by Suzanne Weyn
Her father sat behind the steering wheel and scowled at Emma’s reflection in the mirror. “Don’t be fresh, young lady. Where were you?”
“I just told you!” Emma said.
Mr. Bryant’s expression became even sterner. “Emma,” he said in a warning tone.
“You must have gotten up very early because I didn’t see you this morning,” Mrs. Bryant said, trying to smooth things over. “Is that your costume for dance class?”
“Yes. We were trying to see if I could dance in this,” Emma lied. “I tripped on the long hem and fell. I hit my head and have been wandering around all day in a kind of fog.”
“Oh, dear.” Mrs. Bryant fretted. “I hope you don’t have a concussion. We’re taking you right to the hospital. You need to be looked at.”
“Really, I just want to eat and go to sleep. Please,” Emma pleaded.
“We’ll get you something to eat after we go to the hospital,” Mrs. Bryant replied.
Emma’d tried to be truthful with Roberto and he didn’t believe her — and now her parents doubted her story, too. Emma knew she’d have a hard time believing the truth herself. Luckily she was wearing the long gown Lucy gave her. It proved — at least to herself — that she hadn’t dreamed the whole thing.
At the hospital, a doctor had Emma stand on one foot as he pulled on her hands. They put her under a machine called a CAT scan, and then finally released her, stating that she was fine.
When they got home, Emma felt exhausted. She wanted to go straight to bed, but she noticed a pad lying on the table. Her mother had written down the words Five Arrows Youth Facility, and a phone number.
There was no way she was going anywhere that was run by Mrs. Clatter!
Emma devoured the cold chicken she found in the fridge and then headed for her bedroom. It had been one exhausting day. Leaving the long, dirty gown in a heap on the floor, Emma flopped onto her bed, the music of “The Blue Danube” playing through her mind. Would she ever be able to forget it?
In the middle of the night, she woke with a start.
Da-da-da-da DUM Dee-dum dee-dum Da-da-da-da DUM Dee-dum dee-dum
Frantically she peered into the darkness.
Da-da-da-da DUM Dee-dum dee-dum Da-da-da-da DUM Dee-dum dee-dum
The moment she snapped on her lamp, the music drifted away. Had it been a dream? Or was the sinister box back?
Emma got out of bed and looked around her room. The music box wasn’t anywhere to be seen — nor was it under her bed, in her closet, or in a dresser drawer. She’d dreamed it.
That was a relief. Wasn’t it?
Emma tucked herself back under the covers and turned the light off once more. Shutting her eyes, she quickly fell into a dream in which she turned and turned on a stage, dressed as an elegant prima ballerina, dancing en pointe while the audience in the immense theater stood and applauded and shouted Brava. A graceful leap landed her in Roberto’s arms, and he held her high over his head.
“Have you told anyone else about what happened?” Keera asked Emma the next morning as they rode the bus to school.
Emma shook her head. “Who would believe me?”
“I do.” Keera looked at Emma, stared out the window, and then looked back again. “Well, sort of.”
“You think I’m lying?” Her best friend didn’t even believe her — that proved she shouldn’t talk about it.
“Not lying exactly, but …”
“But what?” Emma asked.
“There was that time back in third grade, when we had Mrs. Clatter …”
“That was Mrs. Clatter’s fault, not mine!” Emma said. “She drove me crazy.”
“Yeah, but she actually drove you crazy. No one else in the class needed therapy, even though we all hated her. And you have been acting strangely lately. Where were you really yesterday? Did you cut school?”
“I told you what really happened.”
“It’s easier to believe that you cut school than you went back in time and were chased around by tiny people who came out of a haunted music box,” Keera said.
“I know,” Emma admitted. “But it is what happened and I’m not losing my mind.”
Keera sighed and looked worried. “Well, I think you’re right not to be talking about it in school. Did you tell your parents?”
“I tried to. My dad just thought I was being bratty. Mom already has the phone number for Five Arrows on speed dial. Mrs. Clatter is now running it.”
“Uh-oh!” Keera said, wincing. “You don’t want to land there.”
“That’s for sure.”
“Definitely don’t tell anyone what happened. Just forget about the whole thing.”
“I will,” Emma agreed. She closed her eyes to clear her mind.
Da-da-da-da DUM Dee-dum dee-dum Da-da-da-da DUM Dee-dum dee-dum
If only she could get the music out of her head.
THE LIST of those who have made the dance team is posted on the wall by the piano,” Madame Andrews announced that afternoon in dance class. Emma sat with the other students on the dance studio floor. Roberto was nearby, but talked quietly with the three other guys in the class. Everyone looked over in surprise to the paper tacked to the wall.
“But we didn’t even audition!” one of the students cried.
Madame Andrews smiled. “The class before last was your audition,” she replied. “I thought I’d spare you the stress of a formal tryout.”
The class filled with grumblings of complaint.
“If I’d known, I would have done better.”
“You didn’t give us a chance to practice.”
“I didn’t have my good dance shoes with me that day.”
Madame Andrews quieted everyone with a wave of her hand. “If you’re not always putting forth your best effort, then you have no business being on the dance team. Wouldn’t you agree? And if you didn’t make it this time, there’s always next year to try again.
