“You could do the magic tricks for all my friends this year,” Parker says. His blue eyes are wide and earnest and too much like Dad’s.

“Even better.” I force a smile, and I work my magic so it looks real.

He falls for it.

Deb doesn’t. I feel her glancing at me as I choke down the rest of my pancakes as quick as possible so I can bolt. The stairs welcome me back as I climb them. I need to lose myself, but the magic show’s not until tonight. I settle for a book.

Books, like any good illusion, pull you in, and for a moment there is only Gatsby, Daisy, Tom and Nick, and you, and sometimes, if the writer’s a master, you’re not even there anymore—you’ve disappeared and pieces of you take root in each character. I find myself in Nick and his desire to peek behind the curtain, but also in Gatsby and his ability to create the grandest of illusions, even if the stage collapses in the end. For just a moment, he had his audience in his palm. He got the applause I crave.

I read the whole thing in one sitting, but all I can think about is going back to the show, and I need backup. I need someone to ground me in the real world so my imagination can’t float away like one of Xander’s cards.

I dig out my phone and call my friend Stacie. We met sophomore year when she stopped some jerk from bullying me about my coin tricks. It definitely wasn’t friends at first sight. I’d even say I didn’t really like her that much, but she just kind of kept hanging around. I didn’t let her in until she admitted that she was in the system too.

She picks up on the first ring. “I was wondering when you’d call me back.”

Keeping in touch is not my strong suit.

“Want to go to a magic show tonight?”

The line’s quiet for a moment, but then she laughs. “You’re never going to be into small talk, are you?”

“It’s at eight.” At least I hope it is—that’s the same time as last night.

“You know I’m always up for an adventure.”

I breathe a little sigh of relief. She’s not wrong—if it weren’t for her inviting me places, I’d leave the house only for runs and nighttime prowling. I tell her what time to pick me up.

Stacie picks me up twenty minutes late, because her reliability for an adventure doesn’t cover punctuality, so by the time we find a parking spot on the street, the show’s been going on for at least thirty minutes.