The Secret of the Scarab Beetle Page 6

  As he began to pedal down the long dirt driveway toward town, a haunting shape circled overhead and let out a familiar high-pitched cry. Shadow was once again with him.

  Chapter Nine

  The next morning Horace awoke to a familiar knocking sound at his window. He ran over to the ledge to find Shadow flapping outside the glass pane. Beneath the windowsill was Herman.

  Horace unlocked the two latches and lifted the window open. “Herman, what are you doing here?” Herman’s hair was in disarray, and he looked like he hadn’t slept all night.

  “Horace, I need to know: Did you go through the portal yesterday?”

  Horace stood there in silence. Was the portal the secret door at the farm?

  “I have to know the truth. Did you go through the portal?” he repeated.

  Horace bit down on his lip. “Ummmm, maybe,” he answered meekly.

  “You mustn’t go through the portal again. It’s far too dangerous. The Order can’t keep you safe there.” Herman glanced quickly over his shoulder.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Please,” he pleaded. “Stay in Niles and guard the beetle.”

  “But what about Tut? He might need our help. His uncle is trying to take the throne from him. And he doesn’t have the Benben Stone to help him.”

  Herman’s eyes narrowed. “What’d you just say?”

  “Tut needs our help. His uncle and Eke don’t think he should be pharaoh.”

  Herman shook his head. “No, what did you say after that?”

  “The Benben Stone,” Horace answered doubtfully.

  “What do you know about the Benben Stone?” Herman asked.

  Horace shrugged. “I don’t know. The tablet I read mentioned it was connected to the gods, and Tut said the old pharaohs had used it. But it’s disappeared. No one can find it.”

  Herman suddenly looked incredibly agitated. “You have to trust me. You have to trust the Order. Don’t go back through the portal. It is too dangerous.”

  “But what Order? You keep talking about this Order. Are there others who know about the beetle and the tree? Do they know about Tut and Smenk, too? Do they know about the Benben Stone?”

  Herman’s face turned expressionless. “I’m sorry, but I can’t say any more right now.” He paused before continuing in a stern voice. “Just do not go through the portal, and do not tell anyone—I mean anyone—about the beetle.”

  “Herman, why can’t you just tell me what’s going on?”

  “What are you doing in there?” Horace’s mom asked from the hall. “Are you talking to someone?”

  Horace paused, surprised to hear her voice. “Ahhh, nothing, Mom. Just getting ready for school.”

  When he looked back out the window, both Herman and Shadow were gone. For a moment he’d been full of hope, possibility, and the excitement of traveling back to Egypt again. But now those feelings were replaced by a numbing frustration. Why wouldn’t anyone tell him what was going on?

  The rest of the week went by without incident. Horace kept the beetle close by his side but gave up on the idea of traveling through the tree again. At least his classes began to settle into a normal rhythm. Only twice did they get interrupted, but not by anything exciting or magical: once when Wally set fire to his notebook with a Bunsen burner, and a second time when Edith thought she’d spotted a mouse in the corner. More and more kids had begun to say hi to him, and Bryce had even asked if he’d wanted to play kickball. Milton was right: the stories about Horace’s fight with Seth had definitely helped his reputation.

  However, on Friday, when he sat down in Mr. Petrie’s class and saw his peers nervously fumbling with their projects, a sinking feeling overcame him. It was the day of their class presentations on the ancient world. To make matters worse, Horace had done absolutely nothing with his partner since the fight. He and Seth were supposed to build a prop for the presentation, but they had never even met.

  Anna and Milton were already at the front of the room. Mr. Petrie motioned for Anna to begin.

  Anna cleared her throat. “The pyramids were believed to be ancient tombs for the pharaohs. People aren’t really sure how the Egyptians built them. In some books we read, people said slaves built them. But others think”—she paused dramatically—“it was magic.”

  Milton ran to the other side of the room and hoisted a papier mâché block into the air with a fishing pole. The class laughed, and Anna continued. “But the real magic lay inside the pyramids. This was where the sarcophagi, or the dead bodies of the pharaohs, were found.”

