Horus and the Curse of Everlasting Regret (18 page)

Three months later, sunbrowned and travel weary, Peter looked through the window as his train slowly pulled into Harbortown Station. He spied his dad standing on the platform. Peter grinned, waving at his father, who appeared as tousled as ever. His dad's whole face transformed with happiness when he saw Peter. He waved back exuberantly.

The camp counselor sitting beside him shook Peter's hand. Peter stood up. The counselor was staying on the train, continuing up to Vermont, where he was from.

“See you next summer, Peter!” he said. “Can't wait to see what you engineer in the meantime. Send me sketches!”

Peter grinned. “You bet. See you next year!”

He descended the stairs, with his camp bag slung over his shoulder, and made his way through the crowd.

“Look at you!” Mr. Bartholomew said, embracing Peter tightly. He stood back and looked over his son, smiling. “You must be two inches taller! Camp seems to have agreed with you.”

Peter couldn't stop smiling. “It was even better than I'd hoped.”

His father's dark eyes looked a little wet beneath his glasses. He blinked. “I'm glad it was fun, but I'm pleased you're back. I can't wait to see what you made!”

As they walked the busy brick sidewalks to the bridge, Peter told his father about his bunkmates, their hikes, the battle robots they'd designed, and the final match between them on the last day of camp.

Peter chuckled, describing the robot face-off. “One kid, Charlie, installed a trip stick on his automaton—a length of pipe that popped out, whirled around, and knocked over all the others—but it knocked itself off balance, too. His robot started tumbling away in a zigzag. Charlie chased after it all the way to the creek and fell in! It was pretty funny.”

They'd arrived at their brownstone.

His father looked happy but wistful. “Well, did you have such a good time that you're sad to be home?”

Peter stood on the bottom step as his dad opened the door.

“Nah. I missed you and Tunie and Perch,” Peter said.
And Horus,
he thought. He was looking forward to seeing the little mummy again. “I'd like to go again next year, though.”

Peter's dad nodded. “Good. Miss Cook and Stepma arranged a little surprise for you.”

He followed his dad into the wallpapered parlor. There sat Stepma holding baby Lucy, and the twins, both looking glum with their damp hair plastered neatly to their heads. Stepma smiled.

“Welcome home, Peter! We've missed you.” She set the baby on the settee and stood up, giving Peter a genuinely warm smile and hug. Surprised, Peter hugged her back. He found he was glad to see her, too.

“Miss Cook baked you this.” She waved to a chocolate cake, decorated with whipped cream and strawberries, resting on a silver platter on the coffee table. “She said it's your favorite.”

Randall said in a petulant undertone, “
We
never get dessert before dinner.”

Larry elbowed him.

“Wow, thanks,” Peter said. “Wait, first—I made something for baby Lucy.”

Peter dug through his camp bag. “Here.”

He held up a wooden base that had a short metal pole with a carved, green-painted frog on top. He wound the toy up and set it in front of Lucy. The frog jumped back and forth, moving its legs and making a little bell sound. Lucy squealed and clapped her hands with delight.

Stepma gave Peter a loving look. “Why, it's wonderful, Peter! And very thoughtful. Thank you.”

Peter turned to the twins. It was strange; seeing them now, all slumped and sulky, he could hardly believe he'd ever been afraid of them.

“I have something for you, too. Wait until you see.”

He pulled out two windup toys, two-inch knights astride funny, stocky horses. Each knight held a lance.

“You wind them up and set them at each other, and whichever knocks the other over wins. We bet penny candy on our battles at camp. These won a lot.”

He wound up the horses, and they moved across the floor with impressive speed and a loud clicking sound. One knocked the other over, and the horse spun around and around, its legs moving back and forth until it stopped. The rough-and-tumble toys had reminded him of the twins.

“Not bad,” said Larry, his furry blond brows upraised. Peter handed one to him and the other to Randall.

“I'm working on a bigger version,” Peter said. He looked to his dad and Stepma. “I haven't thought of anything for you two yet, but I will.”

Stepma was watching baby Lucy, still enthralled by the ticktocking frog.

“This is present enough,” she said.

