Oh no. Here it comes. What was he going to do now? Have me locked in a trunk and thrown in a river?
“What is it?” I tapped, fearing the worst.
“I WANT TO DO ANOTHER METAMORPHOSIS.”
“No,” I tapped right away. “You’re joking, right?”
“HEAR ME OUT,” he went on. “THIS TIME, YOU DON’T HAVE TO DO AN ESCAPE. YOU DON’T HAVE TO RISK YOUR LIFE. YOU DON’T EVEN HAVE TO BE HOUDINI. YOU CAN BE YOURSELF.”
“What would I have to do?” I tapped.
“WHATEVER YOU WANT,” he texted. “WE WILL SWITCH PLACES AGAIN, BUT YOU CAN JUST BE A REGULAR PERSON.”
I’m already a regular person, and perfectly happy living in my own time. I don’t need to go back to “the good old days.” The good old days didn’t seem all that good to me. But I didn’t want to make him angry.
“What’s in it for you?” I tapped.
“DID YOU EVER HEAR OF REINCARNATION?” he replied.
“Yes,” I tapped, although I really wasn’t quite sure what the word meant.
“I GET TO LIVE AGAIN.”
“Being alive for an hour means that much to you?” I asked.
“NO,” he texted. “BEING ALIVE PERMANENTLY MEANS THAT MUCH TO ME.”
He had to be joking. He couldn’t be serious. He wanted to do Metamorphosis with me…forever?
“I’m not going to live in your century,” I tapped. “My mother is here. My friends. My school.”
“YOU CAN BRING YOUR MOTHER ALONG,” he texted. “SHE WILL LOVE IT.”
I didn’t have to think it over. It was a ridiculous idea.
“No thank you,” I tapped.
There was a very long pause, while I waited for him to reply. I thought that maybe my phone battery had died. Wishful thinking. I checked the charge, and it was over fifty percent.
“THIS IS NOT AN OFFER,” he finally texted. “HARRY, WE ARE GOING TO DO THIS.”
I felt the hairs on my arms going up. He wrote it in a way I didn’t like, like this decision was entirely his, and his alone. Like it was out of my control. But maybe I was just misinterpreting his words.
“What do you mean?” I tapped.
“JUST WHAT I SAID,” he texted back. “WE ARE GOING TO DO THIS.”
“You say that like I’m not part of the decision,” I tapped.
“YOU AREN’T.”
I was in trouble, I realized. Big trouble. Houdini had power over me. He knew I was afraid of heights, so he had me hung from a tall building. He knew I was afraid of bullies, and now he was bullying me.
My mind was racing. The first time we did Metamorphosis, I didn’t have to do anything. I just lay there on my bed. It was all him. Could he actually do it a second time, but against my will? I was starting to panic.
“Metamorphosis is over,” I tapped. “Let’s go back to our own lives.”
“THAT’S EASY FOR YOU TO SAY,” Houdini texted back. “YOU HAVE A LIFE. I’M STUCK HERE IN ETERNITY.”
“That’s really not my problem,” I tapped.
“NO, BUT YOU ARE MY SOLUTION.”
“I’m not doing it,” I tapped. “I have free will.”
“YOU DON’T SEEM TO UNDERSTAND, HARRY,” he texted. “I CHOSE YOU. I AM IN CONTROL.”
“Why me?” I tapped as fast as my fingers could move. “Pick somebody else. I bet there are a lot of people in my century who would be happy to switch places with you and go back to the 1920s. Why don’t you pick somebody who’s unhappy in my time and would love for nothing more than to escape from the 21st century?”
“I’M SORRY,” he texted back. “BUT THIS IS THE WAY IT’S GOING TO BE.”
“You’re sorry? This is a funny way of showing it.”
“YOU MUST UNDERSTAND SOMETHING,” he texted. “WHEN I WANT SOMETHING, I GET IT. THAT’S ONE OF THE NICE THINGS ABOUT BEING FAMOUS.”
This was not fair. He was an egomaniac. Why had it taken me so long to realize that? I thought he just wanted somebody to talk to.
“And what if I don’t cooperate?” I texted.
“I DON’T NEED YOUR COOPERATION, HARRY.”
“I thought you were a good guy.”
“I’M A DESPERATE GUY. DESPERATE MEN DO DESPERATE THINGS.”
I was a desperate guy too. The difference was that I was powerless.
Houdini was right about one thing. Everybody wants to escape from where they are. How was I going to escape from where I was?
“Wait a minute,” I tapped desperately. “You played me! You knew everything about me from the beginning, didn’t you? When you were asking me who I was and where I lived, you knew all that stuff already, didn’t you?”
“OF COURSE,” he texted back. “I MAY BE DEAD, BUT I’M NOT AN IDIOT. I NEEDED SOMEBODY TO SWITCH PLACES WITH ME, AND I FOUND YOU.”
“You’re evil!”
“HARRY, I AM A REASONABLE MAN,” Houdini texted. “I WILL GIVE YOU ONE HOUR TO PACK A SUITCASE AND SAY GOODBYE TO YOUR LOVED ONES.”
I didn’t know what to do. Sweat was pouring down my face. I closed the phone and hung up on him.
BACK ON TRACK
I looked around my bedroom frantically, as if a simple solution to my problem was sitting on the bookcase. But there was no solution.
It was eleven o’clock, according to the clock on my night table. I made a mental note. At midnight, Houdini was going to do another Metamorphosis on me. I didn’t know what to do. What were my options? None. I didn’t have any.
I was going to have to tell my mom about the whole thing.
No, I couldn’t do that. Anyway, she was sleeping.
Zeke! Zeke would know what to do.
I slipped the flip phone into my pocket and tiptoed out of my bedroom, being careful not to step on the creaky floorboard and wake up my mother. I felt my way in the dark to the kitchen, where our landline phone is on the wall. I dialed Zeke’s cell number. It took three or four rings until he picked it up.
“Hullo?” he muttered.
“Zeke, I’m in big trouble,” I whispered quickly. “I don’t know what to do. I need your advice.”
“What?” he mumbled. “I was sleeping. It’s
