Philip and the Fortune Teller (9781619501317) (3 page)

Emery answered Philip’s knock on his door, an
orange Popsicle in one hand. “What’d you find?”

Philip stared at the treat.

“You want one? We only got orange and only
the kind with one stick and not two.”

“Sure.”

The Popsicle taken care of, Philip asked,
“Where’s your mom?”

“Upstairs with the babies.” Emery had two
little sisters, a year apart in age.

“She might hear us.”

“Ha! My mother doesn’t even hear me when I
talk right to her. She’s always got a baby in her arms and is
talking to herself. My mother had me doing stuff. I didn’t get to
go on the computer yet. Did you find it?”

“Yeah. A pawnshop is a place you take stuff,
and they give you money for it.”

“I’d like to take my two sisters to a
pawnshop then.”

“Not people, dummy. Stuff.”

“Like scarabs?”

“Jewelry, sure. I guess. Anyway, Wikipedia
says you give the guy the stuff, and he gives you a ticket. If you
want your stuff back, you have to pay him more than he gave you. If
you don’t show up after a while, he keeps whatever you gave him and
sells it.”

“So the lady has the stuff, and the pharaoh
and gypsy have the ticket?”

“Looks like.”

“Why don’t they give her the ticket and get
the box back?”

“Because she’s not the pawnshop; she bought
the box from the pawnshop. She wants it. It’s hers now. Get
it?”

“I guess so. So what’s it all mean?” Emery
asked softly.

“It means they didn’t go to buy the box back
in time, and the old lady bought the box of jewels and doesn’t know
about the magical scarab. The gypsy wants it back before she does
know and causes trouble. So, should we do it?”

“Get the jewels?”

“No, open a pawnshop. Yes, get the box of
jewels.”

“Let’s go to Mrs. Logan’s bushes. We need a
plan.” Mrs. Logan’s house on their block had lots of bushes, and
the boys had found a convenient hidey-hole in them. The bushes had
grown in a way leaving the boys an igloo-shaped space big enough to
sit and even lie down in if they wanted.

“You gotta tell your mother you’re going
out?” Philip asked.

“She wouldn’t hear me if I did. Let’s
go.”

After two hours of arguing and plotting, the
boys finally had a plan they agreed on. It was dangerous; it could
get them into a world of trouble; it could fall apart and even get
them arrested, they thought; but with three wishes on the line,
they agreed the attempt was worth the danger, and they would put
their plan into operation that very night.

“Hi, Dad. How was work?”

Philip’s father lowered his newspaper. Dinner
had ended, and Philip believed he’d found the right time to get the
plan underway.

“How was work? My work?”

“Sure your work. Who else’s?”

“You’ve never asked me before.”

Philip shrugged. His father
had
to be
difficult.

“A typical day. Nothing particularly
noteworthy. And how was your day?”

Ha! The question Philip had been hoping
for.

“I won a free circus ticket. Emery and I each
won one.”

“Really! How so?”

“We were walking around watching them set up
the circus and the sideshow, and they picked us out and gave us
each a ticket. See?”

Philip waved the ticket in front of his
father, who took it and inspected it.

“Very nice.”

“Okay if Emery and I go tomorrow night?”

Philip’s mother’s voice came from behind
him.

“You mean alone? Just the two of you?”

“Sure, it’s only over at Lighthouse Field.
That’s not far.”

Philip’s father interrupted.

“How about I pick you and Emery up afterward
so we’re sure you get home safely?”

“You don’t have to, Dad. We’ll be okay.”

“No, I agree with your father. He’ll pick you
up after. Decide where you’ll meet.” His mother turned and went
back to whatever she’d been doing.

Philip’s father pointed up and said, “Word
has come down. So where shall I meet you, and when?”

Philip had been afraid of this but expected
it. He and Emery never imagined they’d be allowed to walk home
alone late at night in the dark. They’d figured the circus would
last about two hours, and it began at seven-thirty.

“Can you meet us at ten? There’s a big cotton
candy and peanut stand just as you go into the sideshow part.” If
his father agreed, he and Emery would have half-an-hour on their
own after the circus ended.

