Free Milo and One Dead Angry Druid by Mary Arrigan Page A

I asked, neatly side-stepping the ‘help’ word. ‘This is just a load of grotty stones.’
    ‘Not grotty,’ retorted Shane, reaching into the pile and pulling up a stone shaped like a half moon. ‘This one is really old.’
    ‘All stones are old, Shane. Even you should know that. It takes millions of years to grow stones.’
    ‘Ah, but this is different, Milo,’ said Shane. ‘Here, feel it.’
    I took the stone. It was like a small broken wheel. On one side there was a pretty clear imprint of a fossil-ish thing.
    ‘That’s a prehistoric reptile,’ said Shane. ‘You can even see the scales. But that’s not the best thing. Turn the stone over.’
    I did, and gasped when I saw the patternof circles inside circles, just like the pattern on the huge stone outside the ancient burial place at Newgrange in County Meath. We’d gone there on a school outing once, and Miss Lee had told us that it was even older than the pyramids in Egypt. Shane said it was a pity they didn’t have mummies and other dead stuff in there for a better atmosphere.
    I touched the pattern. That was when I got the first strange feeling. My fingers tingled and a shiver went around my neck and shoulders. Shane was watching me and smiling.
    ‘See? You feel it too. I bet you feel all shivery, don’t you? Just like me and Gran did. She said that pattern was carved by Celts about three thousand years ago.’
    ‘Yecch!’ I said, thrusting the stone backinto his hands. ‘You’re one sicko. Do you know that? Making me hold something that dead people handled.’
    Shane laughed. ‘But they weren’t dead when they carved it, you dope,’ he said.
    ‘I told you, Shane, all stones are ancient. Except for a few scratchy carvings on it, this looks just like any other.’
    Shane shook his head. ‘My gran says …’ he began.
    ‘Shane!’ I laughed. ‘I love your gran, I do. But you do know she does mad arty stuff and talks to dandelions. Come on, mate, wise up. One of you has to stay sane.’
    ‘Hey,’ retorted Shane. ‘That’s Big Ella you’re talking about, and she knows everything.’
    ‘Well, I hope that’s not your history thing, Shane,’ I went on. ‘It gives me the creeps.’
    Shane grinned. ‘Of course it’s my historything,’ he said. ‘Who else will have something as amazing as this?’
    I shivered again. But I didn’t know why. Not then.

CHAPTER THREE
A LIZARD GOES MAD
    W e weren’t supposed to bring living things to the history project. But Willie Jones swore his pet lizard never behaved badly, and that he’d only brought it because he said it just sat and did nothing in its special glass container, except doze on the pebbles and mini pond.
    ‘Well, he is quiet all right,’ said Miss Lee, holding up the container for all to see.
    ‘Lizards have been around since prehistoric times,’ said Willie, reading from a scrap of paper in case he’d forget the words. ‘They taste and smell with their tongues. They know more than we think. It is said that they can predict strange things.’
    ‘Maybe,’ said Miss Lee. ‘But I doubt it, looking at this lazy creature.’
    ‘I looked it all up on Google,’ said Willie. ‘So it must be right.’
    At my turn I was proud of my china cup. OK, the truth is I only thought of the bring-to-school thing that morning, so I nicked the cup from our kitchen dresser where Mum keeps stuff that’s only used for people she wants to impress. The best part was making up a history story to go with it.
    ‘It belonged to Grace O’Malley, the pirate queen,’ I said, holding it up. ‘She used to have tea-parties in her castle with her crew after their raids and that was the cup she drank from.’
    Miss Lee took the cup and looked underneath. Then she smiled and pointed to the words on the bottom.
Made in Taiwan.
    ‘Eh, well,’ I spluttered, frantically trying to come up with something intelligent (how is it that intelligence is never there when you need it)? ‘There used to be a place