Philip and the Fortune Teller (9781619501317) Read online

  The gypsy continued. “The artifact is very valuable. It has been in Achmed’s family since the time of the pyramids, the very time you studied about. Emperor Tutankhamen . . . no, I should let Achmed tell you about it.” The gypsy rose and gestured to Achmed. The boys watched Achmed rise and come slowly forward, still wearing his headpiece.

  “Achmed,” the gypsy began, “these boys will help you recover your valuable artifact. Everyone, come inside.”

  Philip and Emery entered the gypsy’s tent. The gypsy brought the boys’ chairs inside for them, and the boys sat and quickly inspected the place. Small colored lights were strung across the top of the tent. Five large, white, unlit candles sat in different spots in what looked like over-sized ashtrays. A cot and a small side table holding a paperback book and some change sat in a corner of the tent. The gypsy sat on the edge of the cot while Achmed took the one soft chair in the room.

  “I told them about the jewels of King Tut stolen from you,” the gypsy said.

  “Yes, thank you, Bela. Boys, long ago my ancestor Tut, the great pharaoh of Egypt, possessed many jewels, one in particular. After his murder, the possession of the jewels fell to my family, a royal family of Egypt.”

  Philip glanced at Emery and noticed his eyes were as wide open as his own. The pharaoh was a short man, clean-shaven, who looked about the same age as Bela the gypsy; both a lot older than his father, Philip thought.

  “Listen to me, boy,” the pharaoh snapped, and Philip spun his head and looked into the pharaoh’s eyes. “After centuries and centuries, someone stole those jewels from my family. But now I have traced them to this town . . . your town, and you must help me recover them.”

  The gypsy interrupted. “He must have the jewels back because one of them has the power!”

  “The power!” Achmed repeated.

  “Wha . . . what power?” Philip asked in a small voice.

  Achmed turned to Bela. “Should we tell them?”

  “Achmed, they deserve to know if they are going help us.”

  “You are right. Boys, the jewels are in a wooden box. Show them.”

  Bela the gypsy produced a photograph and handed it to Philip. Emery bent over to look. They saw a plain wooden box the size of a cigar box, with the letters K and T carved into the lid.

  King Tut! Philip thought.

  Achmed glanced over his shoulder through the tent flaps before whispering, “The jewels are in this box. The box we have traced to the home of an old woman who lives at 1159 Van Kirk Street.”

  Philip’s and Emery’s heads spun, and their eyes met. They knew her!

  Philip turned back to Achmed. “We know her.”

  “Excellent! But be warned. One jewel in the box has the power to give the old woman powers; dangerous powers!”

  “Powers?” Emery said softly. “What powers? You mean like a witch?”

  “Emery, she pointed her finger at me, and my ball went down the sewer,” Philip reminded him.

  Achmed jumped in. “You see! She has the power, but doesn’t know it. If she did to you what you say she did, she is learning her power. If she discovers that her power comes from the scarab in the box, there will be no stopping her.”

  “The what?” Emery asked.

  “The scarab. The scarab.”

  “What’s a scarab?” Philip asked, imagining a many-legged, disgusting looking bug. If any bugs were involved, Philip knew he’d count himself out, three wishes or not.

  “A scarab is a sacred amulet,” Achmed explained, putting his hands together to form a small circle with his fingers to show the size of the amulet.

  “Is it alive?” Philip asked.

  “Tshhh,” Emery hissed. “I thought you studied Egypt. It’s like a necklace, you know. The thing that hangs from the necklace.”

  “Exactly,” Bela said. “And you must get it and all the other jewels away from the woman before disaster happens and her power rises. You see how she broke your heart by making your ball go down the sewer.”

  Philip mumbled, “My heart didn’t break. It was just a ball.”

  “How can we do anything?” Emery asked.

  “We believe the box is somewhere in her garage,” Achmed explained. “You go into her garage and find it. Two boys are much less suspicious than a gypsy and a pharaoh walking through the neighborhood.”

