Zigzag Effect Read online

  Sage was impressed. Jason Jones went on to correctly identify a woman’s hair-clip that had belonged to her grandmother, an airline boarding pass from the fifteenth of May, and a man’s driver’s licence including his date of birth and the expiry date. Sage glanced over at Herb, who was wearing a slightly smug smile.

  He knows, she thought. He knows how Jason does it.

  ‘But Jason’s psychic abilities extend far beyond these simple games,’ boomed the MC, as the lights grew dim. ‘I’d like a volunteer from the audience.’

  Hands jumped into the air. ‘You, sir!’

  A man stood up. He looked completely ordinary, in jeans and a button-down shirt. He made his way to the stage, where the MC positioned him on the opposite side from Jason, who still sat blindfolded in the chair.

  ‘What we’ve just demonstrated is Jason’s psychic ability to look through my eyes,’ said the MC. ‘And he can form this psychic bond with anyone. Like with you, sir.’ He touched the volunteer on the arm. ‘But this bond doesn’t just reach your eyes. No. He can hear what you hear. Smell what you smell. Touch what you touch. I want you to put your hand in your pocket. Can you feel something? An object of some kind?’

  The volunteer nodded.

  ‘Good, good.’

  The MC stepped backwards into the shadows, leaving the volunteer standing in one pool of light, and Jason Jones across the stage in another. Jason’s head rolled from side to side.

  ‘Your father gave it to you,’ he said, his voice slightly muffled by the black bag. ‘When you were very young. Eight? Nine? It was your ninth birthday present. He told you it would bring you luck. And it has, right? This object has bought you luck.’

  The volunteer was nodding slowly, his face crumpling up like a paper bag. Tears started to roll down his cheeks.

  ‘It’s a coin,’ said Jason. ‘An … an old coin. Like a pound or a penny or … a shilling.’

  The volunteer nodded more vigorously, and pulled his hand from his pocket, holding a silver coin. ‘It was the first thing he earned,’ he said, sniffling. ‘When he was a boy. He … he died a few months ago.’

  The audience started to applaud as the volunteer left the stage, but the MC held up a hand. ‘Just one more, ladies and gentlemen. What if Jason could see into your mind? If, instead of guessing a real object, he could reach into your head and pluck an idea from your imagination?’

  He selected another volunteer, a woman wearing thick glasses and an ill-fitting floral dress. Her friends giggled as she made her way to the stage. The MC placed a pad of paper and a black marker in Jason Jones’s hands, then went to the woman, passing her a small wooden box. He held his hands up in front of her, cupping them slightly.

  ‘I want you to imagine an object here in my hands. It can be anything you like. Now I want you to concentrate on that object. Fill your mind with it. Can you see it?’

  The woman nodded. After a pause, Jason Jones started to scribble on his paper.

  ‘Now,’ said the MC, ‘I want you to transfer that object into the wooden box you’re holding, with your mind. Imagine it inside that box. Have you done it?’

  The woman nodded again.

  The MC made his way back to Jason and removed the bindings over his eyes. Jason stood up and turned around, holding the pad of paper in front of his chest so nobody could see what was on it.

  ‘Please, madam,’ said the MC. ‘Tell us what your object was.’

  She looked uncertainly at him, and he nodded encouragingly. ‘It was a unicorn,’ she said.

  ‘A unicorn!’ said the MC, chuckling. ‘It must have been a really tiny one to sit here in my hand.’

  The woman went red and the audience tittered. The MC turned to Jason, who raised his eyebrows and slowly turned the pad of paper around to reveal the word UNICORN in thick, clear letters.

  The audience burst into applause. The woman went even redder, and smiled in a flustered way. The MC started to usher her back to her seat.

  ‘Wait,’ called Jason Jones. ‘You haven’t looked in the box.’

  The woman glanced up at him, a little shocked, then down at the box in her hands. She opened it and started to laugh, pulling out a small pink plastic unicorn.

  ‘You can keep that,’ said Jason. ‘A round of applause for our volunteers!’

  Sage turned to Herb with a big smile. But Herb was frowning, slouched down in his seat looking bored and resentful. What had happened? She’d thought he’d been enjoying himself.

