11 Heckling

Chapter 11 Heckling heckling (v) calling out insults or rude comments from the audience in order to disrupt a performance By noon on Thursday, Jessie had already counted thirty-six kids who said they were coming to the magic show on Monday. She'd handed out The 4-O Forum in the morning, and right away students— some of them even fifth-graders!—had asked about tickets. Maybe we should have charged more, thought Jessie. She was excited about the money— thirty-six dollars—but she was also starting to get that hard-to-breathe, thumping-heart feeling that sometimes ran through her like a freight train. Here it was—Thursday afternoon—and they still hadn't practiced the disappearing trick even once. They'd spent all yesterday afternoon cutting the hole

in the porch. It was a big deal; they had to avoid the thick boards that ran underneath the floorboards, because that's what held the whole porch up. If they accidentally cut through one of those, the porch might collapse. "That would be a showstopper!" their dad had joked, but Jessie didn't laugh. First they'd cut in one spot, but then they decided to put the trapdoor in a different spot, and by the time it got dark and they had to stop, they hadn't finished even one hole. When Jessie got home from school, the hole still wasn't finished, even though their dad had promised he would work on it while they were at school. Instead, Evan was sawing away at the floorboards using the old hacksaw. His hair stuck to his forehead in big, sweaty clumps, and his hands were bright red from gripping the saw so hard. "It's not done yet?" asked Jessie. "What does it look like?" snapped Evan. "You think it's so easy, you try it."

"I'm not allowed to," said Jessie. "Neither are you. Where's Dad?" "In there." Evan waved at the house. "On the phone. Again." "Maybe he's getting you another basket. Or another rabbit," said Jessie. She didn't like it when Evan seemed angry. "No. It's all work stuff. Very important work stuff." What did it mean when Evan talked like that? Jessie couldn't remember. Her mom had explained it to her, but now she wasn't sure. It was one of those confusing things where people said one thing but meant another. She wished her mom were here to explain it to her. "I get to talk to Mom first today, remember?" "She's not calling. She texted Dad and said she was trapped in a meeting and couldn't get away. She'll call tomorrow." "But I want to talk to her today! I want to tell her about the newspaper and how many kids are coming to the show." Jessie knew she was whining, and she

knew she should stop. People really do not like whining. This had been explained to her many times by both her mom and Evan, though Jessie could never really understand why. What made whining worse than regular talking? Evan stopped sawing and looked off into the woods behind their house. "Yeah, me too," he said in a soft voice. He tapped the blade of the saw against the wooden floor. Then he tossed the saw onto the porch and said, "C'mon, let's go inside and have a snack. Dad bought ice cream. Three flavors!" Jessie was still trying to decide between chocolate chip and peppermint stick when their dad wandered into the kitchen, talking on his cell phone. He leaned against the jamb of the sliding glass door and stared out into the backyard. "So you're saying there's movement? And you're sure?" There was a long pause while the person on the other end of the line talked. Jessie could hear the murmuring of a voice, but she couldn't make out any of the words. She decided to take a scoop of both kinds of ice cream.

Mom wasn't here to tell her not to. Her dad kept talking. "And you can't get anyone to talk? Anyone?" The voice on the other end of the phone made its humming noise, and then her dad said, "Okay. I'll figure something out." Then he hung up the phone and stuffed it into his back pocket. No one said anything for a minute. Jessie wanted to talk, but she had that sudden feeling of danger that she couldn't identify. Something inside said keep quiet, even though she couldn't figure out why. "What's going on out there?" asked her dad, pointing to the half-cut hole in the porch floor. Evan shrugged. "Nothing, I guess." "Well, that's not an attitude that will get you very far in life," said their dad. He went outside, and in a moment Jessie could hear the sound of the saw rasping against the rotten wood. "Why don't you go help him, Evan?" asked Jessie, noticing that Evan's bowl of ice cream was empty. "He doesn't need me," said Evan. "There's only one saw." Even so, he wandered outside a moment

later, and when Jessie finished eating her ice cream, she walked out to the porch and saw that the hole was complete. "Now we just have to cover it so no one can see it's there," said their dad. "Go grab that little area rug from your mom's office. It's the perfect size." Evan and Jessie looked at each other. There were a lot of rules in the Treski house, but the number one rule was: no taking anything from Mom's office. "Oh, c'mon," said their dad. "It's not like it's some Persian rug. I bought that thing from Home Depot about ten years ago. Go get it!" "Can we practice now?" Jessie asked on the stairs as they lugged the small rug down. She wanted to be sure she could do the disappearing trick perfectly. There was no way she was going to mess up in front of thirty-six kids from school. Including fifth-graders! "Yeah," said Evan. "But it's pretty easy. I mean, all you have to do is lie still in the basket and then jump through the hole when I say the magic words.