Tut (3 page)

It seemed that, thanks to the will of the gods, I couldn't kill Horemheb. The good part seemed to be that he couldn't kill me, either. Horemheb looked as shocked as I did. His hands covered his own chest, but light exploded around his fingers. And then he started praying.

“Great Set, you have granted me your favor. Curse my enemy and this tomb forever. Grant my freedom. Allow me, your humble servant, to rule the world in your name.”

At his words, the black mist thickened and spread everywhere like it was alive and a thick sulfur smell filled the air, almost making me gag.

I felt a tug on my sandal and looked down.

“Osiris has granted you a way out,” the shabti leader said.

“Out! I can't leave Horemheb here alive.”

But the shabti leader wrung his little hands. “You must. He's invoked the wrath of Set. You heard the prayers. The gods have cursed these walls.”

I shot one last look behind me. I could come back for Horemheb. Bring some help with me. He could have lied about the palace guard being dead. About the whole revolution thing. Even if he couldn't die, he could be arrested and tortured for the rest of eternity for what he'd done.

The leader of the shabtis took my silence for a yes.

“This way,” he said, rushing for a tunnel.

“Where are we going?” I ran behind him, making sure I didn't step on his battalion. Given that they were only six inches tall, shabtis could run fast. And they did seem to stay out from underfoot.

“A door shown to us by Osiris himself,” the leader said, stopping when we reached the end of the tunnel. “It's here.”

“Set is answering my prayers, Tutankhamun,” Horemheb said from what sounded like only steps behind me. “Soon you will be dead!”

I glanced down. “If you don't mind hurrying—”

The leader moved aside. “You must pass through.”

The tomb was solid stone. This was nothing but a dead end. “How?”

The shabti leader only bowed to the ground. “Please, Great Pharaoh. You don't have much time.”

I felt the wall. It was solid rock. But the little shabti was insistent. So I closed my mind to sanity and remembered what Osiris had said.

“I have faith, Osiris,” I prayed. “Show me the way out.”

The thing in my chest pounded. I stepped forward, ignoring the fact that I was trying to step into solid limestone blocks. And something amazing happened. I passed right through.

“Gods be praised!” I was halfway through the limestone, but I turned to look at Horemheb tearing down the tunnel after me. There was no way in all the realm of Anubis that Horemheb could be allowed to be free.

“Tut, this is not over. Do not leave like a coward,” Horemheb said.

“This is over,” I said. “You can rot in here for eternity!”

I launched myself the rest of the way through the stone wall and looked at Horemheb one last time. There was no sign of him. Or the tomb. The whole thing had vanished, like it had been covered up by decades of sandstorms. I scanned the horizon, looking for the palace, the capital city, anything. But my Egypt had disappeared, and with it, my future.

 

3

WHERE I GO ON THE WORST FIELD TRIP EVER

WASHINGTON, D.C.—PRESENT DAY

Riding a school bus is torture when there are assigned seats. The last mile on the bus, stuck next to Seth Cooper, felt like five centuries instead of five minutes. I'd bet my one-eyed cat Horus's other eye that Seth hadn't washed his hands twice since September. And don't get me started on his breath. It smelled like he ate dead fetal pigs for breakfast two months ago and hadn't brushed his teeth since.

I hurried off the bus, praying I wouldn't be paired up with him for the entire field trip. There were things moving in his greasy red hair.

“Don't stick me with Tut,” Seth said to Mr. Plant, our World Cultures teacher.

Seth hated me. Nobody ever hated me. I couldn't understand it.

Mr. Plant ignored Seth and started calling out pairings. I braced myself, waiting for the bad news.

“Tut, you're with Henry,” Mr. Plant said.

Wait, what? If I was lucky enough to be paired with someone besides Seth, why did it have to be Henry Snider? Ever since school started two months ago, he'd been trying way too hard to be my best friend. He sat next to me in every class we had together, which was five out of eight, including lunch and Advisory. He kept asking me to get together and do stuff, like go to the movies or play video games. He talked constantly. It was bad enough that we were already science partners. Why couldn't I get paired with the cute new girl who'd been sitting in the back of the bus?

