I, of course, am not scared of magic per se, but I do fear that all of you are prone to believing in it, and there is only so much eye-rolling and lengthy stares that a rational owl such as myself can handle. Therefore, I intend on performing a magic trick while explaining how it’s done so you will all be wiser and less shallow.”

“Explaining it?” asked Handsome. “That doesn’t seem like much fun.” Duane had to agree.

C.C. used one of her wings to swivel the blanket to the side, revealing a rectangular, dark wooden frame that contained a series of cylinders holding round, wooden beads. “Beside me is a black, backless abacus.”

“A black, backless what?” asked Major Puff, agitated and suspicious.

“An abacus… an ancient calculation apparatus… a tool to count with.”

“Well, why didn’t you just say so?”

“I thought I did,” said C.C., confused.

“Never you mind him, dear,” said Twitch. “You just continue on ruining the magic trick.”

“As I shall. Thank you, Twitch.” C.C. indicated a portion of the stage floor on the opposite side of her. “I will shortly hide the abacus behind the hanging blanket once again. Then, while you are all distracted, I shall press upon this bit of wood here. When I do that, it will cause a trapdoor beneath the abacus to open slightly, allowing the abacus to slide under the stage and out of sight. When I release my talon from the trigger, the trapdoor closes. Finally, I push aside the blanket, revealing the disappeared abacus.”

C.C. was confident that her explanation had sufficiently destroyed any chance of entertaining her audience. She swiveled the hanging blanket in front of the abacus and pulled out a short stick that was wedged beneath her wing. “I now take hold of my magic wand, which is not a magic wand, you understand, but in fact just the broken handle off of a chisel I found on the Shipwreck. I say the magical invocation ‘abracadabra,’ and then I will— Or perhaps before I continue, would you like to know where the word ‘abracadabra’ derives from?”

“No!” shouted everyone.

“It’s just as well, as several theories are in play,” agreed C.C., waving her wand that was not a wand. “Abracadabra, the abacus has now disappeared.”

C.C. pulled away the blanket, revealing to no one’s astonishment, having had the trick more than sufficiently ruined for them, that the abacus was indeed no longer there. What was amazing and not expected was that instead of the abacus, there were all eight members of the Pack bunched up together and looking around confused, as if they had just been teleported. This apparently surprised C.C. as well, because she just stood there with her beak hanging open. “I… I don’t understand how that occurred,” she finally said.

“Finally, something C.C. cannot explain,” joked Handsome without being mean-spirited, to which everyone laughed.

So despite C.C.’s serious, rational approach, the trick turned out to be magical after all. C.C. left the stage in a daze. “How could it… the ratio of probability… I can’t… but… what just happened?”

What I will reveal to all of you readers and listeners—what Duane and the others still, to this day, don’t know—is that this was all planned earlier along with Sun Girl and the Pack. You see, the thing C.C. actually found most scary was not being accepted by everyone she deeply cared for, but she didn’t want to tell them that. C.C. figured that sharing a moment of wonder, like she had observed with Handsome and Duane looking at snowflakes through the microscope, would bring her closer. That may seem like a lot of effort and bother to you, but I assure you that for C.C., it was a whole lot better than doing more chitchat.

Duane asked for the next performer. “Who would like their turn?”

Major Puff stood up at attention. When he paraded forward, stiffly and proudly, to take his turn on the stage, everyone naturally assumed he would be demonstrating some complicated marching strategy while recounting one of the many battles fought against the great black-backed gulls.

“As a puffin who has descended from a long line of military heroes, my blood has been tempered like that of sharp, cold steel.”

A quiet, collective groan was heard in the audience as everyone settled in for what they expected would be a long and tedious affair. But Major Puff’s opening speech took a curious turn.

“In keeping with the theme of tonight’s entertainment, I shall enflame my blood somewhat and take a leap of faith. I wish to dedicate this performance to Madame,” he said while looking nervously at Twitch. He turned and nodded to C.C., who rushed back to one side of the stage and stood beside the object he had first discovered on the Shipwreck—a Victrola. A Victrola is an old-fashioned record player, and if you don’t know what a record player is, then I suggest that you ask your parents immediately. Even if you’re reading this late at night when you should be sleeping, get up and wake your parents. Tell them it’s a story emergency. To continue, C.C. turned the crank of the Victrola with her wing, causing the disc in the middle to turn. Using her beak to serve as the missing needle, C.C. placed the pointy tip onto the rotating record. A scratchy, orchestrated melody spilled out from the horn. Then, to everyone’s surprise, Major Puff began to sing.

When winter’s blast approaches

And frigid air abounds,

When water freezes over

And snow doth muffle sound,

I migrate! I migrate!

I migrate far from you.

Both Major Puff’s voice and his legs quivered during that opening verse, but having gotten through it successfully, his confidence grew.

When warmer climates beckon

And palm trees sway hello,

When jasmine wafts its sweetness

And white sand warms my toes,

I migrate! I migrate!

I migrate far from you.

