Philip and the Fortune Teller (9781619501317) by John Paulits Page A

the
morning.”
    “I didn’t have anything to do so I went to
see.” Emery ran to the telephone pole and put his finger on the
gypsy. “See this guy? He talked to me. He called me over to his
tent. I made a wish, and he granted it.”
    Philip’s confidence in Emery plummeted.
    “He told you to make a wish; you, nobody but
you, and he granted it like a genie who popped out of a
bottle?”
    “Yeah, I wished I could see the circus, and
look.” With flair, Emery pulled a ticket to the circus from his
pocket. “I didn’t even have to pay.”
    Philip studied the ticket. This put things
into a different light. With Emery waving the ticket under his
nose, he had to believe him.
    “How’d you get it? For free, really?”
    “Didn’t I say how I got it, and didn’t I say
it was for free?”
    “You did. You did. But why’d he pick
you?”
    “Let me tell you what happened.”
     
     

Chapter Two
     
    Earlier that day Emery had walked over to see
the bustle of preparation going on at Lighthouse Field. Tents were
going up; circus people ran to and fro; an occasional horse or
elephant walked past. Emery decided to take a closer look. No one
paid any attention to him as he walked through the madness, trying
to keep out of everyone’s way. Then it happened.
    “Boy.”
    Emery paused. He was the only boy he saw.
    “You, boy.”
    Emery turned and saw a gypsy sitting at a
small round table outside of a small tent. The gypsy was dressed in
a baggy, silky-looking shirt and pants and had a red bandanna
wrapped around his head. A big, round, golden earring dangled from
his right ear, and he sported a big black mustache.
    “Me?” Emery squeaked.
    The gypsy didn’t answer, but simply crooked a
long finger in summons.
    Emery felt his heartbeat jump, but he
obeyed.
    “Sit down,” the gypsy said. To Emery’s ear it
sounded like, “Seet dowwwn,” and Emery thought he recognized the
voice. He did! It sounded like the voice he’d heard in an old movie
he and Philip had watched. It sounded like the voice of Count
Dracula! Afraid to do anything but what the gypsy demanded, Emery
sat on a folding wooden chair near the gypsy.
    “I think you can help me,” the gypsy said
with his frighteningly slow pronunciation.
    “M . . . m . . . me?”
    “If you can help me, I will grant you a wish
immediately. Say you can help me.”
    Behind him Emery heard an elephant trumpet,
and Emery wondered how in the world he had ended up in the short
space of a minute with a scary-talking gypsy in front of him and a
bleating elephant behind him.
    “Well, I . . . I don’t know. What . . . what
. . . what . . . ?
    The gypsy raised a finger to him, and Emery
shut up as the gypsy reached under his table and pulled out a
creamy glass ball. Emery stared wide-eyed as the gypsy put the ball
on the table.
    “Stare into the ball,” the gypsy ordered.
“Stare hard.”
    Emery glued his eyes to the ball, relieved
the gypsy had not ordered him to stare at the gypsy himself.
    “You have a wish,” the gypsy drawled. “I can
see it in the ball. No, do not tell me what it is. The crystal ball
will tell me, and because you will help me, I will grant your
wish.”
    Emery peeked up at the gypsy whose eyes were
closed as he rubbed his hands across the ball.
    “I see it!” the gypsy barked, and Emery
jumped and returned his eyes to the ball, not wanting the gypsy to
catch him looking anywhere else.
    “Now, you may look away. The vision is
gone.”
    Emery shyly returned his eyes to the
gypsy.
    “You wish to see the circus.” The gypsy’s
voice rose. “I grant you your wish.” From somewhere in the folds of
his billowing sleeve, the gypsy produced what looked like a ticket.
“You may take this to the box office anytime and exchange it for a
ticket to the circus. Your wish is granted. Now, you see my power.
Now, you see what I can do. Now, you will help me, and if you do, I
will grant you three more wishes at the completion of your
task.”
    Emery took the