The Cassandra Curse

by Chantel Acevedo

  Heroes all around me. Did I do that? Or did they?

  Did it even matter?

  We slowed down. We descended. And when my feet touched the ground, I realized I couldn’t stand up right away.

  Mami rushed over to Maya. “Mi niña, mi niña,” she was saying, unbuckling her quickly, then reaching a hand out to me and helping me stand, and leading us both off the ride.

  A policeman met us on the ground. “Are you okay?” he asked. We could hear an ambulance in the distance, the sirens getting louder.

  Maya nodded. “Yeah. I’m fine actually,” she said bravely, though her voice sounded shaky.

  I pulled Maya into a hug. “I’m so sorry I made you go on that ride,” I sputtered.

  “You didn’t make me, silly,” she said.

  Then I cried even harder.

  Maya slept over that night. She was surprisingly unfazed.

  “Grace under pressure,” Mami had said to her, and Maya had smiled. We ate ice cream at the table, the five of us. Fernando, for once, was the only one without an appetite, and suddenly he seemed a lot older than he’d been when we first set out for Frosty’s Enchanted Forest earlier that night.

  We ate in silence, Maya humming to herself every so often. “Frosty’s Enchanted Forest was pretty great,” she said at last. We all gaped at her. “I mean, before it tried to kill me.”

  Mami was the first to laugh. “You’re amazing,” she said to Maya.

  “You’re crazy,” Mario added.

  “You fit right into this family,” Fernando said, then Mami choked on her ice cream a little.

  I patted her back and offered her my glass of water. “I’m fine, fine,” Mami said, clearing her throat. “It’s late. Big day tomorrow, girls. Time for bed.”

  While Maya showered, I thought about everything that had happened. If I never saw another bird again, I thought, it would be too soon. The events of the night replayed like a movie in my head. The lights, the operator shouting, the three birds pecking at one of the chains.

  One of the chains. Why not all four? Why not three or two? Why did they just break one? As long as she held on, Maya probably wasn’t in real danger of falling with just one chain broken, I thought.

  Why even bother with the chains in the first place? If the sirens could shapeshift, be anything, wouldn’t a bigger animal be more effective? A stray dog could bite. Wasps could sting. An alligator could kill a person. It was Florida, after all.

  The sirens weren’t trying to kill her. They were trying to scare her. Maybe scare her enough to keep her from going to the county science fair tomorrow. It made me angry to think of them out there, plotting against Maya, trying to make her afraid.

  Maybe I wasn’t a muse anymore, but my magic still worked, and if I had to use it to save Maya, I would.

  Besides, the sirens didn’t count on Maya’s courage, did they?

  Chapter 29

  The County Science Fair at Last

  Mario drove us to the county science fair while my mom rode shotgun, gripping the dashboard. He was practicing for his learner’s permit. Fernando sat with us in the back, commenting on Mario’s driving the whole time.

  “What are you, a senior citizen? Hit the gas!” he said.

  “NO HITTING THE GAS,” my mother shouted. “We’ve had enough excitement.” At breakfast, nobody had mentioned what had happened at Frosty’s Enchanted Forest, how close we’d come to something truly terrible happening. Mami’s outburst was the only sign that we were all still a little shaken.

  All of us, that is, except for Maya.

  Maya had put on a rainbow tulle skirt and a plain pink T-shirt. “She’s quite the creative dresser,” my mom commented to me with a smile, before opening up the van doors and helping Maya load her project in. Birds chirruped in the trees above us. They seemed normal enough. I tried not to look at them.

  “Are you okay?” I asked quietly.

  “About last night?”

  “Yeah.”

  Maya shrugged. “Yeah. I am actually.”

  “Nervous about the science fair?” I asked her as we climbed into the van.

  Maya nodded. “Extremely.” She pulled her backpack onto her lap. Inside were notes, spare parts for her project, and a Rubik’s Cube. Maya twisted the interlocking plastic sections back and forth. “It helps me focus,” she said. “Does it bug you?”

  “Twist away,” I said. “I thought you gave it to Max. Your boyyyyyfriend,” I teased.

