More Than Magic Read online

  There are merry little pictures of flowers and things. And one…I blink. “Hey, that’s me!” I pause. “I think. But it looks more like Rory, maybe.”

  “Neither one of you was around then.” Granny gives my shoulder a squeeze. “I’m going to miss you, chicken.”

  I’ve been here over a month and have to go back to Bel Air tomorrow.

  “I’m going to miss you too, Granny.”

  I look down at my cowboy boots. I don’t want her to see my eyes with their wet twinkles.

  —

  For dinner I eat four pieces of corn on the cob and a pile of tomatoes, all from Granny’s garden. We don’t eat Granny’s chickens. They’re just for laying eggs. For dessert Granny makes us tin-roof sundaes: vanilla ice cream, chocolate sauce, and peanuts on top.

  “The ice cream and the peanuts count for protein,” Granny says.

  While we eat dessert, we turn on the television and Rory’s face fills the screen. She’s on a pirate ship rescuing some kids who were kidnapped because the pirates thought they could help them find a buried treasure. While balancing on the rail of the ship, Rory is swinging and jabbing with her sword. She snips the buttons off the pirate’s waistcoat and then his britches, which fall down, leaving him in his underwear.

  Rory does stuff I could never do. She makes Robin Hood look clumsy with a bow and arrow. She always hits the bull’s-eye. I squint at her. Something seems a little off about Rory. Maybe it’s the reception. Granny puts her glasses on and leans closer. “She looks different, Ryder. A little older.” She grabs my hand and gives it a tight squeeze, then tucks it under her arm as if she’s scared I might skedaddle. She turns to me. Her pale blue eyes are wobbly behind the magnification of the lenses. “Love ya, chicken.”

  When I get in bed, I text Penny. Can you get the Rory show in London? Take a look. Is anything weird about her?

  I wonder if she’ll text me back. She never calls anymore and only sometimes answers my text messages.

  At about two in the morning, a little ping wakes me up. Penny!

  Hi, Ryder. I’m off to a garden party today. Guess who’s going to be there? A royal princess!

  I text back: Did you read my text about Rory? Do they have the show there?

  Then she texts: No idea about Rory or show. Mum’s letting me wear heels today! Talk later.

  Mum? Heels? What’s with Penny?

  When Dad meets me at the luggage carousel, I know something has changed. As he walks, he literally bounces. And the sad lines around his mouth are gone. We run to hug each other.

  “Look at you! Nice and tan. Hope you wore your sunblock. Your nose is peeling a bit.”

  My face is one big freckle now. Sunblock or not, I get a gazillion freckles.

  As soon as we get in the car, he starts talking. It’s as if he is talking around something. I listen hard.

  “Sweetie, the first thing we’re doing is going to Bingo Electronics and I want you to pick out whatever television you want. And before I forget, Penny called from London the other day. She thought you were back. She’s such a great kid.”

  She wears heels, I want to say. And gabs about princesses. But I keep my mouth shut.

  “We talked for a while. Would you like to go to London for Thanksgiving?”

  “You mean us?”

  “No, I mean you. You and Penny could have a blast. Girl time.”

  Girl time? Dad never talked like this before.

  “What about you? And Granny? She’d be all alone.”

  “Uh…” He seems stumped. Then he says, “You know, Bernice has three daughters.”

  I’m having trouble following him. “Bernice the Radiance lady?”

  “Yeah, Bernice. Um…you know, she’s a movie producer too. And her daughters are nice girls. I hope you like them.”

  “Why should I like Bernice and her daughters?”

  “Well, because I do….”

  I am stunned. He told me about her in Deadwood, but if Dad’s bringing her up again…I have the most horrible thought. Is he in love with Bernice? Is that why I should like her? I look at him out of the corner of my eye. What is he thinking? I feel as if I’m being hit over the head with a sledgehammer right here in the middle of the Los Angeles freeway. There is a long silence. Finally Dad breaks it.

  “You’re really going to like her. But she’s not like Mom.”

  “Mom was unique,” I mutter.

  “That she was!” He nods vigorously. “That she was. No one ever like her. Nor will there ever be anyone like her….She…she had uniquitude.”

  Girl time and now uniquitude! Dad, what has happened to you?

