Don't Move a Muscle!

by P. J. Night

  Her shoes and makeup bag were right where she’d left them.

  But the clothes rack was empty. Her dress for the dance was gone.

  For what felt like the millionth time since she’d first visited the Metaxas Sculpture Garden, Cora couldn’t believe her eyes. She scanned the conference room. Could the dress have slipped off its hanger and fallen somewhere? But the closet floor was bare.

  Don’t panic, Cora told herself. Dresses don’t get lost.

  Maybe someone had moved it? But why would anyone do that?

  Evan might know. If he didn’t, he would help Cora search. She ran outside to find him.

  The weather was starting to change. It was colder, and the sky was clouding up. A stiff breeze was blowing too. Even while Cora headed for the maintenance shed, her brain was ticking through dance details.

  We can’t walk to the dance if it starts to rain. I’ll have to call Mom for a ride. I hope she and Dad haven’t gone out to dinner or something.

  Her mother could even bring her camera and take a few pictures for the scrapbook! That would make her happy.

  Now she had reached the maintenance shed—which was locked. And unless he had somehow trapped himself inside the shed, Evan wasn’t there.

  Was that his voice calling her, or just the wind? Someone was whispering her name.

  “Cora! Help me!”

  “Where are you?” Cora yelled back.

  “Over here! Come quick!”

  “Okay, but where?”

  “Here . . .”

  The voice trailed off and was lost in a strong gust of wind.

  Was it Evan? What had happened to him? Cora rushed toward the spot where she thought she’d heard the voice. Leaves and twigs were starting to blow around now. She could feel them hitting her ankles.

  Can’t walk to the dance in this crazy weather . . .

  She’d gone perhaps thirty feet when someone grabbed her by the hair.

  Cora shrieked as she skidded to a stop. For an instant the shock and pain were blinding. Then her vision cleared, and she saw that it wasn’t a human hand that had grabbed her but a statue’s stone one. Her hair was knotted in the fingers of one of the centaurs.

  She heard herself yelling “Stop it! Let me go!” Frantically she tried to untangle the snarls, but the wind kept winding her hair farther and farther within the centaur’s grasp—or was it the centaur’s hand that was moving?

  “Evan, help!” she wailed. Her head was held at such an awkward angle that her voice sounded thin and tiny. Then, suddenly, Evan was at her side.

  “Wow,” he said.

  “Don’t stand there making comments—help me!”

  “Wow,” Evan repeated. Then, “Sorry. It’s just that you’re . . . really tangled up. I don’t know where to start.”

  “Start anywhere,” begged Cora. “I can’t reach.”

  “Okay, okay.” He sounded a little frantic. “Here, let’s start with the thumb. Not your thumb—the statue’s. This is some kind of centaur holding you, by the way.”

  “He’s doing a good job,” Cora said.

  “Does this hurt?” Carefully Evan lifted a section of hair free.

  “Kind of, but—hey! Where were you, speaking of getting hurt? What was the matter?”

  “Huh? What do you mean?”

  “You were calling out to me, weren’t you?”

  “I wasn’t—maybe you thought you heard something in the wind? What are you doing outside, anyway? Shouldn’t you be getting ready?”

  “Yes, I definitely should. Only my dress isn’t in the conference room.”

  “What?” Evan stopped a second to stare at her. “Where is it?”

  “That’s what I want to know. I checked the closet, and then I came out to ask if you had seen it anywhere.”

  “Only in the conference room when you hung it there,” said Evan as he went back to untangling her. “You closed the door when we went out, right?”

  Cora’s heart lurched. “I’m . . . not sure. I think so. But no one would take a dress. My other stuff is all where I left it.”

  “It probably got moved somewhere.” Evan tried to soothe her as he freed the last of her hair from the centaur’s hand. “We’ll find it.”

  They didn’t.

  Together, Cora and Evan searched the first floor: the foyer, the conference room, the museum rooms, and even the broom closet. The only place they couldn’t get into was the sisters’ office, which was locked.

  “The sisters know we’re going to the dance,” said Evan. “They would never have moved your dress in the first place, much less locked it in their office.”

