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for eternity!”
    I launched myself the rest of the way through the stone wall and looked at Horemheb one last time. There was no sign of him. Or the tomb. The whole thing had vanished, like it had been covered up by decades of sandstorms. I scanned the horizon, looking for the palace, the capital city, anything. But my Egypt had disappeared, and with it, my future.

 
    3
    WHERE I GO ON THE WORST FIELD TRIP EVER
    WASHINGTON, D.C.—PRESENT DAY
    Riding a school bus is torture when there are assigned seats. The last mile on the bus, stuck next to Seth Cooper, felt like five centuries instead of five minutes. I’d bet my one-eyed cat Horus’s other eye that Seth hadn’t washed his hands twice since September. And don’t get me started on his breath. It smelled like he ate dead fetal pigs for breakfast two months ago and hadn’t brushed his teeth since.
    I hurried off the bus, praying I wouldn’t be paired up with him for the entire field trip. There were things moving in his greasy red hair.
    â€œDon’t stick me with Tut,” Seth said to Mr. Plant, our World Cultures teacher.
    Seth hated me. Nobody ever hated me. I couldn’t understand it.
    Mr. Plant ignored Seth and started calling out pairings. I braced myself, waiting for the bad news.
    â€œTut, you’re with Henry,” Mr. Plant said.
    Wait, what? If I was lucky enough to be paired with someone besides Seth, why did it have to be Henry Snider? Ever since school started two months ago, he’d been trying way too hard to be my best friend. He sat next to me in every class we had together, which was five out of eight, including lunch and Advisory. He kept asking me to get together and do stuff, like go to the movies or play video games. He talked constantly. It was bad enough that we were already science partners. Why couldn’t I get paired with the cute new girl who’d been sitting in the back of the bus?
    â€œWe’re going to every exhibit,” Henry said, pushing his glasses up higher onto his nose. His shaggy blond hair was going in every direction, like he’d been caught in a sandstorm. Even though it was chilly out, he wore plaid shorts, faded gray Chucks wrapped in duct tape, and a short-sleeved purple shirt that read, S AVE P LUTO . There was nothing about Pluto that deserved to be saved. It never should have been called a planet in the first place.
    â€œMaybe you are,” I said. I’d seen all these exhibits a million times. Or at least all but one.
    â€œPartners,” Henry said. “It means we stick together, through it all. Fight the fights. Defeat the foes. I got your back. You got mine.”
    I wasn’t sure what he thought was going to happen on this field trip. Maybe the zombie apocalypse? He’d probably seen too many cheesy horror movies.
    â€œI got my own back. Thanks,” I said.
    Henry tried to bump my fist. He missed and ended up punching me in the arm instead.
    This is one of the problems with being immortal in eighth grade. I’d be this age forever. Other kids, like Henry for example, would get older each year. They’d move on, go to high school, be old enough to drive. I never would. I didn’t see much point in making new friends each year.
    â€œYou’re welcome, compadre,” Henry said.
    Great Osiris, help me. I’d have skipped today if Gil hadn’t insisted I come. Just thinking about this whole exhibit was starting to make my skin turn green. Yeah, green. It’s this weird, thanks-to-Osiris thing that happens to me when I get nervous. But in my defense, these were the King Tut treasures we were talking about. Last time I’d seen them was in the seventies. Back then, I’d been the first in line. Big mistake. I was depressed for years. All my stuff being paraded around the country, like some carnival, and I couldn’t have any of it. But the worst part was the memories it brought back. Memories of Egypt and my