Wizard for Hire Page 7

  “Go!” Clark screeched.

  Ozzy raced through the parking lot as the cops tried to scramble around the car. The boy bolted across the street. He ran across the backyard of a large house and jumped a short fence into the backyard of a smaller one. Clark flew up high and circled back to see if anyone was following them.

  He saw Officer Greg and Wilma in the parking lot yelling at the man in the white car, who was yelling back about private property and suing for damages. Clark flew back down.

  “You should keep running!”

  Ozzy took the advice to heart. He ran for miles until he was lost in the forest and confident that he wouldn’t be caught. When he finally made it home, he was exhausted and disappointed.

  “At least your hair’s still nice,” Clark tried.

  It was a small comfort.

  Ozzy related to Harry Potter a lot. Like him, his parents were gone. And he had a scar—of course, his was on his right arm and it was the result of a tree branch nicking him many years ago. Like Harry he was male. The comparisons pretty much dried up after that. Unlike Harry, Ozzy wasn’t required to wear a uniform to school. So when the next morning rolled around, he got dressed in one of his new outfits, smeared some goop in his hair, and brushed his teeth with toothpaste that tasted like cherries. Then he stood in front of the mirror in his parents’ room and marveled at the change.

  “You look put together,” Clark said. “I feel something inside of me. Something strange.”

  “Pride?” Ozzy guessed.

  “No, I’m just not as embarrassed for you.”

  Ozzy reached the tracks and stood on the side of the Mule Pole Highway, waiting for the bus to arrive. It was Friday and he was worried about his clothes and if they actually matched.

  “Stop it already,” Clark said. “They match.”

  Even with Clark’s reassurance, something about the red shirt he was wearing with green pants seemed off.

  “What about my hair?”

  “Really? It looks hot.”

  “I don’t trust you.”

  “Birds are inherently honest.”

  Ozzy tried to flatten his hair just a little.

  The bus appeared down the road and Clark hid in one of Ozzy’s pockets.

  The long, noisy vehicle came to a squeaking stop just before the tracks. Mr. Goote opened the door to check for oncoming trains and Ozzy stepped on. Goote smiled at Ozzy as if he had said something funny when clearly he hadn’t.

  “You look like a cleaned up festive version of yourself.”

  “Thanks, I think,” Ozzy replied.

  He stepped down the aisle and took his seat.

  “Merry Christmas,” the boy with the half-shaved head said.

  “Wait,” Ozzy said. “What month is it?”

  “It’s butt month, but you’re wearing red and green.”

  “Right—and those signify Christmas?”

  “Geez, you take the fun out of teasing you.”

  All first period, people wished him Merry Christmas. Second hour was no different. But even with the festive colored clothes he was wearing people were much kinder to him. Students he had never noticed noticed him. A boy with a green backpack and long hair complimented his shoes.

  Before lunch he went to the office and gave the secretary $100 to put in account 2528. She took the money without ever looking to check that Ozzy’s name belonged to the number.

  Then when lunch rolled around, he picked all the food he wanted and took it to his spot at the table by the far wall. Clark wriggled out of his pocket.

  “It’s weird how people keep talking to you,” the bird whispered.

  “I knew these colors were wrong. I should have . . .”

  “Who are you talking to, Ozzy?”

  It was Sigi—she was standing on the other side of the table, smiling.

  “No one. Just myself.”

  “Again? That can be healthy or it can be a sign of mental illness.”

  “Probably some of both.”

  “I see you went shopping. And I like the haircut.”

  “Yeah.” Ozzy self-consciously ran his fingers though his hair.

  “It’s a little holiday-ish, but you look amazing.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, I’ve even had two friends ask me about you today.”

  “Is that good?”

  “One of them’s trouble, the other has issues, so . . . no.”

  “See if you can find a third with some sort of anger problem.”

  “I’m on it,” she said. “Listen, I’d sit by you, but Christmas is over. Besides, I have to talk to someone about an assignment for math.”

  “Cool,” Ozzy tried to say nonchalantly.

  “I’ll let you go so you can continue talking to yourself.”

  “I appreciate it.”

  Sigi walked off. Ozzy whispered into his lap.

  “That was better, right? I mean, I think I even made sense when I talked to her.”

  “You didn’t completely humiliate yourself. I’m very ‘not as embarrassed of you.’”

  Ozzy took a bite of his sandwich and smiled as he chewed.

  After school on Monday, Ozzy walked over to Main Street. There was an electronics store called Volts near the Chinese restaurant.

  The store was big and all of the signs and shelving inside were blue. Ozzy walked down the aisles trying to look like he knew what he was doing.

  “Can I help you?” a man in a yellow shirt asked him.

  “Yes, I want to buy a small computer for homework. Do they all run on electricity?”

  The salesman looked confused.

  “Yes, but many have a long battery life. A tablet might work well for you.”

  “Yeah,” Ozzy said. “That’s probably better. I’ve seen people at my school with those. Do they take electricity?”