  Cora knew he was right, but it didn’t stop her from wanting to check the office anyway. “Don’t you have a key?” she asked.

  Evan shook his head. “This is the one room I can’t open.”

  Cora wanted to scream, she was so frustrated. “It’s almost time to leave! What am I going to do?” she wailed.

  “Why not wear your tunic?” suggested Evan.

  “My tu—what are you talking about?”

  “You know,” said Evan. He sounded maddeningly calm. “The uniform you’ll be wearing tomorrow. No one will guess that it’s a uniform.’

  “I am not wearing a tunic to a school dance,” said Cora through clenched teeth.

  “Why not? It’s really pretty.”

  “But—” Cora broke off and sighed. “Okay, I’ll take a look. Where is it?”

  “It’s upstairs. I’ll run and get it.”

  A minute later Evan came back carrying a flat, white cardboard box. He set it down on the conference table and, with a flourish, lifted off the top.

  Cora stared down in silence. It wasn’t as bad as she’d feared. At least this dress looked nothing like a uniform. The tunic was white, with a braided golden belt and straps made of the same braided material. The fabric was pleated silk, or something like silk, and it fell to just above her knee.

  “It’s not something I would buy,” she said with a sigh, “but it’s not terrible. Anyway, I guess I don’t have a choice.”

  “I’ll go get ready upstairs,” said Evan. He gave her shoulder a comforting squeeze. “Don’t worry. We’ll have a great time no matter what you’re wearing.”

  Cora closed the conference room door behind him. There was no mirror here, but that didn’t matter. She didn’t even want to see herself in the tunic. She’d been planning to give herself a pedicure, but she now didn’t care enough to bother. She’d also hoped to put her hair into an updo, but an updo combined with a tunic would look like a costume.

  Time to get this show on the road. . . .

  Forlornly she shrugged herself into the tunic. She slipped on her shoes and put on the bracelet and earrings she had brought. For just a minute she wondered if it was too late to get out of going to the dance at all. Then she squared her shoulders, opened the door, and walked into the hall.

  Evan was out there waiting for her. He was wearing a T-shirt and jeans. He looked great—and normal. To Cora’s surprise, his face lit up when he saw her.

  “You look perfect. Perfect. Like a Greek goddess.”

  “Indeed she does,” came a harsh voice from down the hall.

  Startled, Cora turned to see Eunice and Stesha standing outside their office. Where had they come from?

  “We have been putting things in order for tomorrow,” said Stesha, as if she could read Cora’s thoughts.

  “Everything must be in order,” added Eunice oddly.

  Stesha’s eyes looked brighter than Cora had ever seen them. Maybe it was a trick of the light, but they seemed too bright. They weren’t shining; they were glowing. Cora glanced at Eunice and saw that her eyes too, looked oddly bright.

  “It is a pleasure to see you in your tunic,” said Eunice. “We chose exactly right.” She gave a hollow chuckle. “And so did Evan.”

  “Thanks,” said Evan after an awkward pause. “Well, Cora, shall we get going? I think we can beat the rain.”

  “Al
l the doors are locked but one,” Stesha told him. “You must leave through the side door that opens onto the garden.”

  It was starting to dawn on Cora that what she was feeling wasn’t excitement. It was dread. She didn’t want to go to the dance. Not just because of what she was wearing, but because of the whole setup. The broken vase, her lost dress, the Metaxas sisters’ strange eyes, the crazy wind . . . everything seemed wrong, somehow.

  “We should get going,” she said nervously. “We don’t want to be late.”

  “No indeed,” said Eunice. “Go with Evan. This is your big night.”

  “Absolutely,” chimed in Stesha. She moved forward a couple of steps to stand next to her sister. “Your big night. Very big.”

  Standing motionless, shoulder to shoulder—their expressions identical, their eyes burning—the sisters looked like a dreadful illustration in an old book. Suddenly Cora couldn’t stand to be near them any longer. She turned and rushed for the side door with Evan at her side.

  From behind her, Stesha spoke again. “A very big night,” she repeated. “And now it begins.”

