by John Paulits
“What’d you bring?” Emery asked.
“Chips Ahoy. Only half a pack. My mother wouldn’t let me bring the whole pack. Too much sugar, she said.”
While the three Egyptians munched on their cookies, Jane said, “I hope my party’s going to be okay tomorrow.”
“Why wouldn’t it be okay?” Philip asked.
“Yeah, there’ll be plenty of cookies, right?” Emery added.
“Sure. Cookies, chips, cake, ice cream. The usual. I want it to be a party with lots of exciting stuff happening, though. Not just people walking around stuffing their faces.”
Philip and Emery shared a glance.
“I think it’ll be pretty exciting,” Philip promised.
“Yeah,” Emery said. “Nobody ever had a party in a museum before. Kevin had a clown once at his birthday party, but the clown’s balloon animals kept untangling. Worst clown ever.”
“Yeah, and he smelled funny. Remember?”
“My father insists on making a speech,” Jane said.
“A speech?” Philip said.
“Oh, you know. About Egypt and after the speech we tour the exhibit. Again. He’s going to make everybody be bored, I know he is, but I can’t talk him out of it. I just hope the party turns out to be exciting and everybody talks about it in school on Monday.”
“I think you’ll get your wish,” Emery said.
“I think so, too,” Philip agreed.
Jane thanked them for their encouragement, and they enjoyed their cookies quietly until the final one disappeared. The three Egyptians said good-bye, and Philip and Emery walked home together, impatient for tomorrow’s fancy museum birthday party.
Chapter Seven
Philip and Emery met in the pyramid beneath Mrs. Discher’s bushes after lunch on Saturday.
“My dad promised he’ll drive us to the party,” Philip said. “Look what I got.” From his pocket he pulled black-rimmed, very dark sunglasses.
“Yeah, so?”
“When I put these on and pull the mummy suit eye space tight, it looks like there’s nothing inside the suit but black. I did it in front of the mirror. Let Leon know my dad’s driving.”
“He’s already coming to my house at three.”
“Did you see his scarab suit yet?”
“Nope.”
The boys chattered on about school and Jane’s birthday party. At 2:45 they crawled out of the bushes and went to Emery’s house, first stopping at Philip’s to pick up the shopping bag holding the three costumes. When they walked into Emery’s living room, they froze in astonishment. There sat Leon on the sofa wrapped in what appeared to be a long pillow case. The pillow case had a hole cut in the top for his head, two holes in the sides for his arms, and the open end of the pillow case ended near his knees and was sewn together in the middle, leaving the two holes where his legs stuck out. Leon had covered the pillow case with designs drawn in magic marker. Around his forehead he wore a sweatband like runners used to keep the sweat from dripping into their eyes. Sticking up from the back of the sweatband were antennas made of black pipe cleaners twisted together. “Hi, guys,” Leon crowed proudly. He stood up. “I look like a scarab, right? I drew the designs myself.”
Neither Philip nor Emery could find the words.
Finally, Emery asked, “Why aren’t you wearing any pants?”
“I got on my long black socks,” Leon explained as he sat down. “They’re my scarab legs.”
“But you’re not wearing any pants,” Philip pointed out.
“Scarabs don’t wear pants,” Leon pointed out and then gave a yuk yuk. “What kind of costumes you got?”
“It’ll be a surprise,” Emery said.
“Gonna be a great party,” Leon said.
“I hope the gods of Egypt like your scarab,” Philip said. “Are you sure you made it sacred enough?”
“Sacred enough? I don’t know. I copied it from a book, but I only had magic markers.”
“Uh oh,” Philip said, sadly shaking his head. “That part by your arm looks like a tic-tac- toe game. I don’t think scarabs played tic-tac-toe. Emery, do you think Leon’s scarab looks sacred enough. I’m worried. Tic-tac-toe doesn’t seem very sacred to me.”
“Stand up again, Leon,” Emery said. He walked a circle around Leon. He put on a serious face and looked at Philip. “You may be right. I guess we’ll find out. The gods of Egypt will let us know.”