  “Yes,” the man said slowly, looking puzzled. “But they can charge for a long time. You probably want one with wifi and cell data so you can watch movies and surf the net just about anywhere.”

  “Good, I’ll take one. And a charger. And one of those little book lights you can clip onto your books at night. My science teacher uses one to read while he makes us watch movies.”

  The salesman tried to look interested.

  After paying, Ozzy almost tripped over a small wire rack near the exit. Sitting in the rack were a pile of ORVGs. Ozzy looked around nervously. He had already taken one from the Chinese restaurant, but Clark had torn it up and made a nest out of it. Not knowing if it was against a rule to take a second one, he snagged another.

  Ozzy left the store feeling dangerous and much more up with the times thanks to his new tablet.

  Unfortunately for both Ozzy and Clark, when they finally got home, they discovered that the tablet wasn’t charged. And since there was no electricity at the cloaked house, using his modern machine was impossible.

  “This is the worst,” Clark chirped as they both sat on the porch looking crestfallen.

  Ozzy pulled out his old-fashioned notebook and scribbled something in it.

  “Wait,” Clark said. “Did you find something else you’re not good at?”

  “Yeah—I can’t create electricity.”

  “I hate to be the bird of bad news, but it’s entirely possible that you don’t possess any special gifts.”

  “I’m aware of that,” Ozzy said, already thinking of other things. “You know, I wonder if we could get something solar out here? Something to charge things with.”

  “Look in that magazine you swiped,” Clark suggested. “Maybe there’s an electricity store.”

  Ozzy went inside and came back out with the ORVG. He sat on the steps and flipped through it. He focused on the small classified ads at the back, looking for any mention of solar energy. On the last pa
ge he was happy to find someone who was selling a windmill.

  “That could work,” Ozzy said.

  “Maybe, but I’m afraid I’ll fly into it.”

  “What about . . .”

  Ozzy was going to point out an ad for a car battery that could be used to power other things, but his attention was stolen by a tiny classified ad on the bottom of the page.

  Wizard for Hire

  Are you in a bind? Are your enemies at the gate? Is it time for some magic? Or perhaps you just need a good potion for sleeping. Call 555-SPEL

  Ozzy shivered.

  “Look at this!” He set the magazine down on the porch and Clark hopped onto the page and read the small words.

  “‘Babysitter needed. Must have strong nerves’? I don’t know how good a babysitter you’d be.”

  “No, not that ad. The one below it.”

  Clark read the right one.

  “Wait . . . so wizards are real?”

  “I told you.” Ozzy was excited.

  “And you can just call up a wizard and they do things for you?”

  “Well, we can’t call because we don’t have a phone. But I could call from town.”

  “Why do you want a wizard?”

  “To find my parents.”

  Clark stared at Ozzy. “That is . . . the best idea I’ve heard in a long time.”

  “Right?” Ozzy said.

  “Definitely right. This magazine has everything. Look, here’s an ad for carpet cleaning.”

  “We don’t have carpets.”

  “Sure, but if we ever did . . .”

  “Let’s just focus on the wizard. If anyone knows where my parents went, it’s him.”

  “Or her,” Clark corrected.

  “A her would be a witch.”

  “Maybe he’s married to one,” Clark said. “Don’t all wizards have to marry witches?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “That’s going to be my first question for him.”

  “I don’t know if you should come when I meet him.”

  “Why, because a talking bird will confuse him? He’s a wizard who may or may not have a witch wife. He’s probably used to things like that.”

  “Okay. How about I just call him first?”

  “Good, but it’s getting dark and I haven’t charged my batteries like I should. So either light a candle or let me go settle into my nest.”

  “Just rest, we can’t do anything until tomorrow.”

  “Goodnight, Oz.”

  “Goodnight, C.”

  Clark hopped inside and over to his shredded ORVG nest. Ozzy sat alone on the porch and listened to the soft wind twist through the trees. He looked up to the darkening sky, hoping to see into the present and view his parents, wherever they might be.

  He saw nothing but a dark and cloudy sky.

  Ozzy took out his notebook and wrote down yet another ability he didn’t have.

  Ozzy left his tablet at home but took the charger so he could juice it up at school. After fourth hour he asked his literature teacher, Mrs. Jenkins, if he could plug it into an outlet behind her desk and pick it up at the end of the day.

  “That’s fine,” Mrs. Jenkins said. “By the way, Ozzy, I wanted to find your parents’ email address to let them know about the parent teacher conferences coming up, but the office doesn’t seem to have any information for you.”

  “That’s weird.”

  “I think so too. Your last name is Toffy?”

  Ozzy nodded.

  “And what’s your home address?”

  Mrs. Jenkins pulled out a pen from her desk.

  “Actually, I don’t like to give it out.”

  “I see . . . but does the office have it?”

  “I’m sure they do. I mean, it would be weird for them not to.”

  “I agree, but we couldn’t seem to find anything on you.”

  Mrs. Jenkins stared at Ozzy.

  “Is there something you’re not telling me?” she asked.

