PART 3

I shook the box, almost expecting to make a secret compartment appear, and some kind of parchment fell onto my knees. I unfolded it: it was a detailed list of the box’s contents, and the first lines went like this:

1– Transformation receptacle. Designed to hold a deck of cards, it allows you to turn an ace of clubs into a jack of diamonds, but also to turn a normal table spoon into something more surprising, like a real scorpion or a live bat for example.

The list presented all the box’s accessories, mentioning for example that the enchanted dice could be used to change the number of toes that someone in the audience had, or that the magic thumb would give its wearer fingers that grew without any trickery like rubber!

It was a bit much, really! What did they really want to accomplish with their so-called prodigies? I turned the parchment over: there was nothing else written. I rummaged through the box again, made sure there was nothing that could have fallen on the floor, and had to face the facts: there wasn’t an explanation sheet anywhere…

I then felt – I admit this honestly – an incontestable shock, a mix of anger and disappointment. The box was incomplete! Was I supposed to guess all the routines and all the tricks by myself? It was ridiculous. Ridiculous and frustrating.

What to do? One the one hand, I was tempted to ask my parents to exchange it as soon as possible, but on the other hand, I felt that this box was unique, and I would probably lose big in the transaction.

I was hesitating, pacing while giving the accessories that seemed to be taunting me on my bed sideways glances, when my brother made my decision for me. His clownish face appeared in the doorway. As always, he hadn’t bothered to knock:

– Hi, Miss Catastrophe!

I threw my pillow at his head by way of welcome, he disappeared and slammed the door. A few minutes later, the door opened again and Benedict made a second appearance. He blithely came into my room, with the obvious intention of being a pain, and stopped near my bed.

– You’re planning a new disaster? he asked, gesturing towards the magic accessories strewn on my bed.

He was shifting from foot to foot, holding a freshly-unwrapped remote-controlled all-terrain vehicle. He was still wearing his pyjamas. With his silly SpongeBob slippers and his weird soft-plastic helmet on his head – Buzz Lightyear’s, I eventually realised – I thought he looked particularly dumb.

He hesitated for a moment, then said:

– Can you show me a trick?

–  No way.

Testing my new accessories in front of my brother was the last thing I wanted to do. As soon as I messed up he would scream with laughter. And a magician never practices in front of an audience.

Barnabé moved to grab one of the objects, and I gave him a well-deserved slap on the hand.

– Don’t you touch.

My brother just laughed, then comfortably sat on my dirty-laundry hamper, determined to outstay his welcome. I couldn’t believe it. Fittingly, his remote-controlled toy was an emergency rescue vehicle. My brother put it on the carpet and declared that now that I had a new magic box, we would no doubt be needing it soon. With that, he moved the lever on his remote and the ATV crossed my room to destroy my CD pile. One U-turn later, the toy came crashing into my bare feet, sirens screaming. I leapt aside but BANG! OW! One of my feet unfortunately did not manage to avoid the crash.

On a normal day, this kind of situation would have inevitably ended with screams, insults, and even – it had happened before – warm-hearted exchanges of punches to the back and kicks to the shin. This time however, because it was Christmas, I decided that instead of getting annoyed, I would teach my brother a lesson:

– Okay, I said with my most patient tone of voice while massaging my throbbing toe, you really want me to show you one of my magic tricks?

My brother gave me a half-mocking, half-intrigued look. The question had cut him to the quick. He parked his cursed ATV in a corner and jumped up:

– You really mean it, Charlotte dearest?

– Well yeah.

With these strong words I let go of my toe and started to root through my accessories. I finally settled on a trick I thought I knew well: the magic wallet. Only, this wallet was obviously made of solid and thick leather, not of cheap pasteboard like the one that was laying in one of my drawers. As I took it, I felt a strange heat spread over my forearm, and that is how everything started.

(Go to PART 4)