The Cassandra Curse

by Chantel Acevedo

  I felt myself growing angry. “Nia was right. Otto the whale needed help. And in the end, he’s going to get it because of us,” I told Clio.

  “The four of you acted out of your own desire,” Clio said.

  “So what we want doesn’t matter? What we want doesn’t count?” I asked. “I’m pretty sure, by the way, that Otto wanted out of that stupid, tiny tank,” I went on.

  A teenager wandered into the clock gallery, and I stopped talking. He was gazing into his phone. Clio took one look at him and he froze in place, his mouth parted, his finger touching the screen mid-scroll. She walked over and plucked the phone from his hand.

  “Take it,” she said, handing it to me. “I’ve seen your phone. It’s, what do the kids say, ‘busted’? This one is new, see?”

  “It’s not mine,” I said, confused. The teenager stared into his empty hand so oddly.

  “Don’t you want it?” she asked.

  “No. I mean, yes. But not his. I’ll get a new phone, eventually. Maybe Christmas. Why are you doing this?”

  Clio returned the phone to the teenager’s hand, delicately placing his finger in the right spot on the screen again. She released him, and he walked through the gallery, barely giving us a glance.

  “Then you clearly know the difference between using your magic to act on a desire and waiting for the moment when you won’t need magic to achieve it,” Clio said.

  “It’s not the same thing. What we did at Sea-a-Rama was good for everyone,” I said, quietly this time, unsure even as I spoke.

  “We aren’t superheroes. We aren’t genies. We can’t solve every problem. But when we focus we can be effective. The success of the Fated Ones can move mountains, but it requires patience from us. Patience that is derived out of love and understanding.”

  I hadn’t realized that I had stopped breathing as Clio spoke, and when she was done, I gasped for air. “That’s what Etoro said.”

  “And Etoro is right. As always.”

  “Clio, please don’t assign Maya to someone else. I can do it.”

  Clio shook her head. “Love and understanding, Callie. Without it, your magic won’t be strong enough.” I stared at my shoes, and felt Clio’s hand on my wrist as she unlatched my bracelet with a yank. I gasped again.

  “Off to the bed,” she told me. “I’ll be in touch.”

  “Okay,” I said, though I was pretty far from okay. In tears, I made my way to the Great Bed, slipped underneath, and looked around before closing my eyes.

  I couldn’t concentrate. I stared at the cases filled with old things, at the leaded windows, at London outside, and said goodbye to all of it.

  I let my eyes close at last, then tumbled out the other end of the slide at the Pirate’s Playground.

  Slamming straight into Maya Rivero.

  Chapter 26

  Getting to Know Maya

  “How did you do that?” Maya asked, peering past me and up into the slide’s tube.

  “Do what?” I climbed out of the slide, dusted the tops of my jeans, and tried to walk past her.

  “I saw you go down the slide, and then you got sort of . . . stuck. I went to help and you weren’t in there. I blinked, and then you were back. Is it a trapdoor or something?” Maya asked, starting to climb up the slide.

  Think, Callie, think.

  “No, of course not. I saw you. Waved and everything. You looked right through me. So rude,” I said, and curled my lip at her, pretending to be put off.

  “I didn’t. You weren’t—”

  I waved her off. “No worries, Maya. Probably a trick of the light. It’s so sunny. Soda?” I asked, and shook my purse in front of her, the coins inside jangling.

  Maya nodded, confusion still playing like shadows on her face. “Sure,” she said, and the two of us walked over to a soda machine a few feet away. I bought us each a drink, and we sat down on a picnic table under a flamboyán tree that kept dropping its tiny red blossoms on us as we talked.

  She hadn’t asked about the others yet. I wondered . . .

  “Hey, Maya. Nia was really upset about Otto,” I said.

  Confusion on her face again. “Who’s Nia?” she asked.

  I took a deep breath. It was like the Muse Squad had never been in Miami. I thought of my room, of the empty bunk beds, and my hands trembled a little.

  “Oh, sorry. Nia is one of the protestors. We chatted earlier today,” I said, and took a sip of soda.

  “It is sad though, about the orca, taken from his family as a calf probably. Stuck here. Sort of like me, I guess,” Maya said softly.

