I shrugged my shoulders, not getting it.
“Come here,” she said, and led me to a puddle of water in the playground underneath the swings. Water always collected there, soaking little kids’ shoes and socks. Someone had put yellow CAUTION tape all over the seats. Maya knelt and dipped half the limestone in the water. I watched as water bubbled up through the holes in the rock.
“See that?” she asked. “When the seas rise, it won’t come up on shore like a wave. It will get us from underneath. Hence the pumps to get the water out. I’m making a new model for the county science fair. It’s the street where I live, with houses and everything, and underneath, running through the limestone, I’m stringing flexible tubes attached to a pump that will keep everything nice and dry. If I had more time, I could come up with a small desalinator to recycle the salt water and make it drinkable.” I imagined ripples around Maya, each circle growing larger, impacting the world and making a difference.
“That’s amazing. Will it work?” I asked.
Maya shrugged. “I don’t know. We have to tackle this one small problem at a time, because the problems of climate change are numerous and variable. Patience and persistence are key. The greatest scientific mysteries are solved this way.” Maya got a far-off look in her eyes for a moment. “I have other ideas,” she said, snapping out of it. “Just sketches. Underground canals, stuff like that. Or we could come at it from the Poles. Lower the temperatures up there with geoengineering. Agrovoltaics are a possibility. Floating cities.” I didn’t understand any of it, but what I did see was that Maya got a sad look in her eyes for a moment. “The truth is, Callie, I’m not sure any of it will work. The grown-ups should have been thinking up solutions a long time ago. Maybe it’s too late,” she said quietly.
Maya’s shoulders sagged. It was almost as if I could see the ripples fading around her as she lost hope.
“When have we ever been able to count on grown-ups to do the right thing?” I joked.
Maya looked at me in horror, her eyes wide.
“I mean,” I tried to clarify, “I mean kids like us, we can make a difference, right?” I could feel it starting—the buzzing and tingling sensation on my skin. I willed it to get stronger. “The world needs people like you, Maya.”
Maya smiled and shook her head. “You’re a weird one,” she said.
“Believe it or not, I’ve heard that before,” I told her.
“Well, we have a SAP meeting after school, if you want to come.” She said it like a question and didn’t look me in the eyes.
“Yeah, of course,” I said.
Maya smiled and dusted off her hands. “Great. See you at three thirty then,” she said.
“Yep.” I watched her as she returned to the leaves, turning them, examining them, then doodling something in her notebook. Her red sneakers had a hole in the left toe.
She really is going to save the world, I thought.
At lunch the Muse Squad took up the table closest to the exit. It was always empty because everyone wanted to be near the food line and the water fountains. Nia had made each of us a special grilled cheese sandwich for lunch. Mine had bacon. Mela’s had spinach. Thalia’s had extra cheese, and Nia had made herself one with tomatoes and broccoli. My brothers had watched with mouths open. “None for us?” they’d asked, and Nia had rolled her eyes at them.
The projection screen at the front of the cafetorium had been lowered, and the projector hummed in anticipation. We devoured those sandwiches.
“These are amazing,” I said, my mouth full of cheese.
“Grilled cheese queen,” Mela said, giving Nia a high five.
“You know it,” Nia said, shimmying in her seat as she popped the last bite of sandwich into her mouth.
“So what’d you find out about Violet?” I asked Mela, who was wiping her mouth with a napkin.
“Nothing much. She got the feathers at the craft store. And while we were in London, being chased by evil robins, she was at the orthodontist getting spacers put in for braces. She opened her mouth and showed me, poor thing,” Mela said. “She has a proper alibi.”
“No sympathy for potential sirens,” Nia whispered. “How about you?” she asked Thalia.
Thalia blushed a little. “Max doesn’t plan on going to the concert. He says he’ll be at the science fair instead. Also, he’s very fit, isn’t he?” she said, blushing a bit more deeply.
“NO CRUSHES ON POTENTIAL SIRENS,” Nia said a little too loudly.
“Nia, what about Alain?” I asked.
“Girls,” Nia said, and looked around, her face deadly serious. “That boy is as dumb as a sack of hammers.”