  “Yes, the box will have a tag with this number on it,” Bela added. He took a small ticket from inside his sleeve and showed it to the boys. “6482. Remember that number, and you will be sure you have the right box. Bring that box here, and you will receive three wishes. Think of it. Three wishes all your own.” Bela the gypsy turned to Philip. “And now, I will fulfill your wish. Close your eyes; both of you. Ah, I see . . . I see your wish. Yes, yes, yes!” He reached inside his baggy sleeve and pulled out a circus ticket. “Open your eyes.” He handed the ticket to Philip and said, “Your wish is fulfilled. Remember, though, we will be here only until Sunday afternoon. That evening we move on. You have four days. Can we count on you?”

  “Yes,” Achmed said, leaning forward, “can we?”

  The boys’ eyes met, and Emery gave a little shrug. Philip shrugged back. Emery looked at Achmed and said, “I guess so.”

  Chapter Four

  The boys walked in quiet contemplation for a while before Philip spoke.

  “Where’d he get the ticket from? I didn’t see.”

  “I didn’t see either, but he got mine out of his sleeve. What’s pawn mean?”

  “You know what a pawn is. The little man in the chess set.”

  “No, I don’t think so.”

  “Of course it is. You taught me how to play. The whole front line of pieces are pawns. You said so.”

  “I know they’re pawns, but there must be another pawn. Did you notice on the ticket the gypsy showed us? With the number? It said pawn on it.”

  “Oh, right,” Philip recalled. “I did see that. Pawn. Pawn. I think my father watches a show . . . something about pawn. Pawn Stories; something like that. I never watched. I don’t know what it’s about.”

  “Ask him,” Emery suggested. “Or watch with him.”

  Philip considered. “No. He’d get suspicious. I already told him most of the shows he watches are stupid. People singing and then getting told how bad they are. News. No. Why don’t we just Google it? I don’t think we want anybody asking us why we’re interested in pawn until we know what it is.”

  “Good idea. Wanna walk past the old lady’s house?”

  “Think we should?”

  “We’re just walking.”

  Philip considered again.

  “Can’t hurt, I guess. We’ve seen her garage. I threw my ball against it before she hexed me.”

  “You really think she’s learning to be a witch? She looks like one.”

  Philip tried to remember whether the ball he bounced off the garage had hit a crack or . . . he thought it bounced off his knee, but he couldn’t exactly remember.

  “All I know is my ball went sailing to the sewer when she pointed her witchy finger at me.”

  The boys stopped at the corner, paused, and searched each other’s eyes. They would have to make a turn onto this street if they wanted to pass by the old woman’s house.

  “Let’s walk on the opposite side of the street of her house, at least,” Emery suggested.

  That sounded like the safe thing to do, and Philip agreed. They walked along slowly until they were opposite the garage. A wide lawn separated the garage from the old woman’s house and the houses behind it. A short driveway separated the garage door from the street. The right side of the garage had a narrow cement walkway which stopped at a regular door in the middle of the garage wall. Low bushes separated the garage from the house next door on that side.

  “See the side door?” Philip asked. “I wonder if she keeps it locked.”

  “If she keeps jewels in it, she probably keeps it locked.” Emery walked part of the way into the street and tried to see down the narrow
walkway. When he returned to Philip, he said, “The garage door has those four little square windows like a plus sign. If the door’s locked, we can bust the window by the doorknob.”

  “That’ll make noise.”

  “Not much. We can break the window and go away and come back later—in case somebody hears it and comes to investigate right away.”

  “When should we break the window? And when should we come back?”

  “The gypsy said we have until Sunday.”

  “Look,” said Philip, “let’s find out what pawn means on a ticket with a number before we do anything.”

  “Good idea. It might mean atomic radiation or something like that.”

  “Emery, it’s not going to mean atomic radiation.”

  “I don’t mean atomic radiation really. I just mean something bad. Let’s leave before she sees us. I don’t want her to point at me and send me down the sewer.”

