Leo El Magnifico Read online

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  sourcebookskids.com

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  Design by Whitney Manger

  Cover art by Abigail Dela Cruz

  Cataloging-in-Publication data is on file with the Library of Congress.

  Contents

  Front Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  About the Author

  Back Cover

  Chapter 1

  La Vista

  Okay, here’s the thing—I’m usually really good in front of a crowd. Like amazingly good. I can do a sleight of hand, lace a jack of spades across my fingers and—poof—make it disappear right before your eyes. Then I’ll reach into my back pocket and pull the same card out without you ever noticing what happened. Then you and everyone around will be clapping and cheering, “Yay, Leo! That was amazing!” And I’ll bow and then perform another trick even better than the last.

  I know that sounds like I’m boasting, but honestly it has more to do with confidence than straight up being full of myself—even though my friend—correction, former friend Amanda seems to think I’m more stuffed up than a roast pork butt on Nochebuena.

  More on Amanda later. Back to me.

  Okay, I know that sounded conceited, but really, I’m just trying to let you know that my current situation is kind of, um, how shall I put this delicately? The worst possible situation I have ever gotten myself into in my entire life! And believe me, I’ve been conjuring up tricks and performing since I was six. Six! I have never had a problem like this one. Let me explain…

  For the last seven years of my life, I have been performing magic everywhere—from my cousin’s quinceañera to where the neighborhood viejos play dominoes by the beach. My shows have ranged from simple card tricks to full-fledged extravaganzas with strobe lights and synthesized music. They’ve all been varying degrees of great. Magic has been in every aspect of my life. And I am good! Some might say glorious, even.

  Okay, that might have been a little conceited, but still. You tell me you’re not going to be confident in your abilities when you perform a levitation trick in front of your whole sixth-grade class, and nobody, not even Mr. Martinez, could figure out how you did it? Well, Amanda knew how I did it, but like I said, I’m not ready to talk about her yet.

  I’ve been performing magic shows for as long as I can remember. My big break is finally here, and I’m about to mess it all up like that time I tried to make my mom’s flan de coco disappear and it ended up flipped over on the carpet, and Cheetah, our rescue dog, licked the entire sweet, caramelized dessert right from the carpet. There was no stopping him. He ate it so fast we hardly had time to salvage one tiny morsel. He’s named Cheetah for a reason.

  Back to my predicament.

  I learned about the What’s Your Talent? audition two months before school let out for the summer. The message board next to the cafeteria had a flyer that read:

  Auditions for What’s Your Talent?

  at La Vista Community College.

  The top contestant will be sent first class to perform at a televised show in Miami!

  Get your parent’s permission and sign up TODAY!

  I asked my mom and dad if I could audition, and at first my dad said, “I’m not sure, Leo. It’s a pretty big competition, and I worry you’re going to put so much pressure on yourself to win that you’ll stop doing anything else. Remember the school talent show two years ago? You insisted that winning was more important than homework.”

  “I was eleven, Papi,” I pleaded. “I’m way more mature now. And besides, it’s summer. There’s no homework!”

  “You have to read at least three books this summer, Leo,” Mami corrected.

  “I will! I promise! Please, Mami!”

  Mami started shaking her head, and I got super nervous because if she said no, it was all over. Mami’s word is always final. That’s when Amanda jumped in (and officially enters the story) with an explanation for why it was a great idea to audition.

  “Tía Carla,” Amanda said, calling Mami “Aunt” because Amanda has known my mom for, like, ever, and is practically family…or was. Amanda is shorter than me by, like, six inches, but when she starts explaining something, she might as well be six feet tall. Her back straightens and she moves her epically curly hair behind her ears. “I know the worry you have for letting Leo perform,” she started. “But we’ll be together, and I’m not going to let fame get to his head. Not ever. I’ll always be around to bring him back to earth.”

  My parents agreed, and we gave each other our special celebration handshake: a double tap and snap back followed by a fist bump. I high-fived Amanda again, then circled the date on my calendar. I spent every possible free moment thinking about a great act we’d perform to advance to the big competition in Miami a few weeks later. For a while, everything looked like it was going to be amazing. I’d one day have the spotlight. I’d one day dazzle a crowd of millions. I’d one day have my own patent-pending catchphrase!

  Now I’m this close to making all my dreams come true. And yet, flash forward—here I am staring at Mr. Emilio Perez, who has been interviewing me for five minutes in front of a live studio audience, where millions of people are tuned in, and he’s leaning in, waiting to hear all about my next big magic trick.

  And the problem is—I have absolutely no idea what trick I’m going to do.

  But I’m getting ahead of myself again.

  Let me conjure up that trick of holding time while I tell the story of how I ended up on one of the most famous talk shows in the world without any clue about what trick I was going to perform for the finale of the What’s Your Talent? competition in the Magic City—Miami.

