Milo and One Dead Angry Druid (6 page)

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

SWIRLING COLOURS AND ROUNDY DESIGNS

‘
L
et’s go to the museum,’ Shane said, after school a week later.

‘What?’ I said. ‘Why do you want to go there? We were there last week.’

‘I want to see it again.’

‘Oh, all right,’ I groaned. I’d had it up to my tonsils with druids and circles-inside-circles, thank you very much.

At the beginning of the alley I stopped to shake a stone from my shoe. Shane was still chatting to himself, didn’t even know I’d stopped. When I caught up with him around the corner he had company. Yes, it was my night-time pals, Crunch Kelly and Wedge Murphy. They were hassling Shane. They had him pressed against a wall, one searching his pockets, the other trying to steal Shane’s new runners. I watched for just a couple of seconds.

‘Run!’ Shane yelled at me. ‘Get away from these scumbags!’

That was my best pal – watching out for me. But now it was my turn. I sauntered towards them.

‘Excuse me, boys,’ I said.

It was Crunch who saw me first. I smiled, and he froze. He tapped Wedge who was stooped down, untying the second runner.

‘What?’ Wedge said impatiently. ‘Can’t you see I’m busy, Crunch?’

Then he looked up and saw me. ‘Woooo,’ I whispered. ‘Been in court yet, boys?’ They both looked around frantically and, holding on to each other, they scarpered.

Shane’s mouth opened wide. ‘Hey, Milo,’ he said. ‘How did you do that?’

I tapped my nose. ‘I got that trick from a friend,’ I said. ‘A very old friend,’ I added.

‘Liar, liar, pants on fire,’ said Shane. ‘We go way back, I know everyone you know …’

‘Maybe not everyone,’ I said. ‘Now, come on. Let’s see what’s happening.’

There was a crowd in the museum. Mister
Conway was there, like a demented general with piles, fussing and telling people to get in line. Shane and I ducked our way to the centre of the attraction.

‘I’m so proud,’ whispered Shane.

And so he should be. His gran’s painting of the druidstone had everyone excited. The swirling colours and roundy designs were simply magic. Celtic magic. The museum people had bought the picture for permanent display in the newly done-up glass case where the half druidstone had been.

‘This painting is extremely valuable now that the druidstone has been stolen by robbers,’ Mister Conway was saying to the crowd. How would he react if I told him that the robbers were me and the dead Mister Albert Arthur Lewis!

‘OooOOOoo!’ I couldn’t resist, could I?

Mister Conway ducked down and put his hands on his head.

‘Eh, I think I dropped me, eh, keys,’ he muttered when he came up for air. He blushed and ran his eyes over all of us. Just for an instant he focused on me, and then glanced over at the Famine scene. Then he shook his head, probably to shake away that night and stop himself from associating living faces with the whole spooky thing.

‘Just think, Milo,’ said Shane when we went outside, ‘the council are having cards and calendars and prints and stuff done from that painting by my gran. They say it’ll bring tourists to liven up our town. By the way,’ he continued, taking something from his pocket. ‘I found this in the long grass behind our house. Didn’t you have a jacket
with this on it?’

I looked at the tatty little bit of the jacket with Bart Simpson’s face on it, and I smiled.

‘Not any more,’ I said. ‘It was nicked by a druid.’

‘Yeah, right,’ laughed Shane. ‘Like, he wore it to Grace O’Malley’s tea party!’

‘Sure thing,’ I smiled.

Mary Arrigan studied at the National College of Art, Dublin, and at Florence University. She became a fulltime writer in 1994. Her latest novel for teenagers,
The Rabbit Girl
, one of her forty-two published books, was selected by The United States Board of Books for Young People on their list of Outstanding International Books for 2012. Her awards include the International White Ravens title (Munich), a Bisto Merit Award,
The Sunday Times
Crime Writers Association Award and The Hennessy Short Story Award. Her books have been translated into twelve languages.

Little Croker
Danny Wilde wants one thing more than anything else in the world and that’s to get his GAA team, Littlestown Crokes, to the top of the League.
But when things go horribly wrong, can they make it after all?