  ‘Well?’ asked Sage as they stepped out into the street. ‘How did he do it? Was there some kind of camera or something in the MC’s coat? Or did he wear an earpiece and someone offstage told him what all the objects were?’

  Herb laughed. ‘It’s funny,’ he said. ‘People used to believe that these effects were achieved using real wizardry. Now everyone assumes it’s technological wizardry.’

  ‘It isn’t?’

  He shook his head. ‘The first part was impressively done, but is very straightforward. It’s a two-person telepathy code. They assign a number to certain words that the MC can easily insert into his sentences. I is one. Try is two. Can is three. Will is four. And so on. Then you can assign those numbers to other things, depending on the context of the question. So I could say ‘Can you tell me which day of the week this bus ticket is for?’ And because you know that can equals three, you know it’s Wednesday, the third day of the week.’

  ‘But what about all the other things? Like the wedding ring and the inscription?’

  ‘You create an alphabet code – twenty-six letters for twenty-six numbers. So if you want an S, for example, that’s the nineteenth letter of the alphabet, so you need to say I and Now – one and nine. To make a word, you just build a lot of distinct sentences together. So … I now request your attention, ladies and gentlemen. I want you to guess this lady’s name. Quickly. If you would.’

  Sage looked at him.

  ‘That was your name,’ he explained. ‘I and Now is S. I again on its own is A. Quickly is G, and Would is E. I now request your attention, ladies and gentlemen. I want you to guess this lady’s name. Quickly. If you would. S-A-G-E.’

  ‘Right,’ said Sage.

  ‘You can make heaps of these lists,’ he said. ‘Assign a letter of the alphabet to a common object, so A could be Aspirin, B could be Bus ticket, C is Coin. The MC only chooses objects that are on the list, and there are pre-agreed characteristics that he looks for. So if he chooses a ring, Jason knows that he’ll only ever choose a gold wedding ring.’

  ‘Surely it’d take forever to memorise the whole code,’ said Sage. ‘Wouldn’t the hidden camera and microphone be easier?’

  ‘Maybe,’ said Herb. ‘But not nearly as impressive. That’s the whole thing about magic. The effects require far more work and set-up than they’re really worth. That’s why people believe in them. They don’t believe anyone is lame enough to go to all that effort for something so insignificant.’

  Sage grinned. ‘But you’re totally that lame, right?’

  ‘I once spent an entire school holidays perfecting a faro card shuffle.’

  ‘A what?’

  Herb grinned, and Sage realised that he’d wanted her to ask. He produced a pack of cards from his pocket, slid them out of the box and gave Sage the box to hold. He then lifted half the cards from the deck with one hand, so he was holding a half-deck in each hand. He then placed one stack above the other, perfectly lined up, and sort of pressed them together. The cards flicked against each other and entwined, a bit like a zipper. Herb tapped the deck a few times to make the cards slide down into a single stack once more.

  ‘It’s the hardest shuffle,’ he said. ‘A perfect faro is where you can cut the deck exactly halfway, and all the cards are perfectly alternated. It’s really useful in magic because if you do a perfect faro eight times in a row, you get your original deck sequence back.’

  Sage stared at him. ‘You are such a nerd.’

  ‘That’s why you like me,’ said Herb
with a cheeky grin.

  ‘So what about the next bit?’ asked Sage. ‘The guy with the coin in his pocket. And the unicorn. The MC didn’t see those things, so he can’t have told Jason.’

  Herb’s face clouded over. ‘No,’ he said. ‘He didn’t. They cheated. The first guy was a plant.’

  ‘He wasn’t really an audience member?’

  ‘He was sitting alone,’ said Herb. ‘Who goes to a magic show on their own? Also I saw him in the foyer before the show, talking to the usher, who clearly knew who he was. And he didn’t show anyone a ticket when he entered the theatre.’

  Sage felt somehow disappointed. ‘And what about the lady?’ she said. ‘She was with friends. And she looked far too flustered to be a plant.’

  ‘She wasn’t a plant,’ said Herb, a vaguely disgusted look on his face. ‘She was an instant stooge. Like this.’ He pulled a black pen out of his pocket, and scribbled something on one of the playing cards, then shuffled them with his usual deft precision.

  ‘You, young lady,’ he said. ‘The pretty one with the curly hair.’ Sage smiled. ‘Pick a card, but don’t let me see it.’

