Relic

by Steve Whibley

  “What about you?” the doctor asked, looking at Colin. “Care to explain what you were doing on the floor?”

  “Tripped,” Colin answered, brushing off. “I’m just clumsy like that.”

  Lisa hauled me to my feet and then grabbed Colin’s arm. “Thanks for the session,” she said, talking to Dr. Mickelsen as she pulled us toward the door. “See you next week.”

  Chapter 12

  We caught a bus a block away from the dance studio and headed back to the museum. I was dreading the apology, and it seemed the universe was in sync with my mood: heavy gray clouds rolled across the sky, blocking out any trace of the sunny summer day we’d started out with. I just wanted to get it over with.

  When we rounded the corner and caught sight of the museum, I nearly fainted. The small mob of protestors from the day before had grown. A lot.

  Lisa gasped. “There must be fifty people over there.”

  I would’ve guessed a hundred. The whole area was packed like a rock concert. The crowd didn’t fit at a museum. The protestors were on the curb, separated from the entrance by the museum’s manicured lawn. Police paced between the protestors and the museum, and news vans with satellite dishes protruding from their roofs filled the parking lot.

  “I bet more than a hundred,” Colin said, a grin slowly spreading across his face. He grabbed my shoulder excitedly. “I bet it’s because of that article.”

  I groaned. Rumors of the insane kid who attacked a monk had probably started spreading as soon as I had been hauled off by security the previous day. Now the article made it all true. Every single protestor probably thought I was some kind of racist monk-hater.

  “I can’t go in there, guys. They’ll kill me.”

  Lisa stood back and tapped her chin. She snatched the Red Wings ball cap off Colin’s head and slapped it on mine.

  “Hey!” Colin said. “What gives?” He rubbed his hands over his head, trying, with zero success, to smooth out all the chunks of hair sticking up from his head.

  Lisa smirked.

  “What?” Colin asked. “I didn’t think I’d have to brush my hair since I was planning on wearing my hat.”

  “Dean needs it more than you,” Lisa said.

  “A hat?” I shook my head. “A hat isn’t going to be a good enough disguise. I’ll be spotted as soon as I cross the street.”

  “No, you won’t,” Lisa said. “The photo with the article wasn’t very clear, and even if it was, they’ll be looking for a kid with a cast and a pair of crutches.” She gestured to Colin’s head. “Plus they’ll be too busy staring at Colin’s hair to even notice you.” She turned to Colin and smirked. “You look like a hobo.”

  For some reason, everything except the hobo part sounded perfectly reasonable. They would be looking for a kid in a cast, certainly a kid with crutches. In fact, the more I thought about it, the more I was convinced they wouldn’t expect to see me. What kind of crazy kid would come back to the scene of the crime only twenty-four hours after the fact? I’d wear the hat just to be safe, but yeah, I bet I wouldn’t even be noticed with all the excitement going on over there.

  Colin seemed to register my acceptance and sighed. “Fine. You can use the hat. But you owe me.”

  “Thanks,” I said.

  “Okay.” Lisa chewed her lip and turned back to the museum. “What do we do first? See the curator or go talk to the monk?”

  “Mr. Overton,” I said. “If things go bad talking to the monk, we may have to run, and I don’t want to have to sneak back.” I paused and then added, “You don’t think the monk thinks I hit him on purpose, do you? Because if he does, he’d probably want to—”

  “Whack you with something?” Colin finished.

  I nodded. “Yeah, like his fist.”

  We went around the block and crossed through the parking lots of neighboring businesses to avoid having to shove our way through the protestors. But when we rounded the corner of the building, we ran straight into more people, this time standing in line.

  I gasped. “More protestors?”

  An older man with a scruffy face and a plaid flat cap, standing at the back of group, turned. I instinctively lowered my head so he couldn’t see my face, and Colin and Lisa stepped up like a couple of Secret Service operatives and stood shoulder-to-shoulder in front of me.

  “Protestors?” he asked. “No, those are the protestors.” He pointed toward the mob on the street. “We’re just waiting in line.” He raised his voice and directed it at the angry mob. “We’re not like those nutters!”