“Indeed,” his father agreed.

Everyone ate the cake down to crumbs, and finally Peter went to his room to unpack. He took WindUp out of the bag and set him on the bed.

“Well, we're home,” Peter said to him quietly. He sat down on the creaky mattress and looked around his familiar room. Shortly there was a knock on the door.

Larry and Randall came into Peter's bedroom, carrying their windup knights.

Peter wasn't sure what they'd come to do until Larry said, “Uh, we were wondering what else you made.”

“Oh.” Peter rifled through his things and took out a small trebuchet. “This. We launched marshmallows at each other over the campfire and tried to catch them in our mouths. I still have some, I think.” He looked through his bag and found a paper sack of marshmallow squares. “Sit over there,” Peter said to Randall. Then he showed Larry how to work the trebuchet. The marshmallow square flew and softly bounced off Randall's face.

“Let me try!” Randall said. The boys took turns for a while.

Then Larry said, “I'll be right back.”

While he was out of the room, Randall and Peter fired marshmallows at each other.

“How was it while I was gone?” Peter asked.

Randall lifted one big shoulder. “Boring. Mom said it was our fault you left.”

Peter thought for a moment. “I guess that's partly true, but I wanted to go to camp anyway.”

“Oh.” Randall looked down at the trebuchet.

Larry returned, holding a sack from the drugstore. He handed it to Peter. Peter opened it. Inside was a new toothbrush.

Larry gestured vaguely in the direction of the bathroom.

“Because the other one's no good anymore,” he said gruffly.

Peter had already bought a new toothbrush before camp, unwilling to use the shaving cream–flavored one in the bathroom. He didn't say that to Larry, though. He realized this was Larry's way of apologizing.

“Thanks” was all Peter said.

Stepma's voice sounded in the hallway. “Come down for dinner, boys!”

Peter made a face. “Bleh, I'm not hungry at all.”

“Me neither,” agreed Larry, but they all trooped downstairs together.

Tunie wiped a drip of paint from her cheek and glanced through the open window at the clock inside the house.

“Oh!” she said. “We have to go!”

Her father smiled at her from his chair in the shade on the far side of the clearing. He'd been watching the masons repair the crumbling chimney while he ate a sandwich. With the reward money, they had plenty to eat. His cheeks weren't as skeletal as they'd been, pink now from sun, not fever, thanks to his doctor and medicine.

Mr. James had given a reward to their neighbor George, too, for his role in Dorothy's rescue. Tunie, Peter, George, and Dorothy had had their photograph taken together earlier in the summer, and it had appeared in the
Harbortown Gazette
under the headline
KIDNAPPED GIRL RESCUED!

“Have a good time,” her dad called over. “Tell Peter we're bringing dessert tomorrow.”

“I will!” Tunie quickly untied the smock she'd put on over her clothes. She was painting the outside of their house a sunny yellow. Over the front door she'd hung up the beautiful gift Horus had given her—a picture he'd created on wood. On it were gorgeous, stylized hieroglyphics that Horus said spelled out
kindness.
Her mother would have loved it.

“Perch!” Tunie called. “Time to go. I know you hate the heat, but the library will be cool.”

Perch flew down from the rafters, and the two set off at a trot.

The September sun was hot. On the streets, Tunie walked by men wearing banded, light-colored hats to keep the sun off their heads, and women in short-sleeved dresses. She stopped at an intersection to wait for a fire truck with spoked wheels and a ladder to pass, then crossed to the library.

Horus was waiting outside on the steps, bouncing up and down on his toes, his eyes bright and a child's red knapsack on his back.

“Hi, Horus!” Tunie said breathlessly. His joyous expression made her smile.

“Tunie! Guess what I've discovered?”

“What?”

“
Iced
tea. It's tea, made quite cold on purpose, for the greater enjoyment of drinking it in warm weather. Isn't it brilliant? I've brought a thermos of it for our picnic. I hope Peter remembers to bring something to sit on.”

“Where is Peter?” Tunie asked.

The mummy scanned the pedestrians on the busy street.

