The Rabbit Question
The trick was supposed to end with a rabbit.
Nikolai had already done the cards, the rope and the coin behind the ear, and the seven-year-olds in the back row had lost interest in all three. So he moved the finale up. He showed them the empty hat, touched it twice with the wand, said the magic word, and reached in.
There was no rabbit in the hat. There was a cheese sandwich in foil, which was his lunch.
Twelve children looked at him. Nobody laughed. In the front row, a girl of about six with her arms folded did not even blink.
“The rabbit,” Nikolai said, “has turned into a sandwich.”
“Rabbits can’t do that,” Halima said.
“This one can. That’s why I hired him.”
Two children laughed, which in that room counted as a standing ovation. Halima didn’t move.
“Where is he really?” she said.
Nikolai had about one second to decide, and no information at all. The bag had been open on the floor since half past two. The table had a long cloth. He pulled his hand out of the hat and pointed at the row of chairs by the window.
“Under there,” he said. “Obviously.”
Eleven children were on the floor before he finished the sentence. There was a scream, then a much bigger scream, and then a very calm grey rabbit was carried out from behind a chair leg by four pairs of hands at once.
The parents applauded. Somebody’s mother took a photo. Nikolai bowed twice and started planning how to get the rabbit back before anybody tried to feed it cake.
Halima came and stood next to him.
“You didn’t know,” she said.
“No.”
“You guessed.”
“I did.”
She thought about that for a moment.
“Can I be your assistant?”
“What would you do?” Nikolai asked.
“I’d know where the rabbit is,” Halima said.
He hired her on the spot, for the price of one cheese sandwich.