  Several of the protestors shouted, shaking their fists and raising signs.

  “Let’s not antagonize them, sir,” an authoritative voice said from the right. I tilted my head. It was one of the security guards from the previous day, not the one from my vision, but one who would probably recognize me. Who was I kidding? They probably had a picture of me at the ticket counter with a note to TASER ON SIGHT if I was stupid enough to return. My mom had called ahead, I reminded myself. It should be okay.

  “Yeah, yeah,” the old guy said. “Don’t antagonize them. Heaven forbid we antagonize those loons.”

  A few older teenagers pushed their way through the protestors and joined the line behind us. “Awesome,” a girl with light blue hair and an eyebrow ring said.

  “I know, right?” another girl in the group said.

  I recognized the second girl’s voice and practically choked. It was Rylee. I turned my body and lowered the brim of my cap.

  “I can’t wait to see this head thing,” the blue-haired girl added.

  I felt a tinge of guilt. That monk hadn’t liked the way we had gawked at the relic, and now, thanks to that stupid article, it was getting more attention than ever. It wasn’t really my fault. Was it?

  I risked a quick glance up to see if the guard had left and ended up locking eyes with him. I jerked my head away and turned my attention to the brick wall on my right, picking at it as though it was the most interesting thing I’d ever seen.

  “Dean?” It was Rylee’s voice from behind me. “Dean, is that you?”

  I hunched over and looked down at the concrete and shook my head.

  Lisa laughed nervously. “Hi, Rylee. No, no, this isn’t Dean.”

  “Yeah,” Colin said. He dropped his voice to just above a whisper. “Dean wouldn’t want to be spotted here after the incident in the paper.” There was a pause and I imagined him giving Rylee a wide-eyed please play along look. Then he said, “So, uh, what brings you guys here?”

  Nice, I thought, change the subject.

  “Who is that, then?” another girl pressed. The officer’s thick-soled boots stepped closer, and even though I didn’t look up, I felt his gaze boring into me.

  “Who?” Colin asked, his voice cracking. There was an awkward silence, and I suddenly felt Colin grab my shoulder. “Oh, this is…erm…”

  “It’s just…” Lisa began.

  “Just…my little sister,” Colin said.

  Lisa groaned, and Rylee and her friends snickered. I imagined everyone around us was looking at me. I wanted to spin around and kick Colin right in the shins, but instead I just clenched my fists and tried to make myself smaller and more sister-like. Colin was a great friend, and he always had my back, but sometimes he just said the stupidest things.

  “You two look familiar.” This time it was the guard. Colin sounded like he was about to say something, but the guard added, “Yeah, you were here yesterday. You’re friends with that crippled kid who beat up that monk.”

  “He didn’t actually beat up the—” Lisa abruptly stopped as the guard took another step forward. The whole area fell silent. I tried to press myself into the bricks. A large hand gripped the brim of my cap and turned my head slowly around and then finally lifted the hat off my head.

  “Your sister sure is pretty,” the girl with the blue hair mocked, while her friends snickered. Rylee gave me an apologetic look.

  The guard seemed pleased. “Overton said you’d
be coming by, but I thought you’d change your mind when you saw them.” He nodded to the protestors.

  “Starting to wish I had,” I muttered. I became aware of the attention directed my way from the other people in the line and considered sprinting away and hiding under a rock somewhere.

  “Is that the kid from the paper?” a woman’s voice asked.

  “It looks like him, but he had crutches in the paper,” another voice said.

  “You think he’s here to fight that monk again?” a young voice asked.

  “You think he’ll give me his autograph?”

  My cheeks burned. The security guard placed a hand on my shoulder and pulled me from the line. “Okay, kid,” he said. “Let’s go.”

  “What about my friends?” I asked, pointing back.

  Lisa and Colin stepped out of the line, intending to follow us, but the guard raised his free hand. “Uh-uh. You two can stay here. Or wait in line and go visit the museum, or do anything you want. Overton said he wanted to speak to Mr. Curse, so you’ll see him when the meeting is over.”

