Home and Uncle Cyder

After a quick bite and nearly forgetting his backpack in the restaurant -- with the book but, more importantly, his schoolwork inside -- Jerry was back on his way home, hunger satisfied. The sun was starting to sink past the hilly roads and distant buildings. Jerry quickened the pace.

"Uncle Cyder!"

"There's the boy Jerry!"

Jerry was crushed in a sloppy embrace, his backpack dropping to the floor.

"Good to see you, Jer."

"You too, Cy."

After small talk and the typical catching up, the friendly nephew and uncle took to the living room where the latter pulled out a suitcase.

"What's that, Cy?"

The stodgy, older man had a devilish smile. His finger erected upward, he turned to the boy. "It's my latest act, Jer." Proceeding to clear out the table, he set the suitcase on top of it. When he released the latch, Jerry saw what appeared to be a stack of mirrors inside.

"What is it?"

"Oh-ho, glad to see that curiosity is as alive as ever in you!" the man chuckled with a slick of his receding hair, only for him to close the suitcase and lean over to him in his usual impish air. "But as you know, a magician can't reveal all his secrets."

Jerry looked at his uncle and just grinned, slyly. "Oh yeah?"

They both broke into a small laugh as Uncle Cyder sat back into his sofa recliner, Jerry settling into the adjacent couch. "Well, maybe I'll show you how it works later this week," Cyder stated with an exaggerated tap of his stubble. Jerry knew how this went; in the end, Uncle Cyder always gave him a sneak peek of his acts. But, like every time, he let it play its course, even as his uncle winked at him and looked him over. "Yes... I can already tell you'll be a great first subject!"

Finally, over a few root beers and an hour or so later, Jerry got around to asking about the book. He asked Uncle Cyder about any book props, and how they might work. The traveling magician thought for a while, saying that he didn't use any in his acts, but he might have known some associates who did. Setting down his can and unzipping his backpack, Jerry proposed his uncle might just be in luck, because whoop-de-doo, what did we have here?

"It's a Book of Secrets," Jerry said with a teeter, placing it in his uncle's beckoning hands, "where you can write anything and it'll come true."

"Now now," Cyder laughed as he began opening the book, "that's a good hook. But what makes it different from just any thing you write in? Though this is very impressive patchwork..."

Jumping to Cyder's armrest, Jerry grabbed the book from the man's turning hands. "Um," he laughed nervously, "nothing, really." He cleared his throat, moving on before his uncle could say anything else. "There's just a cool trick it does, where it, like, embeds your text onto the page when you write on it. You don't know any book that does that?"

"I don't think I do, no," Cyder sighed, pushing back into the seat in thought. "Though there was this one fella who did something fantastic with the pop-ups once, where you supposedly saw your own figures in this multi-dimensional space, and, ugh... let's just say it's no matter he won the Wand that night. Damn you, Irnest!"

Jerry just nodded absently, until Cyder noticed him with the book still on the far side of his lap. "What got the ants in your pants, boy? First you wanted to show it to me, now it's the Bible!"

"Oh nothing," Jerry looked down, "just thought, that, uh..."

"For the sakes, you wrote something in it, didn't you?"

Jerry froze under his uncle's upturned lips. His eyes flicked to the man's curled finger, directed at the book. "Let me see, boy. It's okay, I'll make no scene on your behalf." The sigh from Jerry's lips hid no secrets of their own; regardless of what his uncle thought, it was his only option now. Else he would be bugged about it forever, on his every birthday party and family reunion, and if you knew Uncle Cyder that was even worse.

Relenting, the younger man gave the book over, allowing his uncle to see it. The man flipped it open, eyes resting on the rules laid out just behind the cover.

Just then, the doorbell rang. The pair's attention was drawn upward, towards the front door. Jerry nearly fell off the armrest.

"Shouldn't be Mom," Jerry rubbed his head, composing himself, "she's not out for like two hours, usually..."

"Plus she has keys, boy," his uncle said markedly.

"That too," Jerry cleared his awkward chuckle with a throat chortle.

Suddenly, a voice peeped from behind the still-closed door.

"Pizza Dash delivery..!" The two looked at each other, brows wrinkling at the young-sounding female voice. Funnily enough, it also sounded phrased like a question.

"Did you order pizza, Uncle Cyder?"

"Come to think of it," the old man stared at the floor in thought, "I think I did... about an hour before you arrived, that is."

"An hour!? That's a bit late, don't you think?"

Uncle Cyder chuckled. "It sure is, but hey, some pizza's better than no pizza, right?"

The man winked as he stood up, going for the door.

"Stay put, I'll be back in a jiff," and before anything else could be said, he was already on his way to the foyer.

Jerry subsequently sighed and fell into the seat Uncle Cyder had freed up. Landing his butt on a hard surface, he winced and retrieved the book from under him.

That's right, he looked at the book, and the page it was opened to, where he had written his alleged "Alpha Secret" about Carly and the others, and felt his chest pounding again. I still have one more 'Omega' secret for the week...

The boy thought to Uncle Cyder, then himself, and then suddenly the pizza girl, whose pleasant voice he could faintly hear in the background, warily laughing to some joke from Cyder, probably, the dirty lion. She also made an apologetic remark quickly afterward.

Then he felt himself tense up. What if... what if I could test it out right now?

Jerry knew he was betraying his previous skepticism, but in the same time, in the back of his head he had an inkling of romance spurring him on. Maybe deep inside, he wanted it to work -- and besides, if it didn't, then no harm, no foul, right?

And if it did, well... it was a hell of a late stop. Maybe Cyder wouldn't mind knowing that his good 'ol nephew helped repay him...

Inhaling, Jerry fished a pencil from his pocket, keeping it steady as, the next thing he knew, he had it hovering over the page once again.

The question is... what should he write?