Chase Tinker & The House of Magic Page 2

  No! He can't be, he thought, because I know I'd somehow feel it if he were.

  Wondering why everything had to suck so much, he stood and wandered around the small, overcrowded bedroom he shared with his younger brother, Andy. Two rumpled bunk beds and an old, scratched-up dresser were pushed against the walls that were plastered with posters of comic book super-heroes and sports people. The floor and the closet were both cluttered with clothes and old, discarded toys.

  Stopping in front of the dresser, he took a shiny marble from its messy top and placed it in the palm of his hand. He glanced at his reflection in the dusty mirror on the wall. I don't know what's causing it, he thought, but there has to be a way to control this magic thing, or whatever it is. Maybe if he could, he wouldn't mind it so much. Maybe he just needed to take some time to practice.

  His hand trembled as he closed his eyes and tried to clear everything from his mind except moving the marble. Opening his eyes, he stared down at it and concentrated, hard. He tried with all his might to force his thoughts into the shiny glass ball. He thought his head might explode from all the brain-waves shooting through it.

  A minute later, both the dresser and the marble began shaking like crazy, and then stopped. Chase stumbled back. "Whoa!" He took a deep breath and stared at the marble again; willing it to move. "Come on," he murmured. "You can do it."

  It rolled in a circle. Carefully, he pulled his hand away. The marble whirled in midair. Then all of sudden, it was like it had a mind of its own. It sped toward him and slipped down his shirt. "Hey!" He wiggled and jerked like a wild hip-hop dancer as the marble skittered all around his body before getting stuck in his armpit. He yanked the marble free. "Crummy marble!" he muttered, glaring at it. "Okay, this time for sure."

  He held it in his hand and stared at it again. "Move, move!" The marble rose into the air. He squinted in concentration and made it spin across the room. His heart thumping madly, he grabbed another one and did the same thing. Soon he had several marbles zipping through the air.

  He grinned and reached for another right as the door burst open and Andy barreled into the room. The marbles dropped to the floor.

  "Wow!" exclaimed Andy. "Did you see that? Did you see those marbles flying?"

  Chase flopped back onto the bottom bunk bed. "You're seeing things." He snorted as he tried to sound as nonchalant as possible. "Flying marbles. Yeah, right."

  Andy rubbed his eyes. "But I—"

  "By the way, where are your glasses?" Chase cut in. "No wonder you see marbles cruising around the room. You know Mom hates it when you don't wear them."

  Andy pulled a pair of dark-framed eyeglasses from his pocket and slipped them on. "I know," he muttered. "I don't like them, is all."

  "Is she gone?"

  "Yeah, she was worried she was going to be late," said Andy. "She fixed spaghetti for us to warm-up for dinner."

  "Was she real mad?"

  Andy shrugged. "She just looked sad." He picked up a marble and rolled it between his fingers. "I heard what you said. We all miss Dad, you know. That's why she works so much. It's so she doesn't have to think about it."

  Chase propped himself on his elbows and looked at his younger brother, who everyone said looked exactly like him. He knew Andy was right. "I don't think any of us wants to think about it."

  He jumped to his feet, suddenly needing to be out and away from the cramped, stuffy apartment. He didn't want to talk about his dad anymore. It made his chest ache. The moment of happiness he'd felt when he was controlling the strange power was gone now.

  To be honest, he felt lousy about the shoplifting, and the mean things he'd said to his mom. She'd once told him he was just like his dad, acting before thinking about the consequences. He sighed. And the truth was, he knew how hard things were on her, and the time she spent crying and wandering around their apartment.

  When Dad gets home, he better have some darn good reasons for causing us all this trouble, Chase thought before saying out loud, "Tell you what. Let's get the heck outta this place and go play some soccer."

  "Honest? Cool! I'll get the ball."

  As they waited at a traffic light a short time later, Andy glanced up at his brother. "Hey, Chase, did you know it's my half-birthday today? I'm 10 ½ now."

  Chase smiled at him. "I thought you looked a little older," he teased.

  Andy smiled back. "Well…you know my birthday's on Christmas and I always get gypped out of presents, so maybe I should get some today. What do you think?"

