MAGIC by William Goldman Read Free Book Online

representative in the area in the near future.
    He hadn’t meant to upset anyone. Yes he had lied, sure he had claimed age he hadn’t earned yet, but that wasn’t worth their anger.
    Why were they crucifying him?
    Jail? Was that even a remote possibility? Corky could not stop his imagination. At school it was relentless, coming up with torments and humiliations. His mind dogged him day and night; for the first time, school was perplexing, he couldn’t concentrate and one of his teachers even admonished him, which had never come close to happening before.
    But how could you think about adverbs or percentages when the world’s most perfectly developed man was pissed off at you?
    He wanted to talk to somebody, anybody, but there wasn’t anybody. He knew people; everybody knew people, it wasn’t that he was unpopular. But it was hard for him,
people
were hard for him. He was ableto stay by himself and he did, he whittled, made figures, dogs and horses and cows and faces and that had been enough to get him through.
    All he ever really wanted was to please people
. His mother had liked whittling and while she was around that was fine, and after she was gone he kept it up because at least he knew how to do it and do it well.
    He began to wonder if they ever came in groups, the Atlas men, traveling in pairs in case they ran into tough customers. Except he wasn’t a tough customer, he was just a kid,
leave kids alone
.
    When the offer reached $8.00 he waited till very late and then he told his father. Mutt was lying propped in bed watching wrestling on the tube. When Corky started, Mutt’s eyes were on the falling figures, but after a while they began flicking back and forth, from his son to the fighters; finally he focused on the boy. “Pal, you gotta watch that imagination of yours.”
    Corky nodded.
    “Quit the crying and listen now.”
    “… listening …”
    “IBM hasn’t got that many field representatives, you get me? There’s no way some bimbo with muscles is gonna come up here after you, now stop the crying like I said.”
    “… they said a man would be in the area …”
    “Forget what they said, just remember Mutt says don’t be afraid. Tell me that.”
    “… not afraid …”
    “And you really mean it?”
    Corky decided it would be best to nod.
    “Sleep good.”
    Corky headed for the door.
    “Hey Pal? Remember something huh? God gave you the brains. The muscles leave to Willie.”
    Corky did that very thing till Willie was killed.
    Stupidly. Drunkenly. In a car crash. At the age of eighteen. Corky had been having dinner alone with Mutt in front of the tv when the call came. Mutt answered,nodded, muttered a few words, hung up. “They got Willie” was all he said, and Corky knew he was talking of the Gods, they pissed on you, but if you were tough, you survived, and Mutt was tough, he hobbled when he walked, but you didn’t mock him about it, and no matter what they did to you, you had to fight back until you died.
    Which was why, the week after they put Willie in the ground, Mutt began teaching Corky football …
    “He’s got the good hands, he’s got the good speed,” Mutt was saying to the coach. “I’m not saying he’s another Willie, but the kid can help you, that’s a guarantee.”
    Coach Tyler looked across the field at Corky. It was a steaming August day and Corky stood awkwardly in his brother’s old football uniform, holding tight to the helmet. “Not much size,” Tyler said.
    “Did I say he was big?”
    “I don’t know, Mutt—he’s way behind. We’ve been working out all summer.” He turned, gestured to the rest of the freshman team who were running through the heat, getting their wind sprints done.
    “I been working with the kid myself, Tyler. I been devoting myself. I would never bring him over if he wasn’t ready.”
    Tyler shrugged. “I owe you, Mutt; what do you want from me?”
    “Just a chance for my pal over there.”
    “As a what?”
    “Goddammit,