But in the back corner of the drawer was a bundle of bills amounting to a hundred and ten dollars. He slipped out eight singles (and then one more just in case) and set everything back where it was.

I’ll pay her back.

He held the money up and saw it as a makeshift stage with little figurines of Roman and Maggie upon it. In his mind’s eye Roman held out a steady open palm and Maggie rose, arms at her side, toward the darkness of a theater ceiling.

He shut the drawer and raced downstairs. His shoes squeaked on the laundry room floor as he made it to the door leading to the garage.

His bike sat inert beneath the bright hanging bulb. As if spotlighted, on a stage of its own, ready to play a star role in Pete’s journey for the ticket.

The green paint looked like the landscapes he imagined Roman and Maggie driving through, on their way to Goblin.

He pressed the garage door opener on the wall then rushed up onto the bike seat. To Pete, it felt like curtains were rising, a magic show about to begin. He half expected Maggie to be standing in the drive, raising a palm of her own, as…

As an ax comes barreling toward your skull!

Pete blinked the sudden vision away and tore off down the empty drive.

To downtown Goblin! His watch told him it was three twenty-nine p.m. He’d have to time the trip down so he’d know exactly when to head back. He had to beat Mom.

He made a left on Northsouth, Goblin’s second main road. Christmas ran parallel to Northsouth on opposite ends of town and Pete thanked God he didn’t have to burn rubber down that sloppy gravel.

The wind in his eyes, the cars whizzing by, and the faces of the Gobliners who drove them all felt like part of the incredible mission he was on. Perhaps there were secret agents sent from Don Deanie’s camp, watching Pete pedal, weighing when to leap out, when to stop Emperor from receiving another ticket sale?

Pete cackled a high-pitched laughter. Remote facts about all the magicians on the Spell Circuit rolled like bike wheels through his mind, spinning violently around a very powerful hub that could have been Roman Emperor with his ringed hands to the sky.

When downtown came into view, Pete’s watch said three thirty-six. This was going to work out. He had plenty of time to make it to the box office at the Woodruff, Goblin’s nicest hotel, then pedal home. He might even have time to stop by Mr. Bench’s and show the ticket off.

The Goblin Zoo was built on the very northern edge of downtown, and when Pete passed it he thought of Eula the prized gorilla, as if she were part of the magic show. As if Emperor might pull her from a hat.