The Mystery of the Tenth

by Chantel Acevedo

  I could do so much.

  I thought of Papi, so far away from our little family in Miami. I thought of Maya and her big dreams of changing the world. I thought of my brothers, and my mom, and the other muses, all of them with their hearts’ desires. I thought of Ari.

  I could fix it. I could fix all of it.

  But was that the right thing to do?

  “No more tears,” said a voice I recognized.

  I turned at once. No longer in my bedroom in Queens, I was sitting on warm grass, with the familiar water and the searchlights in the distance. It was Tia Annie who had spoken.

  “I fell asleep?”

  Tia Annie said, “You sure did. Must be tired from all that monster-battling you’ve been doing lately.”

  I gave Tia Annie a big hug. There was a book in my lap. It wasn’t anything special. Just an old, worn book without a title. “What’s this?”

  Tia Annie smiled. “It tells the stories of every heroic act ever done.”

  “How is that possible?” I asked.

  Tia Annie smiled. “Oh, Callie. Do you believe in magic or not?”

  I felt the weight of the book. I’d flipped through it a few times, and I never seemed to see the same pages twice. It really did feel like the pages were infinite, but the size of the book never changed. “Who wrote all these pages?” I asked.

  Tia Annie took the book gently out of my hands. “I wrote some of them myself,” she said, chuckling softly as she turned page after page. “Other muses throughout time have written the others.”

  “Will I have to do that? Because that sounds like homework,” I said.

  “Maybe,” Tia Annie answered. “The book has other properties, too.”

  “Like what?”

  I watched as she passed her hand lightly over the cover, and for a moment, she seemed lost in thought. “This book will never be finished. Whoever is in possession of it gets to continue the story. And there’s power in a story. When you are the storyteller, you control the story, it doesn’t control you.”

  “I don’t get it,” I said. “When you used the book, how did you ‘control the story’?”

  “I thought you’d ask that. It’s time you knew certain things. Once I received this book and understood its power, I used it to change the story.” Tia Annie flipped through the pages, stopping when she found what she’d been looking for. “Here,” she said, handing me the book. “Go ahead and read.”

  I carefully held it in both hands and started to read.

  Except, once I started, it wasn’t like reading at all.

  It was like I was there, in the book, surrounded by it.

  In the distance was Tia Annie. She was wearing jeans and a heavy down-filled jacket, and her hair was tied up in a ponytail. Sweat dripped off her forehead as she climbed a set of stone steps that went on and on. Beyond her was the bluest sky I’d ever seen. Mountain peaks rested against the sky in the distance, like a painting. I could hear Tia Annie panting as she climbed. When she finally stopped, she had arrived at a temple, gleaming and white in the afternoon sun. I could see the book tucked under her arm.

  Tia Annie entered the temple, which was empty except for bright lights floating in the air all around her. They shimmered when she approached, and many voices spoke at once.

  “Ann, Muse of the epic poem, Maker of Heroes, what is your request?”

  I watched as Tia Annie jutted her chin, clutching the book tightly to her. “I have come to Mount Olympus to ask for an exchange. My life for another’s.”

  The lights twinkled, humming as if in conversation. When they spoke, they said, “Arachne is not deserving. That was decided long ago.”

  Tia Annie closed her eyes. “I have the book. I am the storyteller, and I tell you that she is deserving, and she always was. I’ll trade my place in the Elysian Fields for her life on earth. I’ll guard the searchlights for eternity.”

  The lights hummed again, rumbling now, like race cars at a starting line.

  “She must complete a quest, then,” the voices said.

  “She will need help. And you know I am ill. Will you help her?” Tia Annie asked.

  The lights brightened. “We cannot. But the new storyteller will help her. Arachne may live again, as you’ve requested. In return, you shall guard the searchlights, where our magic is kept, for all time. First of the muses, Annie Martinez, your story is now complete.”

  The book closed in my lap with a snap. My heart pounded and I couldn’t catch my breath. All this time, I’d thought Tia Annie had gone to Mount Olympus to ask the gods to make me a muse. But she hadn’t! She’d gone to bargain for Arachne’s life.

