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

somebody have an accident, or to kill them? I wouldn't—"
    The little man burst into laughter. High-pitched, silvery laughter. "My, you do have an imagination!" he exclaimed, still laughing. "A real, grade-A imagination, that is for certain!" He laughed a bit more, and then suddenly he grew serious. He fixed Johnny with those uncanny large eyes. "Listen, young fellow," he said in  a low, sincere voice, "I would not for the world have anything bad happen to you. Not for the world! I'm merely suggesting something that you can do to help yourself. People are funny creatures. If they think they're ugly, then they really are ugly. If they think they're weak, then they really are weak. Whatever you think you are, that's what you are. If you use that little blue figurine to convince yourself that you're strong, then maybe you really will become more confident, stronger. At least I think it's worth a try. Give it a try, and if you don't like the way this little game makes you feel, you can quit. How about it, eh? Will you try?"
    As Johnny listened he found that he was agreeing with the man. The man's voice was low and purring and very persuasive. And his eyes... well, they were hypnotic. They were like great black pools. Maybe it's a good idea, thought Johnny. Maybe it would work.
    "I... I guess I'd like to try it," said Johnny hesitantly.
    The man smiled broadly. "Good!" he exclaimed enthusiastically. "Try it, and let me know if it works. I come in here often, just to sit and think or to pray. Stop in... oh, let's say in a week's time, and let me know how you're getting on. Good luck, by the way."
    Johnny shook hands with the man and thanked him for listening to his problems. He started to get up, but the man reached out and laid his hand on his knee to stop him.
    "Just a second," he said, smiling. "I have something for you." He reached into his vest pocket and took out  a ring. "It's just a silly trinket, but it might help you with the little game that you're going to play. Here. Hold out your hand."
    Johnny held out his hand, and the man laid the ring in it. Curious, Johnny looked down at what he was holding. It was a rather odd ring. It looked as if it was made from a bent nail. At the place where the two ends of the nail met, they held a small transparent stone that was tinted yellow. There was something under the stone. It looked like tiny slivers of wood, arranged to form the letter B.
    "It's a monogram ring," said the man, tapping the stone with his forefinger. "My name is Beard. Robert Beard. The ring has been passed down through several generations of my family. It's worthless, except for its sentimental value. I thought you might like to have it."
    Johnny gazed at the man wonderingly. He couldn't figure out why this total stranger was giving him an old family ring. But it felt good in his hand somehow. He liked it. "Thanks," he said, and he slipped it on to the third finger of his left hand. Johnny did not have a ring of his own at present. He had worn a silver Boy Scout ring for several years, but it had irritated the skin of his finger, and he had had to take it off. Now it felt good to have a ring again.
    Johnny got up. Again he thanked the strange little man. Smiling blandly, the man waved good-bye and wished Johnny luck with the little game. Down the aisle Johnny walked, and through the two sets of doors. At the bottom of the stone steps he paused. There was a  streetlamp nearby, and by its light he could see the ring. Way down in its depths the yellow stone was doing odd things. Johnny saw little flashes of iridescent blue and bloody red. He turned the ring back and forth and watched the way the light played over it. It was funny. He had come to the church feeling terribly guilty about Eddie's broken arm. Now he did not feel guilty at all. And he had made a new friend. Smiling in a satisfied way, Johnny walked away into the night.

CHAPTER SEVEN
    The next day after school Johnny went to the Public Library and