By the third stanza, Major Puff’s voice grew quieter, and dare I say, his blood was stirred with tender passion.

When thoughts of you come flooding,

My heart aches in reply.

A North Star there to guide me,

To thee my wings will fly.

I migrate! I migrate!

I migrate home to you.

Major Puff held the last note on “you” for as long as his breath would allow, bringing everyone to their feet with applause. When he was done, he took a deep, gallant bow as Twitch, who was touched to the core, hopped up to the stage and kissed him softly on the beak. In the annals of puffin history, never did a puffin of such high military rank blush as crimson as the Major.

“Suppose I should have my turn now that I’m up here,” said Twitch, turning to the audience. “I’ll just nip behind the curtain and get my box of goodies.”

Major Puff took his seat, joined by C.C., as the arctic hare dragged out an old wooden chest onto the stage, placing it left of center with the lid opened toward the audience so no one could see what was inside. She stood beside the chest and took a quick, deep breath.

“Bit of a change of pace from the Major’s beautiful serenading,” Twitch began. “So I’ve been to the Shipwreck, like a lot of you, checking in with C.C., looking through her books and doing some rummaging, quite a mess in those rooms, could use a little tidying and dusting, maybe some downsizing, just saying.”

Twitch’s jerks and spasms were now noticeably more intense, which is saying a lot for her. “But here I am, willing and ready, taking the plunge, rolling the dice, trimming the whiskers during a sneezing fit, if you catch my meaning.”

No one did take her meaning, but their curiosity was growing nonetheless.

“I learned a new skill, I did. Seemed appropriate for someone like me, the nervous type, always doing several things at once. It’s called juggling!”

Twitch leaned over the chest and pulled out a cleaning brush, a feather duster, and a wooden baking spoon. As she continued talking, she began tossing each object into the air, one by one, using her right front foot to throw and the left one to catch, before quickly giving the objects over to the throwing foot again. In this way, she managed to keep the three items aloft in constant motion. “So this is me, busy, busy, busy, always busy, I like to stay busy, helps with the excess energy. I like to cook and bake, as well you know, and I like a clean burrow too, not ashamed of it or proud, just a stickler for such things.”

Twitch’s newly discovered talent was impressive. She didn’t seem to be struggling at all. In fact, she was just warming up. “Can’t live a life stuck in a burrow, though, need some fresh air, need some exercise and such. Which is why I make time for my daily cardio-hopping! One hundred, up and down, give or take, just like this!” While still juggling the objects, Twitch began hopping just as she described, never faltering, always stable, causing everyone to break out in spontaneous cheering. But she still wasn’t done. “After I met the Major, though, now I could mix things up. The Major taught me marching skills, so there’s that, too!” Twitch instantly shifted from hopping up and down to marching back and forth across the stage, with legs high up in the air, while again, still juggling flawlessly.

Major Puff was on his feet. “Bravo, Madame, bravo! Your posture is beyond reproach!”

And then Twitch stopped, catching each of three objects in turn and putting them down. She walked over to center stage, stood beside the chest, and looked out at her friends calmly now. She said, “But juggling is one thing, scary is another. Being the worrying type, most everything to me is scary. Worrying about this, worrying about that, it’s in my nature, I suppose. So for the final part of my juggling act, I will push my fears aside, and try to juggle these!” At which point Twitch reached into the chest and pulled out three dangerously sharp–looking knives.

As you probably imagined, a collective gasp was the response to this unexpected program note. It didn’t help either that Twitch followed up by saying, “First time trying this bit!” before tossing the knives into the air, one by one. Paws and wings immediately covered the eyes of all who had gathered, but after several seconds had passed lacking any screams of an arctic hare cutting short her juggling career, so to speak, everyone started to relax and watch. Twitch seemed to be the most relaxed. Having found a steady rhythm for keeping the knives in a continual circle of flight, she somehow managed to shift all the juggling responsibilities to one paw, leaving the other one free to reach into the chest.

“Not like me to be having so much fun with all this danger involved,” she said with a touch of playful mischief in her voice. “Lots to go wrong, horror and mayhem, sharp blades, softer fur, just saying. Prefer to have a contingency plan, I do, a what-if-things-go-bad, hope-for-the-best-but-expect-the-absolute-worst attitude. Bandages are useful then!” At which moment, Twitch tossed a large roll of bandages into the air along with the juggling knives. “And another, just in case!”

To everyone’s delight, Twitch had gone back to using both paws in order to keep not three but five objects going at once, crisscrossing her throws in front of her, but never allowing either knives or bandages to collide.

“Twitch! Twitch! Twitch!” all her friends shouted, encouraging her on.

“And now for my big finish…” Twitch stopped juggling, quickly reached into the chest, grabbed a large iron pot lid, and held it over her head like an umbrella. The sharp knives fell down upon her, only to bounce harmlessly off to the side with a few metallic dings. “Ta-da!”

Again, everyone was on their feet applauding, as well as wiping nervous sweat from their brows.