“We're going to every exhibit,” Henry said, pushing his glasses up higher onto his nose. His shaggy blond hair was going in every direction, like he'd been caught in a sandstorm. Even though it was chilly out, he wore plaid shorts, faded gray Chucks wrapped in duct tape, and a short-sleeved purple shirt that read, S
AVE
P
LUTO
. There was nothing about Pluto that deserved to be saved. It never should have been called a planet in the first place.

“Maybe you are,” I said. I'd seen all these exhibits a million times. Or at least all but one.

“Partners,” Henry said. “It means we stick together, through it all. Fight the fights. Defeat the foes. I got your back. You got mine.”

I wasn't sure what he thought was going to happen on this field trip. Maybe the zombie apocalypse? He'd probably seen too many cheesy horror movies.

“I got my own back. Thanks,” I said.

Henry tried to bump my fist. He missed and ended up punching me in the arm instead.

This is one of the problems with being immortal in eighth grade. I'd be this age forever. Other kids, like Henry for example, would get older each year. They'd move on, go to high school, be old enough to drive. I never would. I didn't see much point in making new friends each year.

“You're welcome, compadre,” Henry said.

Great Osiris, help me. I'd have skipped today if Gil hadn't insisted I come. Just thinking about this whole exhibit was starting to make my skin turn green. Yeah, green. It's this weird, thanks-to-Osiris thing that happens to me when I get nervous. But in my defense, these were the King Tut treasures we were talking about. Last time I'd seen them was in the seventies. Back then, I'd been the first in line. Big mistake. I was depressed for years. All my stuff being paraded around the country, like some carnival, and I couldn't have any of it. But the worst part was the memories it brought back. Memories of Egypt and my family and happiness.

“Seth, you're with Tia,” Mr. Plant said.

No way. Seth got the new girl? And I was stuck with Henry?

Tia wore baggy cargo pants, combat boots, and a bright pink athletic shirt. She had eyes that were as blue as lapis lazuli, which were stones used in all sorts of stuff from ancient Egypt, and a giant pink streak ran through her short dark hair. Her wrists were layered in bracelets, and at least five different necklaces hung from her neck. But the thing that won me over was the way she
accidentally
jabbed her elbow into Seth when she marched over to join him. He winced and opened his mouth to say something but stopped himself. It was almost like they knew each other and already despised each other. Seth had that effect on people.

“Someone told me she got kicked out of Catholic school for fighting,” Henry whispered to me.

“Who?” I asked, pretending I wasn't just staring at her.

“Tia,” Henry said. “They say this is her third school so far this year.”

Seeing as how we were only two months into the school year, Tia's troublemaking skills must be the thing of legend.

My chance to ask anything else about her was cut off when Mr. Plant blew his whistle. Yes, whistle. I felt like a two-year-old.

“First, the project,” he said.

Everyone groaned. Homework was bad enough. A three-week-long project was worse than hauling rocks around in the blazing hot desert to build pyramids for dead kings.

“Your partners assigned here will be your partners for the project. Your job is to study the artifacts you see today and then pick one to present to the class. You'll be graded not only on your research but on your originality, creativity, and presentation skills. The project will count for fifty percent of your final grade.”

“You're in luck,” Henry said. “My presentation skills are awesome.”

That made sense. He did talk constantly, so he had plenty of practice.

“And now, I'd like you to meet our tour guide.” Mr. Plant motioned to a redheaded guy with yellow eyes standing next to him. I guess the tour guide was taking the whole King Tut exhibit thing pretty seriously. He was dressed in some toga-looking loincloth tunic that actually resembled the real thing. Maybe he'd patterned it off the images from my tomb. It had been all the rage back in the day. Now he just looked like some kind of Halloween reject.

The tour guide caught me staring and smiled. My nerves prickled to the very edges of my skin. Coming to this exhibit was a horrible idea. I should have faked being sick today.

“Are you feeling okay?” Henry said. “You look green.”

“It's the lighting,” I said, and tried to make the green go away.