  Milton stepped forward to unhinge two bolts on the side of a plywood pyramid. Together he and Anna pulled apart the giant wood structure to reveal a series of rooms and tunnels. A gasp went up from the class. Either they were amazed at Anna and Milton’s ingenuity or frightened no one would ever top this presentation.

  “Look inside,” Milton said. It resembled a real pyramid. “This tunnel here”—Milton pointed to the entrance—“led to the tomb of the pharaoh.” A small doll was wrapped in an aluminum foil crib. “And below it was another chamber for the queen and all her belongings.”

  “That looks like a dollhouse to me.” Seth made his presence known from the back of the room.

  “That’s enough, Seth.” Mr. Petrie stared at him with displeasure and then turned back to Milton and Anna. “Please continue.”

  “That’s okay,” Milton answered. “I actually used a lot of my sister’s toys to make the inside.” He didn’t seem at all bothered by Seth’s heckling. “The Egyptians believed they could take these things with them when they died.” He motioned to the objects. In the two chambers, there were not just dolls, but also toy chairs, hats, clothes, and a candy bar.

  “Can you believe all the stuff they put in these tombs? It’s incredible!” Milton was beaming with excitement. “This was all part of the journey to the underworld.”

  The presentation went on to discuss the burial practices and mythology connected to these great structures before Anna finally wrapped everything up. “And, hopefully, from our presentation, you can see why the pyramids are considered one of the Seven Wonders of the ancient world.”

  It was the best presentation Horace had ever seen, but that wasn’t saying much. Last year at his old school one of his friends had dressed up like Davy Crockett to re-create a scene from the Alamo, which was cool until he crushed a computer keyboard after jumping over a desk to imitate the final charge.

  “That was great!” Mr. Petrie said, clapping as Milton attempted to drag the pyramid over to the right side of the room. “Why don’t you just leave your pyramid here for now? It will be a nice backdrop for the rest of the presentations.” The backdrop was also a glaring reminder of what Horace and Seth hadn’t done.

  For the next hour Horace’s classmates got up in front of the room, one pair after another, and spoke about their topics. From the Code of Hammurabi to the Lighthouse at Alexandria, Horace couldn’t concentrate on any of it. He hadn’t done a single thing to prepare for his own presentation. He hadn’t even read a book. All week he couldn’t stop thinking about Amarna. What was going on in Egypt? Why didn’t Herman want him going back there? Was Tut in danger?

  The sound of Mr. Petrie’s voice broke Horace’s concentration. “We have one final presentation before lunch. Our last group will be Seth and Horace.” Mr. Petrie looked over at Horace.

  Already in the front of the room, Seth had something in his hand. If Horace didn’t know better, he’d say it looked like a roll of toilet paper. Horace reached down into his backpack, wondering if he might find something to use as part of his half of the presentation. Strangely enough, his hand hit a large object. He had totally forgotten about the tablet he’d brought from Egypt. He must have stuffed it into his backpack at the farm. He wasn’t sure what he would do with it, but at least if Seth tried to attack him, he had a shield.

  “Thank you, Mr. Petrie.” Seth’s voice was strong and clear. “We are excited to share our presentation on An
cient Egypt.”

  For a minute, Horace thought maybe Seth had prepared after all.

  “Now for our presentation today, we decided to give a real-life demonstration of the mummification process.”

  “No, we didn’t,” whispered Horace under his breath.

  “Yes, we did,” Seth snarled.

  “Is there a problem, boys?” This time it was Mr. Petrie who spoke.

  “No,” answered Seth firmly. “Take it, Horace.”

  Horace wasn’t going to let Seth bully him anymore. He’d survived a trip to Ancient Egypt; he could handle Seth. “No.”

  “Do it!”

  “What are you two trying to show us? Maybe you should just explain it,” their teacher interjected.

  “That’s okay. We’re just going to make Horace into a mummy.” Some of Seth’s friends started to laugh. “No one will miss him,” he whispered in a sharp retort.

