Chapter Text
My brother Drake and I do everything together.
I can get my brother Josh to do anything.
Like the time he made me an honorary member of his band and insisted I go with them on an out-of-town gig.
Like the time I talked him into being a roadie for my band and driving us all the way out to Encinitas. He paid for gas, food, hotel rooms, and everything, too.
Hanging out with Drake is...expensive.
Hanging out with Josh is awesome.
But I don't know, sometimes I guess we might spend a little too much time together. Crazy as that sounds!
But there's definitely such a thing as Too Much Josh.
Sometimes I worry that when I go to college, he'll be lost without me. He depends on me, you know?
Sometimes I worry that when Josh goes to college, I'll get really worn out from all the sexy, all-girl parties I'll be hosting in our room.
Then again, some space might be good.
Then again, he will be surrounded by hot college girls.
I wonder if I’ll get my own room at college?
I wonder if I can live in his room at college?
"Joshakazaam!" Josh bellowed, and with an elaborate pitcher's wind-up, twirled his wand over the top hat. Smoke billowed out, and Josh grinned. Drake, half-watching as he sat on the couch and fiddled with his guitar, knew why; it was the farthest Josh had ever gotten with this trick without hurting himself. It was too bad – Drake thought it was kind of funny when Josh hurt himself.
"Excellent," Josh said, looking down at the hat, but talking was a mistake. It involved inhalation, and inhaling introduced smoke to his asthma-riddled lungs. Drake sat up to watch properly as Josh hacked like a cat with a furball, then started coughing, muscles spasming as he waved the wand around haphazardly, trying to thin out the smoke that surrounded him. Hilarious.
"Uh, son?"
Their parents stood in the front doorway, clutching paper grocery bags and staring at Josh with concern. Megan stood just behind them, all gangly limbs and smirk.
"Are you okay?" Audrey asked, shoving her bag into Walter's already full arms ("Oof!) and putting her hands on Josh's shoulders.
"Fine," Josh wheezed, smiling. "Just practicing for my magic act." He tapped the rim of the top hat, then paused. "Hey, what happened to the rabbit?" He leaned forward and peered inside. "Oh, no."
"What happened?" Walter asked, putting the grocery bags down.
Josh covered the hat with one hand and hid his face with the other. "Don't look," he said. "It's not a pretty sight."
"Did you kill another rabbit?" Megan asked, pushing past Walter unnecessarily and rummaging through a shopping bag. "You know the pet store's not going to sell you another one. Especially not after the whole squirrel-eating thing."
"Okay, for the last time, Drake made that up!" Josh snapped, glaring at Drake.
Drake smiled in fond remembrance. “Yeah, I did. Good times.”
Josh huffed self-righteously, peeked into the hat again, gagged, and covered it. "Man, I'm never gonna win the talent show if I keep killing my props!"
Megan pulled a pear out of the bag. "Look at it this way. You probably wouldn't win even if you didn't destroy everything you touch."
Josh glared. "That's not helpful, Megan."
"I know." Megan beamed and walked out of the room.
Audrey sighed. "Josh, do you really think this magic act is necessary? You have an internship interview tomorrow afternoon, and then the talent show is just a few hours later. I really think you're overextending yourself."
"But I've got to do it, Mom," Josh protested. "I mean, the internship is going to help me get scholarships, and the money I'll get for winning the talent show will help, too. It's five hundred bucks, and Harvard's not going to pay for itself."
Drake rolled his eyes. It seemed like all Josh talked about these days was college. ‘Oooh, I have to go visit colleges. I have to study for my SATs so I can get into college. Drake, don’t spill limeade all over my application essay for college.’ It was all really annoying, if you asked him, and it was probably just going to get worse when Josh started. Drake wasn’t looking forward to it.
"We have a college fund set up for you," Walter said.
"Yeah, but I don't want to ask you to pay for everything," Josh said. "Things are going to get tight. There's my tuition, and books, and expenses, and Drake...well, he's probably going to need bail money or something."
“Hey!” Drake cried indignantly.
Audrey looked thoughtful. “You’re right, he probably will.”
“Hey!” Drake cried again. “Anyway, Josh isn’t going to win the five hundred dollars. I am. Well, my band, I mean.”
Josh stared at him. “What?”
Drake pretended to be deeply interested in the timbre of his E-string. “I, uh, signed up for the talent show earlier today.”
