Next to it stood a French doll. When Justin reached for her, the doll blinked and cried, “Ooh-la-la! Touch me not, you nasty boy!” Then she began a wild dance. When Justin pulled his hand back, the doll froze in a new position.

Deciding he should just look at the merchandise, Justin crossed to another counter. A broom resting against the edge of it blocked his view. Justin picked it up so he could see better.

The broom began to squirm in his hands.

Justin dropped it. He was about to bolt for the door when the owl he had thought was stuffed uttered a low hoot.

“Peace, Uwila,” growled a voice from beyond the beaded curtain. “I’m coming!”

A moment later an old man appeared. He was shorter than Justin, with long white hair and dark eyes that seemed to hold strange secrets. His face was seamed with deep wrinkles. The old man looked at Justin for a moment, and something in his eyes grew softer. “What do you need?”

“I don’t think I need anything,” said Justin uncomfortably. “I just came in to look around.”

The old man shook his head. “No one comes into this store just to look around, Justin. Now what do—”

“Hey, how do you know my name?”

“It’s my job. Now, what do you need?”

Justin snorted. What did he need? A real home. His mother and father back. He needed—

“Never mind,” said the old man, interrupting Justin’s bitter thoughts. “Let’s try this. Have you ever seen a magician?”

Justin nodded.

“All right, then what’s your favorite trick?”

Justin thought back to a time three years ago, back before his parents had had the accident. His dad had taken him to see a magician who did a trick where he locked his assistant in handcuffs, put her in a canvas bag, tied up the bag, put it in a trunk, wrapped chains around the trunk, and handed the keys to a member of the audience. Then he had climbed onto the trunk, lifted a curtain in front of himself, counted to five, and dropped the curtain. Only, when the curtain fell, the assistant was standing there, and the magician was inside the bag in the trunk wearing the handcuffs. Justin had loved the trick, half suspected it was real magic.

It had had a special name, something scientific.

“The metamorphosis!” he said suddenly, as his mind pulled the word from whatever mysterious place such things are kept.

The old man smiled and nodded. “Good choice. Wait there.”

Justin felt as if his feet had melted to the floor. The old man disappeared through the beaded curtain—and came back a moment later carrying a small cardboard box. Clearly it didn’t have a big trunk in it. What, then? Probably just some instructions and . . . what? Justin was dying to know.

But he also knew the state of his pockets.