  “This way,” said Evan as he grabbed Cora’s hand and began pulling her across the lawn.

  “But the gate’s over there!” Cora pointed in the opposite direction.

  “It’s okay. I know a shortcut,” Evan told her. “We should hurry—I think it’s going to rain any minute.”

  The sky did look ominous, and the air felt heavy and humid. It was so windy that Cora was glad she hadn’t tried to put her hair up. Her strappy sandals kept gouging into the grass, making it hard to keep up with Evan’s long strides. Worse, the tunic snagged on every statue they passed.

  “The statues feel as if they’re closing in on us,” she panted. “My dress will be shredded by the time we get to school.”

  “Be careful in the labyrinth, then,” said Evan. “Don’t let the dress get caught on the branches.”

  “The labyrinth? Why are we going into the labyrinth?”

  “That’s how we get to the shortcut,” Evan said, walking even faster.

  Cora tried to stop, but he wouldn’t let her. “Evan, what do you mean? You’re not making any sense!”

  But Evan wouldn’t turn to look at her. They were at the entrance to the labyrinth now. Without answering, he pulled her into the maze.

  “You’re hurting my wrist! Let me go!”

  “The center is the only way out,” Evan said.

  The grim determination in his voice scared Cora more than anything else that had happened that night. They were half running now as Evan made his way along the paths. Once Cora tripped and twisted her ankle, but Evan only yanked her to her feet and kept going.

  After too many turns to keep track of, they reached the center of the maze. The Minotaur on his throne had been replaced by a stone bench.

  “Here we are,” said Evan. He guided Cora to the bench, and she sat down hesitantly. He sat beside her.

  “This is where they’re going to put the Andromeda statue,” he said sadly. “Right in the center, where she can never get out.” Evan’s voice was indescribably sad.

  “Okay,” Cora said, “but why are we here?”

  Evan sighed. “I kept telling you it was too hard to explain. Remember when you told me that the sisters don’t own me?”

  “Y-yes.”

  “Well, in a way they do. They’ll only let me go if I do them a favor. Just this one favor.”

  “Let you go?” echoed Cora. How could this conversation be real? Was she dreaming again? “What kind of favor?”

  He didn’t seem to have heard the question. “Believe me, I hate having to do this. Hate it. If there were another way, any other way, I would have—I would have—” He took her hands in one of his. With his other hand he gently brushed a loose strand of hair off her face. “At least you won’t feel anything,” he said in a broken voice.

  Before Cora could answer, a strange hissing sound interrupted them.

  “What’s that?” And where had Cora heard it before?

  A trampling of branches underfoot. The rustling of leaves. Someone was coming, and the hissing was getting louder.

  Suddenly Cora remembered where she’d heard that hissing before. It had been coming from behind the closed door of the Metaxas sisters’ office that day. Now it was coming closer and closer to the center of the labyrinth.

  “What’s happening? Who’s coming?” Cora’s voice was sharp with fear.

  “I’m so sorry” was all Evan said. “The statues—when the stars are aligned, some of them can move, just a little. They were trying to warn you. They were doing what they knew I couldn’t.”

  “Warn me about what? Evan, you’re scaring me!”

  Louder hissing now.

  Evan turned toward the sound. He squeezed Cora’s hand and took a deep breath.

  Then, suddenly, he jumped to his feet. “I can’t do this,” he said. “I won’t do this. Not to you. No!” he shouted. “Wait! I’ve changed my mind! I’ll stay! Just let her go!”

  He yanked Cora to her feet. “Run, Cora! Run! You’ve got to get out of here. Go through the—”

  Suddenly his face changed. “No,” he called again to someone behind Cora. “You can’t do this to her! Take me!”

  Cora turned to look. Standing behind her, shoulder to shoulder, were Eunice and Stesha. But something was terribly different about them.

  As she watched, the sisters reached up and pulled off their hair. No—their wigs, of course. The wigs Cora had noticed the first time she met them.

  Now Cora saw clearly the nest of red snakes hissing and writhing where their hair should have been. With sickening horror she realized that the snakes were growing out of their skulls.