  Philip wanted to tell Emery how stupid that sounded, yet it could be true, he thought.

  Instead, he said, “You go and see what your computer says about pawn, and I’ll check mine. I’ll come for you after lunch.”

  Their plan agreed upon, the boys made their way home.

  ~ * ~

  Emery answered Philip’s knock on his door, an orange Popsicle in one hand. “What’d you find?”

  Philip stared at the treat.

  “You want one? We only got orange and only the kind with one stick and not two.”

  “Sure.”

  The Popsicle taken care of, Philip asked, “Where’s your mom?”

  “Upstairs with the babies.” Emery had two little sisters, a year apart in age.

  “She might hear us.”

  “Ha! My mother doesn’t even hear me when I talk right to her. She’s always got a baby in her arms and is talking to herself. My mother had me doing stuff. I didn’t get to go on the computer yet. Did you find it?”

  “Yeah. A pawnshop is a place you take stuff, and they give you money for it.”

  “I’d like to take my two sisters to a pawnshop then.”

  “Not people, dummy. Stuff.”

  “Like scarabs?”

  “Jewelry, sure. I guess. Anyway, Wikipedia says you give the guy the stuff, and he gives you a ticket. If you want your stuff back, you have to pay him more than he gave you. If you don’t show up after a while, he keeps whatever you gave him and sells it.”

  “So the lady has the stuff, and the pharaoh and gypsy have the ticket?”

  “Looks like.”

  “Why don’t they give her the ticket and get the box back?”

  “Because she’s not the pawnshop; she bought the box from the pawnshop. She wants it. It’s hers now. Get it?”

  “I guess so. So what’s it all mean?” Emery asked softly.

  “It means they didn’t go to buy the box back in time, and the old lady bought the box of jewels and doesn’t know about the magical scarab. The gypsy wants it back before she does know and causes trouble. So, should we do it?”

  “Get the jewels?”

  “No, open a pawnshop. Yes, get the box of jewels.”

  “Let’s go to Mrs. Logan’s bushes. We need a plan.” Mrs. Logan’s house on their block had lots of bushes, and the boys had found a convenient hidey-hole in them. The bushes had grown in a way leaving the boys an igloo-shaped space big enough to sit and even lie down in if they wanted.

  “You gotta tell your mother you’re going out?” Philip asked.

  “She wouldn’t hear me if I did. Let’s go.”

  After two hours of arguing and plotting, the boys finally had a plan they agreed on. It was dangerous; it could get them into a world of trouble; it could fall apart and even get them arrested, they thought; but with three wishes on the line, they agreed the attempt was worth the danger, and they would put their plan into operation that very night.

  Chapter Five

  “Hi, Dad. How was work?”

  Philip’s father lowered his newspaper. Dinner had ended, and Philip believed he’d found the right time to get the plan underway.

  “How was work? My work?”

  “Sure your work. Who else’s?”

  “You’ve never asked me before.”

  Philip shrugged. His father had to be difficult.

  “A typical day. Nothing particularly noteworthy. And how was your day?”

  Ha! The question Philip had been hoping for.

  “I won a free circus ticket. Emery and I each won one.”

  “Really! How so?”

  “We were walking around watching them set up the circus and the sideshow, and they picked us out and gave us each a ticket. See?”

  Philip waved the ticket in front of his father, who took it and inspected it.

  “Very nice.”

  “Okay if Emery and I go tomorrow night?”

  Philip’s mother’s voice came from behind him.

  “You mean alone? Just the two of you?”

  “Sure, it’s only over at Lighthouse Field. That’s not far.”

  Philip’s father interrupted.

  “How about I pick you and Emery up afterward so we’re sure you get home safely?”

  “You don’t have to, Dad. We’ll be okay.”

  “No, I agree with your father. He’ll pick you up after. Decide where you’ll meet.” His mother turned and went back to whatever she’d been doing.