  He fanned the cards out, and Sage selected one. She cupped her hand over it, and examined the card. It was the seven of clubs, but scrawled over it in black biro were the words JUST SAY YES OR YOU’LL RUIN IT FOR EVERYONE.

  ‘How did you make me pick that one?’ asked Sage.

  ‘Shh,’ said Herb. ‘We haven’t gotten to the actual trick yet. If I were really doing this, that message would be on every single card. Now put it back in the deck.’

  Sage did so, and Herb shuffled them again. He then waved a hand over the pack, and it vanished. He felt in his pockets and shook his head, then hovered his hand over Sage’s jacket pocket. ‘Do you mind?’

  Sage shook her head, and Herb produced a card. It was the ace of diamonds.

  ‘Is this your card?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes,’ said Sage. ‘Oh, I see. So he had UNICORN written on his hand, and he showed it to her when he asked her to imagine something. But what if she hadn’t gone along with it? What if she’d said something else?’

  ‘They never do,’ said Herb. ‘You have to be careful about who you choose. Women are more likely to play along than men. You pick timid, friendly-looking people – people who wouldn’t dream of outing you because it’d be rude and spoil the show. You never, ever pick a drunk person.’

  ‘And you think Jason Jones did that tonight? Picked an instant stooge?’

  Herb nodded, his face still clouded with disgust. ‘There are a million ways to do that effect without using a stooge! It just requires a little bit more effort and skill. He’s getting lazy.’

  ‘Why do you hate it so much? The stooge thing?’

  Herb looked at her like it was totally obvious. ‘It’s cheating.’

  Sage laughed. ‘It’s all cheating,’ she said. ‘You’re not actually doing magic.’

  ‘Yes, but to create an effect properly should take skill and practice. Just telling someone what to say is reprehensible. How do you think that poor woman is going to feel? She’s leaving the show with this ugly little secret that ruined the whole show for her, and she knows if she tells anyone it’ll ruin it for them as well. She’ll probably never go to another magic show again. The illusion has been destroyed. Magic has been spoiled for her, forever. It’s disgusting.’

  He stopped walking, and Sage realised they were at the entrance to the train station.

  ‘Sorry,’ said Herb, shaking his head. ‘I get a bit carried away sometimes. Will you be all right getting home?’

  ‘I do it every night after the show,’ Sage reminded him, hoping he might get carried away with something else. Like kissing.

  He nodded, looking slightly distracted. Then he shifted his weight a little. ‘My train is coming in a moment.’

  Sage wondered where Herb lived. Did he live with his parents? Or alone? Or in a share house? What was his bedroom like? Messy, she imagined. But interesting mess.

  Herb reached out and gently tucked a loose lock of Sage’s hair behind her ear. She held her breath. He smiled, a gentle, soft smile that was quite different to his usual goofy grin.

  ‘I had fun tonight,’ he said, his voice low.

  ‘Me too.’

  They gazed at each other for a moment that for Sage seemed to last for hours. Then a barely noticeable crinkle of puzzled frown creased Herb’s forehead, and he took a step back.

  ‘Well,’ he said. ‘I guess I’ll see you on Wednesday.’

  He touched his cap like an old-fashioned gentleman. Then he turned and walked away.

  Sage stood and watched him go, a sinking feeling in her stomach. He hadn’t kissed her.

  Had he changed his mind? Maybe every time he got close to her he was reminded of the smell of stale urine. Maybe the kiss hadn’t been as amazing for him as it had been for her.

  Or maybe he just didn’t like her after all.

  Sage was determined not to be one of those girls who dithered about whether or not a boy would call, so she stuck her phone in her underwear drawer and swore she wouldn’t look at it until she next saw Herb. She wasn’t going to stew or mope. She was going to do things. She sprang out of bed on Sunday morning and helped Mum make breakfast. She put on a load of washing. She had a shower and shaved her legs. She used some of Mum’s face mask gunk and left it on until it cracked. She unpacked two boxes of books in the living room. She pored over her latest batch of theatre photos, looking for any signs of ghostly activity. She tidied her room and sent an email to her friends back home, telling them all about her new job and about Herb.