  Snakes instead of hair . . .

  “Medusa had two sisters,” Cora gasped.

  “Correct,” said Euryale. There was a dreadful, gloating smile on her face. “The forgotten sisters, Euryale and Sthenno. And this is our Perseus, of course. To think that we almost lost him.”

  “You were so foolish, Perseus,” said Sthenno. “Why did you not leave the girl and claim your reward? You could have tasted sweet freedom for the first time in—how long has it been? Two hundred years? Three hundred?” The snakes swirled sickeningly as she shook her head. “Instead you wait here and we get you both. Foolish, foolish mortals.”

  It was all becoming clear to Cora. The empty Perseus pedestal they’d seen in the sculpture garden. The other statues, so disturbingly lifelike, trying to warn her away. The torn-out page from her mythology book. Her missing dress . . . the tunic she was wearing now . . .

  Evan had been the Perseus statue.

  He had told her that he needed to do one last favor for the sisters, and now Cora realized what the favor was. To win his freedom, Evan had brought her here, just in time for her school dance, when she’d be dressed up to look as lovely as any of the statues in their garden.

  Medusa’s sisters would turn her into stone. She was going to be the new Andromeda statue.

  Cora tried to move but found that she couldn’t. She couldn’t even speak. She looked at Evan.

  Only his blank, gray, stone eyes met hers.

  “I still don’t understand any of this,” said Hailey. “I know Cora likes this place, but to skip the dance last night?”

  “Without talking to one of us,” added Amber. “That is totally not like Cora.”

  “I guess she was having a great time here,” said Skye. “She and Evan must have been having so much fun that they decided not to leave. I don’t see Evan anywhere either.”

  It was the morning after the eighth-grade dance. Last night’s rain had cleared the air. Today was bright and sunny—perfect for the unveiling of the new statue at the Metaxas Sculpture Garden. A lot of people must have thought the same thing; the garden’s labyrinth was packed with visitors. Cora’s friends were on the edge of the crowd, trying to spot her, but it was hard to see anything besides the backs of the adults in front of them.


  “Another thing I don’t understand,” said Hailey, “is why anyone thinks these statues are worth seeing.” She gave a little shudder. “They all look sad, or scared, or both. How could Cora stand working here?”

  “Cora’s interested in lots of things,” said Skye loyally. “Plus, she wanted to be with Evan. Maybe he couldn’t get away.”

  Hailey was frowning. “She could still have—”

  A woman’s voice broke in. “Welcome, friends!”

  The woman was standing on a small dais so she could be seen. In front of the dais was something draped in a cloth. Next to her stood—

  “Are they twins?” whispered Hailey.

  “They sure look the same amount of weird,” Amber whispered back. “I can’t believe Cora is missing this!”

  The two women were dressed in identical gray frocks with capes of a darker gray. Not the kind of thing you’d expect anyone to wear for a festive occasion. But what the girls noticed—what they couldn’t help noticing—were the women’s matching hairstyles.

  “Are those wigs?” said Skye in her normal voice. A man in front of her turned and glared at the girls. “They look like wigs,” Skye murmured.

  “I am Eunice Metaxas, and this is my sister, Stesha,” the first woman was saying. She had a heavy accent. “Today is an occasion we have long awaited.

  “Our Perseus statue, as some of you know, has been quite lonely without a companion—the lovely Andromeda. If you are familiar with Greek mythology, you will know that Perseus was the young man who murdered Medusa.”

  “‘Murdered?’” repeated Hailey.

  “For this deed, Perseus was not punished by the gods,” Eunice continued. “Instead, they applauded him. And, as he returned home, carrying the head of his victim, Perseus saw a lovely young woman chained to a rock. This was Andromeda. Perseus rescued her, and the rest is history—at least to the Greeks.”

  There was a sprinkling of polite laughter from the crowd.

  Now Stesha took up the story. “The Metaxas Sculpture Garden contains a Perseus statue of remarkable quality,” she said. “A similarly lifelike Andromeda has been difficult to find, but at last we have succeeded.”