Be a Genie in Six Easy Steps (3 page)

“T
hat seems to be it,” said Jason, once he'd read it aloud. “The next page is just gibberish still.” He turned back to the introduction and peered at the yellowed paper. “There
is
some small print after that first bit. ‘Time turn. Time twist…'” He shook his head. “No, I can't read the rest. There's a big hole in the bottom of the page.”

“I am
definitely
going to wake up in a minute,” said Michael, who had closed his eyes.

“Did you notice the way the book talks about genies like they are all boys?” Jess pointed out. “‘
His
lamp,' ‘
his
home and hideaway'—what about
girl
genies?”

“It's probably because it's an old book,” Jason said. “So, it's just talking in an old-fashioned way.”

“Plus,” said Michael, opening one eye, “it's because boys are best.”

Jess's eyes narrowed. “
What
did you say?”

Michael shrugged. “Boys happen to be the superior species, that's all.”

“Ignore him,” Milly advised her stepsister. “He's only trying to wind you up.”

Jess smiled sweetly at Michael. “You can't be wound up by someone you don't take seriously.”

“I bet you can be thumped by them, though!” Michael retorted.

“Anyway,” said Jason, looking nervously between Jess and Michael. “The book says we have to find a lamp. How are we going to do that?”

“First we should start by making a list of good places to search.” Jess began hunting around for some paper. “I'll be in charge and decide which of us looks where.”

“Wait a second,” said Michael. “Even if I really believed in any of this—and I'm not saying I do—why should
you
be in charge?”

“Because I'll be best at it,” Jess said briskly.

“Yeah, right,” he snorted. “Well, if there's any searching to be done, I reckon we should search in two teams,
proper
brothers and sisters—me and Milly against you and Jason.”

“But I want to be on Jess's team!” Milly protested.

“Thanks, sis,” said Michael sarcastically.

“I'll be on your team, Michael,” Jason said.

“Okay.” Jess squared up to Michael. “So it's girls against boys.”

“Fine.” Michael's eyes held hers. “Whoever finds the coolest lamp wins.” He grabbed Jason by the collar and dragged him up the stairs. “Come on. Let's get looking, Jase.”

“Yeah, get lost, you two,” said Jess haughtily.

Milly nodded. “Jess and I are going to talk
tactics.
”

“Tactics?” Michael looked a little uneasy. “What tactics?”

“Tactics. That's all.” Milly gave Jess a knowing look, then smiled at him. “You'll see….”

 

A few minutes later, Jason stood in Michael's room at the top of the house. Row upon row of shelves lined the walls, most of which were bare because Michael hadn't bothered to unpack his stuff yet.

“Do you think you've got a good lamp in here, then?” Jason asked.

“I think my brain's gone wrong and I'm seeing things that aren't there,” said Michael. “Dad always said that video games would rot my mind, but I never believed him.”

Jason considered this. “If the parietal lobes of your brain were damaged that could affect what you believe.”

“I believe that you are a completely sad brainbox,” said Michael, looking through some packing crates. “But forget this stupid so-called magic stuff for now. What really matters is that we thrash those girls at finding a lamp.” He smiled to himself. “A lamp is just an old-fashioned flashlight, right? And I've got
loads
of flashlights.”

“But is a flashlight really as good as a lamp?” Jason wondered.

“When we said the vow in old-fashioned words, it didn't work, did it? Not till I said it in modern talk.” He nodded to himself. “So if we use a modern flashlight, this book you all believe in will be impressed, won't it? It'll think that we're using our heads. Aha!” He pulled out a white plastic tub and emptied out a load of flashlights in all shapes and sizes.

Jason spotted a problem. “How are we going to fit
inside
a flashlight?” he asked. “There's no room inside for a genie because of the batteries.”

“Unless we use something like this!”

Jason stared as Michael held up what looked to be a rubber duck. If you squeezed the duck's sides, its bill lit up orange.

“The batteries are up its bum,” Michael explained, holding the flashlight out to him. “So that means there'll be plenty of room in the wings and its stomach for a
genie. What do you think?”

Jason took the flashlight and studied it. It was scuffed and dirty, and obviously hadn't been used for years. But the sides did squeeze—it went “quack” when you pressed them. “There's a squeaker in there, too,” Jason said. “But I suppose there will be space around it.”

“There we are then. Our magic genie lamp.” Michael rubbed his hands together. “This competition's in the bag! Let's go downstairs and show the worm.”

Jason hesitated. “Michael…the book said the lamp's supposed to be ‘pleasant to behold.' That duck looks, well…like rubbish.”