“That’s so mean!” I said. But we laughed, then Thalia snort-laughed, and we all laughed even harder.
Ms. Fovos came by and shushed us. She placed her knuckles on the table and leaned over. Her breath smelled like old coffee. “What are you up to, girls?” she asked, her eyes narrowing. I wanted to ask her the same thing. We stared at each other for a beat longer than what seemed normal. Then Ms. Fovos pointed to the screen.
A local television show, Good Morning, Miami, came on. There was Raquel in a yellow skirt and a denim off-the-shoulder top. She had on yellow sandals, too. Her hair was in a high ponytail, with a crisp denim bow clipping it together. Everyone went quiet and watched as the host interviewed Raquel then flashed pictures of her as a little girl. There she was in diapers in her backyard in Venezuela. There she was on her ninth birthday, standing behind her cake, and there I was, too, right beside her. I wanted to cry, but it had nothing to do with muse magic.
I looked around and found Raquel sitting with Violet and Max. They were both hugging her at the same time, their eyes on the screen. She must have taped the show earlier in the morning, because she had a lot of makeup on, and the denim bow was still in her hair, too. Alain was leading the cafetorium in a cheer of “Ra-quel, Ra-quel, Ra-quel.”
“Hey,” Mela said, and tried to put her hand on my wrist. I yanked it away.
“It’s fine. I have to go to the bathroom. I’ll . . . see you all at the SAP meeting,” I told them, picking up my tray and leaving the cafetorium. I could see Ms. Fovos’s eyes on me, but she didn’t stop me from going.
I went down a corridor and then down another until I found myself in front of the library. I stepped inside and took a deep breath. Libraries had the best smell. They smelled like—
“Breakdown of chemical compounds in paper. That’s what you’re smelling,” said Ms. Rinse, who was watching me from a table in the back of the otherwise empty library. “And it’s really delicious.” She picked up her book, something about the ocean from the looks of the cover, and put her nose in the binding.
“Sorry to interrupt,” I started to say, but Ms. Rinse put her hand up. “No worries at all, Callie. Sit with me?”
“You’re back from your conference,” I said.
“Indeed. It was fascinating.” She patted the seat next to her.
I joined her at the table, absently picking up a book on the way. It was a book of myths. On the cover, three witches held up a thread. One held scissors. They were all blind, except for the youngest witch, who had only one eye. It gave me the creeps, and I dropped it with a thud.
“I love that one,” Ms. Rinse said.
I nodded. I didn’t really want to talk about books. I missed Raquel. I missed the easy way we talked to one another. I missed giving her pep talks. I missed having her come over to my house for dinner and laughing together over videos online. The other muses were great. Just great. And Maya was interesting and all, and Fated or whatever, but none of them were Raquel, my best friend.
“The exchange students seem lovely,” Ms. Rinse said. “How’s it going at home? Big change, huh?” I didn’t know what to say. It was fine, I guess. I mean, Thalia did leave her stuff everywhere, and Nia spent too much time in the bathroom, and Mela was so homesick that she cried every night, which put everyone in a weepy sort of mood.
“Fine. Super, u
m, fine,” I said.
“Hm,” Ms. Rinse said. She fiddled with a bookmark, tapping it on the table softly. “I had lots of sisters. It can be . . . difficult. Easy to lose yourself, your sense of who you are,” she said.
A teacher had never shared anything so personal with me. I wondered if it meant that I was growing up, if sixth grade was the time when that kind of thing happened, when the teachers saw you as more than just a little kid.
“Any-hoo,” Ms. Rinse said, suddenly cheerful, as if some spell had broken. “Are you coming to SAP? Maya mentioned you might.”
“Yes,” I said, happy that the subject had changed. “I invited Mela, Thalia, and Nia to the SAP meeting.”
Ms. Rinse beamed. “The more the merrier,” she said. “We’re planning a trip to Sea-a-Rama this weekend. Should be fun.”
I hadn’t been to Sea-a-Rama since I was a little kid. “I remember that place! Dolphin shows and stuff. They had these machines that turned hot wax into toys. I have a walrus somewhere at home,” I said.
