Read Online Wizard of Washington Square by Jane Yolen - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Jane Yolen
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to do for a day.
“You did it! You did it!” squealed Leilah. “That was first-class magic, even if you did have to peek at your paper.”
But the Wizard did not hear her. He was still whirling around and around. A curious humming sound was in the air, and under the Wizard a small whirlwind was building up. First it picked up pieces of dust and dirt and old candy wrappers. Then it gathered in half-eaten peanuts and peanut shells, back pages of the Village Voice and the jacket of a Grove Press novel. And at last it picked up the Wizard himself. As he began to rise in the air, the wind blew his beard straight up as if pointing the way. His eyes were closed and his face had an ecstatic smile.
“Where are you going?” shouted David above the humming. “Wait—we haven’t thanked you yet. I even have money for a special treat. Wait….”
Just as he cleared the tops of the maples, the Wizard looked down at David and Leilah and at a small crowd of bearded young men and long-haired young women who had gathered there. “Recalled. Recalled,” he shouted down happily. “I’m going home. Recalled.”
“Will you ever come back?” Leilah yelled up as loudly as she could, afraid that he could not hear her in the rush of wind.
“If you need me, I will come. We are bound by the Rule of Need,” came a voice out of the whirlwind. “Recalled….”
Like a gas-filled balloon that has escaped from a child’s fingers, the Wizard rose slowly at first, then faster and faster, a small speck in the sky rising higher and higher until at last he disappeared.
“That sure is some trip,” said one of the bearded young men. They laughed and went on their way with the longhaired women.
David and Leilah looked until they could see nothing more. Then they waited silently a few minutes longer to be sure.
“Is he gone? Really gone?” asked Leilah, afraid she might have to cry.
“I guess so,” said David who was hugging D. Dog and starting to sniffle—just a little—himself.
“What about all his stuff in the warren?” asked Leilah.
“Are you kidding?” David said. “After that whirlwind, moving furniture should be a breeze!”
Leilah giggled. “That’s a pretty good joke!” she said.
They walked out of the park, D. Dog at their heels, and started toward an ice-cream man who was coming down Fifth Avenue.
“Do you believe it really happened?” asked David. “I mean—really?”
“Look at D. Dog,” said Leilah, pointing at the terrier, who was running ahead of them now.
“What do you mean?” asked David as he looked. D. Dog turned and started to run back toward them. He was limping slightly on his right rear paw.
“The chipped foot,” said David.
“Exactly,” said Leilah.
“Well, will we ever see the Wizard again?” David asked.
“I guess so. If we really need him,” Leilah answered.
“What I really need now is an ice cream,” said David. “My treat!”
And smiling secret smiles, the two friends ran up to the vendor to get their cones.
A Note from the Author
W HEN I WORKED AS A young editor in New York, I lived in Greenwich Village and loved to spend Sundays in Washington Square Park, where people sang and played guitars around the fountain and children ran in and out of the water screaming with joy.
And one day I noticed that there was a black door in the side of the great monument. It puzzled me. Why a door in a monument? I had assumed it was solid stone.
No one had an answer for me at the time. None of my friends knew. This was long before the Internet and Google. I checked in some libraries, but found nothing helpful.
So … I made up the answer. That’s what writers do. We make things up. And if we make them up really well, other people believe what we have written. At least, they believe it for the life of the story. I tell you that a wizard lives in the monument—an awkward, not-terribly-good-at-his-job wizard whose magic often goes awry. And all that follows is a story.
Jane
“You did it! You did it!” squealed Leilah. “That was first-class magic, even if you did have to peek at your paper.”
But the Wizard did not hear her. He was still whirling around and around. A curious humming sound was in the air, and under the Wizard a small whirlwind was building up. First it picked up pieces of dust and dirt and old candy wrappers. Then it gathered in half-eaten peanuts and peanut shells, back pages of the Village Voice and the jacket of a Grove Press novel. And at last it picked up the Wizard himself. As he began to rise in the air, the wind blew his beard straight up as if pointing the way. His eyes were closed and his face had an ecstatic smile.
“Where are you going?” shouted David above the humming. “Wait—we haven’t thanked you yet. I even have money for a special treat. Wait….”
Just as he cleared the tops of the maples, the Wizard looked down at David and Leilah and at a small crowd of bearded young men and long-haired young women who had gathered there. “Recalled. Recalled,” he shouted down happily. “I’m going home. Recalled.”
“Will you ever come back?” Leilah yelled up as loudly as she could, afraid that he could not hear her in the rush of wind.
“If you need me, I will come. We are bound by the Rule of Need,” came a voice out of the whirlwind. “Recalled….”
Like a gas-filled balloon that has escaped from a child’s fingers, the Wizard rose slowly at first, then faster and faster, a small speck in the sky rising higher and higher until at last he disappeared.
“That sure is some trip,” said one of the bearded young men. They laughed and went on their way with the longhaired women.
David and Leilah looked until they could see nothing more. Then they waited silently a few minutes longer to be sure.
“Is he gone? Really gone?” asked Leilah, afraid she might have to cry.
“I guess so,” said David who was hugging D. Dog and starting to sniffle—just a little—himself.
“What about all his stuff in the warren?” asked Leilah.
“Are you kidding?” David said. “After that whirlwind, moving furniture should be a breeze!”
Leilah giggled. “That’s a pretty good joke!” she said.
They walked out of the park, D. Dog at their heels, and started toward an ice-cream man who was coming down Fifth Avenue.
“Do you believe it really happened?” asked David. “I mean—really?”
“Look at D. Dog,” said Leilah, pointing at the terrier, who was running ahead of them now.
“What do you mean?” asked David as he looked. D. Dog turned and started to run back toward them. He was limping slightly on his right rear paw.
“The chipped foot,” said David.
“Exactly,” said Leilah.
“Well, will we ever see the Wizard again?” David asked.
“I guess so. If we really need him,” Leilah answered.
“What I really need now is an ice cream,” said David. “My treat!”
And smiling secret smiles, the two friends ran up to the vendor to get their cones.
A Note from the Author
W HEN I WORKED AS A young editor in New York, I lived in Greenwich Village and loved to spend Sundays in Washington Square Park, where people sang and played guitars around the fountain and children ran in and out of the water screaming with joy.
And one day I noticed that there was a black door in the side of the great monument. It puzzled me. Why a door in a monument? I had assumed it was solid stone.
No one had an answer for me at the time. None of my friends knew. This was long before the Internet and Google. I checked in some libraries, but found nothing helpful.
So … I made up the answer. That’s what writers do. We make things up. And if we make them up really well, other people believe what we have written. At least, they believe it for the life of the story. I tell you that a wizard lives in the monument—an awkward, not-terribly-good-at-his-job wizard whose magic often goes awry. And all that follows is a story.
Jane
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