The Last Phoenix (13 page)

“Watch what?” Fenella looked baffled for a moment, but then she smiled. “Aren't you lovely, Michael, worrying over an old bird like me. I'll be fine.” She coughed again. “Truly, I will.”

The children swapped concerned looks. “I hope so,” said Jess quietly.

“George must be a nice friend to have,” Milly said, hoping to lighten the mood. “He's got a lovely smile, hasn't he?”

“He smiled at you?” Fenella clucked. “It's said that the smile of a gryphon is a lucky charm. A very lucky charm indeed. You'll be coming in for some good fortune, my little chicklet, just you wait!”

Milly suddenly pictured herself crying in the parking lot after her audition, clutching onto Jess.
So much for good fortune,
she thought, but forced a smile of her own for Fenella. “He was very nice. Maybe when you've been reborn and you're feeling strong again, you could go to
the jungle and see him.”

“See him?” Fenella slowly shook her head and sighed. “Oh, no. Time travels by, lovie. George'll be long gone by now. Him and his precious silphium.”

“Gone?” echoed Milly.

Fenella nodded. “It isn't all fun being a fabulous bird who lives forever, you know. Friends come and go…Which is why I would so love to have a little hatchling to keep me company in the great long journey of never-ending life.” She glanced behind her at the kiln. “Anyway!” She sounded as if she was trying to force some cheer into her voice. “My nest's coming along nicely. Gold thread lining it. The egg resting on ash. Now silphium to polish the shell with. The only thing remaining to get is a drop of dew to moisten that little chickabiddy's tongue the moment she pops her beak through.”

“We'll get it, Fenella,” Michael promised.

Jason nodded. “We'll go tomorrow after school.”

Jess looked down at her soaking clothes. “But right now, I think we need to go home and get changed.”

Milly nodded ruefully. “My raincoat is torn to bits. If Ann finds it she'll kill me. I think I'll leave it here.” She stuffed the anorak under a bench and looked about. “Where shall I put the herb, Fenella?”

“Plonk it in my nest, lovie,” said Fenella. “Ah, me, no
wonder it was so sought after. Quickens the eye, speeds the body…” She stared dimly into the distance as if smiling at some sudden memory. “It was banned from the third Olympic Games, you know,” her voice faint and slightly vacant. “The discus hurler knocked out seven people with one throw. What a to-do there was…”

Ooooh, yes, that third Olympics…
Jess groaned as the voice started in her head again. “See you tomorrow, Fenella.”

“Though I expect you'll be
hearing
from me sooner,” said Fenella shrewdly. “Won't you, pet?”

Jess felt herself blushing.
She knows I took the ash,
she thought.

The phoenix waved a wing. “Bye-bye, my love. And farewell, my fine young Michael.”

Michael smiled. “Bye, Fenella.” He followed Jess outside, scratching his mosquito bites. “Blimey, I need a bath. I hope I haven't got malaria…”

Milly and Jason lingered. Milly nudged Jason.

“Fenella?” he said slowly. “Does silphium really help people to be better at sports and things?”

Fenella nodded. “Oh yes, my little duckling, temporarily. That was one of its boons, many years back.”

“It's just Jason's got a big soccer challenge tomorrow and he's not very good at soccer and he…we…” Milly
took a deep breath. “We were wondering if he could have just a tiny bit of the silphium—”

“No, Jason!” Jess exclaimed, bursting back through the doorway.

“Why not?” Jason retorted. “I bet it would really help.”

“Magic always goes wrong!” exclaimed Jess.

“Oh, Jess, lovie,” clucked Fenella. “You're such a worry-bucket. Life's too short.” She turned her head slowly and looked straight at Jess with her dim eyes. “Have you never taken chances, pet?”

“Maybe,” said Jess gloomily. “But then I wished I hadn't.”

“Sometimes the only way to learn is from our mistakes,” said Fenella quietly. Then she coughed, shivered—and forced a smile for Jason. “If you're worried and you really think you need help, then go on and have a nibble. Half a leaf should perk up your inner athlete.”

“Thanks, Fenella!” Jason said in delight. He quickly tore off a little of the leaf and thrust it in his mouth.

Jess turned away, as Jason grimaced and swallowed it down….