  "Good try, shrimp, but you have to wait. My thirteenth birthday is almost here so you owe me a present." He grasped Andy's arm. "Come on, the light's changed."

  The sun hung low in the sky when they entered the park. A cooling breeze rustled through the tall, leafy trees as they followed a curved walkway onto a wide-open grassy field. A noisy baseball game was being played at one end, and other parts were filled with Frisbee players, dog walkers and joggers.

  Picking an empty patch of lawn, the boys began kicking the ball back and forth and bouncing it off different parts of their bodies. Shoving thoughts of his strange ability and his missing dad to the back of his mind, Chase helped Andy learn some new moves.

  "Hey, watch this!" yelled Andy as he whacked the ball with his knee.

  It flew over Chase's head. "Don't worry, I'll get it," he called. His eyes on the ball, he sprinted across the grass and straight into the path of a speeding skateboarder.

  "Chase! Watch out!" screamed Andy. He threw his hands up as if he thought it would keep the accident from happening, and suddenly, everything, and everyone, stopped. Everyone except Andy.

  "Holy F—Frankenstein," he choked out as he gazed around at joggers in mid-stride; a dog high in the air with a Frisbee in its mouth; the pitcher standing on one foot as he threw the now stationary baseball; the skateboarder and Chase, both totally motionless. "Wh—what's going on?” Andy ran to Chase's side. He paused for a moment to stare into his brother's lifeless face. "Chase? Are you...alive?" Not knowing what else to do, he grabbed Chase's arm and shook it with all his might. "Come on. You gotta come back! Please? Something really bad is happening and I don't know how to fix it."

  Unfreezing, Chase tumbled to the ground.

  "You're okay!" cried Andy. "Look! They're all statues! How did this happen? What do we do? I don't understand!"

  Chase gaped at the immobile people. "Oh, geez," he gasped out. "This is too crazy!"

  It was like being caught in some sort of weird science fiction movie. He stared at the skateboarding boy, his face frozen in wide-eyed fright as he realized he and Chase were about to become roadkill. The kid looked as if he were made of wax or something. For a few moments, the only thing Chase heard was the sound of his own pounding heart.

  Then, for a mere fraction of a second, the world…rippled. Instantly, it came back to life as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

  With a quick, puzzled glance at Chase, the skateboarder whizzed by and disappeared around a bend in the path; the Frisbee-catching dog landed on the grass; the batter hit the ball and ran to first base.

  Andy gripped Chase's shoulder. "It was me! I did something, but I didn't mean to. I wanted you to stop. You were going to be squashed!" He wouldn't stop babbling. "No one was moving. What's going on? I don't get it. Why—"

  "I—I don't know, Andy. I don't know," said Chase, his voice shaking slightly as he clambered to his feet. "Calm down, okay?" He needed time to think. There had to be some kind of explanation for this weird supernatural stuff. He just didn't know what it was at the moment. "Come on, let's go home. Grab the ball."

  Neither boy said anything as they hurried across the noisy, traffic-filled streets and dodged past the other pedestrians. Chase, his mind spinning, kept sneaking glances at Andy. He was afraid his brother would faint dead away right there in the middle of the sidewalk.

  Chase breathed a sigh of relief when they finally reached their apartment building. Andy pushed through the revolving door. Chase wa
s about to follow when, out of the blue, an eerie, icy breeze ruffled his hair and swirled around him. Rubbing the goosebumps popping out on his arms, he glanced back over his shoulder. A hooded man was just passing. As he turned his head, Chase caught a glimpse of cold, piercing, light-blue eyes that seemed to cut right through him. Seconds later, the man slipped into a waiting taxicab and zoomed off down the street. Feeling oddly threatened, yet not understanding why, Chase stepped through the rotating door.

  Now that was weird, he thought, but then he promptly forgot the incident as he raced across the lobby to where Andy waited at the elevators. The doors creaked open. A short, older lady and her fluffy dog waddled out.

  "Why hello, boys," she said, smiling and patting her frizzy hair. "Have you been outside enjoying the sunshine?"

  "Yes we have, Mrs. Pagel," they answered together as they tried to squeeze by and hop into the open elevator.

  "We were at the park," mumbled Andy, "where—where nothing weird happened."