  I gulped. I thought of her house just two blocks from mine, with all those kids in it. “The people you live with? What about them?” I prompted.

  “Alicia and Mike, they’re my foster parents. They’re really nice. Nicer than others I’ve stayed with. I didn’t have much family to begin with. My mom lost custody of me when I was a baby. My dad, he’s a human question mark. I don’t know a thing about him. My abuelita raised me. She was from Ecuador. She used to say she wished she could take me to see the place where she grew up. But she was old, you know, and old people, they, they . . .” Maya trailed off, and started lifting the tab on her soda can back and forth until it popped off.

  “I get it,” I said. I didn’t want to talk about Tia Annie with anyone either. I didn’t want to say “dead,” even if it had already happened, even if uttering it didn’t make a difference either way.

  And I definitely didn’t want to talk about dads who dropped out of your life when you needed them most.

  Maya looked off toward the Penguin Encounter exhibit, with its faux glacier sticking up out of the earth, flanked by palm trees. Someone in a penguin costume was waddling around outside and kept waving at us with a fuzzy flipper.

  “This place is nuts,” I said, trying to break the tension.

  “So nuts,” Maya said, and we laughed a little. Maya sat thoughtfully, staring into the void of her soda can, as if she could see something inside other than carbonated sugar water. “The world is nuts. But I’m gonna make it better, Callie,” she said, and when she looked at me, I saw a fierceness in her eyes that I hadn’t seen before.

  “I believe you,” I said.

  Maya and I spent the rest of the day together. Between us, we got four wax figures—two sea lions, a penguin, and a shark. We watched the dolphin show, rode a paddleboat, petted a tortoise, all the while sweating like crazy in the blazing heat. We didn’t run into Max or Violet again, though I could tell Maya was looking for them, her eyes scanning the paths for a tall, handsome Haitian boy. I kept turning around myself, half expecting Thalia to be there, or Mela, or Nia, but each time, it was just my own shadow playing tricks on me.

  My mom picked me and Maya up right on time. Ms. Rinse was there to check us off her list. I stole a glance at it and yep, no Thalia, Mela, or Nia anywhere on her roster. Clio had been very thorough indeed.

  In the distance, Max and Violet were waiting for their ride. Max saw us, and he waved at Maya, grinning. Violet huffed and crossed her arms.

  “I saw that,” I said, pointing at Maya’s blushing cheeks.

  “Stop it,” she whispered, smiling, and scooted into the backseat of my mom’s van.

  “Did you have fun?” my mom asked, handing us each a granola bar and a juice pouch. My mom was a big believer in what she called “getting ahead of the hangry beasts” she claimed lived inside all kids who missed a meal or snack time.

  “Yep,” I said, and stuffed my face. I really was hungry. Getting kicked out of a mythical super group can do that to a person.

  Maya ate quietly. I knew I wasn’t supposed to be doing muse business anymore, but since I had her with me, and since I might not get the chance again, I asked, “Has Max given you any gifts? Like, tokens of affection?”

  “Oh my God, no,” Maya said.

  “No small boxes, yea big?” I asked, demonstrating with my hands.

  Maya laughed. “I’d forgotten. Yeah, he totally did. Insid
e was a forty-carat diamond and we are getting married tomorrow. You’re invited. Be my maid of honor, please?” Then she elbowed me lightly. “You’re so weird, Callie,” she said lovingly, still laughing. “Max is just a friend. And even if he wanted to be my boyfriend, which he doesn’t, I am so not ready for that. Are you?”

  I shook my head. Nope. Part of me still thought boys were gross. Part of me, at least. “I’m eleven. Ask me again when I’m fourteen or something,” I said, and took another bite of my granola bar.

  We walked Maya to her front door. My mom greeted Alicia, and then, in classic Trudy-style, invited herself in. “We are neighbors, no? And I can lend a hand with this one,” she said, and lifted the wailing toddler out of Alicia’s arms. Alicia, for her part, seemed sort of relieved.

  “Maya, why don’t you show Callie your room?” Alicia offered, and so we went.