  “I’m late for lunch.”

  Ozzy left the classroom as quickly as possible.

  Mrs. Jenkin’s behavior and questions left Ozzy uneasy, but the thought of food made him feel a bit better. He went straight to the cafeteria and picked out food while he worried. When he gave the cafeteria worker his number to pay, she looked up at him and asked,

  “Name?”

  Ozzy had never been asked that before by her.

  “Ozzy.”

  “Last name?”

  Ozzy cleared his throat. “Toffy.”

  The woman’s brown eyes bore into his being.

  “I have a note on my computer that you’re supposed to report to the office.”

  “I am? Now?”

  The woman nodded.

  “Can I still take my food?”

  The woman didn’t nod.

  “Okay,” Ozzy said beginning to feel like he was stepping into a trap. “I’ll just go to the office right now, then.”

  The woman had no further comment.

  Ozzy left the cafeteria and headed down the hall toward his locker. Someone was on to him. Mrs. Jenkins had opened a can of worms. He was a fourteen-year-old with no parents pretending to be a sophomore. If anyone discovered he was living alone, they’d take his freedom away.

  As he turned the corner he saw the principal and the school’s police officer standing by his locker. Next to them was a boy named Jason who rode Ozzy’s bus. Ozzy stopped in his tracks and hid around the corner to spy on what was happening.

  “That’s his,” Jason said. “I’ve seen him put stuff in there.”

  “Open it up,” the principal said.

  The police officer stepped up and broke the lock with bolt cutters. There was nothing inside except the few textbooks Ozzy had borrowed for his classes.

  “What else can you tell us about him?” the principal asked Jason.

  “He really likes Christmas. Oh, and he gets off the bus near the train tracks. And he’s got a weird finger.”

  Ozzy had heard enough. He turned around to run off and ran right into Sigi.

  “Hey, Oz,” she said loudly. “I was looking for you. One of my teachers asked me if I knew. . . .”

  “I have to go.”

  “What? I . . .”

  The principal came around the corner.

  “Ozzy?” he called out.

  “Sorry,” Ozzy said to Sigi. “But I really have to go.”

  The principal reached out for Ozzy and Sigi strategically slipped between them.

  “Principal Ward. I was wondering . . . are we still going to have tryouts next week?”

  “Excuse me Sigi, but I . . .”

  Ozzy moved backward. As the principal and officer lunged forward, Sigi accidentally put her foot in the way and both men went down.

  “I am so sorry!” she said.

  Ozzy took off down the hall.

  “Stop!” the principal yelled, getting to his feet. “Stop!”

  Ozzy weaved quickly around other students while being pursued by the principal and the cop. Fortunately for him, he had a head start and both men were badly out of shape. Ozzy burst through the doors leading outside and tore off across the lawn and toward the edge of the forest.

  “Stop!” the cop yelled. “Stop!”

  Ozzy did no such thing.

  When he got to the cloaked house, Ozzy was winded and beside himself. To make things worse, Clark wasn’t much help.

  “So you just left the charger?”

  “I couldn’t help it,” Ozzy said.

  “But you promised me bird movies.”

  “Sorry, but it was bad. I can’t go back.”

  “All right, all right—this it awful. Maybe we should go to the beach and try to relax.�
�

  “No, not until we talk to the wizard. Besides, the cops are probably looking for me. I heard Jason tell them where I got off the bus.”

  “So? That’s over two miles away from here and in a weird direction. There’s no way they could find us.”

  “Still.”

  “Still, you have to get into town somehow and charge your computer.”

  “I’ll wait till tomorrow and then go in to call the wizard.”

  “How are you going to call him?”

  “I don’t know. I can’t use the phone in the school library now, but I did see one at the Chinese restaurant when I was there.”

  “And you can use it?”

  “They might let me make a call.”

  “You better hope this wizard is real,” Clark said. “Because your life is sticky.”

  “Thanks.”

  “And what do we do right now?”

  “Hope they don’t find us.”

  Ozzy had something to eat and then walked around the cloaked house just under a hundred times, looking for signs that anybody might have come looking for him. When he finally went to bed he was exhausted and fell asleep to the sound of his father speaking:

  “There must always be a counterpart. Nothing in story or science operates alone. Good has evil, positive has negative, and nothing ceases to exist without something.”

  Ozzy waited until noon the next day to begin his hike into town. He wore the most unremarkable outfit he could put together in hopes of not standing out. He wasn’t sure if anyone would be looking for him or if someone like Officer Greg or the school cop had alerted others to be on the lookout. But he knew that Otter Rock was a small town, and it didn’t take much talk or time to fill in everyone about everyone else’s business.

  When Ozzy got to the Chinese restaurant there were only two other people eating at a table near the back, and Tamera was working.

  “Hello,” she said, excited. “It’s you. You left a very nice tip last time.”

  “I did?”

  “And you’re modest about it. What a nice young man. Would you like a table or a booth today?” she asked.

  “Can I sit right there?”