  Chase poked Andy's shoulder and sent him a quit-blabbing look.

  "How lovely," said Mrs. Pagel, noticing nothing odd about their behavior. "I'm taking my little Snookie-Dumpling for a walk." At the mention of his name, the dog bounced and barked around the kids.

  Andy flicked his hand back and forth as he tried to shoo the slobbery animal away from his bare legs. Instantly, Snookie-Dumpling and Mrs. Pagel were frozen in place, like pale, waxen statues.

  He staggered back. "Oh no! Not again!"

  "Oh, crap!" said Chase, having the good fortune to not be caught in it this time. He grabbed Andy's arm and dragged him into the elevator. The doors couldn't close fast enough for Chase. He wanted the heck out of there.

  Back in the apartment, he watched Andy pace back and forth across the living room, too jittery and spooked to sit still. "I just don't get it," he kept muttering. "How did I make everything stop like that?"

  Not sure what else to do, Chase decided it was time to share his secret. Taking a deep breath he said, "Okay, Andy, I have something to show you. You better sit down for this."

  Andy perched himself on a corner of the sofa, his fingers clenched together. "I sure hope it's something to take my mind off all this weird stopping stuff."

  Chase walked to a shelf and grabbed a knick-knack of his mom's, a glass penguin. Setting it in the palm of his hand, he licked his lips and squinted at it. The penguin wobbled from side to side then floated into the air. It somersaulted across the room. Hey, maybe he was getting the hang of this. But, at that very moment, it switched directions and zoomed toward him. He dove for the floor as the figurine whistled past his ear. The penguin crashed into the wall. Chase flinched at the tinkling sounds of breaking glass. Maybe not.

  "Uh-oh!" he said as he climbed to his feet and quickly brushed the fragments behind the TV with his toe. "Um…let me try that again."

  He turned and stared at the couch. A lemon-yellow pillow rose, soared over to Andy, whose eyes were about ready to pop out of their sockets, and landed on the top of his head. Several more pillows began to dance and hop all around the living room, like puppets without strings.

  Andy knocked the pillow from his head and jumped to his feet. "What're you doing?"

  "I'm showing you what I can do," Chase answered.

  Andy grabbed one of the pillows and threw it at his brother. It bounced against his chest and flopped to the floor. "Well quit it right now 'cause I don't want to see it! Normal people don't do these kinds of things." He flung another pillow, this time whacking Chase in the face.

  Chase rubbed his nose as he shook his head. He'd thought Andy would be happy to see his brother was able to do something freaky too. "Then I guess I'm not normal! And neither are you because we both seem to have some sort of magical power."

  "Magical power?" Andy dropped back onto the sofa and crossed his arms tightly across his chest. "Why the heck would we have magical powers? That's—that's crazy! Maybe…maybe it's all just some weird accident and it'll never happen again."

  Chase dragged a chair to the sofa and sat down in front of Andy. "I don't think it was an accident because mine's been happening for a while." He paused as he chewed on the inside of his lower lip. What else was there to say to help them both feel better? Andy was right. It was all way too crazy for words. "I know. This whole thing is pretty wild, but it helps I'm learning to control it. Uh…" He glanced at the shattered penguin mess. "…sometimes. And it's not so bad. You'll learn too, if you give it a chance. I'll even help you practice."

  Andy turned away and looked out the window where several pigeons roosted on the fire escape of the building next door. He snorted. "Yeah, right. Instead of watching TV, we'll practice our weird magical powers. Great. What's next? Zooming around on flying carpets?"

  "At least it's good to know I'm not the only freak in the family," Chase said lightly.

  "I don't want to be a freak!" Andy cried. "And I don't want to joke about it either. This is serious! Do you suppose Mom and Dad can do anything magical? I mean, if we do have some kind of—of powers, they have to come from somewhere, don't they?"

  "I've never seen Mom or Dad doing anything weird so no telling where they came from."

  "But if they do have powers? Why wouldn't they tell us?"

  Chase shrugged. "I dunno. You know as much as I do."

  "Maybe it's why Dad's gone," said Andy. He stuck out his bottom lip and plucked at some loose strings on his shorts.

  Chase shrugged. "Unless he comes home, I guess we'll never know that either."