  Horace’s face reddened.

  Seth started circling Horace’s body with the roll of toilet paper.

  “I said don’t do that.”

  “Boys . . .” Mr. Petrie was starting to grow uneasy.

  Seth tried again to wrap a second piece of toilet paper around Horace’s waist. In the process, his hand grazed Horace’s pocket and the beetle inside it.

  “I said don’t do that!” Horace knocked Seth’s hand away with his left arm, and the roll went sailing across the front of the room.

  Seth just stood there, stunned by Horace’s brazen action. Mr. Petrie looked uncertain about how to handle the growing tension.

  In an act of desperation and hoping to recover the presentation as best he could, Horace held up the Egyptian tablet still under his arm. “Ummm . . . Seth’s not wrong; mummification was a very important part of the ancient world, and so was the process of the soul, or Ka, as the Egyptians called it, traveling to the underworld. In fact, the Egyptians took this journey so seriously, they carved in stone a detailed description of the journey to guide their loved ones.”

  Seth was now gathering up his toilet paper, probably so he could use it against Horace later in the day.

  “Continue,” Mr. Petrie said.

  Horace looked down at the stone in his hand. “This tablet is meant to represent one of those passages.” Horace really had no idea what was on the tablet Ay had given him.

  “That thing looks real,” said Wally in the front row.

  “What’s written on it?” asked Mr. Petrie.

  “Oh, these . . . umm . . .” Horace was starting to get that panicky feeling. “I just inscribed some hieroglyphics we saw in a book.”

  “Why don’t you explain what it says to the class?” asked Mr. Petrie.

  Horace stared at the script. He didn’t know Egyptian.

  “Go ahead,” encouraged Mr. Petrie.

  Horace began translating the hieroglyphics as best he could. “May my name be given to me in the Great House, and may I remember my name in the House of Fire.” As he continued, things became easier. “I am with the divine one, and I sit on the eastern side of heaven. May my heart be with me in the House of Hearts! May my heart be with me in the House of Hearts!”

  Horace let out a sigh of relief; maybe his travels through the portal had actually taught him something. But as he looked up again, he realized in his intense concentration he’d totally overlooked one thing: the entire class was now staring at him, their mouths open.

  “Horace?” Mr. Petrie finally spoke. “When did you learn how to speak Ancient Egyptian?”

  Chapter Ten

  “That was incredible, Horace!” Milton said. “You totally showed Seth who’s boss.”

  Horace shrugged.

  “Seriously, look at him.” Horace glanced across the lunchroom and saw Seth staring down angrily at his lunch.

  “And you actually spoke Ancient Egyptian,” Milton continued. “How cool was that?”

  “Thanks,” Horace answered humbly, and sat down with his two friends at their usual spot in the cafeteria. He was just relieved he’d narrowly avoided another disaster, as well as Mr. Petrie’s prying questions.

  “Yeah, that was quite the presentation,” Anna added a little more skeptically. “When did you learn all that?”

  “I don’t know. Over the weeks, I guess,” answered Horace.

  Milton continued, “Horace, tell us the truth. Did you buy that tablet on eBay?”

  Horace took a deep breath. He still held the tablet from Amarna under his arm.

  “It looks like it’s three thousand years old,” Milton said. “Better than even those letters I dipped in tea leaves last year. You must have spent a fortune on that thing.”

  “Or a hundred hours making it.” Anna reached over and began running her hands over the coarse surface of the tablet. It smelled of dirt and clay.

  Horace thought a moment about what Herman had said. He wasn’t supposed to tell anyone. But Anna and Milton weren’t just anyone; they were his friends. He could trust them, and, quite frankly, Herman had disappeared since his stern warning. Maybe he could just tell them a little. It felt weird keeping such a big secret. “Remember last week when I was late for school?”

  “Not really,” answered Anna.

  “Horace, you’re always late,” added Milton.