  “Why?” I asked at last.

  “You know why,” Tia Annie said.

  The thing was, I did. What had happened to Arachne wasn’t fair. It was unjust. She’d stood up to Athena, to the gods, and had been punished for being right. For telling the truth.

  “And the book. It helped you?” I asked, holding it away from me.

  Tia Annie took it with gentle hands. “It gave me power over the stories of heroes. I knew it wasn’t right to try to change them all. And the truth is, I don’t think that would be allowed. But Arachne’s story was different. She was just a kid. She reminded me of you, and your brothers, and what happened to her was so unfair. If having the book meant I could change the end of her story somehow, I knew I had to try.”

  A thought entered my mind and I choked back a sob. “You could’ve saved yourself, Tia Annie. You could’ve,” I said, wishing with all my heart that she had marched up to Mount Olympus and asked the gods for a cure so that she could still be with me, and Mami, and my brothers.

  “Oh, mi vida,” Tia Annie said, and held me in a crushing hug. “You wouldn’t have made that choice for yourself either.”

  I shook my head against her. “I would. I’m not good like you,” I cried, thinking of waves pounding on a distant shore.

  “You’re so much like me,” Tia Annie whispered. “I didn’t ask the gods to involve you. They selected a helper for Arachne. You’re her helper. You are the storyteller. It’s your story to complete now.”

  “Why me?” I asked. I could hear how small my voice was.

  Thinking for a moment, Tia Annie gazed out toward the searchlights. “Maybe your big heart? You’re fair. You always stand up for the little guy or girl. You’re kind. Get tough and get even is not your thing. Even when it’s your brothers covering your bed with ‘dork’ sticky notes.”

  I could feel myself blushing. Taking compliments wasn’t easy.

  “When bullies come at you at school, criticizing your family, or your body, or some other dumb thing that bullies, in all of their ignorance, use as weapons, you turn toward those who love you, realizing the bullies don’t deserve the time of day.” Tia Annie thought some more.

  “You can stop now,” I said softly.

  “Nope,” Tia Annie said. “You love big. I mean big. But sometimes you have a hard time letting go.”

  That’s when I burst into tears.

  “I wasn’t ready to let you go, Tia Annie,” I said, the words hardly sounding like words, I was sobbing so hard. It felt as if all the tears that had squeaked out of my eyes all year, the ones I kept trying to hold back, were gushing now, and I couldn’t stop them.

  I felt her arms around me. She didn’t say “shush” or “there, there.” Tia Annie didn’t say anything at all. She was firm and steady. She was an island to hold on to in a stormy sea. And when I was all cried out, only then did she let me go.

  “There’s nothing wrong with crying,” she said. “Stop fighting it.” Tia Annie tucked my hair behind my ears. “Your brothers fight it, too, you know, though they shouldn’t. The harder you fight, the deeper the pain goes, until you’re always sad and can’t figure out why.”

  “I’ll always be sad that you’re gone,” I said.

  Tia Annie nodded. “Of course. Big heart, and all. Just acknowledge the sadness from time to time, and you’ll be okay.”
>
  “So I’m the storyteller,” I said after a while. “But why is my magic changing now?”

  “Everyone needs to take baby steps. From the largest elephant to the tiniest caterpillar. We’re all wobbly at first,” she said, and poked me in the ribs.

  “You mean I really did level up?” I laughed. “Mario and Fernando would be so proud!”

  Tia Annie laughed, too. “They still love video games, huh? Yes, you leveled up. Or rather, you earned it. But the boss level is next, mi niña. Don’t celebrate just yet.”

  It was a frightening thought. If this were a video game, the boss level meant facing Athena. Tia Annie gently brushed the knots out of my hair with her fingers, and I grew serious again thinking about everything she’d done to save Arachne. My tia Annie, who had brought up so many heroes, had righted an ancient wrong. And she’d sacrificed an eternity to make it happen.

  Now it was my turn.

  What would I have to sacrifice to make things right?

  “How will I know what to do?” I asked, sniffling.

