The Last Phoenix Page 7

  Thankful that even in Moreways Meet the shops were open till six on a Saturday, his first stop was the jewelers on High Street. They had a sign in their window that said WE BUY GOLD—perfect!

  The woman in the shop was starchy and pale with thick blond curls. Her cherry-red lips were pursed in disapproval as he wandered up to the counter in his scruffy jeans and rugby shirt.

  “Hi,” he began, trying his most winning smile. “You buy gold, yeah?”

  “Sometimes,” said the woman guardedly.

  “You’ll want to buy this.” Michael pulled one of the pieces of phoenix gold out and slapped it on the counter.

  The woman’s eyebrows shot up so far they were almost lost in her hairdo. She picked the gold up and held it to the light, turning it around and looking at it from all angles. It gleamed softly. “It’s beautiful,” she said slowly. “Like nothing I’ve ever seen.” Her expression hardened as she turned back to Michael. “Where did you get it?”

  “It used to be my gran’s,” he lied. “She left it to me in her will, and now I need to trade it.”

  “Do you, indeed?” the woman said, looking more closely at the gold. “Well, it hasn’t got a hallmark. It isn’t real gold.”

  “Course it is,” Michael blustered.

  “I’m not sure what it is,” she went on, engrossed. “And besides, you’re a minor. I’d need your parents’ permission to even value it.” She looked at him again. “I’ll give you a form if you like and you can get them to fill it in.”

  Michael’s palms were sweating. “Can’t you just buy it off me right now? Say, a hundred quid?”

  The woman frowned at him. “Look, what’s going on? Where did you really get this? What’s your address?”

  The questions hit Michael like a barrage of bullets. His nerve broke and he snatched the gold back from her and barged back out the door. Stupid, he told himself. She’ll probably call the cops now, thinking you nicked it.

  Quickening his step, he headed toward the dowdy little maze of crooked alleys that led to his back-up plan—the secondhand shop, Junk and Disorderly. It was here that they’d left Skribble in the genie lamp after saying good-bye. It was weird how he had showed up outside Milton’s house, waffling on like that.

  Michael lingered in the cobbled street outside the junk shop awhile and caught his breath. If he looked furtive or anxious, the owner—Barry, his name was—might think the gold was dodgy too. And Michael knew this was his last chance to get the bar cashed in time to hit the multiplex that night.

  He pushed open the door. Barry looked up from his dog-eared paperback and nodded vaguely. “All right, son?”

  “It’s your lucky day, Barry,” said Michael. “I need some cash, pronto, so I’m having to sell this family heirloom.”

  He held up the phoenix gold. But the windows were so grimy and the side street so gloomy that little light could sneak in to show its sparkle. Even so, Barry put down his paperback. “What’s that then? It’s not gold, is it?”

  “It’s a special type of gold,” said Michael, nodding knowledgeably. “It was left to me by a long-lost uncle from Cairo.”

  “Ah.” Barry gave him an indulgent smile. “Your mum and dad know you’re selling it, do they?”

  Michael nodded. “Yeah, course they do.”

  “And they thought you’d get the best price for a special type of gold down at Barry’s old junk shop, did they?” He shook his head. “Sorry, son, I can’t touch that for you. If I put a thing like that in my window, I’d have your parents kicking up a storm, or the police around asking questions, all sorts of bother.” He picked up his paperback again. “And I don’t do bother.”

  “Fine,” Michael retorted, his cheeks burning. “I’ll take it somewhere else and let them have the bargain of the century.”

  “Any reputable place will give you the same answer I did, son,” Barry assured him.

  Suddenly there was a clatter from the back of the shop. Michael looked over and saw a figure watching him from behind a teetering tower of cardboard boxes. A man in a raincoat, his hair an unkempt gray thatch, his eyes dark and piercing. A metal teapot had just fallen out of a box near his feet.

  “Need help with anything, mate?” called Barry.

  The man shook his head. But his eyes remained on Michael.