  Then she looked at the clock. It was three minutes past ten. She thought about the phone in her underwear drawer. No. She wouldn’t look at it. She was stronger than that.

  Maybe she’d just glance at it. What if someone else had called? One of her friends? Or Bianca? What if they needed her to do something at the theatre? It was her job, after all. She had a responsibility to look at her phone. Just once. Then it could go back in the underwear drawer.

  She crossed the room and yanked the drawer open. The phone was nestled in there, among her Bonds hipster briefs. She picked it up.

  No missed calls. No text messages. Nothing.

  She dropped it back in the drawer and shoved it closed again with somewhat more force than was necessary.

  Herb hadn’t kissed her again. She wasn’t his painting after all. He didn’t think she was wildly, organically beautiful. She had been kidding herself all along. She was just dumpy, mousy-haired Sage Kealley. Little Miss Unremarkable. Probably the only reason why Herb had even noticed her was because they were locked in a cupboard and there was nobody else to talk to.

  She sighed and went downstairs.

  Mum was sitting at the dining table, leafing aimlessly through a catalogue of wallpapers and interior furnishings. A pile of printouts from an employment website lay discarded on the floor.

  ‘Is Dad at work again?’ Sage asked.

  Mum nodded. ‘Do you think we should go for a clean, modern look in here?’ she asked, nodding at her catalogue. ‘Or try to recreate the original period style of the house?’

  Sage privately thought that it didn’t much matter, given that they had no money for wallpaper or couches or fancy doorknobs. They didn’t even have enough money to get the sagging roof or the leaky taps fixed.

  ‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘I like the old-fashioned stuff, but it might look a bit … you know. Like a museum.’

  Mum nodded and sighed. ‘Are you going to the theatre today?’ she asked, closing the catalogue.

  Sage made a noncommittal noise. ‘It’s cancelled.’

  Mum looked as though she was about to say something, but the front door banged open and Zacky came roaring in with Roman in tow. Roman was a little smaller than Zacky, with a halo of blond curls that made him look like a cherub. The pointy wooden wand gripped tightly in his fist indicated that he shared Zacky’s obsession with magic.<
br />
  ‘Mum,’ said Zacky breathlessly. ‘I don’t want to alarm you, but there’s a possibility that we might be being chased by a basilisk. Hi, Sage.’

  Sage waved.

  ‘I see.’ Mum nodded. ‘But I shouldn’t be alarmed because …?’

  ‘Because we’re going to defeat it!’ piped Roman. ‘With magic,’ he added helpfully.

  ‘Great,’ said Mum. ‘Then we won’t worry.’

  ‘Good,’ said Zacky. ‘We’re going to do this spell that might be a bit noisy. There might be a big bang and a flash of light.’

  ‘Okay,’ said Mum.

  ‘And …’ Zacky glanced at Roman. ‘And one of the ingredients we need for the spell is chocolate biscuits.’

  Mum laughed. ‘You can have two each. They’re in the pantry.’

  Zacky and Roman tore out of the room, heading for the kitchen.

  ‘You used to be like that, you know,’ said Mum with a smile. ‘Always making things up. The first time we went on a plane, you were absolutely glued to the window, because you were convinced that there were fairies living in the clouds.’

  ‘I remember,’ said Sage. ‘I was so desperate to meet a fairy. I used to leave out little dishes of fairy bread and check them each morning at dawn. For a while I was convinced the fairies were coming, because the dish would be empty each morning. Then one day I caught a possum eating it.’

  Mum chuckled.

  ‘It was a really fat possum,’ said Sage. ‘I guess it had eaten a lot of fairy bread.’

  ‘When did you stop believing in them?’ asked Mum. ‘Fairies, I mean.’

  Sage thought about her plan to get a photo of the theatre ghost. ‘I’m not sure I ever did,’ she murmured.

  ‘Sage!’ said Zacky, bursting through the living-room door again. ‘Can you help me and Roman make wizard robes?’

  ‘Sure,’ said Sage, secretly relieved to finally have something to keep her busy. ‘Do you want just capes? How about some pointy hats?’

  After two empty cereal boxes had been decorated with silver foil stars, and Mum and Dad’s extra-large bath towels had been fashioned into capes, Sage taught the boys how to do a French Drop, making a coin vanish by pretending to pass it from one hand to the other.