“I’ve got a six-pointer, if you think you’re up for it,” he said.
I glanced from him to Mother, searching for a clue. She was too busy watching him twirl her plate to come up with a solution. She clutched the armrests of her chair, her face turning as white as her hair. She’d gone gray years before I was born.
“Don’t worry about her, sweetheart,” Sir said. “The Barbers were born with no guts. She don’t get it.”
“The Bible tells us to honor our mothers and fathers,” Mother said, eyes downcast. “That platter is a sacred family heirloom.”
He stopped spinning the plate. “Don’t start with your preaching bullshit.” He took two steps toward her. “Funny how God’s wants always line up with yours.”
I rose from my spot on the floor. “I’m up for it.”
Distracted, he turned away from her and winked at me. I was faint with relief. “Now, you know all this magician stuff you’re interested in needs a lot of stamina, the mental and physical kinds. These exercises’ll make you big and strong like I am now, so when you’re my age, you’ll be bigger and stronger than I ever was.”
I nodded. I’d heard this speech a thousand times.
“How’s about a balance challenge? You keep this plate on your head for forty minutes, I’ll give you six points, and we can both go to bed. How’s that sound?”
It was either do the challenge or he’d keep me awake all night. That was the rule: you needed fifteen points by the end of every day in order to go to sleep. I had a math test first thing in the morning.
I chewed my lip, thinking. “If I do it for an hour, can I also get one thing from the magic store tomorrow?” Sir favored boldness. If you agreed to his challenges too slowly, he’d strip you a point or two.
“When did you turn into a little wheeler and dealer?” He grinned. “All right, you’re on.”
I nodded. Mother screeched.
He left to riffle through a drawer in the kitchen, searching for God knew what. A minute later he returned with a roll of masking tape. A forgotten memory flared: half a day spent with my mouth taped shut. Had that been a five-pointer? Couldn’t have been six. Might’ve been four.
He saw the question on my face. “To guarantee no cheating. Barbers might cheat but we sure as heck don’t.”
I glanced at the rope on the newspaper stack and picked it up. I pulled it taut in front of him. “This would be sturdier.” He nodded, impressed.
Sir placed the platter on my head so I could get used to it. My mother fled upstairs to her bedroom. He watched her go, his lips curled in disgust. I set the platter down, wrapped the rope around my right wrist a few times, then let Sir tie both wrists together behind my back. He double knotted it, satisfied. At least I was standing on carpet. If the platter fell, there was a chance it wouldn’t break. I was only four feet two inches tall.
As if he could read my thoughts, Sir moved me to the tiled floor in the kitchen. He brought the platter, holding it solemnly before me, like a baby about to be baptized.
He steadied it on my head, watching me. “Nod when you’re ready,” he joked. “You all good, sweets?”
I steeled myself. “You can let go.”
He backed away and started the stopwatch. Ten minutes in, the lecture began. Sir circled me, a gunslinger ready for a duel. “What’s the only way you’re going to succeed?”
I wondered if the vibration of my voice would be enough to tip the platter, which, up to this point, I had kept steady. My neck was already beginning to ache.
“Through my willingness to endure.”
“Your future audience ain’t gonna hear you with a little church-mouse whisper like that. You’re not gonna sell out theaters or find your name on posters. You better find your voice, girl, and find it quick. It don’t take the world long to decide you’re unexceptional. You love magic?”
It was a ridiculous question, like asking a person if they loved breathing or swallowing. The feelings I’d grown for magic in the past fourteen months went beyond something as fragile as love. My mistake had been confiding that to Sir, who’d thought magic was dumb until he realized he could use it for his challenges.
“Of course.”
He nodded and squatted in front of me, voice low. “You keep your eye on the prize and you’re gonna be somebody someday. I can feel it.” His hand twitched as if to highlight the point. “The world’s never seen the likes of you, sweets.” He returned to full height, stretched his back, then settled into a kitchen chair.