“Let us know?” Leon cried. “How? How will they let us know?”
A car horn sounded.
“There’s my dad,” Philip said. “Time to go.”
Leon had nothing to say as they drove to the museum.
Mr. Felton stopped the car in front of the long range of steps. He said, “Are you certain the birthday girl’s mother is going to drive the three of you home?” No answer. “Leon. Did you hear me.”
“Oh, yeah,” Leon said. “She promised.”
“Okay. Have a good time.”
The boys left the car and started up the midget museum stairs.
“Don’t go so fast,” Leon said. “I can’t walk good as a scarab.” Leon couldn’t take his normal steps without the costume tugging at his legs. Once, he tripped and nearly fell.
Philip and Emery waited at the top of the steps. Once inside the museum they spotted Mrs. Davenport, Jane’s mother, who beckoned them and pointed to a small room off to the side where the Egyptian-clothed children gathered. Philip could hardly count the number of black hair Cleopatra wigs on the girls. He didn’t see a single, official, $22.95 pharaoh costume from Amazon, though.
Ten minutes later, Jane’s mother and father invited the troupe of children up the main stairs of the museum to a larger room down the hall from the Egyptian exhibit. The room was set up with a long table running down the middle. Bowls of cookies, pretzels, potato chips, raisins, nuts, Hershey’s Kisses, and crackers were lined up along the table. In the center of the table sat a cake covered with chocolate icing, built in layers, each layer smaller than the one beneath it. A pyramid cake. Ten candles packed closely together stood up from the final, smallest layer. A smaller table in a corner of the room had paper cups and bottles of soda and juice. Jane sat in a chair decorated as a throne, giving her best Cleopatra impression. Mrs. Davenport directed each party-goer to approach Cleopatra. When a child approached the throne, Cleopatra said, “Bow.”
The child bobbed his head at the royal queen and in return received a large goody bag.
“Ask where the bathroom is,” Philip said to Emery over the noise of the excited children. “We have to change.”
“I want to get my goody bag first,” Emery said.
He and Philip paid their respects to the queen before hustling off to the bathroom.
When they returned to the party room, they stood and watched the children digging through their party bags to count up their haul. Gradually, one child after another noticed the entrance of the two pharaohs, and the party grew quiet for a moment. The noise returned and those children who had already gone through their bags crowded around Philip and Emery to study their costumes. When the commotion over the two pharaohs had run its course, the party settled down into eating, drinking, laughing and trading things from their gift bags. Somewhere, Jane’s parents had found a pin-the-beard-on-the-pharaoh game, and the children screamed as their blindfolded friends hung beards on the pharaoh’s eyes, nose, ears, and the wall of the room.
“Boys and girls. Boys and girls.” Cleopatra’s father struggled to get up onto a chair so he could gather the children’s attention.
Cleopatra groaned.
“What’s wrong?” Philip asked.
“I asked him a million times not to,” she said.
“Not to what?” Philip asked.
“I told you. He’s going to take everybody into the exhibit and talk about Egypt. My whole party will be ruined by some boring lecture.”
Mr. Davenport said, “Boys and girls, I’d like everyone to go into the Egyptian exhibit down the hall. If
you haven’t visited the museum to see it, now will be your chance. If you’ve already seen it, you’ll have an opportunity to see it again. The museum has closed, and the room is ours. There’s nothing to disturb us. This way. Follow me.” His wife helped him down from the chair.
“See,” Cleopatra said. “I told you.” Glumly, she followed her father. Very few of the children wanted to leave their goody bags unprotected, so most of them carried their bags into the exhibit room.
“Gather around here,” Mr. Davenport said, waving his arms. “Up close. Good. Sit, everybody sit. I’d like to say something before you tour the artifacts.”
“When are you gonna do it?” Emery whispered.
“As soon as nobody’s looking,” Philip whispered back.
Philip had stuffed his mummy costume into his goody bag. He and Emery lingered on the edge of the children crowding around Mr. Davenport. When he began to speak, Philip slipped out the door.