  A shiver ran through Michael’s body. “There is always one who watches,” Skribble had said. For a moment Michael was put in mind of the two genies from the Genie Council who’d come after them in search of their magical handbook. The scruffy man didn’t look like the slick, smartly dressed genies, but there was something strangely similar about his sharp, dark gaze…And Jess and Milly had seen those genies first in this very junk shop.

  Michael turned and stormed out without another word. Once outside he ran along the zigzagging alleyway and onto the main road, his heart pounding. But there was no sign that he was being followed, and once back on the sunny, milling High Street, his fears soon faded. But his money worries did not.

  “Dumb phoenix,” he muttered to himself as he ran along the street. “Unless I can come up with some cash before eight o’clock, I’m doomed!”

  Jason lay on his bed, still turning his gold over in his hands. The whole day had been unbelievable, and it was all he could do not to run around babbling about it to anyone who’d listen. Like anyone would ever believe me, he thought wryly. Anyway, it’s so cool to have a real, incredible secret again…. He couldn’t wait to go on their next magic mission.

  Suddenly there was a pounding on the stairs, and the next moment Michael burst in through the bedroom door. He looked out of breath and his hair was spiked up with sweat. “Jase, mate.” He panted. “How much cash have you got on you?”

  “Huh?” Jason frowned. “Didn’t you sell your gold, then?”

  “I couldn’t! No one would take it off me.” He got down on his knees in front of the bed. “I’m begging you, Jase, old buddy—lend me your cash.”

  “But I haven’t got much,” Jason protested. “I put some into my savings account last week.”

  “That’s not fair!” Michael groaned. “If you’ve got enough to put into a savings account, you should let me have some!” He slumped down on Jason’s bed. “It’s hopeless. I said I’d pay for Rick, Josh, Sam, and Thomas to go to the multiplex tonight, with hot dogs, popcorn, the works. I thought I’d be set after helping that crazy bird. Instead, I’ve got as much cash as I had this morning—one pound thirty-eight.”

  “I’ve got three pounds you can borrow,” Jason offered.

  “That’s, like, three quarters of one hot dog.” Michael shook his head. “What am I gonna do? Dad won’t give me another loan. Even if he did, I’d be paying it off forever.”

  Jason shrugged. “Pretend to be sick.”

  “I’ve made the offer now,” said Michael miserably. “They’ll expect me to treat them when I’m better ’cause I told them I got all this money…”

  “So tell them you lost it,” said Jason.

  Michael looked at him suddenly. “Tell them?” He smiled and shook his head. “Better than that—I’ll show them I lost it. With a little help from you, mate.”

  “From me?” With dread, Jason recognized the smile on Michael’s face as one that meant an “amazing” plan had just occurred to him.

  “Come on!” Michael bounced off the bed and dragged Jason to his feet. “Milly’s not the only one in this family who can put on a performance—and here’s where I’ll prove it!”

  Michael swung his rucksack onto his shoulder and jumped down from the bus as it shuddered to a stop around the corner from the multiplex. Jason was right behind him. They were the only two getting off.

  “Thanks for funding our tickets, Jase,” said Michael. “So, this is Quilborough. Well, at least no one knows us.”

  “What difference does that make?” asked Jason. “What are we doing here—and why did you tell Mum and Mark that you were taking me to see a film? Jess and Milly are completely suspicious. They kn
ow you never normally take me out with your mates.”

  “Sorry, Jase—afraid it’s just not cool to let little brothers or stepbrothers tag along.” Michael smiled craftily. “But cheer up, I will be spending the whole evening with you tonight. Because you’re going to mug me.”

  Jason stared. “I’m what?”

  “It’s the obvious solution,” said Michael. “I turn up at the pictures all roughed up with my pockets torn, and tell the lads someone nicked all my money. That way they won’t expect me to treat them all another time.”

  “But then Rick will treat them all instead.” Jason scratched his head. “That’s what made you say you’d treat everyone in the first place!”

  “Yeah, but at least the lads will know I made the bigger offer and he’s being forced to match it,” said Michael. He set off down a quiet close leading off from the main street. “Come on, this looks like a good enough place.”

  Jason reluctantly followed. “I still don’t get why you need me along.”

