“E = mc2 is no longer the most powerful force in the universe. Your wand is.”
Twelve-year-old Billy Bobble and his best friend Suzy Quinofski didn’t mean to change the universe. Billy, a quantum physics prodigy, just wanted to find a way to help his hoarding, schizophrenic mother – and maybe impress a coven of older girls in high school. Suzy, his intellectual equal, wanted to help her friend and cling to her last remnant of childhood, a belief in magic. Together they made Billy a real, working, magic wand, and opened a door to the Quantum World where thoughts create reality, and all things – good and bad – are possible
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Curious about what the book has to offer? Here is the opening scene of Billy Bobble Makes A Magic Wand!
“You’re in a lot of trouble, young lady.”
Adults say the stupidest things sometimes. Of course 12-year-old Suzy Quinofski was in trouble. She sat in a police interrogation room covered in dirt and dried tears. Her fingers were cracked and bloody from digging in the ground. She looked like she’d just lost her best friend, because she had. The adult informing her of the obvious was Detective Mark Danner.
Suzy put him straight. “You don’t know the half of it.” Actually, he didn’t know a tenth of it. He didn’t know a millionth of it.
“Then why don’t you fill me in?”
“Because you couldn’t comprehend it if I did.”
“Suzy!” Janice Quinofski, a.k.a. Mom, used what Suzy called her “bad dog!” voice, reserved for those rare occasions when Suzy needed disciplining. Obviously, Mom wasn’t accustomed to seeing her sweet, straight-A, multiple-scholarship-contender daughter acting like a street kid. This was a whole new world for both of them.
“What, Mom? It’s true.” Then to Danner, “No offense. I don’t think there’s anyone on the planet who could understand it.”
“It’s not that complicated. I just want to know what happened to Billy.”
“I told you. He disappeared.”
“Disappeared to where?” asked Danner.
“If I knew that he wouldn’t be ‘disappeared,’ would he?”
“There was an explosion,” said Danner.
“No, there was an endoplasmic eruption of what we think might be Bose-Einstein condensate on an OTC scale.”
When Suzy didn’t answer, Danner turned to her mother. “Off the chart,” she said.
“Out of all of that what you didn’t get was OTC?” asked Suzy.
“Maybe I’m not as dumb as you think.”
Suzy nodded toward the two-way mirror that filled a wall of the interrogation room. “Maybe you’ve had too many lawyers complain about abbreviations in your transcripts.”
* * *
“I told you she was smart.”
From behind the mirror, Detective Alan Reins was videotaping the interview. “She’s right, by the way.”
Dr. Cassandra Weston, a 27-year-old child psychiatrist working off her student loans as a social worker for the state, let out a dismissive but polite, “Yeah.”
“A Bose-Einstein what?”
“That’s some advanced physics,” she said more to herself than Reins.
“Sounds like a stereo system for geeks.”
Weston ignored the detective and dug her phone out of her purse. “If I’m going to keep up with her delusions, I’m going to need help.”
* * *
“Call it what you want,” said Danner to Suzy back in the interrogation room. “Something blew up and it took Billy with it.”
“Maybe so,” said Suzy, “but not in the way you think.”
“If Billy exploded his guts would be all over the school yard. Did you find any bloody remains in Linda Lubinski’s hair?”
“Suzy! Billy was your friend.”
“Is my friend, Mom. Billy is my friend, and I wish they would let me out of here so I could help get him back.”
“How would you do that?” asked Danner.
She hung her head. “I don’t know.”
“Okay, good. That was honest. Keep it up and together we can find Billy.” Suzy’s silence passed as capitulation. “Your friends have told us—”
“They aren’t my friends.”
Danner stopped to acknowledge what she said, then went on. “They told us you and Billy were working on some sort of elaborate magic trick.”
“Not a trick. Actual magic.”
“Hey, I need that honesty. You’re smart enough to know there’s no such thing as actual magic.”
“Okay, if you want to get all Arthur C. Clarke on me: ‘Technology advanced to the point of being indistinguishable from magic’ — which for you would probably be a cell phone.”
“That’s all right, Mrs. Quinofski. Suzy, you can be as surly and sarcastic as you like, so long as you tell me what happened. How did Billy disappear?”
“It’s a long story.”
“I get paid by the hour.”
“You won’t believe me.”
“Okay.” Suzy glared at him with as cold a stare as she could muster and told the truth. “Billy Bobble made a magic wand.”