“Do you practice magic?” Roman asked.

This was too much. A Presto magician…ROMAN EMPEROR…was asking Pete if he practiced magic.

“Yes. I mean, no. Not like you do. But yes. I mean—” Then, without meaning to say it, Pete suddenly said, “Mr. Emperor, I know you’re not into dirty magic. Because…because there’s no such thing. Any magic is…is…clean.”

Pete saw the distant rise of water in Emperor’s eyes.

“Thank you very much,” the magician said quietly.

Maggie leaned forward. “Are you coming to the show tonight?”

“Of course. Half of Goblin Middle is.”

Roman and Maggie exchanged a glance. Suddenly Roman reached out and took Pete’s wrist.

“Close your hand,” he said.

“What?”

“In a fist. Close your hand.”

Pete did as Roman said.

“I’m going to give you something,” Roman said. “And if you promise to always treat magic with respect, I’ll let you keep it.”

Pete nodded.

“Sure. Of course.”

Pete didn’t feel it happen. But Roman released his wrist and when Pete opened his hand he saw four quarters on his palm.

“That’s for your coffee,” Roman said.

Pete looked into the magician’s eyes.

“We will see you tonight then,” Maggie said.

“Yes,” Pete said, trembling.

Then he stumbled backward to the counter and left three of the four quarters for his coffee. He wouldn’t let the last one go. It was a gift from Roman Emperor. He’d never spend it. He’d carry it with him into adulthood and frame it and tell his kids about the time he met the world’s greatest magician and how the man bought him coffee with magic.

16

By seven o’clock Pete was praying his mom would be asleep by ten. Dad was working and Pete hadn’t told Mom about the show. He couldn’t risk it. Not a chance. But if she was out by ten, that would give him plenty of time. The Domino Theater was at the north end of the city. It wouldn’t take long to get there, but there couldn’t be any room for error. He watched the clock like it was the last minutes he had to live.

By seven o’clock Roman was asleep in his hotel room. Maggie sat silently watching him from a chair.

17

By eight thirty Pete was trying to get it out of his mom what time she was planning on going to bed without saying it outright.

“Pete,” she said, annoyed. “Stop badgering me.”

“It’s just that I’m so tired, Mom. Aren’t you?”

The rain outside had gotten pretty bad.

By eight thirty Roman was still asleep and Maggie sat patiently in her chair.

18

By nine o’clock Pete was in his room, pretending to be sleeping. He thought maybe he could spread a sleepy mood through the house.

He watched the clock obsessively. He cursed every minute his mother stayed awake.

By nine o’clock Roman still slept and would for another fifteen minutes until Maggie touched him lightly on the arm and said,

“Roman. It’s time.”