  Andy got to his feet and stomped to the kitchen. "I don't want to talk about Dad or dumb old magic stuff anymore! You can do what you want. I'm eating dinner."

  "Okay, okay," said Chase, following him. "But ignoring it won't make it go away," he mumbled to himself.

  CHAPTER TWO

  The Other Grandfather

  Andy and Chase were sitting down to eat when loud knocking at the door caused them both to jump.

  "It's probably Mrs. Pagel and Snookie-Dork wanting to know how we disappeared right in front of their noses," said Chase as he went to answer it. "I don't know how I'll explain that one."

  But it wasn't their chatty neighbor. When he opened the door, he saw a tall, mustached, silver-haired man wearing a dark-blue suit, a red and white, polka-dot bow-tie and gold wire-rimmed glasses. He also had on an old-fashioned, bright-red driving cap, the kind Chase had seen some taxi drivers wearing.

  "Hello. I'm looking for Mister Chase Nathaniel Tinker and Mister Andrew Bartholomew Tinker," said the man in a slightly accented voice. "Which one are you?"

  "Um..." They weren't supposed to talk to strangers.

  "Don't worry, I'm not a stranger," said the man, before Chase had a chance to tell him to get lost. "I'm your grandfather."

  "But—but our grandpa lives in Florida with—with our grandma," sputtered Chase, "and our other grandparents are…dead."

  "Oh, I can assure you," said the man, his dark-brown eyes sparkling, "I'm very much alive." He glanced into the room and sniffed. "Spaghetti and meatballs. My favorite."

  Their visitor strolled into the apartment, dropped his cap on the sofa arm and joined a gaping Andy at the small, round dining table tucked into a corner of the room. Pulling Chase's plate of spaghetti across the table, he twisted a bunch of noodles onto the fork and gobbled it down. "Delicious," he said, smacking his lips. "Could use a bit of onion."

  "Chase doesn't like onions," said Andy.

  "That's quite all right," said Grandfather. "We're all entitled to our different likes and dislikes. Imagine the world if we all liked the same things." He slurped down another bite. "Mmm. Traveling makes me ravenous."

  "Where'd you come from?" Andy asked as he slowly took a bite of his own dinner.

  "I—"

  "Wait just a second!" Chase cut in. "How do we know you're who you say you are and not some weird old guy from off the street?"

  Grandfather chuckled. "I guess you can say I'm a weird old guy. I'm also
Hiram Tinker, Benjamin Tinker's father, thereby your grandfather."

  Chase's eyes met Andy's. Was this man really their grandfather? He did have the same dark-brown eyes the boys and their dad had.

  "Our dad's been missing for a really long time," said Chase sadly. "And we haven't heard anything from him."

  "Yes, I'm well aware of this," said Grandfather, looking solemn. "But I'm confident all will be fine and he'll be home presently." Then, before either boy could ask him how he knew this, he said, "Now, I would certainly enjoy a refreshing beverage to wash down my spaghetti." Andy started to stand, but Grandfather stopped him. "No need to get up on my account. I can take care of it myself." With a flick of his finger, a tall glass of iced tea with a slice of lemon and a tiny blue umbrella popped onto the table.

  The boys gawked as if they'd just seen a green, polka-dotted extra-terrestrial fly through the window. Andy almost fell off his chair. "How'd you do that?" he gasped.

  It was Grandfather's turn to look wide-eyed. "You mean you have never seen real magic? Not even your own?"

  Chase and Andy looked at each other again. "Um, we have seen our own," said Chase. "I can move things with my mind, and it looks like Andy can stop time. His started today."

  "Whew!" Grandfather leaned back and swiped his hand across his forehead. "You boys had me quite worried there for a moment. And yours truly started today?" he asked Andy.

  "This afternoon at the park! It was scary! I waved my hands and, poof, everyone stopped."

  "Excellent! It's precisely on time," said Grandfather. "After all, today is your Dimidiatus Anniversarium."

  Andy wrinkled his nose. "What the heck is that?"

  "Your half-birthday between your tenth and eleventh years," said Grandfather. "It happens to everyone in our family."

  "It does?" said Chase.

  Grandfather nodded. "Each Tinker always comes into his or her own special ability at exactly 10½."