Читать книгу Egyptian Curse - Chris Blake - Страница 7

“Wakey-wakey, Tom!” called Mum from downstairs. “You don’t want to sleep through your party!”

The smell of frying bacon wafted under Tom’s bedroom door and interrupted his dream about playing football with a gang of pirates on a Caribbean beach.

He opened his eyes and tried to work out why he felt so excited.

“Oh, yeah!” he said, suddenly remembering.

Tom sprang out of bed and shook the bandaged figure sleeping on the floor.

“Wake up, Isis! It’s my birthday!” he said.

“Ow!” Isis cried. With her arms folded over her chest, mummified Princess Isis Amun-Ra sat up stiffly. “That’s not a nice way to be woken up!” she said. There was a creak as she stretched her arms. A cloud of dust swirled round her.

“Sorry! I’m just excited,” Tom said, as he helped Isis to her feet.

“OK, but a girl needs her beauty sleep, you know,” Isis snapped.

Tom chuckled. “You’re an Ancient Egyptian mummy. Even the longest sleep won’t bring you back to life!”

He went over to his dressing gown and slippers, which lay in a heap on the floor. Cleopatra, Isis’s mummified pet cat, was snoozing on top of them.

“Up you get, Cleo!” Tom said. Then, turning to Isis, Tom explained, “Mum always cooks me a special birthday breakfast. I’ll have sausage, bacon, egg, mushrooms and beans waiting for me downstairs.”

“Birthday this! Birthday that! What’s so great about a birthday?” Isis muttered, as she scooped Cleo into her arms.

“Er, it’s only the best day of the year, silly!” Tom cried. Then he looked at his friend and frowned. “Hang on – did you celebrate birthdays in Ancient Egypt?” he asked. “You know – get presents, eat cake, have a party …”

Isis shook her head stiffly. “When I was alive, we used to have a party to celebrate the goddess Isis. And because I’m named after her, everybody made a fuss of me. Now that was fun!”

Tom pulled on his dressing gown and did a little dance. “I was born eleven years ago today! How cool is that?”

“Not very. I was born five thousand years ago,” Isis said smugly.

Ignoring her, Tom thought about the things he had put on his birthday list.

“Hey, I wonder if I’ll get Timeline of Fire? The computer game where you get to fight historical battles.”

“What a silly thing to ask for!” Isis said, sitting on Tom’s bed. “You should have asked for jewels or a gold statue of yourself.”

Tom slid his feet inside his slippers. “The only jewel I want,” he said, “is the sixth amulet, so I don’t have to share a bedroom with you any more, Your Royal Crustiness.”

Isis stood up and shuffled over to Tom’s desk, where his books were lined up. She pushed over a large history encyclopedia at one end and the rest of the books toppled over like dominos.

“Until you met me, Professor Smartypants, all you had for excitement were these dusty books,” she said. “I’ve shown you what it’s like to have some real adventures! You should be kissing my feet.”

Tom looked down at Isis’s flaky yellow toes. “Ugh. No thanks.”

“You broke that statue in your dad’s museum,” she continued. “Me and Cleo had been quite happy there until you came along.”

Tom groaned. “No, you weren’t! And you’re the one who got into trouble with Anubis in the first place. You got yourself banished from the Afterlife until you can find all six amulets. So it’s your fault we’ve both had to risk life and limb—”

“I haven’t risked my life. I’m already dead.Or hadn’t you noticed?” Isis pointed at her bandaged chest. “But the fact you’re still alive, despite facing up to Roman gladiators, medieval knights, raiding Vikings, Greek warriors and crazy pirates, is completely down to me!”

Cleo purred and stretched her legs stiffly.

“See!” Isis said. “Even Cleo agrees, don’t you, my fluffy love?”

Tom started putting his books back on the desk. He knew by now there was no point in arguing with Isis.

“Happy birthday, darling!” Mum said, sliding Tom’s breakfast on to the kitchen table and giving him a kiss.

Dad pushed his glasses up his nose. “I can’t believe you’re eleven! Seems like only yesterday you were in nappies.”

Isis giggled and Tom shot her a warning look.

Dad clapped Tom on the arm. “Ready for your presents?”

“You bet,” Tom said, shovelling a forkful of beans into his mouth and then tearing at the wrapping paper. He pulled out a chunky red-and-green jumper covered in … What is it covered in? Tom thought, staring at the yellow markings on the chest.

“Are those supposed to be hieroglyphics?” Isis asked. She was sitting on the kitchen worktop, but Tom’s mum and dad couldn’t see or hear her.

“One arm’s shorter than the other,” Tom said.

“The jumper’s from Nan,” Mum explained, and then handed Tom another present. “From me,” she said, smiling.

Tom felt the package. It was square and hard. “Computer game?” he guessed correctly, unwrapping Timeline of Fire. “Yesssss!”

Then Dad plonked something large and heavy on the kitchen table. He cleared his throat. “And this is from me.”

Tom unwrapped the gift. “The Young Historian books box set!” Tom yelled. “Wicked! Look, it’s got an Aztec Empire special edition too.” He grinned at his parents. “Thanks, Mum and Dad, you’re the best!”

As Tom gobbled up his fried egg, Isis’s voice floated over the room.

“A computer game, some books and a knitted thing? What boring presents!”

Tom noticed that Isis’s shoulders were slumped. Perhaps she was feeling left out, especially if she’d never celebrated a birthday before. He quickly ate the rest of his breakfast. “Let’s go upstairs and try out my new game,” he whispered.

“Deal!” Isis said, smiling.

As they ran upstairs, Mum shouted out, “Don’t forget we’re leaving for the bowling alley at ten thirty!”

“Those shoes are ugly,” Isis said, pointing to the red, white and blue bowling shoes that Tom and his friends were putting on.

“Nobody’s asking you to wear them,” Tom said.

Mum and Dad were programming everybody’s names into the machine that kept score.

In the next lane, a tall man stood up to take his go. Tom watched as the ball thundered down the lane. There was a loud crash as it sent every single pin flying. The man jumped up and down and punched the air.

Isis gasped. “That’s not very sporting, is it?”

Tom started to laugh. “He got a strike,” he explained. “He’s happy because he knocked down all the pins. That’s the point of the game, you see? The more you knock down—”

“I bet I can do that!” Isis said.

Tom nervously glanced over at his friends. “No, Isis. Just watch. Please don’t try to join in—”

But Isis had already picked up a bowling ball and flung it down the lane.

“Woo-hoo!” she cried, as Cleo scampered after the ball.

Tom’s friends stared as, seemingly on its own, the ball rolled down the lane and knocked over all ten pins.

“That ball just bowled a strike by itself!” Veejay said, blinking in disbelief.

Tom gulped. “Someone must have dropped it.” To distract his friends he said, “Hey! Who wants some lemonade?”

Suddenly, Tom’s voice was drowned out by a loud, rumbling noise. At the end of the lane, the giant, jackal-headed god of the Underworld, Anubis, burst out, splintering the wood and sending the pins flying.

“Just when I was getting the hang of it!” Isis grumbled.

Anubis’s eyes glowed red. He folded his arms and bared his sharp teeth at Tom and Isis. “Are you ready to face your toughest challenge yet?” he boomed.

Tom looked at his school friends who were all sipping their lemonade. They had no idea the Ancient Egyptian god was there.

“Not really,” Tom said. “I’m in the middle of my birthday party.”

“SILENCE!” bellowed Anubis. “Your last challenge will be a real test of bravery. Fail, and Isis will never get into the Afterlife!”

Suddenly, a wind blew up round Tom, Isis and Cleo, pulling them out of the bowling alley and into the tunnels of time.