Red Witch: Book Two of the Wizard Born Series (13 page)

The ballerina, Abigail, came next.
She’s pretty good,
Evelyn thought,
but not exciting enough.
She glanced at Ray, who stifled a yawn, a real one.

A gymnast and then a girl who played the marimba followed, but Evelyn found herself mentally urging them to hurry so Jamie could come onstage.

When it was finally his turn, Jamie was introduced by the Master of Ceremonies and got a nice round of applause as he walked across the stage. “Some of these people may have seen him before,” Evelyn said. “Probably at one of the benefit shows.”

“Is he going to do any real magic?” Connie whispered.

“At the end. He told me he’s going for the laughs.”

Jamie had his cloth-covered magic table set up, and he wore a black tuxedo and a top hat. After a couple of minutes of routine, off-the-shelf tricks, he removed his hat and set it on the table. Then he tapped it with his magic wand and a brown and white rabbit popped its head up. A collective
aww
rose from the crowd, but when the rabbit looked at Jamie and dropped back into the hat, the
awws
turned to laughs.

Jamie’s expression grew intent and he reached way down into the hat, his arm disappearing all the way up to his armpit; he pulled out a rubber chicken. The audience chuckled as he threw it over his shoulder and reached back in, felt around for a moment, and pulled out a multicolored scarf…and pulled out some more scarf…and even more scarf, a scarf with almost no end. He finally pulled the last of it free and picked up the hat, looked into it with a puzzled, Charlie Chaplinesque expression, and scratched his head.

While he stood there looking perplexed, a small, furry animal appeared at the far right edge of the stage by the curtain — the rabbit — and it hopped across the floor. Jamie, apparently alerted by the crowd’s laughter, turned and saw it and tracked it down. He grabbed the bunny and shoved it into the hat, started his bow, but stopped when he heard the laughter. He turned mid-bow and saw the bunny hopping across the stage again.

He grabbed it, carried it to the table and shoved it back in the hat, only to have it come hopping from the wings again. The laughter grew as he picked it up and repeated the now familiar process, only this time he finished by waving his wand about and saying a few magic words. Then he took a quick glance at the wings, and seeing no rabbit, picked up a set of cups from under the table.

There was a commotion from the audience. Jamie looked up as someone said, “It’s the bunny!” A young woman squealed, “He’s in the aisle.” Jamie shielded his eyes from the lights with his hand and every head turned to catch a glimpse of the rabbit, hopping up the aisle toward the stage. Jamie motioned to the crowd and someone grabbed the animal and carried it to Jamie. He knelt by the footlights, retrieved the errant rabbit, and scolded him with a shake of his finger.

He grabbed the hat from the table, shoved the rabbit back inside, and putting one hand on the bottom and the other on top, he said “Disappearo!” He flattened it to a black pancake. A little girl wailed from the crowd, “You killed it!”

Jamie grinned and put his hand over his mouth as the audience chuckled. Then he tapped the hat three times with the wand, and it popped back to full size. With a dramatic gesture, he reached into the hat, pulled out the rabbit, and held it aloft. Then he took his bow. His performance was over.

The ovation was warm, but not overwhelming. Evelyn felt a twinge of disappointment.
He could’ve done so much more
.

The lights came on for intermission and they stood, shuffling their way with the rest of the crowd to the lobby. Ray put his face to Evelyn’s ear and asked quietly, “How did he get that rabbit to do that?”

“Jamie can get an animal to do just about anything. You should see him with dogs.”

Ray nodded. “So
that’s
why they like him at the vet clinic so much.”

When they returned to their seats, Connie scanned the audience and said, “Where are Rollie’s parents?”

Rachel pointed. “All the way up front with a big group from their church. You’ll hear them when Rollie’s introduced.”

The lights dimmed for the start of the second half of the show. Rollie walked onstage with his dummy, Rufus, and the front couple of rows went crazy, screaming and clapping and waving at the dark-skinned young man with the big grin.

Connie leaned over to Evelyn in order to be heard over the din. “The dummy even looks like Rollie.”

“Jamie modified it a little.” She wiggled her fingers and raised her eyebrows.

“Oh.” She nodded.

