Do You Believe in Magic?
by Penn Madison

It was after my mother realized she was a reincarnated princess from the lost continent of Atlantis that everything happened. We'd moved to Squanee Springs from Hallow Falls where the countryside was real pretty and all, but there was nothing to do. I fell in love with Squanee the first time we drove down the main drag with its Chief Walking Quiet statue and the pointy-roofed cabins where people with tuberculosis were quarantined in the olden days.

Redstone brick buildings were smack dab by the sidewalks, and there was an old-fashioned Penny Arcade with a Madame Tara Fortune Teller doll, SkeeBall and Sandy's Taffy with flavors like mincemeat and yucca.

It's hard to say when things started getting weird; it happened gradual-like. I'd noticed Mom would refer to Dad in a chokey-sounding voice as "the good Brother May" like the Dorcas Circle ladies did. And he was always gone, usually to counsel folks.

At first I didn't know he was gone for good because Mom said he was on a mission trip. But I wondered why she stayed in bed so much, and stopped talking on the phone when I came into the room. She'd send me to the mineral springs' well where nasty-smelling water trickled from a rusty pipe. The locals raved about how the water calmed your nerves, and about its natural carbonation though it wasn't half as bubbly as Coke. Mom's new friend Blossom gave her Birthing Yourself, and after Mom read it she said she wanted to find herself and get on with her life. I asked her what Dad thought about that, and that's when she told me he'd left us.

"I've just now allowed myself to understand how the relationship I had with your father was completely toxic. The whole church with its hellfire-and-brimstone mentality was toxic. And patriarchal. You're not going to believe this, but when your father and I were engaged he actually told me he wanted a woman who was a slut in bed and a lady everywhere else. Well, now he's got a full-time slut and..."

I let her vent; it was bad to stuff down your feelings she'd told me. Her cheeks blotched--more a rash than a blush--like she was allergic to her own words. Later, we slathered our hands with Elmer's Glue and peeled it off, something we hadn't done in a while 'cause Mom hadn't felt up to it.

What she vented about was that Aleta Green, who ran the cafeteria at SafeHaven Ministries where Dad was director, had disappeared when he did. Dad was also a lay minister--which Mom said was "apt"--at Squanee Springs' Living Gospel Church. The good news with all this was I got to transfer from the SafeHaven Youth Academy 'cause we couldn't afford the tuition anymore. At the Academy you had to kneel to show your skirts were long enough, and you couldn't wear v-necked sweaters. I enrolled in Squanee Springs Junior High and that's where I met J.R.--him, Bobbie O'Black, and Steven Silletti were the three most popular guys. My first day, J.R. waltzed right up and said, "Let me hear your balalaikas ringing out," and the other guys laughed and whacked each other with textbooks covered in shiny Squanee Squires' book jackets, and tried to push J.R. at me.

At first I got all bashful and would duck down another hall when I saw them coming. But J.R. got moved next to me in Health and Hygiene and would say things like, "B-back in the U.-S.-S.-R. You don't know how lucky you are, yeah" and, "Her name was McGill; she called herself Lil, but everyone knew her as Nancy" which always cracked him up. Finally I up and asked him what he was running off at the mouth about, but he just laughed and said, "It's like trying to tell a stranger about rock 'n roll."

Since Mom was always at her support group, and Dad wasn't around to lecture me about the devil's music, I started listening to KIDZ AM and realized J.R. was quoting song lyrics. He knew a lot of oldies songs and even some music my new friend Leta--who nobody else liked 'cause she was fat--called "headbanger." Silletti's dad was "Terrible Tom" Silletti who d.j.ed the KIDZ morning show. O'Black's dad ran the City Mart, and Leta told me J.R.'s father owned the Apache Motel and that his sister Casey was the school slut.

I liked that nobody knew anything about SafeHaven Ministries other than it was there, or about the whole mess with my Dad. Or so I thought until J.R. moseyed over, and for the first time didn't talk in song-words. "So you go to Living Gospel, huh?"

I was afraid it was a trick question. "Ah, used to." Mom had vowed to never set foot in that "den of hypocrisy" again.

"Used to? Same here. One Sunday I told the old man I'd had my fill of church going and he, well, he, uh, lost it. The next Sunday I jumped out my window, and went to Silletti's, and Dad shows up, but I knew he wouldn't get all p.o.'ed with other people around. And I haven't been back to church since." J.R. was gorgeous but acted like he didn't know it, though the girls sure did and they'd eyeball us when we talked. He was the first guy I'd ever known with long hair and it was a good thing Dad wasn't around 'cause he'd of said it wasn't right for boys to have girlie hair, even though one time I pointed out that the men in the Bible had long hair.

