Abby Carnelia's One and Only Magical Power by David Pogue Read Free Book Online

the sake of argument, my people, let us say that our objective here is to make this spoon levitate—to make it float in the air. What I want you to do is to make up a half-decent
trigger.”
    He thrust out his arm, pointing around the room as though he were trying to pick out the murderer in a crowd of suspects.
    â€œConsider, if you will, the best magic trick you’ve ever seen. I don’t care if it was on a stage, on a table in front of you, or in a movie. Whatever it was, it had a trigger: something that the magician did to make the magic happen, something that showed how
he
was in control.”
    He waggled his fingers mysteriously at the spoon.
    â€œIf you’re a six-year-old,” he went on, “the trigger is saying, ‘hocus pocus.’ If you’re ten and not very imaginative, maybe you wave your hands. If you’re a mind reader, you close your eyes and frown. If you’re
Bewitched
, you wiggle your nose. If you’re Harry Potter, you point your wand and say something in fake Latin. These would be your
triggers.”
    He demonstrated a few triggers, waving, staring, pointing, waggling his fingers.
    â€œThe trigger is only for show,” he went on, “but it’s an important part of the illusion. So I want you to take four minutes to consider the trigger. I want to see your trigger. Surprise me. Be different. Cultivate your own style. Make it fit your personality. Okay, go.”
    The room burst into murmurs and giggles as the campers turned their attention to triggers. Ben held out his spoon and glared at it, eyebrows high. Abby laughed and responded with a trigger of her own: holding the spoon over her head and blowing on it. Ferd stalked the room, muttering comments like “Fine, fine” and “A bit tired, wouldn’t you say?”
    Eventually, Ferd moved on to the finer points of magic presentation—things like patter (what you say while you’re doing the trick), misdirection (making the audience look where you want them to look), and conclusion (wrapping up the trick in a satisfying way).
    Impromptu was nearly over when Abby had a startling thought. She had discovered her pointless power by accident, by tugging on her earlobes looking for an earring.
That
was the trigger—a
real
trigger.
    For weeks now, she’d been wondering how long she’d had her magical power. Did she just develop it now, at age eleven? Had she had it for weeks?
    Suddenly, though, she had a crazy realization.
    I’ll bet I’ve always had the power,
she thought.
But that was the first time in my life I ever did that trigger when there was an egg on the counter in front of me. If I hadn’t pulled my earlobes at that moment, I might never have discovered my power at all!
    Abby wasn’t quite sure whether that would have been a good thing or not. 58
    â€œAbby?”
    It was Ben, looking at her with concern.
    â€œEarth to Abby.”
    She straightened up. “Sorry, what’d you say?”
    â€œI said, do you wanna sit with me at lunch? They’re serving a special today—mystery meat.”
    â€œMy favorite,” she said. “Let’s go.”
    This, she hoped, would be more than just a lunch with a fellow camper. It would be her first chance to compare notes with another person who had real magic.

CHAPTER
8
Lunch
    L IKE EVERYTHING ELSE AT CAMP CADABRA , the dining hall wasn’t anything like what you’d expect to find at a summer camp; it was magnificent. Inside, it was like a grand Swiss castle, with a huge, soaring cathedral ceiling and gigantic windows overlooking the lake.
    Oh—and I should probably mention the food.
    This was not camp food. This was not Jell-O cubes, fruit cocktail, and defrosted trays of fried nuggets. This was a salad bar twenty feet long, a taco bar every other day, and a pasta station at every meal, where you could pick the kind of noodles you liked and what kind of sauce you wanted on