“Egypt was a wonderful place,” Mr. Davenport began. “Full of magic, mystery, strange gods, pharaohs, pyramids, and… mummies. This is the tale of one of those mummies.”
Emery looked back and forth from Mr. Davenport to the entry door of the exhibit. To the right of Mr. Davenport, a cleaning man mopped the floor. He stopped his work to listen to the story. Another man polishing the glass top of a nearby exhibit case took a break so he could listen, too.
“Emery,” Mr. Davenport called. “Since you’re in the back, would you turn off the lights? The switch is next to the door. My story needs atmosphere.”
The children muttered their happy surprise. Light still came through the bank of windows on the left, but the room became eerie and dim when Emery flicked the light switch. He stayed near the door and noticed Leon sitting in the front row, clutching his goody bag and leaning against the leg of the exhibit case the man had been polishing.
“Once, over four thousand years ago, the Pharaoh Amenhotep heard a rumor of a tomb in which was buried a pharaoh of hundreds of years earlier named Thutmose. What was extraordinary about Thutmose was he’d lost an arm, wounded in a terrible battle. To replace his arm, Thutmose had his goldsmith fashion him a new arm made of solid gold. Thutmose, the rumor went, had been buried still wearing his golden arm, and Amenhotep wanted that arm. He knew robbers usually took everything valuable from pharaoh’s tombs, but if they hadn’t looked inside Thutmose’s sarcophagus, the arm would still be there.
“Amenhotep sent out slaves to locate the tomb. They found it, and Amenhotep himself went to witness the opening of the sarcophagus. When two slaves raised the heavy lid, Amenhotep’s eyes nearly exploded from his head. There lay a mummy, a long, shiny, golden arm extending through the wrappings. Amenhotep ordered his slaves to detach the golden arm from the mummy, and he carried it home himself in his chariot.”
Emery felt his heart beating rapidly as he kept his ears on Mr. Davenport and his eyes on the door.
“That very night an odd noise awoke Amenhotep. ‘Who is there?’ he called into the dark room. A strange noise, no more than the sound of a gentle desert breeze, met his ears. Then, an odd smell, the smell of the tomb, struck his nose. The smell grew stronger and fouler by the moment. ‘Who is there?’ he cried again. The same noise as before, only louder, as if a storm were approaching, answered him. A weird glow appeared at the foot of his bed. Amenhotep pulled the covers up to his chin and stared. The glow wavered and shimmered and formed itself… into a mummy. A one-armed mummy! A slow, ghostly voice came from the mummy. ‘Who’s got my golden arm?’ Amenhotep felt like he would faint any second. He heard the question again. ‘Who’s got my golden arm?’
From the exhibit room doorway behind the children came an unexpected slow and ghostly voice.
“Leonubis has offended the gods of Egypt and he must pay the price.”
Heads turned. For a brief moment the children sat too astonished to move. A mummy, its arms extended, black emptiness in its eyes, took two wobbly steps forward.
Children jumped up and ran in all directions, colliding with one another as they scurried away from the mummy.
Leon screamed, “It’s coming for me.” He leaped to his feet and tried to climb over some children near him. His scarab costume wouldn’t let his legs go high enough, though. He tripped and to keep from falling, he dropped his goody bag and grabbed for the nearest two children. All three children tumbled into the display case, tilting it over and crashing it onto its side. The glass top smashed into a thousand bits, and dozens of small Egyptian jewelry pieces went flying.
When the case crashed over, the man who’d been polishing it leapt to grab the jewelry as it flew through the air and skittered across the floor. His foot slid on a black, Cleopatra wig which had fallen off a girl’s head, and he kicked the cleaning man’s bucket of water. The bucket clanged across the floor and water went everywhere, washing some of the jewelry pieces further across the room.
Mr. Davenport shouted at the top of this voice. “Everyone be still. There’s no danger.”
The children didn’t care to listen to him. They ran all around the room looking for places to hide from the mummy. Leon picked himself up, grabbed his goody bag, and looked for a safe spot in a dark corner of the room.
