Animal balloons? Bunnies? These kids were in for a surprise. Wait until Maggie hurled an ax at Emperor’s face!

Pete smiled. At some point in the impossibly long day, he’d come to understand that all these frilly rumors were proof that nobody in Goblin was closer to Roman Emperor than Pete himself.

Pete knew Emperor.

He was the only one in Goblin Middle who knew Emperor wore a brown vest. A white shirt. Black boots. That he had wild black hair. That he drove an awesome black Mercedes. That Maggie was more than the usual assistant and actually emceed the shows. That Emperor refused to hide his tricks from the audience while refusing to show them to his peers. That a long time ago he made some enemies in the business because of this. That he once left hobbies blank on a personal profile in Magic Monthly.

That some peers said Emperor used dirty magic.

Pete watched the clock.

The hour was approaching, his exile at last. When he got home he was going immediately to Mom’s dresser, pocketing the eight bucks, and finally getting that ticket. And the closer that time came, the closer Pete felt to the curious magician. It was a bond he’d never felt before. Forget who didn’t know what about Roman Emperor. Forget who said what. And when the bell did ring, things became a speedy blur for Pete, and he wouldn’t even remember the bus ride home. It was as if he were traveling through black smoke, a mist the color of Emperor’s car, as the frightening magician drove toward Goblin, the alluring Maggie at his side.

Entering his own house, Pete thought of Emperor’s hands on the wheel of the Mercedes. Saw magic rings upon each finger. And within each ring was a swirling mist of black. The hurried blur of a true fan finally getting the money together to come see him.

And beyond those fingers…pale Maggie. She was smiling in Pete’s mind’s eye. Like she knew Pete was coming to see the show. Like she wanted him to come as badly as Pete wanted to himself.

As fields of dark-green grass passed by the car window behind her, Pete imagined her speaking directly to him.

Hurry up, Pete, she seemed to say. Get a ticket. And come see our show.

Pete floated up the stairs, as if governed by an adult desire, a deep propulsion he’d never quite felt before.

By the time he got to Mom’s dresser, he was ticklish with eagerness, with swirling black joy, and he wanted to feel that way forever.

5

I didn’t even check if Mom was home.

But it was too late for that. His hand was already in there, pushing her underwear aside. He was more worried about there being enough money. That would be a problem he didn’t quite have an answer for.