  Maya gave me a little shove. “I did. This is a new one. By new, I mean old. See?” she said. The red stickers were peeling a little on the corners, but otherwise, the toy was in good shape. “It was a gift. For luck.”

  Fernando plucked the cube out of Maya’s hands. “Ah,” he said, “the coolest toy of the 1980s. Back when dinosaurs roamed the earth.” He tossed it to Maya.

  My mom turned around. “I’ll have you know that the ’80s weren’t so long ago, kiddo. And they were cool.”

  Plink. There went that penny dropping in my mind again, except I didn’t know why.

  “I could never figure that thing out,” I said to Maya.

  “And I’ve never met a puzzle I didn’t like,” she said. “Besides, it takes away the nerves. You can learn, Callie. There are tons of videos online about solving Rubik’s Cubes. If you’re really good, you can speed-solve them, set a record, get famous.”

  “Let me see it,” I said, and Maya handed the toy over. “Just looking at it actually makes me nervous,” I said, laughing. I gave it a single twist, then I thought I heard something. A murmur. Like a whisper saying my name. Slowly, I turned another layer of the cube. There it was again. Callie. Where was that coming from?

  “D-did you hear that?” I asked.

  “Hear what?” Maya was looking at me funny.

  Mario called out, “You mean these sick beats?” and turned up the radio until my mom yelled at him to turn it down again.

  “Never mind,” I said, handing the Rubik’s Cube back to Maya. I probably imagined it.

  “Aw, Mom,” Mario whined. “Here, I’ll find an oldies station for you,” he said, fiddling with the presets on the radio.

  “An ’80s station for old people,” Fernando added from the back of the van.

  “Niños atrevidos,” my mom muttered, but she was smiling a little, like she actually enjoyed their teenage sass.

  Maya twisted the Rubik’s Cube back and forth. A Prince song blared from the speakers. Toys of the ’80s, I said to myself as I watched Maya. Then suddenly my heart started racing. The broken case at the Museum of Childhood. The curator didn’t know exactly what the sirens took that day. A cube was a box basically, and inside . . .

  Maya held the cube up. “I’d say I’m about thirty or so steps away from solving it.” She clicked and twisted furiously.

  “How do you open those things, anyway?” I asked.

  “Open?” Maya looked at me like I’d grown a third eye. “They don’t open. You just . . . solve them.”

  “Hey, Maya, can you stop?” I asked.

  “Sure,” she said, and slowly put the toy back into her backpack.

  I really had heard something. A whisper that had made me shiver. What if the curse wasn’t in a box that had to be opened? What if it was in a puzzle that had to be solved?

  “Maya, who gave you the Rubik’s Cu—?” I started to ask, when Mario slammed on the brakes.

  “We’re here!” he announced, pulling into the parking lot of the Miami Beach Convention Center. Hundreds of kids and their science projects crowded the front entrance.

  “Make way for the nerds of the year,” Fernando shouted ahead of us.

  Beside me, Mario shook his head. “How are we even twins?” he muttered darkly.

  We said goodbye to my brothers and mom, and Maya and I pushed her project into the convention center. We found her assigned table and got the pump going. It gurgled water out from the tiny limestone base perfectly, keeping the “street” above it dry.

  “It’s
like our dollhouses,” I said, “only science-y.”

  Maya laughed. “That’s not a word, but I’ll take it.”

  All around us, projects were going up. Giant volcanos, electrical generators hooked up to a bicycle, a weather balloon made out of gym socks, a vertically growing pumpkin vine—it was all very cool.

  Maya paled at the sight. She reached into her backpack for the Rubik’s Cube. I looked around the convention center frantically. Where were Elnaz and Tomiko when you needed them, anyway?

  Click, twist, click. Maya had solved the first two layers of the puzzle. I let out a squeak and snatched it from her. “Remember that movie, Dumbo, the flying elephant, and his magic feather? The one he thought he needed to fly?”

  Maya nodded.