Audrey and Walter exchanged glances. “Um, we have to…go upstairs,” Audrey said. “Put the groceries away, would you, boys?’
“Have fun fighting!” Walter added as they backed out of the room. “Try not to break any furniture!”
Josh faced Drake, hands on his hips. “I can’t believe you!” he said. “First of all, as your band manager, I should be apprised of any performances you line up. And second of all, you know how much I need that money!”
Drake looked up. “First of all, I don’t know what ‘apprised’ means, and second of all, I need that money too!”
“For what?”
Drake turned back to his guitar. “New amp.”
"New amp!" Josh exploded. "New - !" He raised his fists, teeth clenched, before taking a deep breath to calm himself. "Are you honestly suggesting that a new amp is on the same level of concern as my FUTURE?"
"Whatever, man," Drake said, shrugging. "I need this amp, and I need it now."
"What's wrong with that amp?" Josh hissed, pointing at amp Drake currently had a foot propped up on.
"That amp?" Drake looked at it, considered the question, then shrugged again. "Doesn't match the drum set."
Josh narrowed his eyes. "It doesn't match," he said in that low, deadly calm voice that was usually a pretty good indication that Drake should run if he possibly could. Unfortunately, Josh was blocking the nearest exit.
"We going for a look?" Drake suggested with a cringe, waiting for the inevitable Josh-spolsion. He was not disappointed.
"A LOOK!" Josh yelled, arms flailing. He stalked over and grabbed the guitar out of Drake's hands, strumming it clumsily. "Looka me," he drawled. "I'm Drake Parker, and my rock-n-roll lifestyle's more important than my brother's entire life!"
"Stop it!" Drake leapt to his feet and took back the guitar. "You're hurting Betsy!"
"And you’re hurting my chances of paying for college!” Josh replied, as Drake put Betsy down gingerly on the chair behind him. “Don’t you even care about anything but your stupid music?”
“Stupid?” Drake demanded, his own temper mounting. So college boy thought he was stupid? That figured. He gave Josh a little shove. “My music is not stupid! People love my music — which is more than I can say for your magic.”
Josh gasped, and shoved him back. “How dare you!”
“No one cares about your lame magic tricks, okay, Josh?” Drake continued. He knew he was being cruel, but truth to tell, he kind of enjoyed it. He put his hands on Josh’s chest and shoved again, harder this time, and he enjoyed that, too. “We’re not seven, okay? No one wants to see you pull a rabbit out of your hat. Especially not a dead one.”
"The band of hoboes who came to my show that one time were thrilled to get that dead rabbit, I'll have you know!" Josh shot back. "Besides," he added, a hint of smugness in his voice. "You haven't seen my new trick."
"Does this one involve...squirrels?" Drake asked innocently.
"You made that up!" Josh took a moment for another deep breath. "No. This," and he gestured grandly, sweeping his arm as if reading off of an imaginary marquee, "Is my Joshapalooza Handcuffiganza."
"Oh my God."
"It's a working title." Josh crossed his arms over his chest and smiled. "Handcuff tricks are the cornerstone of a magician's craft. They always wow a crowd, and this one in particular is foolproof."
"Please!" Drake scoffed, though, in spite of himself, he was a little bit curious. "You can't get a living rabbit out of a hat, and your handcuff whatever is going to suck, too."
"Oh yeah?" Josh lifted his chin defiantly. "Let me prove it."
Drake mimicked his pose. "Go right ahead."
"Fine. Just hold out your arm, and - hey, where are my handcuffs?" Josh bent to look under the table, smoothed his hands over the tablecloth, and tipped the top hat to peer inside before gagging again. “I had them a minute ago…”
Something shiny came flying through the air and hit Josh on the head. He reeled, windmilled his arms, and fell to the floor, taking the grocery bags with him.
Megan stood in the foyer. “Your magic junk was in my way, boob,” she said, folding her arms.
Josh staggered to his feet, holding up the handcuffs. “Well, thank you for returning it in that particularly painful fashion.”
“You’re welcome.” Megan turned on her heel and flounced up the stairs.
Josh shook his head as if to clear the last of the dizziness away, and turned to Drake. “C’mere.”
“Josh, I really don’t think…”
“C’MERE!”
“Okay.” Drake walked over to Josh. “Now what?”