  “It’s different than with your mom. That was…everything. With Bernice, it’s companionship.”

  Companionship? Is he saying he doesn’t love her? I’m too scared to ask. He must be reading my mind, because he says, “Are you thinking I’ve fallen in love with Bernice, Ryder?”

  “I don’t know what I’m thinking, Dad.”

  “Don’t worry, sweetie. With Bernice it’s, uh…We are in like. Companionship. Ryder, I’ve been so lonely. I feel better with a companion.”

  “I’m a companion.”

  “You are, and a very good one, but you’re my daughter. The best daughter in the world! But I’m talking about…grown-up companionship.” If he says that word “companionship” one more time, I might throw up.

  “I think you’re going to like Bernice and her daughters. They’re a little bit older than you. Bliss, Joy, and Connie, which is short for Contentment.”

  “What? Is this like Donald Duck and his nephews Huey, Dewey, and Louie?”

  “Don’t be sarcastic, Ryder. Please just calm down.”

  Me calm down? I stare at this man who looks like my dad but who doesn’t talk, think, or act like Dad. Maybe aliens have taken him over. I start to get an idea for a new show: Robot Dad!

  Dad says, “And after checking out the new TVs, we’ll go to Sugar Babe to find you a dress for the party.”

  “What party?”

  “A party Bernice and I are giving.”

  “Sugar Babe!” I screech. “Mom hated that store. How could you?”

  “But they have a tween department now. They didn’t use to.”

  Tween is such a weird word—it’s like you’re nothing. Like a blob of Silly Putty, which in my mind is not that silly or even really putty. I try not to glare. “Look. No Sugar Babe, not the tween, teen, or old ladies’ department.”

  Dad looks at me. He chuckles. “Oh, you’re such a card, Ryder!”

  I am not a card! I want to scream at him. I remember Dad pretending to pop open his head and put his brain on my nightstand. But maybe Dad didn’t misplace his brain. Maybe he had a brain transplant instead.

  —

  Revolting…disgusting…vomititious. But if you vomited when shopping at Sugar Babe, you’d throw up glitter. A lady in a sparkly miniskirt greets us.

  “Mr. Holmsby!” she says. “Welcome to Sugar Babe.”

  “You must be Lorraine.”

  “I am! Bernice and I were college roommates.”

  Bernice’s college? I think. Where’d they go? Glitter U? Then she turns to me.

  “And you must be the famous Ryder?”

  “Famous?” I say weakly. Dad flashes Lorraine a sharp look.

  “Oops!” She slaps her hand over her mouth. “Follow me to Tween!”

  Her chemical-blue eyes dart around as if she’s looking for muggers to pop out from behind the dress racks. We walk beneath a banner with sparkly words in curly script. 10 Going on 16! Too Old for Toys, Get Ready for Boys. Pink and red boxes are stacked up on the counters.

  “What’s that?” I ask.

  “Makeup,” Lorraine says. “All environmentally friendly. No animal testing.”

  “Animals hate makeup!” I say. Lorraine doesn’t get the joke. But Dad does and tries not to laugh. I love him in that minute. Old Dad is back. But he’s nervous.

  “Let’s get along now. We have othe
r fish to fry,” he says.

  Fish to fry—that’s like something Granny would say. Maybe he’s coming back! “Fish? How about a hot dog at Pink’s instead?” Pink’s makes the best hot dogs.

  Dad turns pale as we pass a jewelry counter and another banner with curlicue writing. Bling Blast. Let Us Help You Release Your Inner Princess. Coming Soon! Then I hear what sounds like the theme song from Super-Rory-Us.

  “We gotta go.” Dad grabs my hand and we run out of the store as Lorraine sputters, “But Mr. Holmsby, I had a dress in mind.”

  —

  When we get back to the car, I look at him. “What just happened?”

  “Oh, nothing. But you were right. That place is sort of tacky.”

  “If I have to get a new dress, I’d rather go to a vintage store. Mom loved those.”

  “Sure, sweetie.”

  Why was Dad so weird in the store? I need to think about this. But first—yay!—a hot dog at Pink’s.

  “Ryder! Welcome home!” Bernice comes running out the front door. Behind her troop her daughters: Bliss, Joy, and Connie.

