Free The Curse of the Blue Figurine by John Bellairs Page A

hands. He would have liked to hear the voice of God telling him that everything was okay. But all he heard was the rushing of blood in his ears and the swish of traffic passing outside. He felt better—a little better, anyway. And he decided, on the spur of the moment, that he would like to light a candle for his mother. He got up, sidled out of the pew, and walked down the aisle to the vigil-light rack near the confessional. He lit a candle and then knelt and said a brief prayer for his mother. He got up, and as he was turning around he got his first good look at the man who was sitting in the front pew. In a way it was a relief. This little man did not look in any way like the evil Father Baart. He had a bland freckled face and a little snub nose. His hair was iron-gray and was swept back in wings along the sides of his head. His eyebrows were black and arched, so that he had a permanently surprised look. The man was wearing a pin-striped gray suit, a gray vest, a black overcoat, and a gray tie with a pearl stickpin. His shoes were polished, and everything about him looked spotless and neat and prosperous.
    As soon as the man saw that Johnny was looking at him, he smiled shyly.
    "Good evening, young man," he said. "What brings you to the church so late at night, eh?"
    Johnny moved closer. When he answered, he whispered. He always whispered in church. "I was saying a prayer for my mom," he said. "She died a little while ago."
    "Ah!" said the man, and he nodded knowingly. "That is sad. I am sorry to hear it." Then, quite unexpectedly, he went on. "You know, young man," he said, fixing Johnny with his large surprised eyes, "I am a pretty good judge of character. And I think that you are a young man with a problem. Isn't that so?"
    Johnny was startled. He didn't know what to say.
    The man smiled. "Ah, it's true, isn't it? I can see it in your face." He patted the seat of the pew. "Would you care to sit down here and tell me all about it?"
    To his own great surprise Johnny found himself sitting down next to the little man. And then he told him everything. It all came tumbling out, about Eddie's broken arm and the blue figurine and all. To Johnny, talking to the little man seemed as easy... well, as easy as walking across a room. The man was so warm and sympathetic. He shook his head and frowned when Johnny told him about the nasty things Eddie had done to him. And those large dark eyes seemed so wise, so knowing.
    When Johnny had finished his tale, he sat silent, hands folded in his lap. He wondered what the man would say. At first the man said nothing. He stared thoughtfully at the floor. Then, at last, he spoke.
    "Well, young fellow," said the man slowly, "it seems that you have a problem. Your problem is that you imagine things, and you worry too much. The figurine isn't magical—that much seems clear. But," he added oddly, "wouldn't it be fun to pretend that it was?"
    Johnny was puzzled. "I don't get what you mean."
    "Just this: you are afraid of this big bully Eddie. Maybe if you were to pretend to yourself that the blue figurine was magic, you would be able to stand up to him. It might give you... some unexpected strength. What do you think of that idea, eh?"
    Johnny was still confused. "Would... would you explain that to me again, sir?"
    The man smiled patiently. "What I'm suggesting is very simple. I'm merely saying that you should pretend. Use the powers of your imagination. Every morning before you go to school, rub the figurine and say some silly prayer. Make one up. Call upon the gods of Egypt if you want to—you'll find their names in any dictionary. You see, if you imagine that you're strong, you really will be strong! I think it'll help you—I really do."
    Johnny frowned and bit his lip. He didn't like this plan—he didn't like it at all. "Look," he said slowly, "you... you have to understand. I wouldn't want to hurt anybody. I mean, what if the little blue statue really is magic? What if I used it to make