One night in the teensy backseat of O'Black's brother's VW, J.R. asked me, "Do you believe in magic in a young girl's heart?" The windows were steamy even though we weren't making out, and the car smelled like Tiny's Tubz Laundromat. "How the music can free her whenever it starts." J.R. stared hard at me, and I felt like a retard 'cause I didn't know if his words had some deep meaning I wasn't getting. I felt that way a lot around J.R.

I thought he was going to kiss me, but instead he said how he hated his Dad for beating on him, and for doing bad by Casey. Casey wasn't his real sister, but J.R. had only told me that 'cause his parents didn't want anyone to know they'd divorced other people before they moved to Squanee. I was about to blab about my Dad and everything, but J.R. touched my face and I got all scared and moved away and blurted, "Yes, I believe in magic," real phony-sounding like I was pretending to be a movie actress. We jumped a mile when we heard this banging on the car door and it's Silletti who yells at us to "get decent" and made jokes like J.R. and I had gone all the way, but J.R. told him to go stuff it.

Mom was home early. "Are you just now dragging in? It's almost nine, where--"

"Nowhere. I was just at the library working on my Science Fair pro--"

"I've got something I want to share with you. Tonight in group I had the most incredible experience. I swear, I feel ten pounds lighter."

Mom pushed her hair back; it was growing out and she never fussed with it or sprayed it anymore though she used to hate women who'd come to church with their hair looking like haystacks. "Blossom had us lie down and take deep breaths and imagine ourselves in a meadow, and I could just feel the wildflowers tickling my feet. Then she told us to imagine storm clouds rolling in. She said to look into the clouds and see what was there. I saw your father's face and he..."

It was only after Dad left and the Universe had guided her to a supportive group of women friends that she'd truly experienced how malignant was Dad's "life force." How he'd sucked the freedom, the creativity right out of her. She'd chosen to view his plundering of their savings as freedom from middle-class money grubbing, and she said the Universe would provide for us.

"I want you to visualize with me." Mom described a big house in Squanee Estates and I had a horse and everything. But instead I visualized the last Sunday dinner I'd had with both Mom and Dad. Mom must have been suspicious of Dad by then 'cause she slapped down the gravy boat so hard a quivering glob slopped out on the table.

"You're hungry?--I'm sorry, sweetie. Marie and Blossom--you know, they're opening the vegetarian restaurant?--they brought munchies. Hummor, hum...mus, I guess it was. Your Daddy would have had a stone fit. But I'm sure he's getting his fair share of...meat...now."

I knew she thought I didn't get the "meat" part, but I did.

"I'm stuffed. But since he's not around to demand his square meal, you can have whatever you want." Whatever I wanted pretty much came down to cereal and milk.

For the next couple days J.R. wasn't at school. Miss Gish asked where he was, but Silletti just shrugged, blank faced. I took to walking past the Apache Motel, would peek out from behind the trees across the street. I figured out that the family lived in the units in back of the office, and once I went down the alley behind the motel, and just knew J.R.'s room was the one with the black light bulb.

Finally J.R. came back to school. "What happened? Funny you should ask. Met the wrong end of a doorknob, guess you could say." J.R.'s right eye was squinched half shut, and encircled with a tender-looking blue stain.

"Looks like J.R. got the shee-et knocked outta him. What happened, man? Casey decide to show you how a real man kicks--"

J.R. pushed O'Black against a locker and yelled, "Shut your big trap, O'Butt, or I'll--" Mr. Graves was doing Hall Patrol and busted them; they got suspended for two days. Later, Mom asked me why I was always moping around.

"I'm not moping around. It's just--"

"Blossom says people wear their secrets on their faces, but you've got to know what to look for. This isn't about your father is it? Honey, everything happens for a purpose, trust me. Try and transcend--"

"It's not that, it's--"

"Breathe." We ended up sending healing breaths deep into our core, but I didn't feel any better. I felt like my legs had crawly bugs inside them and just had to move. I told Mom I needed to help Leta with her homework; that her house was real close and I'd walk only on well-lit streets. For the hundredth time Mom told me about the teenage girl who'd disappeared from Squanee one night, and neither hide nor hair of her had been seen since. I started throwing a fit, and Mom said she couldn't deal with one of my hissies. I bolted out of there, and again found myself staring over at the glow from the neon hook-nosed Indian sign that read "Apache Motel."

I slunk down the alley. The living quarters' backyard was all junked-out with rusty metal patio chairs and a sofa with a spronged cushion. Under what looked like a Frosty the Snowman made out of old tissues, I saw a flash of pink...skin? I tiptoed closer and squatted under a pine tree outside one of the motel's windows. I kicked aside an old hula hoop and a stack of rotting newspapers, and saw that what had freaked me out was just the arm of an old doll with big chunks whacked out of her hair.