  Tia Annie smoothed my hair. “I was the storyteller. The gods could not deny me, and they knew it. Athena will not be able to deny you, either. But you have to make sure you’ve made the right request.”

  “Wait a minute. I just got an idea,” I said.

  “An epiphany?”

  I looked at her blankly.

  Tia Annie sniffed her old former-English-teacher sniff. “An epiphany is a moment of sudden insight. A revelation!”

  “Well, I’ve just had one of those,” I said. “This book, was it your emblem?”

  Smiling, Tia Annie nodded. “Indeed. But it will only come to you when you need it most. That’s the way with emblems. Some muses wait a lifetime to receive theirs.” She paused, putting the book in my hands again. “The poets of old sang life to the heroes. They made them believe in themselves. You have a hero here who needs you. She needs her story to be told, and only you can tell it. You can’t change how a story begins, but you can change how it ends.”

  I held the book close to me.

  “Your gifts are different, Callie. You’ve always known this. The gods made them so because of my request, so that you could wield the power of the book. Use it wisely.”

  I nodded. “I want to help. I want to use my power to help others find theirs.” A slight wind kicked up as soon as I said it, forming little waves in the water. The searchlights swept the sky, as they always did. Beyond the water were the Elysian Fields that Tia Annie had mentioned, that place she’d given up forever to help a girl who’d been unjustly punished.

  Tia Annie turned her face toward the wind and closed her eyes. “Hmm,” she hummed happily. “We don’t get a breeze here often.”

  “Tia Annie, there’s one piece of tapestry left. Clio says she’s going to try diplomacy. But diplomacy won’t work with Athena, will it?”

  Tia Annie shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

  “I’m going to get it. The final tapestry piece, I mean.”

  “Not alone,” she warned. “Athena must know you’re getting close. She won’t hesitate to stop you once and for all. What I started, and you’re finishing, will upend the order of things. A god has never apologized to a human or raised a human above themselves. Athena won’t let that happen without a fight.”

  I understood. But now that I knew what Tia Annie had sacrificed, I was more determined than ever to get the job done. “I promise I won’t go alone. In fact, I’m never alone,” I said, and held on to Tia Annie’s hand. “I’ve got you.”

  Tia Annie smiled, her eyes going all crinkly. “Not just that, you’ve got a whole squad.”

  I laughed. It was true. I had a squad. And I had Papi, and Laura. Mami and Maya. Rafaelito, Fernando, and Mario. And Raquel, too.

  I felt like a lucky girl just then, in spite of the scary things ahead.

  “Thank you, Tia Annie,” I whispered, leaning forward and resting my forehead on hers. “I love you.”

  “I love you, Callie-Mallie. Now go tell your story.”

  Chapter 28

  Patience and Fortitude

  When I woke it was morning, and I was back in my room, lying on the pin-pan-pun. I half expected Tia Annie’s book, her emblem, to be in my room. I even looked for it, but it wasn’t there. The truth was, sometimes I couldn’t tell if my Tia Annie dreams were real, or just dreams. One time last spring, I dreamed she’d joined the circus and learned how to walk on a tightrope.

  But this dream felt different, more like the other times she’d met me in my sleep and told me something important. I’d have to hold on to that.

  Camp would be starting soon, and I could smell the breakfast that Laura was cooking. I got dressed quickly and went to the kitchen. Papi had already gone for the day, and it was just Laura and Rafaelito. She rushed around, muttering something about an annoying colleague, while Rafaelito drank from a bottle. I finished off scrambled eggs and a muffin quickly.

  “Okay, Laura! I’m off to camp,” I said.

  “Please be home on time today,” she pleaded, which made me feel awful.

  “I will,” I promised. I wasn’t sure if I could keep that promise or not, but I would try. Tia Annie had sacrificed too much, and Ari needed our help.

  When I walked into the poetry room, Maris was already there, vibrating with excitement.

  “What’s up?” I asked. The room had stacks of poems on butcher paper for Poetry-palooza. Maris must have worked all night!

  “Mr. Theo is taking us on a field trip as a reward for painting so many poems!” she said happily.