  Maya’s room was actually in the center of the house, surrounded on all sides by French doors with glass inserts. “This used to be a dining room,” she said, closing the doors. They had pink curtains on them, but didn’t block out much of the noise from the rest of the house. Once she closed the doors, though, the effect was sort of magical, like living inside a genie bottle. I told her so.

  “If only I could make wishes come true,” she said with a small smile. One of the doors was permanently closed, and an overstuffed bookcase rested against it. Beside the bookcase was a dollhouse, exactly like the one I had at home. “My abuela gave it to me,” Maya said.

  “I have a dollhouse just like this. I mean, I don’t play with it anymore, but yeah. Loved that toy,” I said. I sat before it, and started arranging the plastic furniture inside. “I liked to put the fireplace in the bedroom. Felt like a cozy thing to do.”

  “Bad move,” Maya said, sitting next to me. “Carbon monoxide poisoning—it’ll kill you in your sleep,” she said, and slid the little fireplace to the living room.

  “Right,” I said, and set out tiny dishes on a dining table.

  Maya opened up the windows on the house, and birdsong piped through tiny speakers. The batteries on the little house were still good! Mine had corroded ages ago. “Does Raquel live nearby, too?” Maya asked as she moved things about. “I always figured she did, since you two are best friends.”

  “We aren’t even regular friends anymore, forget ‘best,’” I said, switching on the minuscule lamp in the nursery room with my thumbnail.

  “No wonder you’ve been wanting to hang out with me,” Maya said.

  I stopped. Faced Maya. “It’s not that.”

  “It is. I understand. You’ll be friends again, I’ll bet. Once all this America’s Next Star stuff dies down.”

  “And if it doesn’t?” I asked.

  Maya nudged me. “I’m not going anywhere. Age eleven. I’m super hard to adopt, and Alicia and Mike said I could stay until I age out.”

  “Age out?” I asked.

  “Turn eighteen. Then I’m on my own,” she said, setting a tiny watering can on a teeny coffee table.

  We stopped talking after that.

  We played for an hour, like I used to do when I was little, and the world fell away around me until the only thing that was real was that dollhouse and the people in it. I played the dad and the little sister, and Maya played the mom and brother. We gave them disgusting names—Mr. and Mrs. Caca-head, and the siblings, Moco and Puke. We had them making Christmas Eve dinner and playing hide-and-seek, and putting the baby, Little Mildew, to bed in her fluffy pink crib.

  It was really fun, I gotta say.

  And when Alicia and my mom knocked on one of the glass panes and opened a door, Maya and I were both startled out of the world we had made, and my throat constricted.

  “See you at school,” I said, and gave Maya a hug.

  “Bye, Callie. Don’t forget. County science fair soon.”

  “I won’t forget. I promise,” I said, and Maya looked so relieved that I almost hugged her again.

  My mom and I were silent on the way home. Her brow was furrowed, the way it always gets when she’s thinking up something big. Inside the house, my brothers were playing video games, as usual. I said hi, but they ignored me, so I headed straight to my room.

  The bunk beds were gone, as if they had never been there.

  In its place was my old dollhouse.

  I sat down in front of it, stretched my hands into the little kitchen.

  And I played.

  Chapter 27

  Letting Go

  I had a hard time sleeping now that the others weren’t there. Without Mela sniffling, and Thalia tossing and turning, and Nia messing with her astronomy app, which lit up my room in a blue glow, I couldn’t seem to rest.

  The county science fair was fast approaching, and if I had learned anything about the sirens, it was that they were bound to ruin Maya’s chances of changing the world someday.

  There were other things going on, too.

  Like, Tomiko and Elnaz had shown up in school, posing as teachers-in-training from the University of Miami. Tomiko’s hair was no longer orange. Elnaz didn’t hide her strange blue and brown eyes, but her ponytail was gone, traded for loose waves and a demure headband that always matched her outfit. And what a coincidence, they were both in all my classes with Maya, keeping an eye on us.

  I sidled up to Tomiko during lunch, carrying my tray with a bowl full of mac and cheese. “You should know,” I whispered into her ear, “that there’s a boy named Max, who I don’t trust entirely, hanging around Maya a lot. And his friend, Violet. I think she’s okay, but you might want to check on her anyway, just in case. And definitely, definitely check on Ms. Fovos. She has to be evil. Has to be.” I said it all so fast that I was out of breath when I finished. Then I swallowed hard. “How’s the Muse Squa— I mean, the other girls?”

