Read Online The Houdini Effect by Bill Nagelkerke - Free Book Online

time I
walked past one, I found myself stopping to stare back, my
reflection suspicious, alert, uncertain. Even in the few crack-free
mirrors, especially the smaller ones, my face was bevelled,
wavering in the same mysterious way as the migraine line I
sometimes got in my left eye wavered. They almost gave me a
headache, too. I would turn away from the mirrors only to swing
back as if I were trying to catch them off-guard. Stupid really,
what did I think was going to happen?
    Was that a premonition, or what?
     
    To begin with,
nothing did happen, not until weeks after that evening when Harry asked
his question, a question that in its own, unexpected way
changed
    everything. Think of an impossible thing and
it
    will happen. (A line
inspired by Alice in
Wonderland . In that book the Queen says,
‘. . .
    sometimes I’ve believed as
many as six impossible things before breakfast.’ I loved that book
when I was younger but haven’t reread it for ages.)
     
    The first day of the school holidays.
    The time of the pool and party plans
aforementioned.
    The period in which I should have been
starting my biography project.
    Harry, in full swing, escaping from his
straitjacket, roping me in to help him.
    I’d walked past Harry’s
room where the door was ajar (cue, Canned Laughter) and Harry was
already struggling (again in vain it seemed) to get out of the
straitjacket. It was satisfying yet in truth pathetic really, to
see him rolling around on his bed, face sweaty, moaning and
groaning like a person in terrible pain as he tried to escape from
his bondage.
    What a way to start the holidays I remember
thinking. Little did I know what lay ahead.
    ‘ Who tied you up this
time?’ I asked out of polite yet fascinated interest.
    ‘ Mum . . . before . . . she
. . . went . . . to . . . work.’
    Harry, this embodiment of embarrassment,
wriggled and writhed some more, his erratic movements punctuating
his words making them staccato.
    ‘ Why don’t you give up on
the straitjacket fits?’ I asked cleverly. (Straitjacket Fits = the
name of a Southern Hemisphere band from long ago. Mum and Dad still
love listening to their music.)
    He replied without hesitation. ‘I’m . . .
almost. . . almost . . . there. Can’t . . .you . . . see . . . the
. . .
    straps . . . are . . . coming . . . un . . .
done?’
    ‘ Hmm, I
guess so,’ I said, going across to inspect them. ‘They look a
little looser. But perhaps the struggle is just wearing them out?
Like it’s wearing you out. Undoing you . Like it will wear out and undo
the judges and the audience
    who will probably all have stopped watching
by now and fallen asleep.’
    ‘ Strait . . . jackets . . .
don’t. . . wear . . . out. . . but . . . if . . . this . . .
doesn’t . . . work . . .out . . . time . . . wise . . . I . . . can
. . . go . . . to . . . the . . .next . . . thing . . . I . . .
have . . . a . . . plan . . . B.’
    ‘ Which is?’
    Harry didn’t bother answering. This made me
think he might be bluffing. Magicians bluff a lot. On the other
hand it may have just been because he had no energy left for words.
He carried on undoing himself, or trying to, and I carried on to my
room to apply some finishing touches before I went to catch my
bus.
     
    Rachel, Emma and I had planned to meet
often. Today we were going to the mall, to shop until we dropped.
Well, window-shop until we dropped, of boredom. Then we’d spend our
meagre savings on hot chocolate and gooey mud cake and sympathise
with each other about what we might have treated ourselves to if
we’d had the wherewithal.
    Tomorrow, the plan was to go to the pool
where Troy and Co. would, in all likelihood, also be hanging out.
It was strange I have to admit. Lately I’d been thinking about Troy
more and more often, I mean at times outside the usual school
hours
    when I could reasonably expect to see
him.
    (Remember, I’d been contemplating having
him
    come to the barbeque, if we’d been allowed
to invite our friends.)