Rollie opened his act with the dummy looking at the audience and nodding. It moved its mouth and appeared to say, “Hi, my name is Rufus.” It looked at Rollie. “And this is my dummy, Rollie.” The crowd laughed and Rollie launched into his routine.

While watching Rollie perform, Evelyn thought,
He’s gotten so good. He doesn’t even have to tell a joke to be funny now. All he has to do is stand there and grin.

Rollie finished and got the loudest ovation yet — not just from his vociferous church friends — but from the entire audience. Evelyn smiled as she clapped, stopping for a moment to wipe away a tear.
I’m so proud of him
.

Evelyn had trouble paying attention to the next performer, another singer. The bluegrass trio that followed was more interesting, but they were weak on their instruments. Evelyn found herself drumming her fingers on the armrest and rereading the program during the next couple of performances. The next-to-last act was a piano-flute duo. She found it impossible to focus on them.
I wish they’d hurry up so we can see Fred.

The duo finished, and as the stage crew rolled away the piano, Evelyn felt her palms grow damp and her stomach tighten. Lisa looked over and said, “I’m so nervous!”

“Me, too, Lisa,” Evelyn said.

“Do you think Fred is?” Connie said.

“Maybe a little. The kids probably did their chant before they started.”

“What chant?”

Gina grinned and said, “We’re the Crew, we can’t be beat.” Lisa and Rachel joined her. “Everybody smell our feet!”

Connie’s brow furrowed. “Why do they do that?”

“It helps them relax.” Evelyn said. “It works. I just found out recently why.” Her sister continued to look at her quizzically. Evelyn wiggled her fingers at her and whispered, “Magic.”

Connie nodded and whispered back, “Ohhhhh.”

The stage lights shifted to a single spot and the music started. A man and a woman with professional video cameras on their shoulders went down front to the edge of the stage and Evelyn thought,
The director must’ve decided that Fred was the most telegenic of the contestants. They’re probably right.

Fred made her entrance, skipping and twirling across the stage, and Evelyn’s breath caught in her throat.
She looks stunning
. She wore a short black tuxedo jacket over a black sequined leotard and white hose. The white tie around her neck sparkled with more sequins and she had a red satin cummerbund around her narrow waist. Her hair flowed free in a mass of curls in the back, but was held up at the sides by two rhinestone-covered clasps that flashed under the lights. Her face glowed with a confident smile, inviting the audience’s attention.
No, she commands it.

Her opening moves were simple: shuffle toe, shuffle toe toe, shuffle toe, brush step. She repeated the combination with each foot as she moved her arms; the music was uncomplicated and energetic. More lights came on, blues and deep reds. The music morphed into a propulsive techno-beat, and Fred danced aggressively, athletically, hammering the stage with her taps.
Power and grace and beauty. That’s what she is.

The music changed again.
It’s a medley
, Evelyn realized. It became a country swing and Fred glided about the stage, more arms and legs, fewer strikes with her feet, almost like a ballerina at a barn dance. She skipped to the edge of the curtain and someone from the wings handed her a rose. She put it in her mouth, clapped her hands and stamped her foot twice, and the music changed to flamenco, a nylon string guitar strumming furiously. Applause burst from the audience as Fred, back straight and face held high, unleashed a dizzying rhythm of claps and steps that pushed Evelyn’s pulse even higher.

Fred plucked the rose from her mouth and threw it into the crowd, and the music shifted, simplifying to a single bass drum that pounded thunderously on the downbeat. Fred supplied the other rhythms, an orchestra of percussionists in her heels and toes. She danced less with her arms and more with her feet, the permutations of the rhythms becoming more and more complex, her black-sequined shoes blurring and the machine-gun clacks of the taps accelerating to a dazzling chatter that nearly overwhelmed Evelyn’s senses.

Fred, dancing with so much energy she threatened to catch on fire, worked her way to the far right side of the stage.
Is she going to get another prop? A rose?
The music pounded and more instruments joined to swell it to a feverous pitch.
What’s she going to do? She’s going to explode!
She paused at the edge of the curtain and the music reached a crescendo.

Evelyn gasped as Fred did three backwards handsprings, head over heels, her red hair forming a searing arc as she twirled, her feet striking the floor together —
crack, crack, crack
— while the entire audience held its collective breath. On the last titanic crash of the music, she landed on the floor in a split, threw her arms out and thrust her chin high, smiling broadly.