  “This is your feather,” I said, holding up the toy. “And you don’t need it.” I could feel it, the top of my head buzzed. My fingers, too. Muse magic coursed through my body. “All these other projects, they don’t offer solutions. Not real ones. Everything you need is in here,” I said, and pointed at her head. “Now remember. There are three judges. You can’t leave until you’ve talked to all three. I’ll just go . . .” I looked around me and found a table and some chairs in the distance, by the concessions booth. A perfect place to keep an eye on things. “I’ll go right over there and get out of your way so you can do your magic.”

  “Magic?” Maya said.

  “Science magic,” I said. I started to walk away, but Maya took the Rubik’s Cube out of my hand.

  “I won’t fiddle with it. Promise,” Maya said. Then she gave me a big hug. For someone so tiny, she was really strong. “You’re my best friend, Callie,” she whispered.

  Oh, I thought, my heart suddenly feeling very full. Before I could say anything, or ask her who gave her the cube, Maya was gone again, skipping over to her project.

  I walked over to one of the tables and took a seat; swiveling around, I looked for Tomiko and Elnaz. Where are they? I thought.

  A voice came over the PA system. “Welcome to the Miami-Dade County Science Fair! Boys and girls, the judging is about to commence. Three judges will visit each project. You must be present for the judges’ reviews. If they come by your project and you are not there, you will be disqualified. Take all potty breaks now!”

  I watched as one of the judges—a man in a tan suit with a clipboard—made his way to Maya’s table. I couldn’t hear what she was saying, but she was talking excitedly, her braids flipping back and forth. She demonstrated the machine without a single drop of water out of place. The judge wrote on his clipboard and patted Maya’s shoulder.

  “How’s she doing?” I heard a voice behind me. I jumped a little in my seat. It was Max. He had two slices of pizza on a paper plate.

  “Good, I think. One judge down. Two to go. I’m glad you’re here,” I said.

  Max handed me a slice. “I like Maya.”

  I made a kissy face.

  “Not like that. She’s my friend. And the smartest kid in school. Besides me, anyway,” he said, and took a monster bite from his pizza.

  I bit into my slice, too.

  “That was crazy last night, at Frosty’s,” Max said. He lowered his voice. “I was puking my head off after riding the Zipper. I missed the commotion.”

  “Well, it was scary, that’s what. But Maya was so brave,” I said.

  “Did you know she lives in a group home?” Max said, his voice still low. I thought I was the only kid at school who knew. Maya really trusted Max after all.

  “Yeah,” I said.

  “Yeah,” Max said, too. “I was in foster care last year.”

  “Oh,” I said. I tried to hide my surprise.

  Max looked away, chewing his bottom lip. When he met my eyes again, he leaned forward a little and spoke quietly. “Don’t tell anyone. It’s hard sometimes. I live with my aunt and uncle now. They do movie nights for foster kids, and Maya and I hung out a lot at those last year. Seriously, don’t tell anyone, Callie,” Max repeated.

  “I won’t,” I said. It was strange sitting there with Max, talking like this. He was actually really nice, and I felt bad for doubting him. If Maya trusted him, then I probably should have, too. “Anyone else from SAP here?” I asked.

  Max spoke with a mouth full of gooey cheese. “Yep, those gamer kids came after all. And the coffee-drinking kids. The triplets from Key West or wherever.”

  “Tampa,” I corrected. “What about Violet?”

  “She’s at the America’s Next Star finals, where everyone else is, too. Surprised you aren’t there.”

  I stared at my hands on the table. “Raquel and I—”

  “Hey, watch,” Max said, interrupting.

  A second judge approached Maya. This time it was an old woman, also in a suit, a clipboard in her hand, too. She’d pinned a fake flower to her clipboard, and had another one in her hair.

  When the judge left, Maya looked over at us and gave us two thumbs up.

  The third judge, a woman in a drab brown dress, peered into the project tank. She dipped her arm inside and touched one of the little houses. It fell over. Then she tipped over a bridge.

  Maya’s mouth dropped open.

  Max and I were halfway there when I heard the judge say, “Not enough glue, my dear.” Then she left.

  “I guess that’s all three,” Maya said, and patted her tank before righting the house and bridge again.

  Max was staring hard at the last judge’s back. “Rude,” I heard him say.

  “I’m sure you wowed the other two judges,” I said.

