The Amazing Q

By Peter Cashwell

A tale of talking birds, magic tricks, peppermint sticks, and an awful lot of camouflage paint, perfect for fans of Roald Dahl and Judd Winick.

School isn't

• Language: English
• Publisher: Immortal Works LLC
• Release date: Aug 4, 2020
• ISBN: 9781953491619

Book preview

Nathan’s father was a magician, the best in the world. Nathan never bragged about it, or even talked about it much, though he was extremely proud of his father’s job. All he would do, whenever one of his new friends asked what his father did for a living, was smile shyly and say, He’s The Amazing Q.

Of course, this was such a preposterous idea that no one believed it at first. The Amazing Q, the man who could pull a live shark out of a bottle of orange soda, who could turn a toaster into a cloud of dragonflies, who could make the entire state of Nebraska vanish into thin air and then bring it back with a snap of his fingers—surely The Amazing Q would live in a fantastic castle somewhere, or a mansion by the sea, or a stately pleasure-dome by a deep blue river. He wouldn’t live here, in an ordinary house on an ordinary street, with ivy crawling up the walls and a mailbox with a big 8-0-7 on it.

But he did.

All through the school year, The Amazing Q and Nathan lived in the ordinary house. While Nathan went to class to learn about multiplication and history, his father stayed home and studied in the basement, learning new card tricks to play on the audience, or how to turn his upper eyelids inside out.

After school, Nathan and his father would fix a snack and compare what they had learned. Did you know, Nathan asked one day, that the Yangtze River is the fourth longest river in the world?

No kidding? his father answered as he poured two glasses of chocolate milk. Where is it?

China. Haven’t you been there?

Oh, sure.

The Amazing Q had been everywhere. He played to packed houses all over the globe, from Alaska to Zanzibar, from New York to New Zealand. No self-respecting king, queen, or president-for-life could possibly admit to never having seen The Amazing Q, so he was invited to perform in the finest theatres around the world, and he never disappointed his audiences.

He was, however, strict about his schedule: he would perform only in the summertime, because during the rest of the year, he was with Nathan in the plain old house, learning.

What did you learn today? Nathan asked, slurping his chocolate milk.

Don’t slurp your milk, son, his father answered.

Sorry.

Today, The Amazing Q said, waggling his eyebrows, I learned how to make Brussels sprouts explode. 

The Amazing Q had learned how to walk through cinderblocks and how to turn a pencil into a submarine, so Nathan was not surprised by anything his father told him after school. Usually he would show Nathan his new trick, if it didn’t make a big mess, and then they would cook dinner. Every so often Nathan would ask him how the trick worked, but The Amazing Q would just smile and say, You know I can’t tell you that.

It was of course the oldest rule among magicians: never reveal your tricks. And The Amazing Q, since he was the best magician in the world, followed the rule dutifully. Once, when Nathan protested that the rule wasn’t fair, his father looked at him thoughtfully and said, Nathan, I’m not keeping it secret just to keep it secret. I have to. If I start revealing my tricks, I’m not a magician anymore.

What do you mean?

If everyone knows something, it’s not a trick. That’s all being a magician is—just knowing something other people don’t.

Even me?

Well, you know things I don’t. That makes you a magician in some ways.

Nathan knew at least two tricks his father didn’t know. The first was how to cook macaroni and cheese; his father always forgot to take the boiling noodles off the stove and they got all mushy and disgusting. The second trick Nathan knew was how to curl up the sides of his tongue. The Amazing Q just couldn’t do it.

Those were just about the only tricks that The Amazing Q didn’t know, though. When he performed, even other magicians lined up to buy tickets, though they usually wore hats and heavy trench coats and false mustaches so no one would recognize them. Every show began in the same way: the lights would dim, except for a single beam shining on the empty stage. Then the sound of thunder would suddenly burst throughout the theater, and an announcer would say: 

"Ladieeees and gentlemennnn, chilllldren and animalllls, preparrrre yourselves forrrr:

"THE LLLLORD OF LLLLEGERDEMAIN!

"THE MMMMASTER OF MMMMAGICALITY!

THE SSSSSSSSULTAN OF SSSSSSSSORCERY!

(Sometimes the announcers would have to stop here for a moment because they had spit on the microphone too much, but they’d go on:)

"MAY I PLEEEEEEASE HAVE A WARM WELCOME FORRRRR:

THE AMAAAaaaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAZING Q!!!!!

That was always the opening, but his entrance was never the same twice. He might just appear, in the spotlight, or the orchestra pit, or the balcony. He might barrel down the aisle on a gleaming motorcycle. He might drop from the ceiling onto a giant sponge, or ride in from the wings on a unicorn, or be flown in by a flock of orioles. Once Nathan saw his father’s shoes appear in the spotlight, followed in a moment by his pants, his shirt, his jacket, his tie, his hat, and finally, after the rest of him had bowed to the audience in gratitude for their frenzied applause, his face, grinning from ear to ear.

