Chapter 30
George

This. Is. Amazing.

Jack pulls the pack of cards from his pocket. “I just need you to tell me how your tricks work.”

“Jack. Jack, Jack, Jack, Jack, Jack,” I scold, wagging my finger at him. “A magician never reveals his secrets.”

Mischief creeps into his eyes as he counters, “Sharing secrets is what friends are for.”

I squint, trying to sort this one out. He’s got me there. “I guess you’re right.”

“Great!” he exclaims. “Now if you can just lead me through your tricks step by step, then all these folks”—he gestures toward the people walking by—“will see your magic and know just how amazing the Great Georgini can be!”

At this point, my smile is practically wrapped around my head.

“Whenever you’re ready,” Jack says, “just tell me what to do.”

“Excuse me, everyone. May I have your attention please,” I say. Jack doesn’t move. I wave my arms in a frantic circle, encouraging him to repeat the words. “Come on,” I whisper. “Say it!” A man on his phone rushes past.

“Excuse me, everyone,” Jack mumbles.

“LOUDER!” I insist.

He sighs, before shouting out, “MAY I HAVE YOUR ATTENTION PLEASE!”

Yes! I think, but I don’t say that out loud because I don’t want Jack repeating it. Instead I say, “Presenting the magic act of the Great Jackaroni.”

Jack pauses. What? his eyes ask, before his mouth reluctantly echoes my words. My heart skitters in anticipation. A nice lady and her daughters stop.

“Look,” a boy says, taking his grandmother’s hand and directing her to Jack. No: to the Great Jackaroni!

I walk over to the boy. “Choose him,” I tell Jack.

“Choose . . .” Jack freezes, realizing that’s an action command, not a speaking one. “You there,” he says, pointing to the same boy. Very smooth, buddy. I wink at my best friend. “Will you please pick a card, any card?” Jack and I say at the same time. He’s getting it! I must be a really good teacher.

The boy releases his grandmother’s hand and hurries over to Jack. Two men in business suits pause to observe the scene. The boy snatches a card. Another woman with two shopping bags also comes to a stop.

“Please, don’t show me the card, but let the audience see,” I instruct. Jack repeats my words as a few more people stop to stare. Our audience. They’re watching my magic. They’re watching me.

“Is your card . . .” the Six of Hearts flashes before my eyes. “The Six of Hearts?”

When Jack exclaims, “The Six of Hearts,” the crowd breaks into gentle applause.

“Lucky guess,” one girl shouts. “I didn’t even see you shuffle. This thing is rigged.”

Jack’s face flushes. I guess one problem with being famous like us is that not everybody will be so quick to believe, but it’s okay. “Hand her the deck,” I tell Jack. “Tell her to shuffle.”

Jack does, and the girl agrees. At my and Jack’s commands, she takes a card, any card, shows the audience, reshuffles it into the deck, and hands the deck to Jack.

“Now,” I say to Jack, “throw the cards into the air.”

“And now,” Jack says, “I will . . .” He pauses, suddenly processing the genius behind this trick, no doubt. “Throw the cards into the air?” he adds.

Every eye is fixed on him. I scoot closer to his side so that some of them will also be fixed on me during our finest moment. “Trust me, Jack.”

He closes his eyes before hurling the cards above his head. “Yes!” I shout, watching some get caught in the wind and others fall into the fountain behind. “Yes, yes, yes!” I’m laughing so hard that the Great Jackaroni cannot help but open his eyes and smile.

As the last cards settle to the ground, a hush falls over the crowd.

Jack and I turn our attention to the sidewalk, where most of the cards rest, all facedown except for one. The Nine of Clubs.

The silence is pierced by the girl’s voice: “That’s my card!”

The audience erupts into applause. The woman with the shopping bags steps forward and drops two shiny quarters in front of Jack. One of the men in the suits presents Jack with a dollar. One by one, other members of the crowd bring Jack money. We did it! And we’re rich!

I put my hand on my best friend’s shoulder as he collects the money and the cards.

There is nothing that the Great Jackaroni and the Great Georgini can’t do.

Noticing a card that’s blown a little down the path, I step away from Jack. As I snatch up the card, a shadow hovers over my head, and a voice says, “Good work, kid.” I straighten up and look at the speaker—who’s looking right back at me.

“Oh my goodness!” I gasp. There he is: top hat, blue cape, the works! The Great Macaroni. And he can see me! The card nearly slips from my fingers as my jaw drops wide open.

“Th-th-th-thank you, sir,” I manage to stutter. My heart flutters around my chest. “J-j-j-j-jack?” I say, trying to get my best friend’s attention. He’s too busy scooping the wet cards from the fountain. J-j-j-j-jack, I mouth, but the words are missing.

“You two make a great team,” the Great Macaroni adds.

“Th-th-th-thanks,” I manage to get out. I’ve given up on getting Jack’s attention and instead am staring at my hero. Suddenly my eyes blur, and my head feels dizzy. As if it wasn’t intimidating enough to be meeting this genius, I’ve just realized—“I stole your trick! I’m so sorry!”

The Great Macaroni laughs. “Please,” he insists with a wave of his hand, “it’s yours. You took my trick and made it your own. You’re great.”

My fear fades away. “It’s all because of you.” Remembering my best friend, I add, “And Jack.”

He shakes his head. “No. It’s because of you.” He points at me, and I can almost feel a beam of warm-fuzzies shooting from his finger, hitting my heart, and fluttering around my insides. “You’re fantastic. Don’t forget it.” He winks at me before turning around, leaving me alone to bask in his lingering glow.

“J-j-j-j-jack,” I manage to bumble again, this time with sound. I dash over to my best friend. Fantastic. The Great Macaroni thinks I, George, am fantastic. “Jaaaaaaaaack.”

Jack scoops up the last of our hard-earned money and stuffs it into his pockets. He hands me the cards. “Why don’t you hold on to these?” he says, sounding much sadder than you’d think after our prize-winning performance. “To remember me—”

“Hey, Jack?” I interrupt.

“Yeah?”

“Could I have one of our coins?”

Shrugging, he says, “Sure,” and hands me a penny.

I rub it around in my fingers before tossing it into the fountain. It hits the surface with a tiny plunk before slowly drifting down to the bottom. “I WISH EVERY DAY COULD BE LIKE TODAY!” I say this very loudly in case it’s difficult for the Magical Fountain Folk to hear from way down beneath the water. “Right? Can you imagine? Jack and George, together forever!”

He nearly sobs in response.

My heart aches with this reply, but I understand. Jack has given me everything I’ve ever wanted. Even though it breaks my heart, I know what I need to do next.

“Listen, Jack,” I say. “I have to show you something.” Slowly, I reach into my pocket. Deep in the bottom, beneath the torn flier and the rainbow handkerchief chain, I find what I’m looking for. I gulp, feeling guilty for keeping this from him so long, especially after what he just did for me. “I forgot to give this to Uncle Chester,” I say as I pull out his dad’s business card and drop it into Jack’s hands.