  “I don’t want to spend a Saturday night waiting around all by myself, do I?” Michael patted his rucksack. “Anyway, I need you to wait back here with my spare clothes. Obviously I can’t go back looking like I’ve been mugged—Dad and Ann would freak and call the police or something. So I just pop down, do my acting bit, tell them I’m all shaken up and that I hope they have a good time without me, and push off back here. Then you and me kill time till it’s time to go home, and we tell Dad and Ann that we’ve been to the film.”

  “That’s a lot of lying,” said Jason doubtfully.

  Michael knew Jason was right but forced himself not to dwell on it. He scowled—and suddenly threw himself into a flowerbed.

  Jason stared. “Michael, are you okay?”

  “I’m just roughing myself up a bit,” Michael told him. “Come on, try and rip the back of my shirt.”

  “But that’ll ruin it!” protested Jason.

  “Stop being such a girl!” Michael was rubbing mud on his face and into his hair.

  Sighing, Jason grabbed a handful of Michael’s shirt and tugged on it with all his strength. The fabric stretched but wouldn’t tear.

  “Come on, put some effort in!” Michael strained to pull away from him to make Jason’s task easier but only managed to overbalance them both. Jason fell on top of Michael, pushing his head into a rosebush.

  “Sorry!” said Jason. “Oh no, the thorns have scratched you.”

  “Have they?” Michael grinned. “Cool! That’ll be even more realistic.” He set about the front pocket of his muddy jeans, trying to tear the tough denim. “Give us a hand here…”

  After a few minutes wrestling with stitches and handfuls of mud, Michael deemed himself ready for his star role. With a cheery wave, he left his stepbrother with his backpack and jogged off toward the multiplex to make his dramatic entrance. He turned into the parking lot, ignoring the curious looks from the people he pushed past. Aha—there were his mates, laughing at something Rick the Slick was saying. He quickened his pace, tried to get himself into the right mood of desperate horror. It can’t be true! But it is! All my money’s been—

  “Stolen!” he gasped, staggering up to Thomas, Josh, and Sam. “My cash—all nicked!”

  His mates spun around and stared at him, uncomprehendingly. For a long, horrible moment, Michael was certain they knew he was lying. But then Rick of all people put an arm around his shoulders. “Easy, mate,” he said, looking genuinely worried. “Come on, lean on me. What happened?”

  “This big guy,” Michael gasped, pulling carefully free of Rick’s grip. “Came up behind me and knocked me to the ground. Look at the state of me…”

  Now his mates started forward, their faces full of concern. Michael felt a twinge of guilt for tricking them like this. But it was too late to back out now.

  “Don’t crowd him, guys, give him some room,” ordered Rick. “Come on, Michael, we’ve got to get you down to the police station. Maybe the hospital. Forget the film. I’ll ring for my dad to get us.”

  “Er, no!” said Michael in alarm. “It…It’s not worth bothering anyone.”

  “What are you on about?” said Josh. “If some nutter’s running about—”

  “Yeah, but he’s gone now, with all my cash.” Michael shrugged. “We’ll never find him.”

  “Hello, Michael!” Michael turned to find a woman in her fifties with long gray hair and large glasses walking toward him. He cursed—it was Dad’s friend Ginny from the store. “I saw you playing with your little brother as I drove past just now—just look at the state of you!”

  Josh frowned. “You were with Jason? Well, where is he?”

  “Um…” Michael felt his heart plummet into his stomach—the impact turning his face bright red. “No, I wasn’t with—”

  “I saw him jump on you, pulling your shirt.” Ginny smiled and shook her head. “Little monkey! No wonder you look such a state. Well, enjoy your film, boys. Cheerio!”

  “He wasn’t…I mean, he…” Michael looked at his puzzled mates. “That is, I…”

  Rick spoke slowly. “You were mugged by your little brother?”

  “No!” Michael squeaked. “No, she got it all wrong!”

  Thomas started to grin. “Mate, that’s shameful.”

  “I was just teaching him how to fight,” Michael protested, “when suddenly—”

  “Why would you be teaching him to fight out in Quilborough when you’d come to see a film with us?” Sam grinned. “He followed you out here, didn’t he? He jumped you!”