J
ason couldn't sleep that night. He'd gone to bed early, hoping the herb would magically go to work while he slept. Although he'd cleaned his teeth, he could still taste the leaf's bitterness on his tongue.
Perhaps that means my body is still absorbing it,
he thought, with a flutter of nerves. Tomorrow, he might just be able to kick a ball and run and dive like the other boys. He wouldn't be known just as “geeky Jason” or the other mean names he'd been called most of his life.

He guessed the effect of the leaf would wear off eventually, but by then he'd have shown people what he could do and he wouldn't need to keep playing. They would ask him, plead with him to be on their team…“Nah, I wouldn't want to show up the rest of you,” he'd say modestly…

With a hopeful smile, he finally fell asleep.

 

But the next morning, Jason didn't feel any different. He sat next to Milly at the kitchen table and toyed with his
half-eaten bowl of cereal.

“I'm really worried about Fenella,” Milly said. “She looked awful last night when we got back from the jungle.”

“I know. She's getting weaker every day,” said Jason.

“She said it's normal, but it's so horrid to watch.” Milly sighed. “Oh, Jase. You do think her rebirth is going to be okay, don't you?”

He looked at her worriedly, for a moment forgetting about his own troubles. “I hope so.”

Just then, the door opened and they quickly shut up, but it was only Michael. He helped himself to a breakfast bar from the cupboard. “Feeling sporty then?” he asked, looking at Jason.

“Not really,” Jason admitted.

“Oh, well. There are worse things than being a loser, mate.” Michael sniggered. “I just can't think what they are right now.”

“You should know, Michael,” said Jess, breezing into the kitchen. “Your mates are still teasing you over that whole mugging business.”

“They'll get over it!” Michael's voice turned pleading. “I mean, they've
got
to. Haven't they?” He shot a calculating look at Jason. “Although maybe if
I
duff
you
up in public, the joking will stop.”

“Maybe we should be careful about drawing attention
to ourselves in public,” said Jess quickly. “Remember that spooky guy who was following us yesterday…”

“He hasn't really got in our way so far, has he?” said Michael. “And tonight, we're gonna get the dewdrop—which means Fenella's shopping list is complete and whatever that bloke is watching us for, it won't matter.”

Milly got up and took her cereal bowl over to the sink. “Just imagine—by tonight Fenella could be hatching her egg!”

Ann burst into the kitchen, car keys in one hand, a box of paperbacks under her arm. “What's everyone hanging about for?” she cried. “Go! School!
Now!
”

 

For Jason, the day crawled by. He was too nervous about the soccer challenge to eat much lunch. As the bell rang for the end of afternoon lessons and he followed his class to the changing rooms, he felt a cloud of gloom gathering over him. He just wasn't any different. The herb hadn't worked. He was going to be as rubbish as always in the soccer tournament.

The girl in front, Susan Walsh, was carrying her bag at an angle, and Jason noticed her denim pencil case falling out. Suddenly time seemed to slow down around him. As the case slipped free, Jason darted out one foot almost without thinking—and neatly caught the case on the toe of his shoe!

“What a fluke!” someone said beside him. Susan turned and gave him a puzzled smile as he passed it to her. “Thanks, Jason.”

He blushed.

“Pity you can't do that with a ball, Worthington,” grunted Bradley Mantle, the tall, curly-haired captain of the soccer team, as he pushed past. He had never talked to Jason before in his life.

Jason felt a prickle of delight.
Maybe, Bradley,
he thought,
you're in for a surprise.

 

Ten minutes later, the soccer tournament was getting underway. The younger kids were being excused from lessons so they could watch and make some noise for the different teams, and Milly was keeping a watchful eye on Jason. He was standing about, looking oddly excited, and when he saw her, he gave her a big thumbs-up. Milly waved madly.

The teachers divided the students into teams of seven a side, ready to play each other in rotation. Milly saw that Jason was on a team with Bradley Mantle, and her heart sank. Jason wouldn't get a chance with the sportiest kid in the school hogging the spotlight.

Jason jogged in place. Now that he was moving around on the playing field, he felt strong and fit. “Who's playing where, Bradley?”

“I'll play up front,” said Bradley. “Paul, Sean, you play
across the middle. Tony, get in the goal. Gilbo, Kari, you're at the back. Worthington…just stay out of the way, okay?”

The whistle blew. “Go, Jase!” Milly yelled.