“Ten o’clock at the cotton candy booth. I’ll
be there.” His father lifted up his newspaper, and his face
disappeared behind it.

Yes!
Philip cried silently. He went to
the phone and called Emery to tell him their plan was working!

The next day Philip and Emery hung around
each other’s houses, nervously awaiting the evening. They stayed
away from the old woman’s house, in case she spent the day rocking
on her porch. When they went home for dinner, they promised to meet
again at six-fifteen. That’s when the toughest part of the plan
would kick in.

“You got some rocks?” Philip asked as he and
Emery walked speedily toward Van Kirk Street.

Emery patted his pocket. “I got ‘em.”

“It’s awful light out.”

“Don’t worry. It won’t take us long. Once we
break the window, we head on over to the circus real quick. She
can’t get a window fixed at night. No glass-fixing store will be
open. We come back after the circus when it’s dark, go in, and find
the box. 6482. You got the flashlight, right?”

Philip produced a small flashlight two inches
long and as thick as two of his fingers.

“You sure it works?” Emery asked. “Turn it
on.”

Philip flicked the switch, and the light came
on.

“I even brought an extra battery in case the
one inside burns out. I don’t know how long it’s been in
there.”

The boys quieted as they turned onto Van Kirk
Street. When they approached the old woman’s house, they crossed
the street, angling toward the bushes next to the garage. When they
reached the bushes, they hunkered down, hoping no one could see
them. From where they knelt, they could see the old woman’s house
clearly.

“Give me the rocks,” Philip whispered. “You
be the lookout. Okay, I’m gonna break the window.” He stood and
took a step.

“Witch! Window!” Emery whispered in a
panic.

Philip paused and turned to Emery. “Which
window? What do you mean which window? The window right there; the
one in the door by the doorknob.”

“Witch! Door!” Emery cried louder in even
greater panic.

“Which door? What is wrong with you? There’s
only one door. Right there. Right there. You see another door?”

“She’s coming?”

“Who’s coming?”

“Stop talking. The witch is coming.
Hide!”

Philip peeked around the garage so he could
see what Emery saw—the old woman hobbling across her lawn in their
direction.

“Oh!” Philip cried. “Why didn’t you tell
me?”

“I did tell you! She looked out the window; I
said witch, window. She came out the door; I said witch, door. You
didn’t listen. You kept talking and asking stupid questions.”

“You didn’t make it clear. You said witch
window, and I thought you said which window.”

“I
did
say witch, window! Never mind
now. We gotta hide.”

Philip looked around. “We have to crawl
further under. Go get under more. Go, under the bushes.”

The boys dove deeper into the bushes and
wriggled on their stomachs as far as the bushes permitted. They
faced the garage and breathed as quietly as they knew how.

They saw the long swishy black dress of the
woman and heard her fussing with the side door of the garage. They
heard her talk to herself.

“Where did I put . . . did I drop it?”

They saw the woman’s legs go back the way
they came. Emery poked his head out of the bush.

“Philip, the door’s open. She left it open.
Come on, quick.”

Philip crawled forward.

“You mean go into the garage now?”

“Yeah, before she comes back. Why are you
always talking so much?”

Emery scampered into the garage, and Philip
followed him. They were brought up short and stared in amazement.
The garage was packed so full of stuff they had only the smallest
space to stand in. There were cardboard boxes full of magazines and
books; wooden boxes filled with smaller boxes; shelves full of
glasses and vases and little statues and old clothes.

“I hear her voice,” said Philip. “She’s
coming back. There’s no room to hide in here.”

“Climb up on the boxes and get behind the
rocking chair.”

The boys scrambled awkwardly over boxes and
chairs and tables and crammed themselves behind an old wooden
rocking chair. The old woman entered the garage, and the boys
stared down at her, hoping she wouldn’t turn their way. They
watched as the old woman unloaded a brown shopping bag. She pulled
out two small statues which she unwrapped from the paper protecting
them and squeezed them onto a shelf she could barely reach. She
pulled out two big piles of magazines and tossed them over some
boxes onto a pile of other magazines that peeked out over the
boxes.