  Allow me, if you will, to twirl my brand-new wand and summon the dry ice that fogs the stage while the drums and synthesized piano crescendo across the overhead sound system.

  Be mesmerized as I freeze the present, slowly disappearing from my seat next to Mr. Emilio Perez and the millions of people watching back at home and then re-emerge in the past.

  The beginning of summer, to be precise.

  Everything about summer screams, Ahhhh, summer…, from waking up as late as you want, to falling asleep under the rooftop canopy of your apartment building only to wake up getting stung by mosquitoes that force you to run inside and take shelter next to the AC unit that instantly chills your skin and draws goose bumps up and down your arms. And checking out movies at the dollar movie theater in town that plays movies that came out, like, ten years ago, but it’s cheap and air-conditioned. The piragua lady is always close by, selling al
l kinds of sweet and delicious fruit ice. And the beach is ready to receive me—because even though I live right across the street from the beach, during the school year, I hardly have time to go.

  And this summer, the What’s Your Talent? preliminary auditions were happening just five miles from my house. Five miles!

  It seemed like this particular summer was going to be the greatest of my life. And for a while, it was—it really, really was.

  Until it wasn’t—isn’t. Currently isn’t. Let me run it back again…

  When? Eight weeks. Five days. Seven hours ago.

  Who? Me, walking on the sidewalk with my best friend and magic partner, Amanda Sanchez, about to head into Linda’s Bodega and perform one of our many mini magic shows.

  Where? In my hometown of La Vista. A shabby little beach town nobody ever visits because it smells from the dead sea life that always seems to wash up on the shore.

  It’s here, at the very start of summer in La Vista, where I begin the story of ¡Leo! El Magnífico (trademark pending).

  Right now I’m about to perform a magic trick next to the frozen food section of Linda’s Bodega with my bestie and earn a delicious Klondike bar that will eventually lead me to the beach, where I will wade in the water and discover an algae-ridden conch that will set everything in motion.

  But first…la bodega.

  Chapter 2

  A Conch by Any Other Name

  The day was humid, and the air was so sticky, it felt like we were walking through a sweaty blanket, so we decided to pop into Linda’s Bodega to get some much-needed air-conditioning and possibly ice cream.

  Linda asked Amanda and me to perform tricks in her shop at least three times a week. She always hooked us up with free Jupiña, a delicious pineapple soda you have got to try if you haven’t already, and bags of chicharron pork rinds to munch. Luckily, we had practiced a hundred different card tricks over the years, and we always had something fresh to show her.

  Magician’s rule: Don’t repeat tricks in front of the same audience.

  Linda is tall and imposing, but she has the biggest, widest smile of anyone in La Vista, and she especially loves Amanda and me. I don’t know if it’s because she never had kids or because we come into her store at least two times a day (three on the weekends), but Linda seemed to love us more than anyone. Her hair is always pulled back tightly with a big puff of a ponytail that bounces when she walks. She has the kind of eyes that look like they’ve seen everything. Nothing seems to rattle or upset her. She came to La Vista from Panama, but her family is originally from Cuba.

  “They had to stay on the island,” she once told us. “I went to Panama to live with relatives until I was old enough to move here and open my bodeguita.”

  She’s been in La Vista longer than anyone. Well, except maybe Abuelo Tito and the other viejos, but still, she’s as much a fixture in our community as the coral wall that separates the sidewalk from the beach. As soon as Linda saw us come in, she rushed around the counter and brought us both into a big hug.

  “Bueno, chicos!” Linda declared, walking back around the counter. “What amazing trick do you have for us today?”

  “The Favorite Color,” Amanda said, because she was always the one who named the trick we were going to do. I knew them all by heart, but she was really good at finding the perfect trick for the moment. If I was the wow in our act, Amanda was the how.

  Linda called out over the loudspeaker for everyone in the store to go to the fridges near the back. Amanda and I set up and waited for the audience to arrive. It wasn’t ideal staging, because nobody could really see us on account of the aisles, but it beat being next to the hot box that rolled hot dogs all day long. At least the fridges were cold.

  That day, we had three people show up. Actually, two, because one guy was just trying to get to the Klondike bars behind us.

  Amanda started. “People from everywhere! Have you ever wondered what your favorite color is? You, sir!” Amanda called to the annoyed guy just wanting to get ice cream. “It appears you’re in a rush.”

  “Yes,” he answered quickly.

  Amanda pulled out a little piece of paper from the brown leather satchel she always carried. It was a gift from her Abuelita Carmela, who still lived in Fajardo about one hour from San Juan in Puerto Rico. Amanda had all our tricks in that satchel, along with the latest copies of the magazines Mechanics Today and Nature, which she buys with her allowance. Most important, though, she has our notebook of magic tricks in there.

  “May I ask what your favorite color is?” she asked the guy.

  “Chartreuse,” he said without a hint of a smile.