“If you're worried, we'll give it a wash.” Michael spat on it and rubbed it under his armpit. “Come on, who's gonna rub a lamp these days and expect a genie to come out? No one, that's who. But who would find a duck flashlight and squeeze it to make it go ‘quack'?
Loads
of people—if they're as crazy as we obviously are!” Michael flung open his bedroom door and scooted down the stairs. “Come on!”

“Wait for me!” Jason abandoned his doubts and bounded along behind him.

“O
kay,” Jess said, looking at the notebook in her hand as she and Milly walked down the hill together, toward the town. “So we'll try Junk and Disorderly on East Street and see if we can find anything there.”

“Cool!” Milly said, running down the hill. “Come on!”

Jess's thoughts were chasing their tails.
This whole genie-training thing can't be happening. But it is. But it
can't
be
…. Her stomach was fizzing with nervous excitement, and she had to force herself to calm down, to concentrate on the normal, boring world around them.

It only made her more desperate to believe in magic.

As they approached the town center, the rows of houses gave way to shops. There were cafés with flowery curtains in the windows, gift shops selling china ornaments of shepherdesses and sheepdogs, and clothes shops with grubby plastic models that looked like they had been standing in the same place in the same clothes for the past twenty years.

“Look at this place,” Jess sighed as they skirted past two old ladies in hats and tweed skirts. She thought about being back in London with coffee bars, music megastores, and Top Shop. “No one under the age of fifty would choose to live here.”

“It's okay,” said Milly. Then she started bouncing up and down. “Look, there's East Street!”

They turned down a cramped and cobbled street. The buildings on either side seemed to lean toward each other as if sharing secret gossip about the cyclists and pedestrians passing by. Junk and Disorderly was easy to spot. Its fading sign hung above a dark, dusty window packed full of old objects—brass figures, chipped ornaments, faded old pictures. Jess peered in through the grime. There was no one inside apart from a middle-aged man sitting behind the counter reading a battered paperback.

Jess felt slightly embarrassed about going inside the shop when it was empty, but Milly hurried straight in through the door.

The man looked up and smiled before turning back to his book,
1001 Quiz Questions.

“Excuse me.” Milly charged up to the counter and looked at the man brightly. “What's your name?”

The man frowned. “Barry.”

“Well, Barry, I'm Milly and this is Jess, and we're looking for a lamp. An old lamp, like the kind that a genie could come out from.”

Jess wanted to run out of the shop with embarrassment but Barry didn't seem at all taken aback. He smiled at Milly. “A lamp for a genie, eh? Is it for a school play?”

Milly nodded. “Sort of…”

“I think I might have just the thing,” Barry said, leading the way toward the back of the shop. “How about this?” He took a dusty brass lamp off a high shelf. It had a round body and a long tall spout. The handle was twisted and had a snake's head rearing up at the end of it.

“Oh, wow!” Milly exclaimed. “It's perfect!” She took it from Barry and peered at the grimy patterns etched into the metal. Just beneath the spout was a jolly, extravagant figure in robes and a turban. “Look, Jess,” she hissed. “There's even a genie on it.”

Jess smiled as she took it. The lamp really
was
perfect.

Milly spun around to Barry. “How much is it?”

“Well, to most people, it would be ten pounds….”

“Ten pounds!” Jess echoed.

“That's a
lot
of money,” Milly said. She stared up at Barry, wide-eyed and tearful. “Our mum and dad have just moved here and they're really poor. It would be all our pocket money for a whole
month
….”

“Milly!” Jess exclaimed, blushing at Milly's story.

But Barry just smiled. “Tell you what—you can have it for three pounds fifty, sweetheart.”

The sadness vanished instantly from Milly's face. “Make it three pounds and you've got a deal!”

Barry laughed. “You're the biggest hustler I've ever had in here! All right. Three quid.” He disappeared into the back of the shop. “I'll just go and wrap it up for you.”

The doorbell jangled as two more people—a man and a woman—came into the shop. The man was tall and skinny with a razor-sharp moustache, smooth black hair, and dark eyes. The woman beside him was also tall and slender. Her black hair fell in a sleek bob and she had a parcel under her arm. They were both wearing suits and shiny shoes. Jess stared. They looked exotic and glamorous and not at all like the people she usually saw in Moreways Meet.

They approached the counter. Jess's skin prickled and she was gripped with a feeling of unease. Then the man looked straight at her. A shiver ran down Jess's spine as she met his gaze. She'd never seen such strange black eyes. They glittered like diamonds.

Contact lenses
, she told herself.
He must have strange contact lenses in. No one has eyes like that.
Milly had noticed, too, and she took a step closer to Jess. It was like
the shop had grown suddenly colder.

The man smiled at them both, very white teeth gleaming in his suntanned face.