  I look at Dad. He’s dazed.

  The girls totter on platform heels dotted with rhinestones. They could almost be triplets, with the same perfectly long, straight dark hair. Bliss and Joy have bright blue eyes, and Connie, the youngest, has black. Connie’s face is heart-shaped, not as thin as her sisters’. They share a blank smile and I give them a name: the Three Happys.

  Bernice’s hair is yellow with orange tips and stands straight up like a burning haystack. Her face looks like she’s wearing a mask. She must’ve had so much Botox and other stuff done to her face that it’s made her eyebrows and forehead look kind of frozen. But it seems as if she’s trying to smile at me, and maybe doing that hurts. I guess that’s nice of her. I smile back.

  She leaves the facial expressions to her daughters. And right now there’s a collective eyebrow raise from the Three Happys. But Mom always said, “You can’t judge a book by its cover.” Maybe underneath, Bernice and her daughters are wonderful people. As I look from them to Dad, I start to wonder, Could it be? Are they all cartoons? I take another look at my sweet and tired Dad. I know I have to try to be nice for him, even if they are cartoons. I grew up with cartoons. I love Rory. And I’m not a cartoon. I’m real.

  Bliss smiles. “So happy to meet you, Ryder. What’s in your bag?”

  Dad says, “We went to a special thrift store that Ryder and her mom loved.”

  Bernice says, “You went to a thrift store for our party that I have done all the planning for, Ralph?”

  Uh-oh.

  Dad says, “Why don’t you let Ryder put on the outfit so you can see it before you go home?” Go home! The two words are music to my ears. “It’s really lovely, and it suits her.” He sounds like my usual dad. He’s back! My heart skips a beat.

  Bernice realizes she has gone too far. “All right. I am very open-minded. I am going to meditate and cleanse my SPs.”

  “SPs?” I ask.

  “Spirit points, sweetie,” Dad says.

  “It’s all about spiritual hygiene.” Bernice sticks out her very long tongue and licks her cosmetically enhanced lips.

  Dad steps close to me. “Learning about my spirit points has helped me so much, Ryder. Helped me to recover.”

  “Recover?” My voice quavers. I step closer and whisper, “I don’t believe you have recovered, Dad.” Dad steps back, bewildered.

  I see what my mission is: rescue Dad, bring him back to reality. I won’t take this cartoon version of my dad. I want the Real Ralph Holmsby.

  Dad blinks. “Ryder, Bernice is the codirector of the Inner Radiance Meditation Center. The center has rescued me.” He talks like he’s a lost dog that’s been picked up by animal rescue.

  Bernice slips her arm through Dad’s. She looks at him with what could be real concern. “Ryder, nobody should have to hurt forever and ever. It was taking a toll on him.” She sighs. “You see, dear”—I wince at “dear”—“his spirit points were weakened, battered.”

  “What exactly are spirit points?” I ask.

  “Spirit points are crossroads of nerves, veins, and arteries in the body. They are the centers of life forces. Your dad’s spiritual hygiene was in chaos.” I think her little speech is creeeepy! She’s talking like he needed a stronger deodorant. “And now my hygiene needs a bit of attention.”

  “You don’t smell at all,” I reply sweetly.

  She looks shocked. “As I said a minute ago, I am going to meditate.”

  Dad gives Bernice a hug. “While you’re meditating, dear, Ryder can put on her outfit and you’ll see how nice she looks.”

  Bernice glides away and the Three Happys follow, giggling. But I catch Connie glancing back at me. She’s not giggling. There’s a flicker in her black eyes. It reminds me of that split second Rory looked out from the television screen when she reversed the spell on the owl—an unscripted moment. Curious!

  Joy gives her sister a yank. “Connie, don’t do your mopey thing.”

  Mopey? I’m not the only one? Very curious!

  —

  I go to my room and get dressed. I don’t care much about clothes except for parties. The rest of the time, I just wear jeans or cutoffs. But I absolutely love this outfit. It’s a soft-pink antique lace skirt. It’s a little big on me, but I have a really cool maroon cummerbund that will keep it up like a belt. For a blouse, I found a white top with buttons that are different shapes. A final touch—brand-new Doc Martens lace-up boots with pink and red roses! Oh, nearly forgot. I am also going to wear a pink beret my mom made for me that has a few feathers from a white cochin, a gorgeous chicken. In a way, this outfit is sort of like Mom’s quilt—a crazy patchwork of neat stuff.

