The Magic Misfits. Neil Patrick Harris

      One day soon, he thought, I’m going to stop running. Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow. But soon. I’m going to stop running, settle down, and live somewhere safe.

      If he weren’t so out of breath, Carter could have laughed. No matter what he hoped, as long as he was with Uncle Sly, he’d never have what he wanted most in the world: a home.

      Carter walked the long way back to the halfway house where he and his uncle were staying. Looking over his shoulder, he passed through alleys, took weird turns, then backtracked, retracing his steps to see if the cops had followed. He felt nervous to face his uncle again.

      A harsh wind whooshed through his clothes and brushed at the satchel hanging from his shoulder. He found Uncle Sly sitting on the steps. When Uncle Sly noticed Carter approaching, he stood up and puffed out his chest like an angry ape. Carter flinched, expecting the worst. But to his surprise, his uncle said nothing, staring at him silently instead. This was scarier to Carter than whenever his uncle screamed at him – it was so unexpected. Uncle Sly turned away, letting the door almost slam in Carter’s face. Carter followed, closed the door gently, and took off his shoes. His uncle left a trail of muddy footprints in the hallway. Carter cleaned them up.

      “Cold night, isn’t it?” asked Ms Zalewski in her thick Polish accent. The always-smiling old woman volunteered in the kitchen, feeding those that came through the shelter. She wore a dirty blue apron and a small, sparkly diamond on a chain around her neck.

      “You look hungry. Would you like me to make you dinner?” she asked.

      “No, I’m good,” Carter said. He wasn’t hungry, even though he hadn’t eaten since breakfast.

      “Rubbish,” she said. “A growing boy must always eat. Come, sit down. I’ll make you a grilled cheese and radish sandwich.”

      “Grilled cheese and radish sounds perfect,” Carter admitted.

      You see, Ms Zalewski made a mean grilled cheese and radish. Mean is usually bad, but in this circumstance, it means extremely delicious. Carter sat at the table in Ms Zalewski’s quiet kitchen, enjoying the warmest, meltiest, crunchiest, and meanest sandwich he’d ever tasted. The woman’s outrageous stories and her smile often warmed Carter with laughter, even after a horrible day out “working” with his uncle.

      It was rare that anyone ever greeted Carter with such kindness, and he’d grown fond of her. She made him wonder about his grandparents and what a life with them might have been like.

      “Would you like some prune juice, dearie? I mix it with this delicious orange powder when my pipes are clogged.”

      “I think my pipes are good.” Carter giggled. Uncle Sly would never have talked with him about his pipes, and if he had, he’d never have tolerated Carter giggling about them.

      Carter cleared Ms Zalewski’s table and washed the dishes as she told him a tale about her childhood in Poland and Russia and then coming to America by boat. “The boat was filled with good people, and crooks too. This diamond I wear belonged to my mother, and her mother before her, and her mother before her. When I came over, I hid it in a matryoshka doll. You know, the Russian ones with a doll within a doll within a doll. This tiny diamond is all I have left to remind me of home.”

      “I used to have a home,” Carter whispered.

      “What’s that, dearie?”

      Carter shook his head and said nothing. He liked when Ms Zalewski spoke of home. He didn’t care if Uncle Sly thought he was being sentimental. Carter often wondered what having a real home again might feel like. Certainly it would it be better than a new bed in a new town every other week.

      Uncle Sly stormed into the kitchen. He sat down and put on his famous fake smile for Ms Zalewski.

      “Can I have some warm soup and a cup of coffee, sweetheart?”

      “Of course, dear,” Ms Zalewski said, disappearing down into the cellar. “Let me go get some more coffee beans.”

      As soon as she was out of earshot, Uncle Sly leaned in to Carter and whispered, “Today was a mess, so I need you to step up. You’re gonna swipe the old broad’s diamond.”

      “I don’t steal,” Carter said. “And she’s not an old broad. She’s our friend. She’s been feeding us all week.”

      “We don’t have friends,” his uncle spat. “Haven’t I taught you anything?!”

      “Nothing good,” Carter whispered.

      “What was that?” Uncle Sly growled. He grabbed Carter’s arm, his nails digging in. But he quickly let go as Ms Zalewski returned with a tin can. “Aww, thanks, sweetheart,” he said to her. “You’re the absolute tops.”

      Uncle Sly put on quite a show for people when he wanted something. His earnest-looking smiles and overstuffed compliments fooled most people. Carter could see through it. Unfortunately, Ms Zalewski ate it up, grinning as she brewed Sly’s coffee.

      It made Carter ill to think how easily his uncle tricked people. Like magic, smiles can warm a person’s heart – but they can also be used to hide something dark and frightening.

      Later that night, squeaking door hinges startled Carter out of sleep, and he woke on the cold wooden floor of their single room. Though it was still dark, he watched his uncle plop down beside him, admiring a small, sparkly diamond at the end of a thin chain necklace. Carter recognised it immediately. It belonged to Ms Zalewski.

      Carter felt sick. A rage in his stomach grew until he could no longer contain it. Before he could stop himself, he was shouting, “Why did you take that? It’s one thing to trick people in shell games, but it’s another to steal something so important from someone who is nice to us. Ms Zalewski doesn’t deserve this. She’s a good person. You don’t care about anyone but yourself !”

      Uncle Sly slipped the necklace into his pocket before flashing across the room and shoving Carter into the wall. “I raised you, took care of you, taught you everything I know, and this is how you repay me?” his uncle seethed through sour breath. “If you think you can do better on your own, go ahead. You think you’re such a good person now – just wait until your belly rumbles and you’re so hungry you can’t see. You’ll be stealing more than necklaces in no time.”

      “No, I won’t,” Carter shouted back. He pushed his uncle away, grabbed his satchel, and ran out of the room. He was halfway down the stairs before he opened his hand to see Ms Zalewski’s diamond necklace. He had lifted it from his uncle’s pocket, the way his uncle had lifted it from Ms Zalewski’s neck.

      Uncle Sly wasn’t the only one who was good at sleight of hand.

      When Carter ran into the kitchen, he found Ms Zalewski awake and frantic. “Oh, Carter!” she said. “I think I lost my family diamond. It must have happened before I went to bed. Could you help me look?”

      “I just found it in the hallway,” Carter lied. “Here it is.”

      Ms Zalewski was so relieved, tears formed at the edges of her eyes. “Let me get you some milk and cookies.”

      “I can’t,” Carter said, choking back a surge of emotion. “I’m kind of in a rush.”

      “A rush to where?” asked Ms Zalewski. “It’s still dark out.”

      Carter ignored the question. “Take care of yourself – and watch my uncle. He has sticky fingers.” He made a bouquet of paper flowers appear out of his sleeve and handed it to the kind old woman, who only stared at him in shock.

      Then Carter pulled off his first solo vanishing act:

      He ran away.