  Philip’s father pointed up and said, “Word has come down. So where shall I meet you, and when?”

  Philip had been afraid of this but expected it. He and Emery never imagined they’d be allowed to walk home alone late at night in the dark. They’d figured the circus would last about two hours, and it began at seven-thirty.

  “Can you meet us at ten? There’s a big cotton candy and peanut stand just as you go into the sideshow part.” If his father agreed, he and Emery would have half-an-hour on their own after the circus ended.

  “Ten o’clock at the cotton candy booth. I’ll be there.” His father lifted up his newspaper, and his face disappeared behind it.

  Yes! Philip cried silently. He went to the phone and called Emery to tell him their plan was working!

  ~ * ~

  The next day Philip and Emery hung around each other’s houses, nervously awaiting the evening. They stayed away from the old woman’s house, in case she spent the day rocking on her porch. When they went home for dinner, they promised to meet again at six-fifteen. That’s when the toughest part of the plan would kick in.

  ~ * ~

  “You got some rocks?” Philip asked as he and Emery walked speedily toward Van Kirk Street.

  Emery patted his pocket. “I got ‘em.”

  “It’s awful light out.”

  “Don’t worry. It won’t take us long. Once we break the window, we head on over to the circus real quick. She can’t get a window fixed at night. No glass-fixing store will be open. We come back after the circus when it’s dark, go in, and find the box. 6482. You got the flashlight, right?”

  Philip produced a small flashlight two inches long and as thick as two of his fingers.

  “You sure it works?” Emery asked. “Turn it on.”

  Philip flicked the switch, and the light came on.

  “I even brought an extra battery in case the one inside burns out. I don’t know how long it’s been in there.”

  The boys quieted as they turned onto Van Kirk Street. When they approached the old woman’s house, they crossed the street, angling toward the bushes next to the garage. When they reached the bushes, they hunkered down, hoping no one could see them. From where they knelt, they could see the old woman’s house clearly.

  “Give me the rocks,” Philip whispered. “You be the lookout. Okay, I’m gonna break the window.” He stood and took a step.

  “Witch! Window!” Emery whispered in a panic.

  Philip paused and turned to Emery. “Which window? What do you mean which window? The window right there; the one in the door by the doorknob.”

&nb
sp; “Witch! Door!” Emery cried louder in even greater panic.

  “Which door? What is wrong with you? There’s only one door. Right there. Right there. You see another door?”

  “She’s coming?”

  “Who’s coming?”

  “Stop talking. The witch is coming. Hide!”

  Philip peeked around the garage so he could see what Emery saw—the old woman hobbling across her lawn in their direction.

  “Oh!” Philip cried. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I did tell you! She looked out the window; I said witch, window. She came out the door; I said witch, door. You didn’t listen. You kept talking and asking stupid questions.”

  “You didn’t make it clear. You said witch window, and I thought you said which window.”

  “I did say witch, window! Never mind now. We gotta hide.”

  Philip looked around. “We have to crawl further under. Go get under more. Go, under the bushes.”

  The boys dove deeper into the bushes and wriggled on their stomachs as far as the bushes permitted. They faced the garage and breathed as quietly as they knew how.

  They saw the long swishy black dress of the woman and heard her fussing with the side door of the garage. They heard her talk to herself.

  “Where did I put . . . did I drop it?”

  They saw the woman’s legs go back the way they came. Emery poked his head out of the bush.

  “Philip, the door’s open. She left it open. Come on, quick.”

  Philip crawled forward.

  “You mean go into the garage now?”

  “Yeah, before she comes back. Why are you always talking so much?”

  Emery scampered into the garage, and Philip followed him. They were brought up short and stared in amazement. The garage was packed so full of stuff they had only the smallest space to stand in. There were cardboard boxes full of magazines and books; wooden boxes filled with smaller boxes; shelves full of glasses and vases and little statues and old clothes.

  “I hear her voice,” said Philip. “She’s coming back. There’s no room to hide in here.”