Page 28 of The Ruthless Rivalry

Uh…what?

“You really believe in this stuff, don’t you?” I ask, already knowing the answer. And sure enough, the way his eyes light up tells me everything I need to know. He absolutely does.

Alfie’s expression softens, and for a moment, I see a glimpse of something deeper behind his whimsical exterior. “I believe in the power of possibility,” he says quietly. “In a world that can sometimes feel dark and cruel, why not create a little magic of our own?”

I blink, trying to process Alfie’s words. They catch me off guard, resonating in a way I didn’t expect. It’s like a hidden switch has been flipped, and suddenly I’m aware of how much I’ve been carrying around—frustration, disappointment, that strange silence that’s crept into my life. For a moment, I don’t know how to react. Then, almost instinctively, I find myself saying, “You know what?” My voice feels heavier than usual. “I think I could use a little magic.”

Alfie’s face lights up like he’s been waiting for that very moment. “Well then, my friend, you’ve come to the right place,” he says, his voice all warmth as he taps the cushion beside the contraption. “Have a seat.”

I glance at the bicycle wheel, the clunky mess of gears, marbles, and questionable wires. I hesitate—but what’s the harm? At this point, what else is there to do but try it? I nod,stepping toward it with a shrug, my skepticism still firmly in place, but starting to waver.

I settle my hands on the handlebars, and I feel a strange mix of excitement and doubt. What kind of magic could this junkyard circus contraption possibly pull off? I begin to pedal, half-expecting the machine to fall apart at any moment. But instead, it stirs to life, humming with a mechanical rhythm. The gears click and whir, the fishbowl of marbles shifting like they’ve got a life of their own. The little lights inside pulse and shimmer in sync with my pedaling.

“That’s it!” Alfie urges, his voice practically sparkling with enthusiasm. “Keep going!”

I push harder, feeling my pulse quicken. It’s probably just the movement, I tell myself, but there’s something else too. It’s like the warmth in my chest isn’t from the effort at all. It spreads, creeping through me in ways I can’t quite explain.

Suddenly, the gramophone horn hums to life, a soft melodic sound that vibrates in the air. The chimes play a tune that dances through the tent, their tinkling whispers settling into my bones. It feels like the air itself is shifting around us, like possibility is folding in and out of time.

The skepticism that was so firmly planted in me starts to fade. My legs move faster, pushing the wheel with increasing energy, and I can’t help but feel…alive. The marbles blur into a brilliant wash of color, glowing brighter with every turn, their shimmering lights mixing together like fireflies.

I laugh—a small, surprised sound—because for the first time in weeks, maybe longer, I don’t feel weighed down by the world. I’m lost in this ridiculous, chaotic moment, and I think I might just be okay with it.

“Almost there!” Alfie shouts over the crescendo of sound. “Just a little more!”

With a final burst of energy, I push myself to pedal as hard as I can. The Serendipity Engine reaches a fever pitch, the gramophone horn now emitting a pure, crystalline tone that seems to resonate with something deep inside me.

My feet slow on the pedals.

The silence hangs in the air for a beat, broken only by my breath coming in uneven gasps. My fingers are still clutched around the handlebars, the aftertaste of magic lingering in the air. I feel…different. Lighter, somehow, but not in the way I expected. It’s like something inside me shifted, just a little.

“Did…did it work?” I ask, hesitant.

Alfie steps up beside me, brushing his hands off as if the whole machine’s success was no big deal.

“Well, that’s the beauty of it,” he says, his voice soft but full of excitement. “We don’t always know what we’re really looking for until it hits us. What do you think?” He gestures toward me with a sweeping motion, like I’m the magic trick now.

I glance down at my hands, still gripping the handlebars, and notice they aren’t shaking. My heart rate has returned to normal, but there’s an ease in my chest that wasn’t there before. It’s as though a weight has been lifted, even if just a little.

“I think it worked,” I say, the realization sinking in.

Alfie claps his hands, his usual energy flooding back into the room. “I knew it! It always does. You just have to believe, you know? Not in the machine, not even in the idea—just in the possibility that something good might happen.”

I nod slowly, absorbing his words, still a little unsure of all this. But somehow, it doesn’t matter. What matters is how it feels right now.

“That was,” I pause, thinking of how to phrase it without sounding like a total sucker. “Actually kind of nice.”

Alfie grins. “See? That’s the magic. I’m just the messenger.”

I give him a flat look, but there’s no bite behind it this time. He’s still Alfie—unpredictable, chaos-loving, slightly unhinged—but somehow, in this moment, he’s also the one who helped me realize something I’ve been missing. Maybe the world isn’t as bleak as I thought. Maybe it’s just a little more unpredictable than I gave it credit for.

“So,” I say, raising an eyebrow, “what’s next? Do I get to do this every day, or is this some one-time thing?”

Alfie chuckles. “Don’t worry. The Serendipity Engine is always available. I was even thinking about offering it to students for the carnival.”

“Carnival. What carnival?” I ask, confused.

He shoots me a duh look. “The one we have every year to raise money for our clubs?”

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