  “Now just wait a—” Colin started to say, but the guard cut him short.

  “Don’t worry, kid,” the officer said with an evil smirk. “Your little sister will be out before you know it.”

  Chapter 13

  The walls of Mr. Overton’s office were hung with certificates, diplomas, the odd painting of some abstract scene, and several old, faded portraits of angry men and women. Previous curators, I imagined. There were several artifacts around the room; some of the smaller ones were on shelves or ledges. An odd collection of thick chains and heavy locks was piled up in one of the corners. If it hadn’t looked like they had been placed there with some care, I might have thought Mr. Overton used chains and locks as a regular part of his meetings. I was about to stand up from the leather chair I was in to investigate the oddity a bit more when the office door opened and in walked Mr. Overton.

  “Dean!” A smile spread across his face, and he crossed the five or six meters between the door and my chair before I had a chance to stand. “My boy, it’s good to see you.”

  “It is, sir?”

  He reached out and grabbed my hand before I could shove it in my pocket and gave it several enthusiastic pumps. Great, I thought, more physical contact. Yet another person I have to worry about dying.

  “Of course it is, Dean.”

  “Then…you’re not upset at me for what’s going on outside? You don’t blame me?”

  Mr. Overton gave the top of my head a rub, then moved to his desk and sat on the corner. “Oh, you bet I do,” he said. “You get full credit for that, young man. Full credit indeed.”

  “Oh.” I felt like reminding him that the protestors had been out there long before my little incident, but I decided it would probably only make matters worse. So instead I said, “That’s why I’m here, sir. I wanted to apologize for my actions. It was all a big misunderstanding. Just a silly accident. But clearly, it’s made some challenges for you, and I guess for that monk too.”

  “Challenges?” Mr. Overton waved his hand. “You mean the protestors? Nonsense.”

  I blinked. “Nonsense?”

  “Nonsense,” he repeated, looking very pleased. “I owe you a debt of gratitude, young man.”

  “You do?”

  “We’ve had that artifact on display for almost two weeks, and guess how much it increased attendance?”

  “I…I don’t have a clue, sir. Lots?”

  “None.” He shook his head. “Sure, it was in the papers because of the protestors, but it never made the top story, never front page. Even the local newspaper buried it on page six. Page six!” he repeated dejectedly. “That’s the Community Arts section. The write-up about the Buddha head was underneath an article about how the community theatre was doing The Wizard of Oz for the hundredth time. Even our coprolite exhibit drew more attention than the Buddha head, and that head cost us almost a quarter of our annual budget.”

  “I don’t understand,” I managed to say.

  “I’ll admit it, Dean. Yesterday I thought your little scuffle was going to make even fewer people come here. But did you see the line outside?”

  I nodded.

  He jumped up, paced to the window, and looked out. “It’s huge. I can’t remember the last time we’ve actually had that kind of line. And did you see the newspaper this morning?”

  I groaned inwardly.

  “Of course you did,” he said quickly. “Front page. Finally!”

  “So it’s a good thing, what happened yesterday?”

  “I know I banned you, Dean, but consider that ban lifted. You’re welcome here anytime.”

  I sighed. “Oh, I’m so glad to hear that. I’ve been feeling bad for causing that monk to get kicked out. My mom said it’s probably pretty important for him to see that artifact every day.”

  “Oh, well,” the curator began, “he’s still banned—actually, they all are.”

  “But you said—”

  “Dean, they were making it uncomfortable for patrons to view the artifact long before you came into the picture. There were other complaints. I need to make sure that doesn’t happen again. The artifact is on loan, you know. We only get it for a month. That means we only have two weeks left. Plus, quite a few of those protestors are here because Mr. Pran was kicked out, and all the news crews are here because of your little altercation. If I let the monks back, things will just go back to normal.” He shook his head. “Normal is not good.” He smiled. “Do you know there are even groups of protestors walking around the whole block with their angry little signs for everyone who drives by to see? It’s the cheapest advertising we’ve ever gotten.”