  “Excellent color, sir!” Amanda wrote the color down on the little paper, then folded it and threw the paper in a brown paper bag. “Now, everyone else, how about some other colors?”

  The couple and Linda rallied off nine more colors. Amanda wrote each one on a different piece of paper, folding them and adding them to the bag. Then she looked over to me, and I knew it was my turn to finish the trick.

  I asked the grumpy guy, “What do you think the chances are that I pull out your favorite color—chartreuse, was it? On my very first try?”

  “One in ten, obviously,” he said, eyeing the freezer impatiently. “Look, kid, I just want to get a box of Klondike bars and be on my way.”

  “Give us three seconds to find your color, and then you can grab your delicious Klondike bars. I’m partial to piraguas de mango, but anything to cool us off in this heat, am I right?”

  “One. Two. Three,” he barked, then reached around us to get his ice cream. “Too late!”

  “Whoa!” I declared, like we needed more time, but really, we didn’t.

  “Sir!” Amanda stopped him before he could reach into the fridge. “You hardly gave us any time to prepare!”

  I looked quizzically inside the brown bag with all the little pieces of paper.

  “Well, that’s weird.” I sighed a big, exaggerated sigh. “Your favorite color isn’t in here.”

  “Ha! You can’t even find it.” The guy smirked, sure he had us beat.

  I glanced over and noticed Linda’s worried look.

  The guy swung the freezer door open, and the chilly air cooled my face. He took his box of ice cream bars and smirked again. “You better keep practicando, chiquitos!”

  But we had practiced. Amanda and I practiced more than we performed. We practiced and practiced, because another rule of magic is You never stop practicing.

  The guy was about to leave when I stopped him.

  “Sir,” I said, “the piece of paper with your favorite color isn’t in the bag, because it escaped and is now inside that box.”

  “What?” He opened the ice cream box and found a piece of paper inside. He unfolded it and realized it was the very same paper Amanda had written the word chartreuse on.

  “It really is a great color,” Amanda declared, taking the little paper from the shocked man’s hands. Linda clapped and cheered. The couple watching the whole thing nodded in approval.

  “Nice job, kids,” the guy admitted, then handed us each a Klondike bar.

  I know you’re probably interested in seeing how we pulled the trick off, but…

  Another rule of magic: Never share your secret. Sorry.

  Back on the street, Amanda and I talked about the upcoming audition for What’s Your Talent?

  Amanda glanced at my sandals and shook her head. “You know,” she started, “maybe we should have a costume for the audition.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well,” she said, “you have sandals on. Magicians are usually wearing shoes.”

  “It’s hot outside!”

  “And your hair looks like it hasn’t been combed since the last day of school.”

  “It’s summertime! Who needs a brush?”

 
“I read,” she started, “that the big-time magicians have a style and act that is special to them. We need something unique. Something that makes us us, you know?”

  “Okay, jefa,” I said. I use that nickname whenever she’s acting like the boss, calculating what to do next. “What trick do you have in mind?”

  “Well, you’re a natural performer,” she said.

  “Gracias!” I said, bowing.

  “The question is, what act will perfectly suit our individual talents while simultaneously combining them to maximize our chances?”

  “How about the levitation act?” I offered.

  “Meh,” Amanda dismissed. “We’ve done that so many times. How about the Mind Reader? You know, the one where we guess the word the volunteer is thinking by writing it on the chalkboard.”

  I shook my head. “The chalkboard’s secret door broke, remember?”

  “Right.”

  The Mind Reader is a really cool trick where we give a volunteer a tablet and have them type a word, then send it via a messenger app. I pretend the message is going to the chalkboard we have set up onstage, and then I magically write on the chalkboard the word the volunteer sent. It’s a trick that requires Amanda to hide inside the compartment under the chalkboard, but the compartment broke in the middle of performing in the school talent show two years ago. We pulled off the trick, but Amanda got stuck inside, and the next act had to go on, so she stayed onstage for thirty more minutes before I could roll her off… Oh wait… I can’t believe I just told you that. I totally broke a magician’s rule. Please ignore what I just said.

  “We could fix it,” Amanda offered, always quick to solve a problem.

  “Maybe,” I said. “But let’s keep thinking.”

  Amanda and I have been inseparable since we were in diapers. My dad and her mom have been best friends since they were in La Vista Middle. They’re practically like brother and sister. That’s kind of how Amanda and I are.

  We walked past Machado Park and saw a Little League Baseball game being played.

  “I couldn’t play in this heat,” I commented, remembering the Machado Park T-ball league my dad insisted I play in one summer because Amanda’s mom had put her on the team. Our parents quickly figured out that baseball was not in our future when Amanda started drawing ways the bat could self-hit using a mechanical device (while she was in the outfield), and I kept trying to make my glove levitate while I was in the outfield waiting for a ball to come my way.