Read Online Horten's Incredible Illusions by Lissa Evans - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Lissa Evans
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terrifying silhouette opened its enormous, saber-toothed, bloodthirsty mouth and gave a tiny sneeze.
The lights went back on, and there was the electrician carefully cradling the very small hedgehog.
“ Wonderful! ” shouted Clifford, awestruck.
“Just very basic lighting,” said the electrician, blushing slightly.
“ Incredible! ”
“Easy.”
“ Amazing! ”
“It’s honestly quite straightforward.”
“What we need to do is have a talk ,” said Clifford eagerly. He sprinted over to the stage, and within seconds he and the electrician were deep in conversation.
“Let’s go,” said Stuart to April. He fished a coin out of his pocket, and dropped it in the box as they left.
By the time they arrived at Beech Road, his stomach had started making loud rumbling noises. “Sorry,” he said to April, “but I haven’t eaten anything since breakfast and it must be nearly seven thirty now. I really hope Dad’s made pizza. Or spaghetti. Or french fries.”
He opened the door and smelled beets.
“Hi, Dad,” he said, entering the kitchen. There were pots and pans everywhere, the sink was crammed with dirty dishes, and cookbooks lay piled beside the stove. “What’s going on?”
“A domestic culinary extravaganza,” said his father, whose glasses had steamed up in the heat, “in keeping with your mother’s exhortation to keep you supplied with sufficiently nutritional comestibles.”
Stuart looked around and saw a mountain of peels. Depression swept over him. He suddenly missed his mom. “You mean you’re cooking hundreds of vegetables?” he asked.
His father nodded. “Beet consommé, followed by leek, carrot, and broccoli gratin accompanied by a frisée salad consisting of endive, curly kale, peas, and bacon.”
“Bacon?” repeated Stuart eagerly.
“Actually,” admitted his father, “I recall that I was so absorbed in the preparation of the vegetable content of the salad that I omitted to add the bacon.”
“You mean you forgot to put bacon in the bacon salad?”
“A regrettable error.”
“So it’s a vegetable starter, followed by a vegetable main course, with a side helping of vegetables? And none of the vegetables are potatoes?”
“Indeed.”
Stuart groaned but he actually felt like stamping his feet or even lying down on the floor and having a huge tantrum like a toddler. “I want a burger,” he muttered under his breath. “A triple cheeseburger with a double helping of fries.”
His father had already started ladling out purple soup. “And how was the exposition of prestidigitation?” he asked over his shoulder.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Stuart crossly.
“The exponent of legerdemain?”
“Nope. Still don’t understand.”
“The magic show?”
“See,” said Stuart rudely. “You don’t have to talk in long words all the time. You can speak just like other people when you try, can’t you?” And then, ignoring the hurt look on his father’s face, he grabbed a bag of chips from the cupboard, and ran all the way up to his bedroom.
He sat and ate them without much enjoyment, knowing that he’d been rotten. Downstairs, the phone rang. He heard his father answer it, and then he heard footsteps coming up the stairs, followed by a gentle knock on the door.
Stuart opened it.
“It’s for you,” said his father, holding out the phone.
CHAPTER 15
Stuart took the receiver.
“Hello?” he said.
“The kid?” asked a crackly American voice, the voice of someone extremely old. “Are you the kid?”
“Which kid?” asked Stuart. His father was already heading downstairs again, his shoulders drooping rather sadly.
“The kid who found the tricks?”
“Yes. My name’s Stuart.”
“Well, thank my stars I can understand you. The guy who answered the phone—was he speaking in code, or what? I never heard a bunch of words like that in my whole life.”
“That’s my father,” said Stuart. “He’s very clever,” he
The lights went back on, and there was the electrician carefully cradling the very small hedgehog.
“ Wonderful! ” shouted Clifford, awestruck.
“Just very basic lighting,” said the electrician, blushing slightly.
“ Incredible! ”
“Easy.”
“ Amazing! ”
“It’s honestly quite straightforward.”
“What we need to do is have a talk ,” said Clifford eagerly. He sprinted over to the stage, and within seconds he and the electrician were deep in conversation.
“Let’s go,” said Stuart to April. He fished a coin out of his pocket, and dropped it in the box as they left.
By the time they arrived at Beech Road, his stomach had started making loud rumbling noises. “Sorry,” he said to April, “but I haven’t eaten anything since breakfast and it must be nearly seven thirty now. I really hope Dad’s made pizza. Or spaghetti. Or french fries.”
He opened the door and smelled beets.
“Hi, Dad,” he said, entering the kitchen. There were pots and pans everywhere, the sink was crammed with dirty dishes, and cookbooks lay piled beside the stove. “What’s going on?”
“A domestic culinary extravaganza,” said his father, whose glasses had steamed up in the heat, “in keeping with your mother’s exhortation to keep you supplied with sufficiently nutritional comestibles.”
Stuart looked around and saw a mountain of peels. Depression swept over him. He suddenly missed his mom. “You mean you’re cooking hundreds of vegetables?” he asked.
His father nodded. “Beet consommé, followed by leek, carrot, and broccoli gratin accompanied by a frisée salad consisting of endive, curly kale, peas, and bacon.”
“Bacon?” repeated Stuart eagerly.
“Actually,” admitted his father, “I recall that I was so absorbed in the preparation of the vegetable content of the salad that I omitted to add the bacon.”
“You mean you forgot to put bacon in the bacon salad?”
“A regrettable error.”
“So it’s a vegetable starter, followed by a vegetable main course, with a side helping of vegetables? And none of the vegetables are potatoes?”
“Indeed.”
Stuart groaned but he actually felt like stamping his feet or even lying down on the floor and having a huge tantrum like a toddler. “I want a burger,” he muttered under his breath. “A triple cheeseburger with a double helping of fries.”
His father had already started ladling out purple soup. “And how was the exposition of prestidigitation?” he asked over his shoulder.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Stuart crossly.
“The exponent of legerdemain?”
“Nope. Still don’t understand.”
“The magic show?”
“See,” said Stuart rudely. “You don’t have to talk in long words all the time. You can speak just like other people when you try, can’t you?” And then, ignoring the hurt look on his father’s face, he grabbed a bag of chips from the cupboard, and ran all the way up to his bedroom.
He sat and ate them without much enjoyment, knowing that he’d been rotten. Downstairs, the phone rang. He heard his father answer it, and then he heard footsteps coming up the stairs, followed by a gentle knock on the door.
Stuart opened it.
“It’s for you,” said his father, holding out the phone.
CHAPTER 15
Stuart took the receiver.
“Hello?” he said.
“The kid?” asked a crackly American voice, the voice of someone extremely old. “Are you the kid?”
“Which kid?” asked Stuart. His father was already heading downstairs again, his shoulders drooping rather sadly.
“The kid who found the tricks?”
“Yes. My name’s Stuart.”
“Well, thank my stars I can understand you. The guy who answered the phone—was he speaking in code, or what? I never heard a bunch of words like that in my whole life.”
“That’s my father,” said Stuart. “He’s very clever,” he
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