Hank laughed. “Clear as mud, Smitty.”
She looked from Hank to Muddy. The genie still sat on the rock, his head hanging down. He gave a short snore, then he straightened, startled and wide-eyed. He blinked twice.
“Theodore, I was trying to explain that if we talk about your fears and about our situation, then perhaps you will see that the most logical thing you can do is to wish us off the island.”
“But I don’t want to leave here. It’s fun.”
“I think we should consider everyone, your sisters, too.”
“Leedee?” Theodore tugged on Lydia’s hand. “Do you wanna go to an orphanage?”
She shook her head. Her hand closed protectively around his. Brother and sister looked up with the same stubborn looks on their faces. Together they said, “We want to stay here.”
* * *
Hank shuffled the cards.“It’s called poker, kid.” Cards sailed through the air like feathers on the wind and lit in perfect fan sequence on the sand.
“Holy cow! Can you teach me to do that?”
“Sure, kid.” He looked up at Smitty who was trying to get Annabelle to eat a banana. “But first I’m going to teach you how to play a man’s game.”
Smitty’s head whipped around. She looked at Hank, then rolled her eyes just as a banana peel hit her in the shoulder.
He laughed. He had already explained to her that this was the way to get the kid to give them the wish. She was skeptical. But Hank knew this was one thing he could control.
Distract the kid with a game, a game he could manipulate, andbam!they’d be home faster than he could pick a pocket. He looked back at the kid, who was eagerly waiting. Hank smiled and began to explain the rules.
An hour and a hundred or so questions later, they finally picked up their cards. Hank’s jaw was tight from gritting his teeth, from answering the same questions, and from restraining his urge to yell at the kid.
The first rule of a smart grifter: gain the trust of the patsy.
Hank laid down his hand without looking at it. He grabbed the brim of his cap and twisted it around so it was on backward.
Rule number two: don’t underestimate good ol’ lady luck.
Theodore watched him intently. “Why’d you do that?”
“For luck.”
“Oh.” He was quiet, then looked up. “I don’t have anything for luck. Except my sisters.”
“I’m not very lucky, Theo.” Lydia sighed but perked up a minute later. “You have Muddy and the bottle. You could use them for luck.”
“That’s right!” Theodore took the stopper out of the bottle and a stream of purple smoke drifted out.
Hank shook his head and tried to forget what he was seeing.
“Yes, Master Theodore.”
The crackpot was back with bells on his toes. And a purple turban.
“Muddy, you’re gonna be my luck, okay?”
The genie’s eyes darted from left to right with a baffled expression. “Whatever you say, master.”
Hank stared at the guy’s clothes and shuddered slightly. He looked away. It wasn’t a pretty sight.
He shifted his gaze to Theodore. The kid was staring at his cards and chewing on his lip, his forehead creased in thought.