“I can only assume he's late as well. Getting here took longer than I expected. These books I need to return are extremely heavy.” He pointed happily to the bulging backpack.

“Let me guess,” Tunie said warmly. “More mysteries?”

“Mysteries!” the mummy echoed with delight. “I can't get enough of them! Or nougat,” he added. “I brought some of that, too.”

“Yummy,” said Tunie. She'd noticed that since the night they found Dorothy, Horus didn't carry around his sling stone anymore. She'd seen it in its display case, but as far as she could tell, Horus left it there, beneath the glass.

“There he is!” Tunie said, seeing Peter pelting across the street with WindUp peeking out of his knapsack, something long and red clutched in one hand.

“You made it,” Tunie said to Peter as the three friends started up the steps to the library.

“I was busy finishing something for you and Perch,” Peter gasped, handing Tunie the red item. Beneath his summer freckles, he was flushed.

It was a parasol. When Tunie opened it up, a small trapeze unfolded, hanging down from the spokes. With a happy squeak, Perch, who'd been awkwardly clutching Tunie's bag, flew up and hung from the bar.

“It's perfect!” Tunie said, genuinely pleased. “It will keep us cool and give Perch a way to ride. Thanks, Peter!”

“Glad you like it.”

Tunie rested the parasol on her shoulder. “How are things with the twins? Still grand?”

Peter laughed. “I wouldn't say grand. I'd say…peaceable.”

“Good enough,” Tunie said.

They walked through the wide double doors of the library and followed a gray staircase to the lower level.

Peter glanced down at Horus.

“Horus, I have some ideas for you, too, but I need you to come over for some measurements. Later tonight?”

Horus nodded excitedly. “I have thoughts about gear you could fashion, too. Just think—now that I'm mobile, and invisible, I would make an excellent spy! Only for the right cause, of course.”

Since Horus had helped rescue Tunie on the night of the full moon, he'd found he was free to leave the museum whenever the building was closed. During operating hours he was still trapped, but every evening and on Saturday afternoons when the museum closed at three—like today—he was free to roam. The children were having a great time introducing him to modern marvels. Though centuries old, Horus was a kid at heart and was making up for his lost childhood with gusto. He still, however, loved books most of all.

Tunie smiled affectionately at the mummy. “A spy! That's an ace idea! The library's closing pretty soon. Let's talk about it when we have our picnic on the roof.”

The friends split up. Tunie made her way to the aisle of art books. She and her dad would occasionally make their mother's favorite drink—lemonade with mint—and look at the books together, picking out paintings they thought Tunie's mother would have liked. After Tunie told Peter about this, he and his father had a conversation about Peter's mom. They started doing something similar, but with music.

Next Tunie stopped by the mystery section—Horus's enthusiasm had proven contagious. The mummy wasn't there. Tunie selected a stack of mysteries, checked out everything, and made her way upstairs.

Among the small study areas on the top floor, Peter had discovered a small metal door with a broken latch.

“It seems to be my talent,” Peter had said the first time they opened it. The door led to the rooftop. The view of the city from the library roof was the most spectacular any of them had seen. They could gaze out over the shining river in the distance, the busy, wending streets, the rows and rows of brick buildings stretching for acres. Up on top of the library, the sky was limitless. It was Horus's favorite place in the city. Saturday-evening sunset picnics had become their tradition. Because the library closed while they were on the roof, they always took the fire escape down.

Tunie shouldered her new parasol, with Perch clinging to its end, and stepped out onto the roof. She could see Horus and Peter had already spread out the blanket. Horus was pouring tin cups of iced tea, and Peter was taking sandwiches out of a metal lunchbox. She could hear him telling Horus about his latest invention.

“It's a water robot, a little friend for WindUp. Dorothy wrote and said I can test it in her pool next weekend when they're back from her grandparents' house.” He touched the top of WindUp's head, and the robot emitted a cheery chime.

The evening was clear and mild. Tunie paused, looking at her two friends chatting and laughing. Behind them, the sky was growing pink. Horus's eyes reflected the orange light of the sinking sun. Tunie felt full of a similar radiance, warm and weightless. She left the doorway and walked toward them.

“I found you,” she said.