IT WAS OBVIOUS THAT MY PLAN WAS DOOMED WHEN MOM DROVE UP WITH Grandma Melvyn in the front seat. Mom did not look happy. She jumped out of the car like a kangaroo with a jet pack. Fast.

“Hi …,” I said, and coughed. (Tuberculimpus symptom.)

Mom flung open a back passenger door and signaled for me to put Houdi’s box on the seat.

“We need at least fifty-seven thousand,” Mom said.

She pointed at her earpiece. Great. Mom was on the phone, which meant she would be gone in two seconds flat. I put Houdi’s box on the backseat and closed the door.

A huge tuberculimpus attack rose up inside my lungs. It was just about to come out when I looked at Grandma Melvyn. She gave me a this-is-too-funny kind of look or maybe it was a how-could-anybody-be-that-pathetic look. I couldn’t tell.

“Rabbit trouble?” she asked.

And just like that, my tuberculimpus was cured. It was a miracle.

“Hold on,” Mom said to the person on the phone.

She frowned at me.

“What were you thinking, Robbie?” she asked. “I don’t have time for this today. Now we’re late for Grandma Melvyn’s doctor appointment, which makes me late for work this afternoon.”

My face got hot, and my eyes started to burn. The anger drained from Mom’s face and she sighed.

“Oh, kiddo,” she said. “What am I going to do with you?”

Mom grabbed my shoulders to give me a hug, but I pulled away.

“Houdi needs water,” I said. “Give Houdi some water.”

I turned around and ran into the school without looking back.

At least one good thing came out of my speech. Houdi destroyed so many lunches that Mrs. M ordered pizza and we had a pizza party. Everyone was happy about that except Mrs. M. Like I said, she does not like unexpected events.

The rest of the school day lasted seven years. Seven horrible, deadly, never-ending years. Cat didn’t even bother trying to cheer me up at recess. Or maybe she did. It’s hard to tell with Cat.

We sat beneath the ash tree by the playground. Cat braided and unbraided her hair while I dug a hole in the ground with a stick.

“Wow,” she said. “That was an epic failure.”

“Thanks,” I said.

“No, really,” she said. “It was a nuclear explosion of failure.”

“Glad you liked it,” I said sarcastically.

“I did!” she said. “I loved it! It was a fantastic disaster.”

“Great,” I said. “I created the Hindenburg of Rabbit Hat Tricks.”

“Yep!” she said. “A great big flaming dirigible of disaster.”

“Wow,” I said. “I feel so much better now.”

I jammed the stick hard into the ground and Cat snatched it away from me. She poked me in the arm with it.

“Look,” she said. “Accidentally having your rabbit eat everyone’s lunch isn’t great, but it isn’t horrible. Doing it on purpose would be horrible. You didn’t do it on purpose, did you?”

I gave her a look.

“Exactly,” she said. “Besides, now you have a great story to tell when you’re old.”

Cat collects stories like other people collect T-shirts.

“Do you want to play capture the flag?” she asked.

I gave her another look. It told her exactly how much I did not want to do that.

“Okay,” she said, handing me back my stick. “You dig a hole. I’ll talk to you later. Have fun.”

She didn’t say it to be snotty or mean. She really meant it. Cat could actually spend the day digging holes with a stick and call it fun. She’s easily amused. She’s also a good friend. It takes a good friend to let you sit under a tree by yourself and poke the ground with a stick.

After about twenty minutes, the bell rang and I went back to class. There wasn’t much of the day left. Only science, music, and Free Read Time.

When the final bell rang, I was out of my seat like it was covered in hot lava. I was halfway out the door when Mrs. M called me back into the room. She made me stand there while everyone else squeezed past me.

Nate Watkins “accidentally” bumped into my shoulder on his way past.

“What’s the matter, Dorko?” he whispered. “Can’t make yourself disappear?”

Very funny.

When we were alone, Mrs. M got straight to the point. She tried to hide how mad she was, but it was obvious. She straightened the books on her desk, then tried to smile. She looked like she had gas.

“Robbie,” she said, “I think you should resist the urge to do magic tricks in class from now on. Don’t you?”

I couldn’t speak. It was like someone had punched me in the gut and all my air flew out, taking my words with it. No magic? Could she do that? I could see banning rabbits maybe. Or all animals, like Principal Adolphus did. But no magic tricks at all?

I stood there trying to get my words back, but Mrs. M stood up and began stuffing her tote bag with papers. The conversation was over.

Cat was waiting for me by the flagpole to find out what happened, but I didn’t want to talk to anybody. I sneaked out the side door and cut through the vacant lot behind the school. I wanted to be alone. Cat would understand.

The field was uneven and rough. The new grass struggled to fight its way through last year’s dead brown grass, but in spots, clusters of yellow dandelions and clumps of wild onions busted through.

I kicked a giant green clump, and an oniony smell rose into the air. I kicked at another clump and another. It felt good. I was about to kick a small shrub when a young brown rabbit bolted from behind it. He was barely bigger than Houdi had been when I rescued him from Mittzilla. I stopped. I had almost kicked a rabbit! How could I do that? It made me think about Houdi. I wasn’t the only one who’d had a horrible day. He had been scared to death by a bunch of screaming kids and a swarm of bees, and it was all my fault. It was enough to make a rabbit give up on magic.

I picked a bunch of yellow dandelions for Houdi. He loves dandelions. I do, too. I think they’re beautiful, and it makes me sad when people dig them up because they don’t act like grass. They’re just being themselves. Is that so bad?

I went home and took Houdi out of his cage. We sat in the Hideout and Houdi nibbled the flowers and looked at me sadly. I pulled him close and buried my face in his soft brown fur and listened to the thumping of his heart.

“I know, Houdi,” I whispered. “I know.”

Then something got into my eyes and made them water. It was probably just a bit of fur.