Frankie vs. the Mummy's Menace
Page 3
“Sounds like my dad,” said Charlie. “He’s glued to the sports channel on the weekends.”
The mummy moved slowly, wrapped in bandages.
I’ll tackle him, no problem, Frankie thought.
But as he got closer, the mummy’s feet became a blur of dummies and step-overs. Frankie tried to kick the ball, but he missed time and again.
“Go, Dad!” said Cleo. “Show them how it’s done!”
The mummy blasted a shot at the goal, and Charlie dived low. He must have gotten a fingertip on the ball, because the shot bounced against the post and out again to Louise.
“Great save, Charlie!” said Frankie.
He noticed the shadow was moving quickly across the ground. It wouldn’t be long until the game was over. Frankie had learned none of these matches were normal.
“Quick, Charlie!” said Frankie.
The goalie rolled the ball out to Frankie, who quickly turned and tried to run around the lumbering mummy. But the bandaged figure quickly side stepped, blocking him. He tried the other way, but the mummy was there again. It’s like he can read my mind, thought Frankie.
The arena was almost all in shadow. Frankie backheeled the ball to Louise. He realized too late that Viper had seen the pass. It reared back, fangs dripping, but Louise hadn’t seen it.
“Look out!” Frankie yelled.
Louise turned and saw the snake darting its head at her, but she seemed glued to the spot. Then Charlie appeared, leaping through the air. Venom shot from Viper’s fangs, straight into Charlie’s gloves. Right away, they thumped to the ground and turned to stone. Charlie ripped his hands free.
“You saved me!” said Louise.
“Always ready,” gasped Charlie, blushing. “But what about my gloves?”
“What about the open goal?” Max barked.
The ball had rolled free. Both King Tut and Cleo dashed toward it.
Frankie sprinted forward, too.
“It’s mine!” yelled the boy.
“No, it’s mine!” snapped Cleo.
The mummy groaned, as if he was fed up with their squabbling. Quick as a flash, he shouldered Frankie aside and pounced on the ball and started to run at the goal. One of his bandages was trailing free.
Frankie watched in helpless horror as the mummy lifted his foot to shoot.
Then he stopped dead, snagged by his bandage. His foot swung through the empty air and he landed on his backside with a thump.
Frankie looked back and saw the other end of the bandage in Max’s teeth. There was just a sliver of sunlight left. Frankie darted toward the ball, took a quick glance at the distant goal, and booted it as hard as he could.
As the ball arced across the arena, the crowd drew a deep breath. Frankie saw the Referee bringing the whistle toward his lips.
The ball landed right between the posts and bounced over the line.
PEEEEP!
The whistle blew and a second later Frankie felt Charlie leap onto his back.
“SUPERGOOAALL!” he cried. Frankie fell to his knees and Louise piled on, too. Max nudged his nose into the pileup, yapping happily.
“Frankie’s team is the winner!” said the Ref.
Cleo stamped her foot and crossed her arms. “What did I tell you?” she said to her brother. “I should have been captain, not you! Girls always make better leaders.”
“If you passed the ball more often, we might have stood a chance!” said Tut.
The mummy groaned and started to shuffle back to his sarcophagus.
“He’s probably fed up with listening to you two,” said Louise.
“And now for the prize!” said the Ref. “Wait a minute … Where is it?”
Everyone looked to where the mask had been. It was gone!
“Someone’s stolen it!” said the Ref.
Frankie glanced around and saw a man in the front row making for the steps. “Max!” he said, pointing. “Fetch!”
Max’s ears pricked up and he dashed after the fleeing figure, fastening his teeth on the hem of his robe. With a ripping sound, it tore free.
Medhi, dressed in just his tunic, had the golden mask tucked into his belt.
“Ah … um … I can explain …”
The crowd began to boo as the two burly guards from outside gripped him by the shoulders.
“We need someone to help build a new pyramid,” one said. “It should only take you twenty or thirty years.”
As one of the guards dragged him away, Medhi cried out, “You don’t understand! I wasn’t stealing it. I was looking after it. Safekeeping. You can’t be too careful with all these thieves around …”
His voice trailed off as he disappeared through a door.
The other guard handed the mask back to Frankie, lowering his eyes. “Sorry we didn’t believe you were the away team,” he said.
“Don’t worry,” said Frankie, turning over the heavy mask in his hands. It was beautifully molded, with two holes for eyes. “We’ve had a fun adventure getting here.”
“We almost got squashed twice!” mumbled Charlie. “You call that fun?”
Louise gave him an elbow in the ribs and he went quiet.
“Put the mask on, Frankie,” she said.
“Why?” he asked.
“It’s just a hunch I’ve got,” she replied.
