The Magic Misfits - Neil Patrick Harris Page 0,16
all turned to look at her. “You wanna see a magic trick?”
They jumped up and down. “YESSSSS!!!”
Sly shouted over them. “Carter, I’m sorry! I saw your friends sneaking up behind me and I panicked. I was waiting to talk to you again.” He squinted as he tried to decide which side of the cupcake table to come around so that he could finally reach them. When he moved to the left, Ridley raised her left hand and shouted, “Abra-ca-dabra!” The kids squealed as all of the stuffed animals on that side of the table flew off the shelves and bounced off Carter’s uncle. They swarmed to catch the animals, crowding Sly, who was suddenly trapped in a small sea of screaming children and plush toys.
“Let’s go,” she whispered to Carter, who dropped the clear fishing line that he’d been holding. If Sly had chosen the right side of the table, Carter was to have pulled on his line, making the animals on the right side fly off the shelves. As it was, now they slipped down the free right side and then rushed out the door.
EIGHT
It was well past dark by the time Ridley and Carter made it to the Larsen house. The rest of the Misfits had gathered on the porch. As Ridley approached the long wooden ramp, she noticed her mother amongst her friends—Ms. Parkly too.
“Ridley! My goodness… where were you? I told you to be home before dark… and your dinner is cold and ruined… just like that rug you managed to get grease on a few months ago… and I still haven’t had time to get it cle—Be careful not to track mud inside my home, young man!” Ridley’s mother exclaimed as Carter stepped toward the door. Taking advantage of the distraction, Ridley made sure to tuck Top Hat under her jacket so her mother wouldn’t see, otherwise Mrs. Larsen would start sneezing and then complaining about allergies that may or may not be real.
Carter spoke up. “It’s my fault, Mrs. Larsen. My uncle was chasing us. He—”
“It’s nobody’s fault, Carter,” Ridley insisted. “Your uncle is a jerk, that’s all.”
“He’s more than a jerk,” Carter whispered.
“Well… yes… everyone inside, I suppose,” Mrs. Larsen said, glancing around the quiet neighborhood. “But only until your parents can collect… I mean… I really have to be getting back to work…” She trailed off as she whisked into the kitchen.
The group perched themselves on furniture around the big living room.
“I already called my dads,” said Leila. “They should be here in a few minutes.”
“And the police are on their way,” said Theo.
“The police?” Carter echoed, a scared look on his face.
“They need to know what happened,” said Leila. “They can take our statements. Maybe even question your uncle at the boardinghouse where he said he’s staying.”
“What are you doing here, Ms. Parkly?” Ridley asked.
The teacher jumped at being addressed, and narrowly avoided knocking over a side table lamp as she moved awkwardly across the room to sit next to Ridley. “I was out for a brisk walk, a jaunt, a little tour of the neighborhood, and I thought I might check in on you after what happened at the inventors’ fair.”
Ridley sighed and practically blew a raspberry in her teacher’s face. She gestured to the room. “As you can see, everything is going just fine.”
Ms. Parkly let out her odd, high-pitched giggle. “Looks like it!”
Ridley rolled her eyes at the Misfits.
“Who wants tea?” Mrs. Larsen asked abruptly, poking her head out. Before anyone had a chance to answer, she added, “No one? All right, then,” and scurried back into the kitchen. Ridley glanced at her friends, none of whom noticed her mother’s annoyance at having people in her house. Well, none except Theo, who gave Ridley a knowing look. She gritted her teeth and looked away.
“Anyone want to fill me in on this person who was chasing you?” asked Ms. Parkly.
Ridley watched Carter slump down in the love seat beside Leila. “Carter’s parents went missing when he was young,” said Ridley. Carter nodded for her to continue. Still, Ridley was careful with her words. She didn’t want to let Ms. Parkly know that she was suspicious of her. “His uncle Sly took him in. But Sly wasn’t a nice guy.”
“He’s a con artist,” Carter added softly. He spent the next few minutes telling Ms. Parkly his woeful tale.
Ridley felt a scurrying in her belly, then realized Top Hat was scratching to be let out from underneath her jacket. She allowed