Through the window I saw J.R. walk into the room; I held my breath. I couldn't hear what he was saying or see who he was saying it to. He swayed his hips like he was dancing or something. I felt shivery from the cold, but I couldn't stop watching. It was like the best t.v. show I'd ever seen. J.R. jumped up, pretended he was slam dunking a basketball, then left.

I stood there for I don't know how long. A pretty girl with hair parted real crookedy down the center of her head came in and walked over to a smudgy fridge. She drank straight from a carton of milk, and wiped her mouth with her hand. When she raised her arm I saw she wasn't wearing panties under her long t-shirt, and I saw her sacred area. I felt bad for peeking at her 'cause I knew I wouldn't want anyone seeing me half naked, but I kept staring, even after she left. Only thing that got me moving was the neighbor dog started to howl and the girl--must be Casey, J.R.'s sister, the school whore--came back and over to the window so I skedaddled out of there.

The next day when I saw J.R., O'Black elbowed him and said, "Looky over there, J.R., it's your girl-friend" then sang, "Why don't you d-do it in the road?" I felt proud and happy when J.R. told O'Black to grow up. J.R. asked how I was doing, and I just stood there like a deaf mute 'cause I didn't know. How am I doing?

During homeroom everyone went to the gymatorium for cheerleader tryouts, then before third period they announced the finalists. Amber Swanson cried in the restroom 'cause she lost head cheerleader to Dawn Jamison. Everybody fussed over her, and Jenna tried to butter Amber up by saying that Peter Malek told her that O'Black wanted to go with her. I washed my hands, and tried to act like I wasn't listening until I heard "J.R." and I looked up and they were all watching me. When I asked Leta about lunch she said she'd made other plans. I heard them laughing as I left.

The rest of the day I had this tender melon-belly feeling in my stomach. After school, I didn't see J.R. walking slow down the Ave like he used to, when I'd just know he was waiting for me to show up and walk with him. Mom was gone and hadn't left a note again, though she got mad when I did that. There was nothing on t.v. and all the songs on the radio were yucky. I called my friend Rebekah from SafeHaven Academy. She went on and on about how the ninth graders put on a pie social, and about how they went on a field trip to the Mint and got to stay at a motel.

"So, Becky, what do you want for your birthday?"

"I...uh, my mother said I can't have a birthday party this year. She and Dad are going to a Cord of Three Strands retreat that weekend so she said I could only have a couple kids from my class--

" "Well, maybe I could come over after school tomorrow? We could--"

"No. I, uh, Sarah's coming over to--"

"Maybe this weekend? I want to tell you about--"

"No, my dad won't let me."

"You restricted or something? How 'bout--"

"No, I can't. It's not you or anything. It's just...my Dad says your father's an adulterer and he doesn't..."

I don't remember the rest of what she said, or what I said before I hung up. I just sat there. Then sat some more.

"Ruth? You scared me! What are you doing sitting in the dark? Do you know what time--"

"I know what time it is. I learned to tell time in the second grade, remember?"

"Don't you smart-mouth me, young lady." Didn't I know how fragile she was, how my attitude wasn't helping matters? Was it the new school...was it...? She rested a foot on one of our unpacked boxes. She had on new Famolares and a delicate ankle bracelet.

She must've read my mind. "I decided to treat myself. God knows I deserve it. In group, Blossom shared this article she'd clipped. It said parents have to take care of themselves first, or there won't be anything in the well for their kids to draw from."

I ran her a hot bath and swished some cold water on top, the way she likes it. I brewed some tea, not her usual Lipton's, but nasty, green tobacco-like stuff I packed into this little silver ball and poured hot water over it. While I rubbed her neck Mom looked dreamily into the distance and started telling me about Group.

"Blossom's voice was soft and she said to look around--what did I see? I saw this beautiful woman wearing a silky toga like the Israelites wore in the Sunday School flannel board stories. Then I realized, I was that beautiful woman. Men in warrior armor were giving me flowers and holding kitty cats out to me like they were special gifts. Next I saw a wall of water--the world's biggest wave--and people were running to get away from it, but I'm not frightened because--all of a sudden--I was in this ship."

When Mom's regression was over she told Blossom she thought she'd visited Heaven itself, but the water and the people's terror confused her. Blossom told her the story of the Lost Continent of Atlantis with its cat worshipers, and how it was lush as the Garden of Eden. And how it'd been swallowed up by the ocean in just one day and one night. That's when Mom knew she'd been a princess in a former Atlantis life and all she needed to do now was peel back the layers of her emotions that had hardened 'cause of Dad, and she'd manifest her true destiny.

She got all groggy because understanding the cycles of one's past lives is hard work. When I told her I had to see Leta she didn't check the time, just said "Be back in an hour. That's my sweet girl."