  “I guess that’s true.” He nodded. “But last week I was really late for homeroom. You see, I was getting ready to go to school, and this guy showed up. His name is Herman, and he delivered this mysterious package to me. Inside the package was a beetle.” He looked around to make sure no one was near, and then placed the beetle on the table, next to the tablet.

  “Wow,” Anna whispered, staring at the symbol on the back.

  “Yeah, this is pretty cool,” added Milton with a smile. “Did you get a two-for-one deal?”

  Horace laughed at Milton’s remark then recounted to them how Herman also had the falcon called Shadow with him. And how he told Horace that Shadow would stay close to protect him.

  “That’s awesome,” Milton chimed in. “I want a pet bird to protect me from Seth! I’d even use that bird on Ms. Shackles!”

  Horace continued, “I think there is something going on in Niles though, maybe even connected to my grandfather’s death. I overheard my parents talking about it last week.” He bit down on his lip nervously. “I know, I know. It sounds totally crazy.”

  “Ummm, that might be an understatement,” Anna answered.

  His two friends were now staring at him like he’d lost his mind.

  “I’m not making it up. Here, look.” He handed Anna the beetle. “I read online that scarabs were used as seals for important documents or even charms. They were placed on the hearts of mummies to help with the passage to the afterlife. This beetle is some kind of symbol of rebirth. I think it has powers.” Horace was hesitant to say any more.

  Anna’s eyes narrowed inquisitively. “Sorry, but tell me again. Where exactly did you find it?”

  “I told you that.”

  “No, seriously, Horace. How did you get it? Milton’s right. Did you buy it online?”

  “I told you, this guy Herman delivered it in a package to my house.” Less confidently, Horace admitted, “But I’m still not really sure why he gave it to me.”

  “And what about this tablet? Where’d you get that?” She reached over and touched it again.

  Horace didn’t know how to answer this, either. If they didn’t believe the story about Herman, they definitely wouldn’t believe a story about time travel. “I found it out at the farm”—he paused uncomfortably—“in the fields.”

  “Do you think it’s real?” Milton asked Anna. “Or maybe it’s, you know, like the relics.”

  “The what?”

  “Horace, you must know about the Michigan Relics by now. Your grandpa made a big exhibit on them at the museum. He was the joke of the town for doing it.”

  “Hey, don’t call my grandpa a joke.” Horace looked angrily at his friend.

  Milton could tell he’d touched on a tender su
bject. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to say that,” he explained. “It’s just . . . the Michigan Relics, they were a bunch of artifacts found around here. Some people thought they were, like, five thousand years old. They had all these weird inscriptions on them that looked like ancient writing. But it turned out that the guys who found the stuff had made it all up. They ran a carbon dating test, and it all turned out to be only, like, a hundred years old.”

  Horace didn’t know what the relics were or how his grandpa was connected to them, but he knew the beetle and the tablet were real. He’d traveled to Egypt and seen their power firsthand. He put the tablet in his backpack, and the beetle in his pocket. “Listen, I don’t know what you’re talking about, but these aren’t fake, and they’re not stolen.” His emotions rose with every breath. “If you don’t believe me, that’s your choice. But I’m telling you the truth.”

  Anna sensed the change in Horace’s tone. “Relax, Horace. Obviously, we believe you, but don’t you think it’s just a little suspicious?” She paused. “Did you ask your mom about it?”

  Horace shook his head. “I didn’t want to distract her. She’s been busy trying to sort through stuff after my grandfather’s death. And Herman insisted I shouldn’t tell anyone. I’m not even supposed to tell the two of you.”

  “Don’t worry. We won’t say a word.” Milton’s tone had changed too. He crossed his heart with his hand. “But he didn’t say you couldn’t try to figure out where the beetle came from. A beetle from Ancient Egypt doesn’t just magically show up on your doorstep. There’s got to be something more to this. Let’s go out to the farm to see if we can find out for ourselves.”

  “Ummm.” Horace didn’t know how to temper his friend’s enthusiasm. “We could just read about it online first.”

  “Come on,” Milton persisted. “Don’t be so scared, Horace. How dangerous could it be?”

  Chapter Eleven