Pete was fixated on Roman’s hands and body. Every move Roman made lived up to what the magazines said it could be. And yet, Presto’s description of him was a crime compared with what Pete saw for himself. Roman moved so fast it was hard to keep up.

He escaped from chairs without moving his body.

Rope moved snakelike, alive.

Maggie threw an ax at his head that stopped an inch from his nose.

Objects appeared and disappeared, bent and broke.

Pete was speechless.

When Maggie announced they’d be doing their final act and that they needed volunteers, Pete felt a sinking in his stomach. He didn’t want it to end. He didn’t want it to ever end.

But he raised his hand all the same.

Roman was bent over near the back of the stage, drying sweat from his hair as Maggie surveyed the crowd. A small sea of hands waved frantically before her. She stepped to the side of the stage. Making room.

Roman rose and returned to face the crowd. He was loose now. His work almost done.

You wanna be a star, big time? You gotta give me my cut, too.

How?

Roman’s dark eyes traced the hands before him, wagging, begging.

Fresh death, kiddo. Just can’t stand the smell of the old stuff after a time.

Roman stepped to the edge of the stage and spoke the first words he’d spoken all night. With his palms extended toward the ceiling he said,

“All right, children…who wants to disappear?”

The Domino went nuts. Kids jumped out of their seats. Pete climbed up on his foldout chair and reached his hand higher than any other.

My cut, the promoter had said, has nothing to do with how well you empty their graves. She smelled of dead wolf. Of bear. It’s how you fill them back up again that counts.

Pete was screaming himself hoarse. But some kids were scared. And their parents, smitten by the show, weren’t having it.

Roman watched it all as a boy himself, rooted to the sandy streets of his youth.

“Get on up there, Sarah,” Mr. Anderson said. “Don’t you want to disappear?”

“Come on, John! Don’t be so shy!”

Maggie tilted her head. Licked her lips.

“Get on up there!” Mrs. Jones said.

“Go on!”

Roman raised a hand, ready to choose the volunteers, those who had decided to say yes to real magic. Those who were willing to dabble.

“Don’t you want to disappear?” Mr. Parks asked his son. “Don’t you want to disappear?”

A Mix-Up at the Zoo

1

Dirk Rogers woke every day an optimist and fell asleep despaired.

Truth was, he was getting tired of the tours.

You got fifteen 8-year-olds wetting their pants to see Eula, Dirk. Break’s over.