  “I hope so,” Maya said. “Gonna check out the competition. Come with me?”

  Max gave Maya a high five, or rather, a low five, seeing as she was so short and he was so tall. “Are you coming, Callie?”

  My eyes slid over to the Rubik’s Cube on the table. Now was my chance to get rid of it.

  “I’ll stay with your project, just in case. Besides, I don’t need to see the competition when the winner is right here,” I said, pointing to Maya with finger guns.

  “And they call me a nerd,” Maya said, laughing, as she and Max wandered away together.

  I scanned the room once more for Tomiko and Elnaz but they were nowhere to be found. I picked up the Rubik’s Cube. It felt totally normal. I sniffed it. Just old plastic. I fiddled with the colorful stickers, many of which were peeling off on the corners. I held it to my ear.

  A voice was murmuring.

  I yelped and dropped the toy, paced a bit. I was right. I had heard something earlier. This was it. It had to be. Rubik’s Cubes didn’t talk, and they certainly didn’t whisper.

  I don’t want to touch it, I don’t want to touch it, I thought.

  I got down on my hands and knees and put my ear to it again.

  Callie, pay attention, the voice was saying. It was familiar somehow, but still terrifying.

  I fell backward. “Don’t say my name,” I hissed at the cube.

  Taking a deep breath, I leaned forward and listened again.

  Calliope, Muse of the epic poem, look up. Look up. Look up.

  Frozen, I counted to three. Then, slowly, I lifted my head and looked to the rafters of the convention center. They were hard to see, but they were there—three blackbirds peering down at me. And beside each of them was a . . .

  Coffee mug? How did those even get up there? One of the birds dipped its beak into the mug. Then it licked its beak with a dark, wet tongue.

  The triplets! They were the sirens?

  I took a deep breath, picked up the Rubik’s Cube, and shoved it down my shirt.

  I had to find Maya and get her out of here.

  Ahead of me, I saw three people—grown-ups—each in a suit, each wearing a big badge that read JUDGE.

  And these weren’t the same people who had come by before. That mean judge who had messed up Maya’s model hadn’t even been human. I stole a glance at the sirens. All three were smiling at me, showing those uncanny teeth. If Maya wasn’t standing with her projec
t when the real judges came by, she’d be disqualified.

  I tore through the convention center calling out, “Maya! MAYA RIVERO!”

  Up and down aisles filled with kids and their projects I went, out of breath, calling her name.

  “Maya!” I called, near tears.

  “Over here,” I heard behind me.

  “Thank goodness!” I said, grabbed her hand, and ran. “The judges. You saw. Were fakes. The real. Judges. Are. On. The way,” I said, out of breath.

  “What?” Maya said. “That makes no sense.”

  “I’m not kidding!” I said. “You need to get back to your project.” Maya let go of my hand and took off. I saw Max zoom past me on the right, but he couldn’t catch up with her.

  For someone small, she was strong and fast.

  I heard the commotion before rounding into the aisle where Maya’s project was supposed to be.

  Caw, caw, caw, I heard, and spotted some black feathers floating in the sky.

  Of course they’d gone after the project. Around the corner I went, then stopped in my tracks. I watched as the three birds swept down, their large beaks closed and pointy, their goal Maya’s project.

  I watched as someone whacked at the birds with a glittery purse, swinging it wildly above her head.

  “Raquel?” I asked, stunned. What was she doing here?

  “Some help?” she said, without looking up.

  Max, Maya, and I rushed forward. Everyone nearby had stopped to look. We waved our arms frantically, but the blackbirds kept diving, pecking at Maya’s braids and the top of Max’s head.

  I looked around wildly. No muse help was on the way. We needed heroes.

  I let the muse magic come—the tingle that started on my head, coursed through my body, made me cry. All around us, other kids from other schools began flinging pencils and shoes at the birds. I saw a whole pizza soaring above us like a Frisbee. The kid one table over held up what looked like a massive water gun. Plastic wrap shot out of it and opened like a beautiful jellyfish in the sky, enveloping one of the birds, which dropped to the ground one aisle over.

  “Check out Spider-Man,” Max said, and gave the kid a high five.