  Tomiko looked at me, her glittering eyes scanning my own for a full three seconds before she told me to go sit down, threatening detention so loudly that Violet snickered and stuck her tongue out at me.

  “Tomiko,” I pleaded.

  “Ms. Miura to you,” she said, loudly again. “Now sit.”

  Which I did, my hands balled up into fists. How were they supposed to protect Maya if they didn’t know anything about life at Miami Palms Middle, about the people around Maya, about the county science fair or SAP? Did they even know she lived in a group home? That in just seven years, she’d have nowhere to go?

  Another video of Raquel played at lunch. In the video, she and her fellow contestants were at a movie premiere. She wore a blue dress and silver heels, which sparkled against a red carpet. Someone put a mic in front of her face. “Hi!” she said to the camera, and a bunch of kids in the cafetorium said, “Hi!” back. I looked at her usual seat. Empty. I hadn’t gotten a text from her in two weeks. I sighed and ate my cold mac and cheese alone.

  As for Elnaz, I caught up with her in the teachers’ parking lot one afternoon. “Listen, Elnaz,” I said, holding on to her sleeve. “I know I’m in trouble. I’m suspended, got it. But I’m going to that science fair whether you like it or not, and I’m going to protect Maya.” My knees almost buckled as I spoke, and I could hear my voice quivering. I don’t know why I was so afraid. What did I have to lose anyway?

  Elnaz cocked her head to the side, considering me. “Just don’t get in the way, kiddo,” she said, ruffled my hair, and walked off. My scalp tingled at her touch. I wanted nothing more than to make her stop, drop, and start writing haikus on the sidewalk with the chalk I spotted in her pocket.

  But a muse never uses her magic against her sisters. Rule number three.

  I could feel the hair on my head lifting a little with static electricity. Was I even a muse still? Did the rules apply to me? I thought of what Clio had said about the Lost Muses and my heart constricted. I took a deep breath and looked away from Elnaz’s retreating back.

  Ms. Rinse began the SAP meeting after school that day with some anagrams, like we did in class. “Just for fun,” she said, “how many w
ords can you make out of ‘science fair’? I’ve got lollipops for the winner.”

  Maya came out on top again with some seven- and eight-letter words like “sacrifice,” “misfire,” “critics,” and “arsenic.”

  “You’re very good at this,” I said, as Maya unwrapped her lollipop. “I can’t ever work them out.”

  “Break them down in chunks, see?” she said, circling letters here and there. “Tackle small problems one at a time, Callie.”

  “Okay, okay,” I said. Maya had said that to me before, but I still didn’t understand it. “Those are some ominous terms, girl.”

  “I know, right?” Maya said proudly, and enjoying her candy. “Hey, can I bring my project to your house? Two of my foster siblings keep messing with it.”

  “Of course,” I said.

  Elnaz and Tomiko were sitting in the back of the room, “taking notes” for their college education course and totally eavesdropping.

  Ms. Rinse reminded us about the county science fair, and how we had to be on our best behavior. We spent the rest of the club hour playing Scientist Twenty Questions. Maya guessed Marie Curie, Albert Einstein, and Ada Lovelace, and was declared the Twenty Questions champion within the first ten minutes of playing.

  Ms. Rinse watched us, a smile on her face. She was wearing a beige dress with polka dots in every color. Her shoes were dotted, too. Halfway through the game, Ms. Fovos came in, and the two of them chatted for a while. I strained to listen, but it sounded like they were complaining about a faculty meeting, nothing more.

  That’s when I noticed Fovos’s briefcase. It looked an awful lot like the one the birds on the Tube had stolen from the pink-suit lady. My heart started to race. I scribbled a note on a piece of paper, balled it up, and threw it at Tomiko and Elnaz. It hit Tomiko on the neck, and disappeared into her shirt.

  Sorry, I mouthed. Tomiko dug out the paper, glaring at me the whole time. She opened it, and she and Elnaz read my note. They didn’t meet my eyes, but when Ms. Fovos got up to leave, they followed her out the door.