Frankie lifted the mask to his face and placed it against his skin. The gold was warm, and as soon as it touched his skin, his body felt weightless, like he was floating off the ground. Then, through the eyeholes, he saw he was floating off the ground. So were the others. Charlie wheeled his hands in panic, and Max’s paws scrabbled in the air.
Louise grinned. “I think we’re going home,” she said.
Faster and faster they rose through the air, high above the Ref and the crowd. Wind whistled in Frankie’s ears as they shot toward the ceiling.
“We’re not going to stop!” he yelled.
Have I made a terrible mistake?
He raised his hands to shield himself and closed his eyes.
BOOM!
Frankie felt solid ground under his feet and he swayed dizzily.
He opened his eyes and saw the Egyptian room at the museum. Charlie and Louise stood beside him. He was holding his magic soccer ball.
“You three!” bellowed a voice. They all spun around. Mr. Donald stood in the doorway, smoke practically shooting from his ears. Beside him stood a woman with a museum name tag. “Ms. Jones here told me there were children playing soccer in the museum,” said their teacher. “Explain yourselves.”
Frankie looked at the ball in his hands, then at Charlie and Louise. Charlie shrugged — he was wearing his gloves again, and they weren’t made of stone. Louise opened her mouth as if she was about to speak, then closed it again.
What can I possibly say?
“As I thought,” said Mr. Donald. “You three will be in detention next week. I might even have to call your …”
“Oh my!” gasped Ms. Jones. She ran from Mr. Donald’s side, straight past Frankie, and stopped at the rope beside the sarcophagus. “It … it can’t be!”
Frankie drew a sharp breath. The coffin wasn’t empty anymore. Inside stood the golden mask, gleaming brightly.
“The mummy’s mask!” said the museum worker. “But how …? It’s never been found!”
“I guess it has now,” said Frankie.
Mr. Donald had come in as well, and he was gaping at the mask.
Charlie leaned close to Frankie’s ear. “I think Donaldo’s forgotten about detention,” he whispered. “Maybe we should get back to the bus.”
“Good idea!” said Frankie.
Many thanks to everyone at Little, Brown Book Group UK; Neil Blair, Zoe King, Daniel Teweles, and all at The Blair Partnership; Mike Jackson for bringing my characters to life; special thanks to Michael Ford for all his wisdom and patience; and to Steve Kutner for being a great friend and for all his help and guidance not just with this book but with everything.
CHECK
OUT FRANKIE AND HIS FRIENDS’ FIRST ADVENTURE:
“Should we go in, too?” Frankie asked. “Maybe Louise got lost.”
“Nah,” said Charlie, glancing toward the haunted house. “She’ll be out soon.”
Frankie and Charlie were standing by the exit, waiting for their friend Louise. The sun was dropping behind the Ferris wheel, and soon the carnival would be shutting down for the year and leaving town.
“Not scared, are you?” said Frankie.
Charlie blushed, and all his freckles stood out. “Of course not.”
Frankie grinned. He remembered that Charlie hadn’t wanted to go in last year, either. It was pretty scary. There were walking skeletons, dangling spiders, and wailing ghosts. He would have gone in again today with Louise, but it cost a dollar and he only had fifty cents left.
Frankie’s dog, Max, was sniffing around the ground looking for scraps of food.
“Here you go, boy,” Frankie said. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a dog biscuit. Max opened his mouth and Frankie dropped it in, then tickled the dog under his furry white muzzle.
The doors opened and a few screams drifted over. Then a balding man with pale skin and wide eyes stumbled out. It was their gym teacher, Mr. Donald.
“Looks like Donaldo’s spooked,” said Frankie.
Mr. Donald saw them and walked over, smoothing down the few hairs on his head.
“Is that a spider on your shoulder, sir?” asked Charlie.
Mr. Donald jumped about a foot in the air, craning his neck.
“Only joking, sir,” said Charlie.
Mr. Donald stared at them with a frown. “I hope to see you both at soccer practice tomorrow.”
“Of course, sir,” said Frankie. “We wouldn’t miss practice for anything!”
Mr. Donald walked off, still checking his shoulder.
ALSO BY FRANK LAMPARD
Frankie vs. The Pirate Pillagers
Frankie vs. The Rowdy Romans
Frankie vs. The Cowboy’s Crew
Frankie vs. The Mummy’s Menace
Copyright © 2013 by Lamps On Productions. All rights reserved.
Published by Scholastic Inc., 557 Broadway, New York, NY 10012, by arrangement with Little, Brown Books for Young Readers. SCHOLASTIC and associated logos are trademarks and/or registered trademarks of Scholastic Inc.
First printing, August 2014
Cover art by MJ Illustrations
Cover design by Claire Moore
e-ISBN 978-0-545-66619-0
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher. For information regarding permission, write to Scholastic Inc., Attention: Permissions Department, 557 Broadway, New York, NY 10012.