There was a brief, incomprehensible pause. No music. No dancing. No sound. Fred on the floor, posing theatrically and smiling as her chest heaved. The audience processing what just happened.

It’s over!

Larry and Lisa were first on their feet, clapping. Evelyn quickly followed with the rest of the crowd. Even the couple in the row in front of Evelyn stood, eventually. Fred rose and bowed to the deafening ovation.
She’s going to win!
Evelyn was certain. Fred walked to the wings but had to return as the crowd continued to applaud. She tried to leave again but had to come back for another bow.

Fred skipped to the wings as the applause faded, and the Master of Ceremonies walked onstage to announce that there would be a ten-minute intermission while the judges tallied their votes.

“Oh, my heart!” Rachel said, putting her hand to her chest. “I don’t know if it could’ve taken much more.” Evelyn looked past Rachel to see Lisa’s reaction: she was dabbing her eyes with a tissue while Larry stood beside her, beaming like a red-headed lighthouse.

The couple in front of them turned and the woman said to Evelyn, “So you know that girl?”

“Very well. I used to baby sit her after school when she was younger. The ventriloquist, Rollie, too. The magician, Jamie, is my grandson.”

“They’re all so good.” The woman shook her head slowly. “How did they get that way?”

“I used to have them do benefit shows all the time, like Elks Club dinners and retirement homes and such. They’ve done an awful lot of performances, though never on a stage as nice as this. A few times Fred even had to dance on a sheet of plywood so she wouldn’t scuff up the floor, but she did it anyway. She’s a trooper.”

“The tap dancer? I thought the announcer said her name was Grace Mary.”

“We started calling her Red when she was little,” Lisa said. “But when her little personality started showing, we changed it to Fred the Firecracker.”

“She sure dances like a firecracker,” Connie said.

The woman in front of them gave her head a tight shake. “More like a box of dynamite.”

A few minutes later, the crowd quieted as the Master of Ceremonies took center stage, the sixteen contestants forming a line behind him as he read the results. Alternate: Jessica Deswberry, a singer, who shook the MC’s hand and joined him at center stage.

Connie nodded and said, “I thought she was pretty good.”

“Me too,” Evelyn said.
I thought Jamie had a shot at winning that. Maybe not first place, but at least alternate.

“Third Finalist,” the MC read from the envelope, “Edgar Silverman.”

“He deserved it,” Connie said. “He was really good.”

Evelyn barely heard her. Her heart was tumbling a few more steps down the stairwell of disappointment.
Only two more winners! Somebody’s going to lose…it may be Jamie. Please no. But how can I wish against Fred and Rollie?

The Master of Ceremonies read the name of the Second Finalist. “Rollie Wilkens.” Rollie grinned broadly as he stepped forward to join the other winners. Evelyn clapped enthusiastically with the rest of the audience.
He definitely deserved it. I’m happy for him.

“And now,” the Master of Ceremonies said, “joining the other winners who will be representing our city in the regional competition in Atlanta, the First Finalist and overall winner….” — he paused for effect — “Grace Mary Callahan!”

The applause was thunderous as Fred walked across the stage to stand next to Rollie, her hands to her face, eyes wide with joy and surprise.
Way to go, Fred.
Evelyn stood and most of the rest of the audience did, too. The other contestants stepped forward to join the winners, and Jamie pushed next to Fred and took her hand. The clapping continued as Rollie took her other hand. The rest of the contestants, seeing them, must’ve thought it was part of the show, because they all joined hands, too. They bowed together as one, a long chain of talented kids, some smiling, some wearing masks of disappointment. The ballerina’s face was as tight as the bun on her head. Her mother turned to Evelyn and said over the din, “I’m sorry your grandson didn’t win.”

Evelyn shook her head. “I’m sorry your daughter didn’t, too. She’s very talented.”

“I guess it wasn’t meant to be.”

Rachel leaned close to Evelyn and said, “Mom, don’t worry too much about Jamie. It’s what he wanted.”

But it’s not what I wanted.

When the applause finally faded and the house lights came on, Evelyn turned to Connie and said, “Wait for me by the doors. I’m going back stage to see if I can catch Jamie.”