The Incredible Shrinking Girl Absolutely Loves Ancient Egypt
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“Oh dear,” Miss June whimpered like a frail old lady.
“So many strange things seem to be going on,” stammered Miss July, swaying from side to side as if she was so delicate she might faint.
“I’ve had enough of the Calendar Gang and their play-acting,” I whispered.
The angry blood-boiling feeling was rising up from the tips of my toes, like hot water bubbling in a kettle.
As quickly as a jack-in-a-box springing open, I shot back to
My feet banged hard against the back of the cat box.
“Ouch!”
Behind me, I heard Anthony let out a tiny scream.
“Sorry,” I whispered. I must have kicked him as hard as a donkey. (And Anthony was still only the size of a small carrot, of course.)
“Violet? Is that you up there?” said Musa.
“Yes.” I leaned further out of the box. “I’ve been hiding up here for ages. And as soon as I get down I’m going to tell you everything I’ve seen.”
Before I climbed down from the stone cat hole, I scrabbled around with one hand until I felt my fingers close around something small and solid that I knew must be Anthony.
“Come on,” I whispered. I couldn’t leave him up here while he was tiny. “There isn’t a pocket in this mummy costume but I’ll slip you between the bandages and we can climb down safely.”
The cat hole was too cramped for me to turn my head and see what I was doing. But, feeling carefully, I opened a gap between two bandages just above my knee and slid Anthony inside. He felt heavier than I had expected but I pulled myself forward, swung my legs out of the hole and began to climb.
“Careful, Violet. I’ll fetch a ladder,” cried Musa. “Your grandmother has already hurt her ankle. We don’t want you doing the same thing.”
“I’ll be all right. I’m wrapped up in bandages anyway,” I laughed. If I’d climbed all the way up to the cat holes when I was tiny, I could certainly climb down now I was full size.
“And I can get down too,” said a cheerful Australian voice above my head.
“Anthony?” I gasped, looking up. “Is that you?”
“Course it is,” he grinned, leaning out of the cat hole. He was back to full size now too. But, if he was still up there, what had I slipped into the bandages above my knee?
“Are you OK, Ant? … I mean, Anthony?” I said as he dropped to the floor beside me.
“Don’t worry, Violet,” he grinned. “You can call me Ant if you like. I’ve decided it’s a cool nickname after all. Like a hero in a computer game – someone small but Someone who wouldn’t be scared of anything ever again … not even shrinking, say.”
“That’s brilliant, Ant,” I whispered, “But if you’re here … then who – or what – is this?” I dug into the slit in my bandages and wrapped my fingers around the small shape that was hidden there.
I pulled it out and opened my hand.
Lying on my palm was a small piece of bright, blue stone. It was a perfect shabti, carved into the shape of a cat.
“How beautiful.” Musa let out a gasp of surprise. “Where did you find that?”
“Oh, just up in that old cat hole,” I smiled, trying not to let my fingers shake with surprise.
“Wow! That’s better than three old pieces of cracked bowl,” laughed Ant.
August rushed forward. “Let me see that. I bet these kids stole it,” he said, completely forgetting to speak in his English accent.
“I didn’t steal it,” I said. “And I am not going to keep it either. It belongs in a museum.”
I handed the tiny, smooth figure to Musa.
“It is a wonderful object. I have never seen a shabti shaped like a cat before,” he said.
“Perhaps you could start a museum here – of things you find on the dig,” I said. “You could charge tourists a small fee.”
“I know I’d pay to see a beautiful shabti like that,” agreed Anthony.
“The extra money could be used to look after the stray cats,” I said. “You’ll already have a good start with what we raised tonight at the fancy dress party.”
“You can’t take that money,” cried Miss July.
“That’s our money. I mean money,” said Miss June.
“No,” I said. “That money is not yours.”
“Not any more,” said Anthony.
I stepped forward and pointed to the deep scratch which Ozzy had made on the side of August’s face. It looked as if he had a long cat whisker drawn across his cheek. “It seems to me that the Calendar Gang have run into a spot of bad luck,” I said.
“It definitely seems things are about to take a bad turn for you,” Anthony agreed.
“Someone should call the police,” I said, turning to Musa and the men from the village. “I think they’ll be very interested when they hear what Anthony and I have to say.”
“Interfering little pests,” growled August.
“I hate children,” said Miss July.
“They’re even worse than cats,” Miss June.
When we had told the police all that we knew, Anthony and I hurried back to the Cleopatra to see Gran.
Signor Sipperetto and Louis L’Amour had carried her back to the boat. She was lying on a sun lounger with her injured leg sticking up in the air.
Tiffany was hovering anxiously nearby. I could tell from the way her frizzy hair was sticking up like a bird’s nest, she must have been fast asleep when Lola L’Amour woke her up. I wondered if Tiff would ever recover from the shock … not of finding out Gran was hurt, but of being seen by a fashion model when she had REALLY BAD hair.
“I know a little first aid,” said Signora Sipperetto, sprinting backwards and forwards with drinks of water and slices of fruit for Gran. She was still dressed up as a long-legged scarab beetle from the party. “But there’s not a lot I can do,” she said. “There are no bandages in the first-aid kit. Not a single one.”
“Ah … perhaps I can help there,” I said, pointing to my mummy costume.
At that moment Musa came back to the boat, carrying Ozzy purring in his arms. He told us the Calendar Gang had been arrested and taken to the nearest town.
“The international police have been looking for them for years,” he explained. “Ever since they were caught selling a lion’s paw at the Colosseum in Rome. They must have got it from some poachers in Africa, but they claimed it was from the time of the ancient gladiators. The Calendars are a notorious gang of tricksters. But thanks to Violet and Anthony, they are going to be locked up for a very long time.”
“Hip, hip, hooray,” whooped Gran.
“I think I better go and change,” I said quickly as the passengers began to cheer. “After all, we need to get Gran wrapped up in these bandages as soon as we can.”
My toes were as if they were being pricked with a zillion pins and needles. Rescuing Ozzy, catching the Calendar gang, finding the shabti – it had all been too much excitement.
“And I need to reach the next level of Maze of the Mummy,” gulped Anthony. “Right now!”
We nearly fell over each other as we dashed towards the stairs.
“See,” I whispered, as we ducked down out of sight. “Life’s never boring when you’re a shrinker, Ant!”
Thank you to the team at Scholastic for all the things you do – especially Genevieve Herr for her edits and Rachel Phillips for her publicity. Also Alison Padley for her designs alongside Kirsten Collier’s pictures, Simon Letchford’s last-minute and Emily Lamm’s copyedit. Also to Pat, Lexie and Claire at RCW for looking after me well.
Sophie McKenzie and Julia Leonard – your patience and insights have been And the Kuenzler family are terrific to put up with me at all. I know I am often so busy writing that I forget to wash your socks – thank you.
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First published in the UK by Scholastic Ltd, 2014
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Text copyright © Lou Kuenzler, 2014
Illustration copyright © Kirsten Collier, 2014
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