Jax Freeman and the Phantom Shriek by Kwame Mbalia

Author:Kwame Mbalia [Mbalia, Kwame]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Disney Hyperion
Published: 2024-10-02T00:00:00+00:00

THE RING NEEDS MORE SHOUTING, THE WORDS DON’T MATTER.

The scribbles on the walls of Portis Freeman’s hidden room seemed grainy in the photo, but Nina and Devin both nodded. “‘The words don’t matter…’” Devin said thoughtfully. “It’s like Papa Coin’s growth song.”

He didn’t explain, and Nina looked troubled, so I cleared my throat and asked, “His growth song?”

“Yeah, he hums it when he’s working in the garden.”

“He says the words don’t matter, just the act of putting power in the music,” Nina added. “My dad does the same thing when he’s preparing different pouches for his customers. Speaking or singing helps the spirits inject power into your actions.”

I stared at the faded path on the floor. So, I wasn’t supposed to shout, but sing? I gulped. Talk about being put on the spot. And what was I supposed to sing? But right then, my phone flickered and died. I groaned. So much for having the picture as a reference. Now what? I squeezed my hands into fists. I’d brought us all the way out here, and this is where it ended?

“Come on, Freeman, what’re you waiting for?” Devin asked.

Nina moved next to me. “You okay?”

I exhaled in frustration. How was I going to tell them I had no idea what to do? Spit it out, Jax—get it over with. They might get upset, but it’s not like you’ve never had that happen before.

I took a deep breath, ready to admit this whole trip was a failure, when something rattled in the corner. A slim stick. It reminded me of a drumstick. Maybe at one point there’d been instruments in here. I thought of the band at DuSable. The drumline wouldn’t even fit inside this Praise House, much less the whole band.

The image of them gathered around the lunch table, drumming and singing when the lunch monitors weren’t there, popped into my mind. I cocked my head. No way…

“‘The ring needs more shouting,’” I murmured.

“Jax?” Nina asked, but I ignored her.

“Freeman has truly lost it,” Devin groaned.

Now, what were the words? I thought for a second, then licked my lips. Just because I had a plan didn’t make this any easier. I picked up the stick and handed it to Devin. “All right, this is going to sound weird, but I need a beat.”

“A beat?”

“A beat! Like this.” And I took the stick and started tapping. Tap-a-tap-a Tap-a-tap-a Tap-a-tap TAP TAP TAP. “And then repeat it. Got it? Go.”

Despite looking at me like I was a couple pebbles short of an avalanche, he took the stick and kept the rhythm going. Nodding in time, I turned to Nina. “You. Clap along.”

“Why does this sound familiar?” she muttered.

“The band was practicing it,” I said. “For the basketball halftime show.”

Devin choked and nearly missed a beat. “‘Master Blaster’? You’re using Stevie Wonder to cast a spell?”

“Stevie Wonder is a wizard on the keyboard, so yes!” I shouted. I took a deep breath, then started clapping. “Here we go. See, the spell—it’s a ring shout.

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