What I decided to do was march right over to the Apache Motel, knock on the door, introduce myself politely and ask if I could talk to J.R. about homework.

I wanted to tell him I understood how he felt about his father 'cause of my Dad, and that my mother, too, had "checked out," and that if he ever needed to talk to someone he could come by anytime.

But I ended up sneaking over to that same old trees across the street 'cause the motel's office door was open and a man stood yelling in the doorway. He reminded me of Dick Tracy in the funny pages. He stood really stiff like, and he kind of pushed his chin forward. He barreled down the flagstone path and plopped his rear onto a pickup's front seat, and laid on the horn 'til a thin, wispy woman floated out of the motel. She carried a grocery bag, but dropped it when she tried to open the car door. J.R.'s dad kept honking the whole time she scurried to pick up the stuff she'd spilled. He backed up the car and I was afraid she'd get run over, but she just left some things laying there and hopped in.

Good. This'd be easier with his parents gone. I sucked in some deep, fortifying breaths and visualized J.R.'s face with a big grin plastered on it when he saw me standing on his porch. A shriek pierced the night air. I saw Casey come hightailing into their kitchen, squealing like a stuck pig. She was laughing and pushing these egg yolk-colored kitchenette chairs in front of her. Plastic cups on the table tumbled over, but she didn't seem to notice. J.R. blasted into the room, kicking the chairs out of his way as he tried to catch her. He grabbed her and started tickling her, and I swear I could feel his hands on my own body. I'd never seen J.R. looking so giddy-ish and I felt giggly inside just watching him. Still laughing, Casey scooted J.R. out the kitchen door. I eased from behind the branches and started to walk, real casual, toward the front entrance. I was glad I'd get to talk to J.R. without his immature friends around. Mom always said communication is the answer.

But I ducked back when I saw Casey running out the front door, talking so fast I couldn't understand. J.R. stood, watching, even after she'd disappeared behind the Rogers-Stay-a-Spell Motel next door. I crouched, frozen, for what seemed like a half hour. I was afraid he'd think I was a real fruit loop if I crawled out from under a tree across from his home. I noticed the chains of their porch swing were hiked up real close to the roof, and I wondered who could swing on it like that. J.R. stood real still; he seemed sad. I'd no sooner decided to go for it, than Silletti came bopping down the street in that smart aleck way of his. I didn't know what to do. I waited, to give some time for J.R. to talk to Silletti. Mom always said to trust your instincts, and I just knew J.R.'d be glad to see me, tell Silletti he'd catch up with him later.

The door to the office was ajar, and inside there was this counter like you see in people's rec rooms with rack after rack of tourist brochures. The walls were covered with Jesus pictures that all looked the same except for this one where His bare feet floated on a cloud and His hands were cupped toward heaven. The door behind the counter was open, and J.R. and Silletti sat with their backs to me on a couch covered with an ugly red-and-green afghan. "Tonight it's all oldies, all the time" a radio d.j. said, and "Do you Believe in Magic?" started playing, and I knew that was a sign 'cause Mom always said there are no accidents in the Universe.

I stopped. They were sitting real close on the couch and J.R. kind of leaned toward Silletti like he was going to kiss him or something. I just couldn't wrap my mind around what was I was seeing. I backed into the hall and bumped into a rickety table. Silletti and J.R. jerked away from each other, and looked over at me with kind of sickish looks on their faces. J.R. jumped up, his mouth hanging open like the air had been punched out of him. I turned and ran out.

All night I kept hearing the words, "Do you believe in magic, do you believe..." and saw them together sitting there, but no other words came into my mind. It was like my brain was cleaned out, with only that phrase whistling through it. I wished I was a character in a book 'cause they always have thoughts in their heads and know what to make of things.

The next day I saw J.R. before Health and Hygiene. He and Silletti were hanging up a poster: "Don't be SILL-y, vote SILL-etti for Head Boy." J.R. saw me and he looked over at Silletti, then J.R. jostled him with his elbow. They grinned at me and J.R.'s lip kind of curled up, evilish. And for some reason I remembered Boris Betanov from the "Rocky and Bullwinkle" cartoons saying "nah-hah-hah" though I don't know why I thought of something funny 'cause I was feeling real shaky and scared. J.R. said, "Do you want to d-do it in the road?" And Silletti moaned and said, "ooh, baby, come on, baby" and pushed his hips back and forth. Dawn Jamison stopped and looked over, then whispered something in Amber's ear, and I thought I heard the "s" of "slut!" sizzle through the air.

And the only thing I thought was: "How the music can free her whenever it starts."

This is Penn Madison's first published story. Most of her time has been spent laboring over her dissertation on the prototypes in Little Women. She lives in Green Mountain Falls, Colorado and is happy to report that the nearest fire was quickly extinguished.