Onstage, The Amazing Q was a wonder; no mere rabbits out of hats for him. The first thing that came out of his top hat was always his assistant, Dave the Owl. Dave was a large brown owl, and exactly how he fit into an ordinary-sized top hat was one of the show’s many mysteries. One of the other mysteries was how The Amazing Q was able to make Dave talk during the show. Several famous ventriloquists had spent years trying to spot The Amazing Q’s lips moving when Dave spoke, and one had eventually declared that it was Dave who was the magician and that The Amazing Q was merely a figment of everyone’s imagination. (This ventriloquist moved in with his mother soon after that, and she was quite happy to see him, since he hadn’t written her in fifteen years.)

Nathan didn’t know how Dave talked, either, or where he spent the school year, and he got the feeling his father didn’t want to discuss it, so he didn’t ask. He never saw Dave anywhere but onstage, after his father had pulled him out of the hat. At the end of every show, after the bulldozer had been balanced on a soap bubble or the basketball goal had been eaten, Dave would go back into the hat and disappear. And right after that, The Amazing Q would climb into it as well, pull the hat itself in after him, and leave the stage empty.

Nathan liked to watch the shows, but he had also learned how dull it was living in hotel rooms and playing in airports, and he hardly ever got to spend any time with his father, who was usually busy moving equipment or talking to reporters. After a few tours like this, the two of them had decided Nathan ought to spend the summer somewhere else, and luckily, there was someone who was happy to have him for three months. As soon as school was out, he and his father would pack the car full of trunks and suitcases (and caramels and peanuts and cold sodas for the trip) and drive out of town to visit Uncle Ellerbee.

But it wasn’t summer yet. There were still eleven school days left, and Nathan was counting them down with all his might.

He still liked school—well, he still liked the learning part. It was the other parts that were starting to bother him. This year there had been two big changes to his class. The first had come at the very beginning of school, when a pair of students named Mary Ellen and Doug had arrived from out of town. They were twins, but they didn’t look alike. Mary Ellen had short, wiry, brown hair, pale skin, and freckles, but Doug had long blond bangs that were always falling down into his eyes. Both wore thick glasses and snorted when they laughed, though Doug hardly ever said anything.

Mary Ellen did, though. In fact, the day after their arrival, Mary Ellen had confronted Nathan on the playground while the entire third grade class was playing dodgeball. It was Nathan’s favorite game. He wasn’t all that good at throwing, but everyone had to admit he was a great dodger. He absolutely hated the smack of the red rubber ball against him, which made him try even harder not to let it touch him.  Eventually, however, Ms. Zorah would let the throwers start using more than one ball, and once that happened, it was only a matter of time before Nathan was hit. That day she had winked at Nathan, given a second ball to Karla, and then given a third to Howard, but Nathan kept dodging. Finally Ms. Zorah gave a fourth ball to Elmo, who whipped it toward Nathan and caught him on the left hip. Everyone clapped for Elmo, and Nathan stepped out of the middle to take his turn throwing. Mary Ellen stood next to him, squinting over her glasses.

So, she’d said, I hear your dad is The Amazing Q.

That’s right, said Nathan.

She nodded. That’s why nobody throws at you.

What? Everyone in town knew Nathan’s father. The Amazing Q had grown up there, become a magician there, and started his family there. He was just one of the neighbors. Nathan had never imagined that anyone would treat him differently because his father was famous. But now a part of him was uncertain.  

That was all Mary Ellen would say to him. And from then on, dodgeball was never quite as much fun. Nathan couldn’t help wondering if he was really a good dodger, or if his classmates were letting him win because of his father. He even found himself moving a bit more slowly, watching the ball, trying to decide if it was coming as fast or as straight as it ought to. And of course, whenever that happened, he would be hit.

Well, he had thought once, staring at the huge dark welt on his arm, at least I know Doug’s throwing as hard as he can.

The second big change was his teacher. Nathan liked Ms. Zorah very much. She was strict, and she would not let anyone chew gum in class, but she was always fair, and she had a warm, soft voice, and she spent hours teaching them Greek mythology. Nathan was especially fond of the stories of how various heroes and monsters had been turned into constellations in the night sky, and in December he earned extra credit for drawing a big picture of Theseus wrestling the vicious Minotaur. Ms. Zorah even told his father Nathan might be an artist one day.

And then in April, Ms. Zorah left the school. 

She hadn’t planned to go, but her husband’s company had sent him to its office in Italy, and she didn’t want to stay behind. She hugged all of her