  “Don’t get so excited,” Mr. Theo said. “We’re just going to the public library here in Queens.”

  “But libraries are exciting!” Maris said, clapping her hands together. “I mean, I have had a library card since birth.”

  Of course she has, I thought, smiling at her.

  But then I had an idea.

  It was a brilliant, crazy idea. Harper Ann had suggested I visit a very specific library, hadn’t she?

  “Hey, Mr. Theo,” I called out. He was sitting at his desk, filling out some paperwork. He looked up. “What if we go to the New York Public Library instead. The big one? I’ve never been,” I said, adding some terrific puppy dog eyes into the mix.

  “You haven’t?” Maris exclaimed. “You one hundred percent must visit it!”

  I gave Mr. Theo a little boost of muse magic. Just a nudge. It wouldn’t take much.

  Mr. Theo laughed, giving us a look that said, “I love my job.” “Okay, let’s go.”

  We took the 7 train to Fifth Avenue. On the way to the station, I texted everyone:

  Going to the library. Who’s in?

  One by one, the Muse Squad answered.

  Nia: On the way!

  Thalia: Brilliant!

  Mela: See you there.

  I couldn’t afford to use my bracelet, in case Clio was listening in. Once again, I was breaking the rules, but this time, I knew exactly why I had to. If I was the storyteller, then it was my job to see the story through, whether I had the emblem or not. Clio and the other grown-up muses had been scared for us when they learned that Athena was involved, and I didn’t blame them. Clio wanted us to step back because she was terrified of what Athena could do.

  But I wasn’t afraid anymore. Tia Annie had given up too much for me to let fear win.

  I texted Ari, too, but she didn’t respond. “Hey,” I asked Maris. “Did you see Ari today at camp?”

  She shook her head no.

  Part of me feared I’d get to the library and find her already there, battling some horrible monster on her own. Would she do that? Leave me and the other muses out of it altogether?

  It was a pretty uneventful subway ride, so Maris spent it telling me about how last summer the Student Showcase had to be abruptly canceled when someone pulled the fire alarm.

  “Our dramatic recitation of Edgar Allan Poe’s The Raven was absolutely ruined!” Maris said. I was only half listening, t
o tell the truth. My mind was racing ahead, wondering where the final piece of the tapestry might be.

  “The camp donors will be there this year,” I said, trying to keep up my part of the conversation. “Who are they, anyway?”

  “No idea,” Maris said. “Patrons of the arts, I guess.”

  “Who’ll shut down Corona Arts if they aren’t suitably impressed. So generous,” I said.

  “If that happens, I don’t know what I’ll do in the summer. Which is why Poetry-palooza has to be a hit!”

  “It will!” Mr. Theo said encouragingly.

  “We worked so hard. And the other campers are working hard, too. Have you seen the sets for Into the Woods?” Maris said, and then she was off, chatting rapidly about what the other artist groups were doing for the showcase. There were musical numbers, one-act plays, interpretive dance routines, and more.

  We arrived at the Fifth Avenue station and walked along the busy sidewalk until we were standing directly in front of the library. It was flanked by two enormous statues of lions. They were a familiar sight—one I’d seen in movies a bunch of times. In person they looked even bigger. I almost expected to see them take a breath.

  “Did you know that the lions have names? That’s Patience,” said Mr. Theo, pointing to the marble lion on the south side of the stairs. “And that’s Fortitude,” he added, indicating the one on the north side.

  “Excellent qualities,” Maris said.

  We walked past them up the stairs. That’s when I noticed it—a piece of tapestry peeking out from under Fortitude. I stopped and stared up at the lion, still as can be.

  Oh, this was not going to be easy, was it?

  Mr. Theo led us into the library, pointing out elements of the architecture. He stopped in the center of a massive room lined with huge windows, chandeliers, and rows and rows of dark, gleaming wood tables, each with a green lamp on top.

  “This is the Rose Reading Room, kids,” he said in a whisper, as if a loud sound might make the whole place vanish. The ceiling was anything but plain, with a sky painted in the center. The clouds seemed to glow, as if a rising sun was just out of view.