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small or my teeth too big.
    â€œHe was kind of cute, for a pharaoh,” Tia said, pulling at the pink streak in her hair.
    â€œYou have horrible taste,” Seth said, but I didn’t care. I was stuck on her “cute” comment.
    The tour guide stopped next to a thick red curtain. I prepared myself. I would keep my powers in check this time, no matter what was behind the curtain. My scarab heart tensed in anticipation.
    The tour guide grasped the velvety material. “I present to you the most powerful Egyptian god in existence.” He pulled the curtain aside. “The god Set.”
    It was a short, gold statue of the god I most despised. It had definitely never been part of my tomb. And the most powerful god in existence? Horus would choke on catnip if he heard that.
    â€œGo, Set!” Seth said, making some stupid victory motion with his arm.
    I couldn’t take it anymore. This tour was officially one of the worst days in the last century. Eighth grade was bad enough without the added worries of my scarab heart flaking on me. I ditched the tour and the ominous statue of Set, using the bathroom as an excuse.
    â€œWhat about our project?” Henry said as I was leaving the exhibit hall. Everyone was busy jotting down notes about the fictitious relic.
    â€œTake good notes,” I managed to say. “Except no way are we doing our project on that statue.” I hated Set. He had no place in my exhibit. He was the reason behind every problem in my life. My scarab heart pounded in my chest, and I was pretty sure my powers would burst from me, growing vines over the entire museum, if I didn’t get away from the exhibit.
    I left the room and sat by the giant elephant in the museum rotunda and waited. I was not returning to the exhibit ever again.

 
    4
    WHERE I MAKE A MONUMENT EXPLODE
    â€œLet’s work on our project today,” Henry said once we got off the school bus. He’d talked about the exhibit for the entire bus ride, writing stuff in his notebook and asking my opinion on everything from how many crocodiles I thought lived in the Nile to whether servants really were buried alive in pyramids. I wasn’t sure why he thought I’d have the answers.
    Our project was so far from my mind, I almost laughed aloud. All I could think about was the energy slipping from my scarab heart with every second that passed.
    â€œNot today,” I said. “I have things to do.”
    â€œThings like what?” Henry asked.
    Great Amun, he was nosy.
    â€œJust things,” I said. Things like recharging my scarab heart. It was nearly drained. It skipped around in my chest like some kind of dying fish.
    â€œThe deadline for the project’s gonna be here before you know it,” Henry said, showing me his notebook where he’d circled “Three Weeks” at the top of the page.
    â€œWe have plenty of time,” I said. Anything could happen in three weeks.
    Henry didn’t look convinced, but I hurried away, leaving him outside the front of the school, so he couldn’t nag me about it anymore.
    I texted Gil to let him know I’d be late so he wouldn’t worry about me, and then tried to decide which obelisk to use for recharging. The Washington Monument was out. It has enough cracks and flaws that sucking energy out of it was like drinking a milk shake through a straw with a hole in it. A better choice—actually a near-perfect example—was one of the five brand-new ones that had been put up in the last year around the District. They were taller than the Capitol building and made my heart jump in anticipation every time I saw them. Horus swore they were the work of Set. Part of Set’s grand plan to take over the world or something ridiculous like that. But Horus was full of conspiracy theories. The government claimed they were memorials to dead heroes. That explanation worked for me. I decided on the obelisk in the middle of Dupont