“Hold out your arm.” Josh twirled the handcuffs with a flourish before closing one of the cuffs on Drake’s right wrist. Drake jumped.
“Hey, what are you—“
“Would you relax?” Josh asked. “Trust me.”
“The last time you said that, I ended up dangling off the Golden Gate Bridge by my ankles in a dress,” Drake pointed out.
“That was not my fault!” Josh brandished the other cuff, and Drake felt a sinking feeling in his stomach.
“Oh, please please please don’t – “
Josh snapped the cuff onto his own left arm.
“…cuff us together,” Drake finished lamely.
"I said relax," Josh said dismissively. He picked up his wand and held out their joined arms. "And now," he announced in a booming voice, as if he was already onstage. "The finale." There was a pregnant pause, and then, "JOSHAKAZAAM!"
Another glorious flourish of the wand, a tap to the cuffs, and:
"Nothing," Drake said. "Awesome."
Josh frowned. "Wait, I guess I didn't tap it on the right spot. I miss sometimes. I'll try it again." Another, slightly more forceful tap. "Joshakazaam!"
Nothing happened.
"Joooooosh," Drake said warningly, jerking at the cuffs.
"Joshakazaam!" Josh hit the cuffs so hard the wand snapped in half. Nothing happened. His face crumpled, chin quivering. "Joshakazaam!" he cried, grabbing Drake by the forearm and shaking him.
“Ow! What are you—hey!” Drake yelled. He grabbed Josh’s shoulder with his free hand. “Josh, stop! It didn’t work, okay? Just take the cuffs off and you can try again when you get a new wand.”
Josh sighed. “Fine.” He clasped Drake’s cuffed hand with his own and pressed something on the cuffs with his free hand, then gave the cuffs a sharp tug. Nothing happened except a sharp pain in Drake’s wrist.
“That’s weird,” Josh said. He grabbed Drake’s hand again and pulled. Nothing except, again, pain.
“Josh, maybe you should—“ Clasp, press, tug, pain. “And oh you’re still pulling. Quit it!”
“Well, that’s how you open them!” Josh snapped.
“Well, they’re not opening, are they?” Drake replied. Then his own words hit him. “They’re not opening?” He grabbed Josh’s hand, pressed desperately at where he thought Josh had pressed, and yanked his hand back so hard he heard a small pop! from one of their wrists.
“OW!” Josh yelled.
“Josh, get me out of these cuffs,” Drake demanded, starting to panic.
“Well, I can’t if you break my wrist!” Josh retorted. Then he yanked so hard on the cuffs Drake went flying past him and over the back of the couch.
“WAAAUGH!”
Drake’s motion pulled Josh off balance, and Josh came flying after him. They rolled off of the couch and landed in a tangled, painful heap on the floor.
"Josh, we need to get these off now," Drake said, looking down into Josh's eyes to emphasize how very, very serious the situation was. It was easy to do; he was on top of Josh. "I have a date tomorrow, and the talent show.”
"And I have my interview," Josh replied. He was already starting to sound panicky.
“So unlock them,” Drake said. “Let’s go get the key.”
“Um.” Josh looked away. “I…kind of…lsthky.”
“Enunciate, man!”
“I. Lost. The. Key,” Josh said, squeezing his eyes shut.
“WHAT.”
“It disappeared about a week ago,” Josh explained. “They’re trick handcuffs! I figured I wouldn’t ever really need the key! It’s just for swallowing before the trick and then magically reappearing behind someone’s ear!”
Drake narrowed his eyes, then pinched Josh’s arm. Hard.
“Okay, I deserved that.”
"Look, we'll just call a locksmith or something," Drake said, struggling to remain calm. "We'll get him over here and just cut them off."
“You know, locksmiths do not cut locked items exclusively,” Josh said. “Sometimes they also open things. They are not merely destructive forces, like you. Besides,” he added, looking horrified. "We can't cut these cuffs!"
"Why not?"
"These are special cuffs. They belonged to MOUDINI!"
"You mean, Houdini?"
"Oh ho ho, Moudini was far greater than Houdini!" Josh scoffed.
“Right. Annnd that’s why I’ve never heard of him.”
“You thought Alexander Hamilton was a baseball player, so I wouldn’t exactly call you Mister Who’s Who!”
“Wait. You mean he’s not?” Drake shook his head. “Look, never mind, okay? Let’s just…figure this out.”