“Yep, those are still there.” Ms. Rinse glanced at her watch. It had a blue strap and a smiling dolphin on the face. “Fifth period’s about to start,” she said. Halfway to the door, Ms. Rinse stopped to add, “Bring the superstar with you, too.”
“Superstar?”
“You know who I’m talking about,” Ms. Rinse said. She paused to look at a stack of books on a cart just right of the exit door.
The superstar. There was no way Raquel would come to a SAP meeting with me. Not cool enough for sure, and besides, she wasn’t really talking to me these days. How long before everyone in school figured out that we weren’t friends anymore? How long before they stopped asking me “How’s Raquel doing?” as if I had the answers. I wondered, too, if anybody asked her about me, and if they did, what she said. “Oh, Callie? Her? She’s probably stuffing her face at the moment.”
The thought of it made me feel so low that I put my head down for a second, letting the feeling pass. A minute later, I said, “Hey, Ms. Rinse. I’m sorry for not doing my science project.”
Silence. I looked up. Ms. Rinse had left the library without me noticing, and I had apologized to thin air.
The rest of the day rumbled on uneventfully, unless you counted the mouse that scurried over some kid’s foot in sixth period, starting a chain reaction of squeals and stomping that Ms. Salvo had a hard time containing, so she gave up and showed us a video about prepositions. Then the final bell of the day rang at last. I gathered my things and made my way to the Activities Room, where SAP held its meetings.
The Activities Room had two worn and very beige couches in it, the fabric all nubby and gross. There was one table surrounded by six rusty aluminum folding chairs, two bulletin boards with notices from every club in the school, and giant rolls of colorful paper for making signs. By the time I arrived, Mela, Thalia, and Nia were already there, arguing with Max Pascal.
Max was holding Maya’s Rubik’s Cube in his hand, high over his head. He was the tallest boy in school, so there was no way that even Nia could reach it. “Give it back to Maya,” she was saying, hopping up and down, trying to get her hands on the puzzle.
“She gave it to me,” Max insisted. “What’s wrong with you girls, anyway?”
I was about to go help when I heard Maya behind me saying, “Leave Max alone. He’s right. I gave it to him.”
“Oh. Sorry,” Nia said to Max.
“Whatever. Weirdos,” said Max.
“Are we weirdos?” Mela whispered to me.
I thought for a moment, and because I was tired, or because I couldn’t think of anything inspirational or muse-like to say, I said, “Yeah.”
Mela gasped a little, but Thalia said, “Then we’re in good company,” and pointed her thumb at the students steadily pouring into the SAP meeting.
Ness Colucci came in with Janie Bustelo, two seventh graders best known for their K-pop obsession and their petition to force the school to offer Korean language lessons (it hadn’t worked so far). They were followed by Dylan Garcia and Alex Contreras, both of whom were so obsessed with Underwatch, a team-based, shoot-’em-up video game, that they seemed to speak in a different language altogether, and insisted we call them by the characters they played—Tinker and Drang. Then three more girls sauntered in, all in volleyball uniforms, with their names on the back—Allie, Mia, and Diana. I thought they were staying for the meeting, but they each took an aluminum chair and dragged them away without saying a word, their long brown hair swishing against their backs. Finally, Letty, Lisa, and Leo Linares arrived, holding their ubiquitous coffee mugs.
“What are you doing here?” I asked Max as we found our seats.
“I won the school science fair last year, didn’t I?” It’s true. He had. I’d just forgotten. Then Maya came and sat between us. Max tossed the Rubik’s Cube to her, and she gave it a few twists.
“Haven’t solved it yet, Max?” she asked.
“I keep messing up the corners. I’m gonna try this next,” Max said. He reached over and started peeling the colors off the little squares.
“Cheater,” Maya said, laughing, and Max laughed back.
What in the world was going on? Since when had these two become friends? I very nearly asked them, when Ms. Rinse rose to speak.
“Wow,” Ms. Rinse said, her own coffee mug in hand. “We’ve never had so many students come to a meeting. Welcome! Our first order of business is to talk about the science fair.” Today she was wearing black-and-yellow polka dots, and I couldn’t help but think of bumblebees. She went on, “As you all know, Maya has been selected to represent our school at the fair. If she wins, she goes on to compete at the national level. We have tickets for all club members to attend, and I hope you’ll all be there to cheer her on.”