Just then, Barry came bustling back with the lamp wrapped up in paper. “Here we are,” he said, smiling at Milly.

Jess quickly paid him the money with trembling fingers. Then, with a quick “Thanks!” she and Milly marched past the strange-looking couple and out of the shop's battered door.

“Those people were really weird, weren't they?” Milly whispered. “Did you see their eyes?”

Jess nodded and glanced back into the shop. The woman was watching them through the window.

Jess was suddenly gripped with the urge to get as far away from the shop as possible. She didn't know why she felt so freaked out. She just did. “Come on,” she said, grabbing Milly's arm. “Let's go!”

 

Michael pounded downstairs as if he was running a race.
This magic stuff can't be real
, he told himself.
And I'm gonna prove it when this dumb lamp thing doesn't work
. His heart was thumping and his hands felt sweaty as he clutched the duck flashlight.
Aren't I?

He charged into the basement, Jason close behind.
The book was lying on the floor. Michael opened it, and Skribble popped up, looking as real and indignant as ever.

“What is it now?” he grumbled, spluttering bits of paper.

Jason frowned. “Are you eating the book?”

“And what if I am? What do you expect me to live on, stuck between these pages for two thousand years? Scotch mist? Babylonian fog?” Skribble fixed them with a beady look. “And what are you doing back here? You've been given a task; get on with it!”

“We
have
gotten on with it,” Jason said excitedly.

Michael swallowed and held up the duck flashlight to show the bookworm. “Look!”

Skribble frowned so deeply that his face nearly folded in two. “What is
that
?”

Jason looked a bit crestfallen. “It's a flashlight.”

“Foolish boys!” Skribble swayed from side to side like a cross little cobra. “You cannot get fire from a duck!”

“Not a
flaming
flashlight like you get in old castles,” said Jason quickly. “A flashlight is like a lamp. It has batteries inside that power it.”

“It's sort of a modern lamp,” said Michael. He demonstrated by squeezing the plastic sides. The duck quacked and lit up.

Skribble shrank back in alarm.

“Me and Jase are modern blokes and this is a modern lamp,” Michael declared. “And I'm dying to see what your precious book makes of it.”

“Very well.” Skribble looked at him closely, munching all the while. The words
fashion your fate
disappeared into the grave little stretch of his mouth. “Let us test your theory,” he said. “Turn to the first step.”

Michael quickly turned the pages back to the first step. This time, the gibberish was perfectly readable.

Jason sighed with relief. “That's got to be a good sign—hasn't it?”

Michael was astonished but determined not to show it. Had someone sneaked down here while they were away and rewritten the book? He read the words aloud:

“There you go!” Michael clapped Jason on the back. “Now we know how to get you in and out of there.”

Jason blinked. “Me?”

“You're the big believer….” Michael smirked. “Not
scared
, are you?”

“Um…” Jason swallowed hard. “No. Of course not.”

“Well, go on then,” Michael urged. “It's time we got this settled once and for all.”

Jason looked at the duck flashlight in his hands. What else could he do?
“Genie me!”
he shouted.

And he vanished in a puff of red smoke.

The duck flashlight flopped to the floor, bounced once, and lay still.

Michael couldn't believe his eyes. He looked all around the den, half expecting to spot Jason hiding somewhere. A dizzy feeling swirled through him. Jase had disappeared. This was really happening! It really
was
magic!

“Hey!” called a muffled voice from down by his feet.

“Jason?” Michael's voice came out as a squeak. He stared around. “Where are you?”

“In the duck! It stinks of rubber, or plastic or something. And it's very squashed.” A loud quack burst from the flashlight. “Ow!”

“No way!” Michael scooped up the plastic duck. “You must be, like,
really
small in there. Do you feel any different?”

“My head's stuck between my knees,” said Jason. “It's not very comfy. Can you get me out?”

“Hang on. I'll give it a go.” Michael gave the flashlight a gentle squeeze.

Nothing happened.

He rubbed it instead. Still nothing happened.

“Maybe I need to switch it on….” He pressed both sides a little harder. With a further squeak, the bulb snapped on in the duck's bill.

“ARRRRRGH!” Jason shouted. “You squashed me and it got really hot and—OW! Turn it off!”

Michael bit his lip and squeezed again. Another quack, another cry from Jason, then the light went out. “Think,” Michael told himself. “Think…” He tried rubbing the duck's head. No luck. Its tail. Nothing.

“Michael, are you still there?” Jason called. “Get me out.”

“I can't,” Michael whispered.

“Don't muck about, please—!”

“Jason, mate, I'm sorry!” Michael felt panic rising up inside him. “I never really believed I could get you in—and
I don't know how to get you out!”