Jason was off like a rocket toward the goal.

“I said, stay out of the way!” Bradley yelled.

But Jason didn't want to stop. He'd never felt so full of energy before. “To me!” he shouted to Sean, who had taken possession of the ball.

Sean hesitated but then passed it to Jason.

Jason stuck his foot out and just managed to get his toe to the ball.
Now, it's a team game,
he told himself.
I suppose I'd better pass it too
. He saw Paul outrunning two defenders and booted the ball toward him. But his aim was off, the pass went wide—and to his amazement, the ball flew toward the goal, missed the keeper's hands by centimeters and thumped into the back of the net.

Milly almost exploded with delight.
“Yes!”

Jason stared in shock, as a big cheer went up. He had scored a goal! He'd actually scored a goal!

“Nice one, Jason!” Sean shouted.

“Fluke,” Bradley spat.

Maybe it was,
thought Jason, glowing as the onlookers went on clapping.
But next time I'll
mean
to score one!

The goalie kicked the ball forward but Bradley managed
to get his head to it, brought it down, and set off down the left wing.

“To me!” Jason shouted, jumping up and down on the penalty line, waving his arms.

Bradley crossed the ball.

But Mr. Hurst, the referee, blew his whistle. “Offside! No goal hanging, Jason. You'd gone past the last defender when Bradley crossed the ball—that's offside.”

“Nice work, Worthington,” said Bradley sourly, shaking his head. “That's a free kick to them, you Muppet.”

Jason ran back to his own half. Okay, so he might not know all the rules—but he'd already scored one goal, and he was going to score another!

Susan Walsh took the free kick. She tried to send it to someone on her team, but Jason raced over and slid in, neatly stopping the ball with his shins. He jumped to his feet and swiveled on the spot, eyeing the ball. He was going to show everyone what he could do! He thwacked the ball as hard as he could.

It soared through the air like a black-and-white meteor and crashed against the crossbar so hard it knocked the whole goal over. The ball ricocheted off and struck Mr. Hurst in the stomach—he fell over backward and almost swallowed his whistle.

Bradley stared at Jason. “What was
that
meant to be?”

“Um, the wind must have got behind it,” said Jason weakly. “Sorry, Mr. Hurst!”

Mr. Hurst was too winded to answer. Another teacher was helping him to his feet. The goalie and two defenders struggled to right the goal.

Milly bit her lip. Jason had the power, but it seemed he hadn't worked out quite how to use it. “Go, Jase!” she called again, only a little more quietly this time.

Jason wiped his sweating hands on his top while he and his fellow players waited for Mr. Hurst to recover. Several dirty looks were shot his way as the delay dragged on, and Jess's words rang in his ears—“Magic always goes wrong!” “Not this time,” he muttered determinedly.

Mr. Hurst, with a wary look at Jason, had recovered enough to blow his whistle again. Play resumed as the other team's goalie booted the ball down the pitch. Jason duly chased after it, outrunning both opposing midfielders.

“Open!” yelled Bradley from the far sideline.

But Jason wasn't about to give up the ball to Bradley now he'd got it. Susan was making straight for him. If he could just chip the ball over her head, dodge past and try to head it in himself…

He got his toe neatly under the ball and flicked it up hard. It smacked into Susan's chin and bounced off, heading straight for Jason's face. He ducked automatically, and
the ball struck a boy behind him instead. With a cry, the boy went down. Susan was already lying on the ground, groaning and clutching her chin. Jason stared round in confusion—and one of the opposition nicked in and tried to take the ball. Jason swung a leg wildly but missed the ball completely, upending the player instead.

“Foul!” someone yelled.

“I didn't mean to!” Jason protested.

Mr. Hurst blew his whistle. “All right, Jason. Take a time out—for all our sakes!”

Milly looked on, dismayed, as Jason walked away from the carnage he had caused to the edge of the field, his cheeks burning. As the fallen players staggered back up, play resumed and Bradley soon scored a goal. The crowd erupted in cheers again.

Standing alone as a fine rain began to fall, Jason listened to the applause and his heart sank slowly down into his cleats. Forget being rubbish at sports, now everyone must think he was a total freak. He'd wanted to make things better but he'd made them much worse.

“Jason Worthington, magical soccer hero,” he muttered unhappily to himself.
“Not.”