“Ahhh,” the old woman began in her creaky
voice, “there you are my little pretty.”

Philip stomach danced. He hoped he wasn’t the
little pretty
she had discovered. He watched her take a
small round mirror, very decorated and with a short handle, and lay
it gently inside an open box at her right shoulder. The old woman
looked over her stash, and Philip scrooched down. The woman gave a
satisfied chuckle and left the garage, closing the door behind
her.

“She’s gone,” Philip whispered. “Let’s get
down before we start knocking things over.”

The boys made their careful way back to the
floor.

“At least we didn’t have to break any
windows,” Emery whispered.

“We better be able to get out of here,”
Philip said nervously.

“Go try the door.”

Philip slid between boxes and things to the
door. Terror shot through him when the doorknob refused to turn.
“We’re locked in!” he cried.

Emery peeked over his shoulder.

“Try the little button. Turn the button.”

Philip gave the button in the center of the
doorknob a small turn. When he tried the doorknob this time, it
worked.

“There, see. We can get out.”

Philip breathed a long sigh of relief, eager
for this part of the plan to be over with. “Let’s look for the box.
I don’t like being in here.”

“In all this junk? Where will we look?”

Philip thought a moment.

“It probably won’t be with all the magazines
and newspapers. It’s not on the tables or chairs or shelves we can
see. Look in those boxes where she put the mirror. Maybe that’s
where she puts her fancy stuff.”

Emery slid around Philip and started looking
through the box where the woman had put the mirror.

“There’s a big box over there,” said Philip.
“I’ll climb up on these magazines . . .”

“I see a couple boxes on the bottom,” Emery
interrupted over his shoulder.

“You see any numbers on them?”

“I see a tag, but it’s tucked in between
other boxes. Come help me.”

Philip jumped down from the stack of
magazines. The pile wobbled as he jumped, and Philip held his
breath until the magazine pile steadied.

“What do you want me to do?” Philip
asked.

“I can’t reach down far enough. Let me on
your shoulders.”

Philip didn’t much like the idea of Emery
stepping on him. “Why don’t you get one of those chairs?”

“We pull out a chair, and everything’ll fall
down. Come on. You want to see the circus or what? We’re wasting
time.”

Philip did want to see the circus, so he bent
down, and Emery stood on his back.

“Okay, stand up slow now,” Emery ordered.

Philip staggered to his feet with Emery
telling him to go right and left and stand up and bend over.

“Stop telling me what to do,” Philip puffed,
out of breath from moving Emery around.

“Be still. I can reach now.”

“Tell me what you’re doing.”

“There’s a tag on the string. I’m trying to
pull it . . . I got it. 6482! It’s the box.”

“Can you get it out?”

“Let me get . . . wait . . . here hold
this.”

Emery reached a box down to Philip. Philip
could only move his eyes since Emery’s ankles were clamped tightly
against his ears.

“What am I supposed to do with this?” Philip
asked, impatient with Emery’s giving him so many orders.

“It was in the way. Here, hold this one,
too.”

“Another one?”

“Here, one more.”

“I can’t hold so many!”

“Take it,” Emery ordered.

Philip balanced the two boxes Emery had
already passed him against his chest and took the third one.

“I got it!” Emery cried. “I got it. Kneel
down again.”

“It’s hard to kneel down without my
hands.”

“Don’t use your hands, just use your
knees.”

“I gotta balance. You’re making me
wobble.”

“Hey, come on. Easy. Now you’re making
me
wobble.”

Philip managed to get one knee on the floor,
and when he did, Emery hopped off. He stood in front of Philip and
held out the tag. It said
Riley’s Pawnshop
and had the
number 6482 clearly printed on it.

“We got it,” said Emery triumphantly. “Let’s
get out of here.”

Philip indicated the three boxes he still
held. “What about these?”

Emery frowned. “I guess we better put them
back where they were so the old lady doesn’t get suspicious.” Emery
put the box he held on the ground. “Kneel down again.”

“How about you kneel down this time?” Philip
said hotly.