When Philip saw what he’d caused, he backed quickly out the room and ran as fast as he could to the men’s room, where he took off his mummy costume, stuffed it deep into the bottom of his goody bag, climbed back into his regular clothes, and threw his pharaoh costume over top of everything. When he returned to the exhibit room, he saw Emery squatting down behind a wall covered with drawings from ancient Egypt. By this time, the scare had turned into a lot of fun, and the children were having a great time screaming, running for cover, and shouting, “Mummy! Mummy!” Philip joined his friend.
“Everybody went crazy when they saw you,” Emery whispered.
“Do they know it was me?” Philip asked. “I didn’t think everybody would go flying off to Crazyland.”
“No, I don’t think so.”
“Say I was with you all the time, so I don’t get into trouble.”
Mr. Davenport’s voice rose above the chaos. “It’s all right, everyone. It’s gone. The mummy’s gone. Somebody played a joke on us. I think. Everyone go back to the party room. It’s time for cake and ice cream. Please. Go. Now. Please.”
Philip and Emery rose and led the migration back toward the chocolate pyramid cake, Philip crossing his fingers no one would accuse him of having blown up the party with his mummy costume.
Chapter Eight
On the ride home the three boys sat in the back of Mrs. Davenport’s car listening to Jane, who sat up front next to her mother, crying and sniffling. She repeated her sad opinion of her birthday party over and over.
“The worst party ever. Nobody even got to sing to me. Just eat the cake and go home. People left like it was a fire drill. Everybody’s going to hate me in school”
“They won’t hate you, sweetheart,” her mother counseled.
That brought a scream, more tears, and a new burst of sadness. “The worst party ever!”
Mrs. Davenport dropped the boys off at Emery’s house.
“Walk me home, will you, guys?” Leon begged. “You saw the mummy, right?”
“We saw it,” Philip said.
“It said my name. My name. Me! It wanted me! What did I do? I didn’t do anything.”
“Don’t worry about it, Leon,” Philip said. “The mummy disappeared right away.”
“Yeah, but where’d it go?” Leon asked. “It could be anywhere.”
“No, it’s probably back in its hole in your backyard,” Emery said.
Philip’s eyes brightened at Emery’s suggestion. He felt bad about totally messing up the party. If he could quiet Leon and settle him down, he’d feel much better. “Sure,” he said. “You’ll see it’s right there where you buried it, asleep as always.”
“But the mummy we saw at the museum was way bigger,” Leon said, his eyes dancing over the neighborh
ood, expecting the worst.
“Mummies can change like that,” Emery assured his cousin. “They do in all the movies.”
“Do they?” Leon asked turning to Philip.
“Absolutely. The mummy gets bigger, takes a walk, shrinks, and goes back to sleep. Mummies think it’s fun to do stuff like that.”
“Suppose it wakes up again,” Leon said. “It’s right in my backyard! Maybe it doesn’t like where I buried it, and now it’s angry at me.”
“Then dig it up and bury it someplace else,” Philip said. “Someplace nice with flowers or you can even flush it down the toilet. Pull out the tissues and flush them. Throw the Band-Aids in the garbage.”
“You think it’ll stop bothering me then?” Leon asked, bubbles of hope surfacing in his mind.
“If it’s flushed down the toilet, how could it bother you, Leon?” Philip asked. “Let’s go and dig it up before it gets too dark.”
“Yeah, good idea. I don’t want to be messing with the mummy when it’s dark,” Leon answered quickly. The boys hurried off.
By the time the boys stood above the spot where Leon buried the mummy, the sun had dipped low in the sky, and the bushes and trees separating Emery’s backyard from other yards blocked out what little light remained in the day.
“Dig,” Philip ordered.
“Me?” Leon asked.
“You have to be the one to destroy the mummy,” Philip said.
Leon stared down. “Uh oh,” he muttered.
“Start, Leon,” Emery said. He looked down. “You… Uh oh. Philip, do you see?”
Emery pointed.
“See what? I don’t see… Uh oh.”
In a tiny voice, Leon said, “It looks like something clawed its way out…”
The grave had been dug up and dirt lay scattered over the nearby grass.