They thought for a minute, Josh scratching his head with his free hand and Drake bumping his chin against Josh’s collarbone until Josh squirmed and pushed his face away.
“Would you stop? I can’t think when you do that.” He frowned, then brightened. “I’ve got it! Megan!”
“Is evil…?”
“No! Well, yes, but evil with a lock picking kit.”
“Oh, hey, that’s right!” Drake attempted to leap to his feet, got about halfway up, and was yanked down again by the cuffs.
“Oof!” Josh grunted as Drake’s face plowed into his solar plexus.
"Ow," Drake said, though he really didn't mean it. Josh was soft, like a pillow. It was kind of nice.
"Come on." Josh pushed at Drake's face, urging him up, and they very carefully stood and dusted themselves off, Josh checking himself over for bruises.
"We good?" Drake asked.
"We're good," Josh agreed. "Shall we?"
"We shall."
"MEGAAAAAAAN!" they called as they clambered up the stairs, knocking each other into walls and railing as they fought their way up. Megan's door, once thrown open, proved too narrow for two boys to enter side-by-side, but there was no time for strategy at a time like this. They tried to force themselves through the doorway.
Megan stood in the middle of her room, looking at them without the barest hint of surprise. "Haven’t you ever heard of knocking?" she asked, sounding bored.
“No, we haven’t!” Drake said, eager to defy her about something, then paused.
Megan and Josh both rolled their eyes, a frustratingly similar gesture. “Megan, we need to borrow your lock picking kit,” Josh said.
Megan looked thoughtful. “Hmm…no.”
“Megan.” Josh held up their cuffed hands. “It’s kind of important.”
“Yeah!” Drake said. “I have a date tomorrow, and a talent show to win. I need two hands for, you know, strumming.” He grinned wickedly. “And for playing the guitar, too.”
“Ew!” Megan shuddered, and Josh made a horrible face at him before taking up the argument.
“And I have an interview, and a talent show to beat Drake in. So can we please use your lock picks?”
Megan sat down at her desk and opened her laptop. “Still no.”
“Fine,” Drake spat. “We’ll just tell Mom and Dad that you have lock picks and won’t lend them to us when we really need them, and they’ll…”
“Stop right there, boob,” Megan said. “Let me tell you how that conversation will go. ‘Mooo-ooom, Walteeeer,’” she said, letting her hair hang down in front of her eyes. “’Megan won’t get us out of another stupid situation we got ourselves in, even though my hair is really shiny!’”
Josh snickered.
“I don’t get it,” Drake said. “Is that supposed to be Josh?”
Megan ignored him. “’Well, boys, what do you need?’” she said boisterously, in an excellent imitation of Walter. “’Oh, Megan has lock picks and she won’t let us use them!’” That was obviously Josh. “’You expect us to believe that that sweet little girl has a kit of lock picks?’” That was Audrey. “’Boys, I can’t believe you would use this situation to make up such ridiculous stories about your baby sister! You’re grounded for five months!’” She crossed her arms and looked at them triumphantly.
“That is how it would go,” Josh muttered, his breath tickling Drake’s ear.
“Yeah, yeah.” Drake scowled.
“Look, Megan,” Josh tried. “Can’t you look into that bitter little heart of yours and find some sympathy for your poor big brothers who love you?”
“We do?” Drake asked.
Josh elbowed him in the ribs. Handcuffed together, it was pretty easy to do.
Megan glanced at Drake, as poker-faced as ever. "Huh. Sorry to hear you say that, Drake - I was just about to give you my lock picks."
"You were?" Drake asked.
"Ha, no." She shook her head. "Boob. Now get out of my room, or I'm going to start screaming."
"Megan, have a heart," Josh pleaded.
Drake snorted. "If you think Megan has a heart, you're obviously not ready for college. Face it, Josh, we need to call a locksmith."
"But Moudini - "
"My date is not going to care about Moudini when I show up with you attached to me, and I don't think your internship guy is going to either."
Josh sighed. “Fine. Anyway, maybe a locksmith can open them without damaging them.”
“Probably not,” Megan chirped without looking up from her laptop.
“I’m not talking to you,” Josh hissed.
Megan tossed her hair. “Promises, promises.”
“Come on,” said Drake. They turned, with some difficulty – and immediately got stuck in the door again. “Aw, man.”