  I stand in front of the full-length mirror. Behind me is a wireframe statuette of Rory—a Mimi. Wireframe is the first stage of an animated figure, kind of like the skeleton. A Mimi is the big award for film animation. Side by side we look nice in the mirror. We fit together.

  Looking at Rory’s wireframe, I think maybe everyone has a secret inside self. Maybe even the Three Happys. We aren’t supposed to judge a book by its cover. I wonder what the Three Happys and Bernice would look like as a wireframe. Maybe completely different without all that makeup. I’ll try to look deeper. I have to try for Dad’s sake. And Bernice did try to smile at me even though it must have hurt.

  —

  I go out to the pool, where Bernice and the Three Happys are sitting.

  “Here I am!” I say cheerfully. Dad beams at me. Bernice is trying to smile again.

  “Granny!” Bliss gasps, looking at my outfit. Joy is laughing. Connie just stares. No hint of the flicker I saw earlier.

  Dad stands up and glares at them. My chin begins to tremble. I will not cry. I will not cry. I take a step forward and stand right in front of Bliss in her metallic shorts and crop top with SEXY BABE in rhinestones on the front. All from Sugar Babe! I take a deep breath and squint. Her inner self, her wireframe, must be in there somewhere.

  Nothing.

  “If you mean my granny, I am proud to look like her,” I say, then turn around.

  “Hey, kiddo.” My dad reaches out and touches my shoulder. I can see tears in his eyes, but I shrug off his hand. How can he be doing this to us?

  —

  My dad is really mad. He makes each of the Three Happys write me an apology, which they slip under my door before they go home. Joy and Bliss say basically the same thing. Sorry to have offended you, blah, blah, blah. Connie writes something a little different.

  Dear Ryder,

  I’m sorry we made you sad. I guess you don’t need any more sadness. I’m so sorry about your mom. I feel sad sometimes too. After my dad and mom divorced, I was supposed to be with him at least half the time. But he’s a scientist and had to go on a sort of secret expedition and now I’m stuck with Mom and my half sisters. Sometimes I wish I could just—I know it sounds stupid—fly off like a bird or something—and find h
im. Anyhow, sorry how they laughed at your outfit. It was just different. We’re not very good with different.

  Connie

  P.S. My name is Contentment but I secretly think of myself as Constance.

  There are a lot of interesting things about this note. First, the sentence We’re not very good with different. So why is your mom hanging around my dad? He’s different from Bernice. But the P.S. is even more intriguing. Does Connie have a secret self buried deep inside her? Is this a glimpse of her wireframe?

  I call Penny. I’ve tried twice since I got home, but she’s always out….The phone rings and rings and rings.

  “Hello?”

  “Penny, I’ve been trying to get you forever. I miss you!”

  “I miss you too! Oh, I know we are out so much. Sorry.” Something has changed in her voice. Is she getting a British accent? “Oh, by the way, everyone calls me Penelope here.”

  “Uh, should I call you that too?”

  “Actually, I think I do prefer it. It’s so British. But listen, I’m in a terrible rush. Mummy and I are…”

  Her mom is “Mummy”? I feel as if the whole world is sliding away from me. Everything is changing. My dad, my best friend. I feel sort of like an orphan, or maybe I am an alien in a world I just don’t get. I need to call Granny. She’ll tell me what to do.

  Granny picks up on the fifth ring.

  “Hello?…Oh, now you hush, dollin’. Not you, Ryder. The chicken, Miss Mallow.”

  I hear a squawk. The phone drops to the ground. I have been through this before with Granny. She never just talks on the phone. She’s either knitting or cooking or, in this case, dealing with a nervous chicken.

  “Storm coming?” I know storms upset birds.

  “You betcha. Miss Mallow here has her knickers in a twist. But we’re just going to sit in the rocker here with her on my lap and she’ll calm right down.”

  I’m wishing I could curl up on Granny’s lap. So I come right out with it.