  “Ginny can’t see straight,” said Michael angrily. “Jason could never get me.”

  Thomas pointed across the car park. “Then how come you’re a total muddy mess and your little stepbro’s over there without a mark on him?”

  Michael whirled around. Sure enough, there was Jason, peering out from behind a sign near the parking lot entrance, watching him like a particularly useless spy.

  “He—he’s changed his clothes!” said Michael, aware how pitiful the lies sounded. “Yeah, look, he must have brought some in that rucksack.”

  “That’s your rucksack!” Josh burst out laughing. “Mate, he nicked your bag too, didn’t he?”

  Michael cringed. “No!”

  “That is priceless.” Sam guffawed.

  “No wonder you didn’t want to tell the cops,” Rick added, high-fiving Thomas and Josh.

  Michael couldn’t take it anymore. He turned and marched away, cheeks on fire, his friends’ laughter ringing in his ears.

  “Oh, come on, Michael, don’t be like that,” Thomas called. “We’ll protect you from big bad Jase—and any little old ladies passing by…”

  “This is a nightmare.” Michael zeroed in on Jason and grabbed him roughly by the arm, dragging him away. “What are you doing here?” he said furiously. “They saw you! You’ve ruined everything.”

  “Sorry, Michael, but there was this strange guy in a raincoat watching me from down the street,” said Jason worriedly. “He gave me the creeps.”

  “I’m gonna give you a lot more than that!” Michael snatched the rucksack from him. “We’re getting the bus back home right now. I’ll tell Dad the film was full up. But what am I going to say when it starts going around the school that you beat me up?” He closed his eyes and groaned. “Next time we take a phoenix trip somewhere, I’m not coming back!”

  Chapter Ten

  The next morning, Michael was woken up by the duvet being yanked off him. “What’s going on?” he moaned. “That’s exactly what we want to ask you!” Jess said tartly.

  Blinking his eyes open, Michael saw Jess and Milly standing next to his bed. Milly had her hands on her hips. Jess was holding his duvet out of his reach.

  “What happened last night, Michael?” Milly demanded. “Jason won’t tell us. What were you up to?”

  When he and Jason had got in the night before, Michael had mumbled about the film being full and stomped straight up to his room. He hadn’t come out since. Jason h
ad got ready for bed, refusing to say what had happened, but Milly could tell he was upset.

  “I just thought Jase could do with a night out,” Michael attempted feebly.

  The girls’ eyebrows shot up into their hair in disbelief.

  “Oh, all right,” Michael mumbled. He shut his eyes as the memories of the night before swept over him, and grudgingly he explained what had happened. His face blazed red as he relived the moments, remembered the looks on his mates’ faces, Jason standing there, the laughter…

  “Michael, you…you…idiot!” Milly shook her head, a small grin catching at the sides of her mouth.

  “Don’t you dare laugh,” he snarled, snatching the duvet back from Jess.

  “I can’t believe Ginny saw you!” Jess cringed. “And she told all your mates. Oh, Michael, you loser!”

  He glared at her. “Thanks for the support!”

  “It’s Jason I feel sorry for,” said Milly. “You tried to use him.”

  “He wanted to come with me!” Michael hid back under the duvet. “Lousy, no-good gold!”

  “Lousy, no-good Michael, you mean!” Milly softened her voice. “Anyway, look. Jess and I talked about stuff last night, and we think we should get down to the workshop at eleven.”

  Jess nodded. “I’ve really got to do some history essays this morning. Though how I’m going to concentrate knowing we’ll be going to—”

  “Old Cairo!” Milly’s eyes gleamed with excitement. “I can’t wait! I’m going to go to the village hall this morning to try and borrow some costumes from my drama group so we fit in a bit. I think they’ve got some Egyptian ones that might do.”

  “Better than wearing jeans and T-shirts,” Jess agreed.

  “If you find a disguise for me, let me know.” Michael poked his head out of the duvet and looked at Jess. “Can you just imagine what it’s going to be like at school tomorrow? My life isn’t going to be worth living.”