Close Magic

Scott MacLeod

Melinda worshipped her Poppy. She wasn’t quite old enough to completely understand some of the things her mother said about him. Something about sticky fingers. Well, she got that sometimes eating PB&J. What was the big deal? Apparently, he had been “away for a while”. Well, her sister Elise had been “away” at camp half the summer and that didn’t stop everyone from worshipping her like she was the Queen of England. Poppy taught her magic tricks. How to pick up that last piece of liver from dinner and pocket it before mom could nag about cleaning her plate.

At school the big news was the piece of real crystal that Mrs. Kenzie had brought back from a wellness retreat in Yuma. It sat in a place of honor on the classroom sidebar next to Chico the class hamster. The children would file by it and ooh and ah on their way to and from recess. One day it was simply too much for Melinda to bear not to flex her burgeoning skills.

Melinda’s lineage as the scion of an infamous pickpocket was no secret at school. There were no witnesses to her sleight of hand but the next day when the stone was marked absent the teacher’s first thought in finding a chief suspect was along hereditary lines. A note went home in her backpack requesting a meeting the next day with the principal.

Poppy in addition to his other helpful chores at home was the sentry of the backpack. While the parents’ busy minds occasionally (read daily) were elsewhere. He never failed to suss out the daily messages, homework, etc. He was dismayed to receive the note, asking for a parley. He realized he needed to tend to Melinda’s larcenous tendencies learned at his knee. But like any good jailbird his first thoughts were more practical. Exoneration.

Poppy met Melinda in her room and took back possession of the artifact. They went over their plan for the next day. The life lesson could wait. He left the room then remembered he forgot something and ducked back to assay the top drawer of her dresser.

The next morning, Poppy greeted the principal with a firm handshake, complete with shoulder grip, followed by a brisk slap on the back. The old man had not lost his skills, as the administrator soon would rue.

The foursome sat around a comically small child’s table, Poppy and Melinda, the teacher and her boss. Listening while the gasbag held forth on the need for integrity. Poppy cut him off. “Look, I know what’s going on here. I have some warts on me there’s no denying. But no reason to shame my sweet little pumpkin. Let’s just all empty our pockets and put an end this.”

The principal and teacher viewed this as an admission of guilt and were just glad to have the quartz back. The punishment could be meted out later.

Poppy and Melinda stood and made a great show out of turning their pockets inside out. Empty. The educators were not amused. They had expected a return and at least an apology. Could they have been wrong about the girl?

“Your turn,” said Poppy.

Cue the righteous indignation. “This is ridiculous. We are not the ones on trial here.” But to humor the old man, a still somewhat fearsome old felon, the pious pedant dutifully made a show of reaching into his right pocket, and knew immediately he was sunk. Then he felt in his left pocket. And things got worse.

Poppy still had a decent grip for an old codger and applied it to the principal’s quavering forearm.

“Show it, sport.”

The blushing pedagogue produced the gleaming stone. To an audible gasp from the young teacher. Poppy knew they were home free. But first some gravy.

“All of it,” said Poppy.

Only then did the principal gingerly place on the table a starched pair of flowered girl’s panties, size 4 junior.

At this point Poppy figured honor roll for the semester was in the bag, once the district had completed the impending job search for a new headmaster.

Scott MacLeod is a father of two who writes in Central Florida. His work has appeared recently in Urban Pigs, Flash Fiction Magazine, Punk Noir, 10 by 10 Flash, The Twin Bill, The Yard: Crime Blog, RMag, Shotgun Honey, The Under Review, Trash Cat Lit, Sum Flux, Micromance, Free Flash Fiction, Westwords, BULL,Flash Fiction North, Microzine, Dead Mule, Close to the Bone, Roi Faineant, Every Day Fiction, Wrong Turn Lit, Rabbit’s Foot, JAKE, Underbelly Press, Bristol Noir, Havok, Witcraft, NFFD Write-In, Coffin Bell, Frontier Tales, Yellow Mama, Short-story.me and Gumshoe, with more forthcoming.

His Son of Ugly weekly flash newsletter can be found on Substack at https://scottmacleod1.substack.com, on Instagram @scottmacleod478, on X @ScottMacLe59594 and at http://www.facebook.com/scott.Macleod.334