Very slowly, as deliberate as Scout’s toe-stand the day before, the balls rose, one after the other, until they performed their delicate dance on Scout’s palm. Then Scout gave a grim smile, a sort of gutsy, Philly, nobody-fucks-with-me smile that didamazingthings to Lucky’s body from half a block away. Under Scout’s narrow-eyed concentration, each of the stainless-steel balls rose—not far, about three inches apiece—until they werehoveringover the palm of his hand and there existed a visible space between each one.
The crowd caught its collective breath, and as a united whole, erupted into applause.
Lucky was the only one who saw the near miss.
The three balls jerked as though wrestling from Scout’s control, and Scout made a decisive gesture with his free hand to call them back. There was a silent back-and-forth—Lucky could read it in the clenching of Scout’s jaw and the furtive, terrified look he sent the crowd—and Lucky suddenly understood the very real peril.
He’d seen those props in the magic shop. They were the same “stress balls” anybody could get in a novelty store: weighted, chrome plated, and smooth.
If Scout gave up control they would cease to be props and instead become three very heavy projectiles, hurtling through a sea of soft flesh and brittle bone.
He wasn’t trying to keep his dignity here; he was trying to keep his magic trick from becoming a mass-casualty event.
The crowd must have sensed something. Perhaps, they thought, another trick, and Scout didn’t let them down. With a dramatic gesture of his hands, he rose to one toe, his other pointed at his knee as though he were about to start a pirouette. He swung his foot, looking as if pulling momentum into his body, when Lucky knew that all his momentum was going to have to come from his torso and arms, but the entire time he was staring at the chrome balls that he held under his control by force of will alone.
And then, swinging his shoulder but keeping his hands fixed, the balls between them, he began to whirl.
Lucky could never figure out if he used magic to propel himself in a series of pirouettes or if the pirouettes helped to steady his magic, but Scout did them both, swinging his leg and his shoulders and keeping the balls scrupulously in his control. One, two, three, and with a grand rotating gesture of both hands, he whirled the spheres around, using the momentum built up by whatever opposing force had been fighting him, and hurled the projectiles over the heads of the crowd, over the guardrail of the tide wall, and far, far out into the empty water.
Lucky was still staring at him when he saw Scout give a little twist to his fingers to set the balls aflame, and the crowdoohed andahhed as they trailed rainbow fire in their wake like meteors, exploding into puffs of red, yellow, and blue smoke at the horizon.
People were still applauding as they marched onto the ferry, and Marcus sold out of the “galaxy balls” in about five minutes.
And Lucky had to run downstairs to change into a fresh T-shirt, because his own was sopped with sweat justwatchingsomething like that.
Fallout
AN HOURafter his performance, when the crowd had finally cleared from the magic store and Marcus had locked up, Scout walked into Helen’s, and Lucky almost knocked him over.
Scout hadn’t been expecting it—Lucky had seemed so grounded, so imperturbable. He’d thought maybe a peck on the cheek or a worried glance across the coffee shop, but what he got was Lucky ripping off his apron in the middle of taking an order and barreling into Scout with the fierceness of an angry bear. The hug went on until Scout was pretty sure his bones cracked.
“Uhm….” And he wasn’t sure what the fuss was about, but oh wow. Being held like that, flush against Lucky’s sturdy body, held like Lucky would never let him go—that was heady stuff. “What’s wrong?” he asked weakly, wrapping his arms around Lucky and holding him back.
Lucky’s grip relaxed enough that he was no longer uncomfortable, and Lucky groaned.
“I saw that,” he whispered gruffly. “I saw what you did. You were a fuckin’ hero, man, and those things could have gone right through you, and I am not okay.”
Oh.
Kayleigh and Marcus had known. They’d felt the magic crisping through their hair and had been close enough to see Scout’s muscles tremble with exertion as he’d been fighting to keep control of the balls. When he’d started to pirouette, building up enough momentum to use all that force to slingshot the spheres into the ocean, Kayleigh had been the one to add the fireworks to make the trick look more like a trick and less like an attempted murder.
None of them had spoken at the end of it—there had been too many people around—but Scout had been consumed with who had done it and why, and if it had anything to do with the presence around Tom’s bench. He hadn’t thought how Lucky would react, much like he hadn’t been ready for Lucky’s practical nursing the night before.
But much like the night before, feeling that warm body next to his, offering comfort, offering strength, had been the most magical thing Scout had ever encountered and the most amazing magic he’d ever known.
Lightning wandered in behind Scout, bumping into him and sending him and Lucky stumbling a few steps toward the counter.
“I’m fine,” he whispered near Lucky’s ear. “I really am. It’s okay. You don’t need to worry. Go take care of the line, and Piers and I will hang out in the back, okay?”
“Get in line,” Lucky ordered gruffly, backing up to retrieve his apron. “I’ll get you guys something.”
Well, that was also a plan, and judging by Lightning’s relieved smile as he did that, a considerate one. Kayleigh and Larissa went back to reserve a table, and when they got to the counter, Lucky shoved a tray of four hot chocolates—complete with whipped cream and cinnamon—at them.
“Tell your sister I’d kill for Italian, lasagna or meatballs or something. I mean, I’m not trying to run her life, but I am saying….”
Scout smiled and touched his hand. “I’ll put in a good word,” he said when Lucky waved off his money.
Helen looked over and winked, and Scout took the tray to the back. He set it down and sank wearily into the stuffed chair that appeared to have been saved for him.