Henry pulled his wiry glasses from his eyes and cleaned them with the bottom of his Pluto T-shirt.

“No, you still look green,” he said once he slid his glasses back onto his nose.

Mr. Plant blew his whistle again and we followed him up the stairs in two lines, me next to Henry and Seth behind us next to Tia. When Mr. Plant got to the King Tut exhibit entrance, he put the whistle to his mouth like he was going to blow it again.

Our tour guide yanked it from Mr. Plant's mouth and threw it across the room. “Do not disturb the tomb of the pharaoh,” he bellowed.

“Tomb of the pharaoh,” Seth said from behind me. “I heard he was a puppet ruler. That he was too incompetent to make a single decision on his own.”

I bit my tongue. I didn't need to justify myself or my rule to some smelly eighth-grade loser.

“I know you've all been waiting for this day,” Mr. Plant said, scowling at our overdramatic tour guide.

“Not really,” I muttered. It wasn't too late. I could pretend to twist my ankle. Or act like I passed out.

“Are you kidding?” Henry said. “This is the best field trip ever. Even better than that pumpkin farm we went to back in third grade.”

I hadn't been in third grade with Henry, or at all, for that matter, so I couldn't agree or disagree.

Henry ran his hand over the gold-painted entryway they'd built specially for the exhibit. Above it hung a sign that read,

Death Shall Come on Swift Wings

To Him

Who Disturbs the Peace of the King.

It was the curse that had been inscribed outside of my tomb. A chill blew through the air, which had to be part of the exhibit. I scanned the area looking for hidden fans but didn't see any.

“I think the curse is hooey,” Henry said. His messy blond hair was blowing from the fans, covering one of his eyes. He tried to push it out of the way, but it only blew back.

“Me, too,” I said, even though I was living proof that the curse was real. “It's propaganda, created by archaeologists.” I left it at that. My true opinion of archaeologists wasn't relevant. And curses were definitely real. They were the most favorite, best weapon of the gods.

“I think they made it up to keep people out,” Henry said. “Do you have any idea how much stuff was buried with King Tut?”

“How much?” Tia asked, kicking her combat boots against the gold column. The whole exhibit entryway shook but didn't collapse.

I hadn't realized she was listening in on our conversation, but she was hanging on Henry's every word, flipping one of her necklaces around in circles on her finger. It looked like it might be a cross, but then I noticed the loop at the top and realized it was an ankh pendant, which was one of the most powerful symbols in Egyptian mythology. She must be way into this field trip, too.

Henry flipped open his notebook like he'd written it down. “I Googled it,” he said, talking louder now that he knew he had an audience. “There were chariots. And walking sticks … a whole collection of them.”

Every word out of his mouth made it clear he'd totally geeked out over the field trip. It was flattering in a way, the reality that most of the world thought I was some kind of rock star. Still, the fact that the priests decided I needed that much stuff in the afterworld was pathetic. I'm not sure what they thought I was going to do with everything.

“What do you think King Tut needed walking sticks for?” Tia asked, craning her neck to see into the exhibit.

The tour guide scowled at her and shifted so she couldn't see past him.

“I heard he was a hunchbacked, bucktoothed pansy,” Seth said.

Wait. He was talking about me. How dare he! If only I had the power to smite him. The only reason I'd had so many walking sticks is because they'd belonged to my dad before me.

“That's not nice,” Tia said, hitting Seth on the arm with her wrist full of bracelets.

Seth flinched like it hurt. No wonder she'd been kicked out of school for fighting.

“Before we enter the exhibit, it is imperative that nothing should be touched,” the tour guide said. “Doing so would invoke the wrath of the gods.”

I forced myself not to groan. The wrath of the gods. That wrath had been invoked thousands of years ago. Touching a few of my old possessions wasn't going to make them any angrier.

The tour guide opened the doors. I hesitated. It wasn't too late. I could leave. Except everyone started pushing forward, trying to be the first in, and I was shoved along with them. Seth bumped into me, I'm pretty sure on purpose. Hunchbacked and bucktoothed? Who was he to spread those lies about me? They'd been started by my enemies after my reign as a way to lessen my popularity.