Ness Colucci put her hand up. “I can’t go, Ms. Rinse. I’m going to the America’s Next Star finals instead.” Janie Bustelo nodded vigorously beside her.
“But—” Ms. Rinse began.
“Hard same,” Tinker and Drang said together.
Ms. Rinse took a big breath. She looked pointedly at Max Pascal. “I suppose you’re going to abandon SAP, as well.”
Max pursed his lips, crossed his arms, and leaned back into his chair, his long legs sprawling out before him. “Nah,” he said. “I’ve got Maya’s back.”
I looked at him in surprise. Since when did Max treat Maya like they were friends? Suspicious, is what it was.
Ms. Rinse beamed. “Excellent news. Who else is coming to the county science fair?”
I put my hand up, as did the other muses, Letty, Lisa, and Leo, and Max again, for good measure. By this point, Tinker and Drang were taking turns pretending to explode in one corner of the room.
Clapping her hands, Ms. Rinse went on. “Okay, the field trip this weekend. Sea-a-Rama. Who’s going?”
This time, everyone raised their hands.
“Great. You’ll need to be dropped off by your parents or guardians, and picked up by them, too. Nine a.m. sharp. The park closes at five p.m. so make sure you have a ride home. Bring sunscreen and a notebook. We’ll meet in the parking lot.”
With one last reminder about being at Sea-a-Rama on time, Ms. Rinse closed the meeting, and everyone trickled out of the room.
I caught up to Maya, halfway out the door already. “Hey, Sea-a-Rama on Saturday!” I said.
Maya shrugged. “Can’t go.” She stared down at her shoes. “I—I wouldn’t be able to get a ride.”
“My mom will pick you up. We have a van,” I said. Maya still shook her head, her eyes not meeting mine. “Come on. It’ll be fun. Fish and whales and stuff. That’s totally your jam!”
“I don’t think—”
“Mayaaaaaa,” I said. I pulled out my cell phone and called up the Sea-a-Rama page. There, on the front, was an orca—Maya’s favorite animal. “Look at it. Majestic fishiness awaits.”
“Mammal. It’s a mammal,” Maya said quietly. Then, still looking as if someone had whispered �
�You are DOOMED” into her ear, she asked, “Why are you suddenly so nice to me all the time?” Before I could come up with anything to say, Max cut between us, turned, and asked Maya, “Coming on Saturday?”
I watched as her cheeks flared. She stuttered a response. “Of course, M-Max. Yeah!” Then she performed the world’s most awkward fist pump.
“Cool,” he said, leaving the room with a bounce.
Thalia, Mela, and Nia wandered over to us, having extricated themselves from a conversation with Tinker and Drang.
“Crush blush!” Thalia said, pointing at Maya’s cheeks. Her eyes went wide and her hands flew to her face.
“Ignore her,” Nia said. “You’re coming to Sea-a-Rama, right?” she asked Maya, who nodded, fingers still splayed over her face.
“Type in your number and address,” I said, handing Maya my phone. She did, and when she handed it back, I realized that she lived just two blocks over from me. How did I not know that already?
“We’re practically neighbors,” I said. “I’ll walk over and get you, okay?”
Maya nodded, then left the room.
“That blush on her face explains things,” Mela said. “Like why Max had Maya’s Rubik’s Cube.”
“That Max kid is on our list of suspects,” Nia reminded us.
“Maybe he has a crush on her, too,” Thalia offered.
“I don’t know,” I said. “I don’t think so.”
“Why? Because she isn’t ‘cool’ enough for him?” Thalia said. She was giving me a strange look, like she was judging me for thinking that way. But the thing was, I totally thought it. Since when did Max, definitely one of the cool kids, ever care about Maya, a Grade A nerd?
“It’s suspicious, that’s all,” I said, uncomfortable. “I mean, don’t you all think so?”
Thalia sighed. “I guess so.”
“We’ll keep an eye out,” Nia said.
“Do you think they have birds at Sea-a-Rama?” Mela asked nervously.
The Cassandra Curse Page 16