  “But, sir,” I said, “isn’t that relic important to those monks? I mean, aren’t you kind of taking advantage of them?”

  “It’s just two more weeks, Dean. Then they’ll get to see the artifact as much as they want.” He checked his watch. “I’m afraid I have some meetings this morning, but I’m glad you stopped by. Don’t worry about the monks. They’ll follow the relic to the next museum, and I’m sure they’ll get to spend all the time they want with it there.” He opened the door and stood to the side.

  It wasn’t exactly what my mom had wanted me to accomplish, but I had to admit I felt a lot better. It had been an accident, and while I owed the monk an apology, which I’d give him soon enough, it wasn’t like he’d never be allowed to see his precious relic again—just not for two weeks. He couldn’t be too upset about that. It wasn’t exactly fair, but I’d done what I could do. I took a step through the door and suddenly remembered my vision. The security guard’s twisted face filled my mind.

  “Mr. Overton,” I said, turning back to the curator, “I’d like to apologize to the officer from yesterday. I think his name was Fisher?”

  “Fisher, Fisher…” He tapped his chin. “Oh, yes, Mr. Fisher is on the night shift today, so he won’t be starting until eight. I believe he works most Sundays during the day, though. Perhaps you can stop by over the weekend.”

  “Yeah, right. He’ll be dead by then,” I muttered.

  The curator’s eyes widened. “Come again?”

  “Oh, um.” I scrambled for a lie. “I just said that I’d probably be in bed by then.”

  Mr. Overton blinked twice and gave his head a quick shake. “Right, well, he’ll probably be here most of the day on Sunday, so when you wake up, come on down. I’m sure he’ll appreciate the apology.”

  “Okay. Thank you, sir. I’ll be sure to stop by.”

  He rubbed my head again as I turned back to the hallway and left the room. I hate it when people rub my head.

  Chapter 14

  “He wasn’t mad?” Colin asked after I’d found him and Lisa and told them how things had gone.

  “Nope,” I said. “He thanked me.”

  Lisa’s face scrunched. “What a jerk.”

  “What?” I asked. “A jerk? Why? He didn’t get me in trouble. He said I’m welcome anytime.�
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  “He’s exploiting those monks to make the museum more popular, Dean. In fact, he’s a double jerk, since that was his goal all along. The whole reason he brought that artifact here to begin with was probably to get protestors.”

  “I agree with Lisa,” Colin said, “and I don’t do that if it can be helped.” Sarcastic or not, Colin’s comment seemed to be appreciated by Lisa. Her lips pursed with resolve, and she nodded quickly.

  I shrugged. “Okay, so he’s a jerk. Nothing we can do about it. I said I was sorry. I asked if the monk could be allowed back in, and he said no. It would be bad for business, I guess.”

  “Bad for business?” Lisa said through clenched teeth. “Bad for business?” Her hands curled into fists at her sides. “Maybe we should just go tell those news people what he said.”

  I groaned. “C’mon, Lisa. Forget about it. It’s just two weeks. The monks probably don’t even care.” She gave me a look that could have frozen hot water, but I ignored it…or at least tried hard to.

  Colin piped up. “Let’s just find that bald kid, apologize, and then go meet up with Archer. I think the upcoming museum heist and two deaths are a bit higher up on the list of important things.”

  Lisa crossed her arms over her chest and huffed. “The museum deserves to be robbed. Maybe we shouldn’t even try to stop it.”

  “We’re not trying to stop it, Lisa.” Stress added an edge to my voice. “We’re trying to stop two people from dying, remember?”

  She blushed and looked at the ground.

  “Now I agree with Dean,” Colin said. “Let’s get this apology nonsense over with so we can go talk to Archer. We need to learn more about magic societies, blood rites, and sacred oaths.”

  I blinked. “Magic? Blood rites? You have to stop watching all those conspiracy movies, Colin. The Society doesn’t have any of those things.”

  “Are you sure?” He tilted his head slowly until his ear was pressed firmly to his shoulder and his eyes were as wide as he could make them, then he lowered his voice and spoke with a spooky tone. “Are you really sure?”