“Take a few minutes to check the list and then we’ll start class,” Madame Andrews told them.
The ballet students scrambled onto their feet to see the results of the tryouts. Instantly the wall by the piano was swarmed with the dancers, some crying out happily, others sighing with disappointment.
Emma stayed seated, her stomach clenched. What if she hadn’t made it? It would be so embarrassing if Madame Andrews thought she wasn’t a good-enough dancer to be on the team — all she wanted to do was dance!
“Aren’t you coming?” Roberto was standing next to her, his hand outstretched.
Emma took it and he drew her up. “I’m sure you made it,” she told him. “I’m not as confident about me.”
“I bet you did — your dancing was great. Let’s go see.”
The crowd around the list had thinned out, and Emma found Roberto’s name in moments. “Congratulations,” she said. ”You’re in!”
“Thanks, but all four of us guys made it,” Roberto replied. “There aren’t enough male dancers for Madame Andrews to turn any down.” He leaned in closer to the list and pointed. “There you are. You made it, too. Awesome!”
She’d made the team! Until that second she hadn’t been willing to admit aloud how very, very much she’d wanted this. Emma beamed, and Roberto twirled her around.
The other students who’d also made the team smiled and even hugged her. For the first time ever, Emma felt as if she belonged in the class. And it was a great feeling.
Madame Andrews clapped her hands to resume class. “Setting aside the dance team for now, this year for our recital we’ll be performing various scenes from the ballet Swan Lake. Today I’d like all the girls to work on some choreography for the lead part of Odette, the swan princess. You boys will learn the part of Prince Siegfried.”
Emma glanced quickly at Roberto. He was — by far — the most prince-like of all the boy students, and in a few weeks he would no doubt be the best dancer, too. He was sure to get the Siegfried part.
That meant she had to be Princess Odette! Sh
e didn’t even want to think of him dancing such a romantic role with another girl. Emma had to be the best of the girl dancers. She decided that she’d practice as much as she had to in order to get the part. For a moment she was caught up in the dream she’d had — dancing with Roberto, the wild applause, the glitter of sequins and ballet shoes as she glided effortlessly and flawlessly through the pas de deux….
“What’s wrong?” Roberto asked her. “You look like something’s bothering you.”
“I was just thinking it would be cool if you and I could be Odette and Siegfried,” she confessed. Her face felt warm and she hoped she wasn’t blushing.
Roberto nodded. “That would be fun. I’m not sure about me, but you have a great chance of getting the part.”
“No, I don’t.”
“Are you kidding? You’re the best one in class.”
Emma remembered how well she’d danced to “The Blue Danube.” With the music box, it was as though her feet were dancing on their own, possessed by the music. Roberto had never seen the old, fumbling Emma, who’d tripped herself up before the music box had come into her life. And maybe he never would.
Madame Andrews separated the boys from the girls and taught each group the opening steps they would have to know to dance the leads. When she left the group of girls to go instruct the boys, each dancer was left to practice the steps on her own.
Emma did her best to reproduce the steps Madame Andrews had shown them. “Hey, watch out, Emma!” Elizabeth grumbled as Emma accidentally slapped her.
“Sorry!” Emma apologized, shocked by her own clumsiness.
“Ow!” shouted Stephanie when Emma stumbled into her.
“Stop fooling around over there,” Madame Andrews scolded.
“Tell Emma,” Olivia complained. “She’s the one causing the trouble.”
This time Emma knew she was blushing. It was so humiliating — and in front of Roberto! Without the music box, she was more out of step than she had been before she had it.
She’d thought she hated the music box, but now Emma longed for its power. “I’d give anything to have that music box again,” she said softly.
AFTER CLASS, Madame Andrews asked Emma to stay behind for a moment. “I’ll wait for you outside,” Roberto offered.
“Okay. Thanks.” She was happy he was still willing to be seen with her after the way she’d embarrassed herself.
Madame Andrews waited for everyone to leave before speaking. “Emma, I want you to know that I was seriously considering you for the role of Odette.”
“Really?” Emma gasped happily.
“Yes, but listen to me. I based that decision on the improvement you’ve shown recently. If your performance is as sloppy as it was today, I won’t be able to put you in the role. You can’t be crashing around here as if you’re in your own world. You have to work with the other girls.”
“I can! I will!” Emma assured her.
“I want to see the graceful, balanced dancer I know you can be. No more of the lazy dancing I saw today. Promise?”
“Oh, I promise. I’ll work really hard.”
Madame Andrews smiled at Emma. “Good. I’ll see you next class. Practice!”
“I will. Thank you!” she said as Madame Andrews walked out of the dance studio.
“Yes!” Emma pumped her fist in the air. She was going to dance the lead role in Swan Lake. And most likely it would be with Roberto. Awesome!
Unless …
Unless she wasn’t good enough, and Madame Andrews picked someone else for the role.
Why hadn’t she brought the music box back through the mirror with her when she had the chance?
As Emma thought this, a gray vapor began to waft up from the bottom of the floor-to-ceiling mirror.
Emma stepped toward it. What was going on? Should she get Madame Andrews?
Roberto tapped on the door frame. “Ready to go?”
“Look at this,” Emma said, pointing to the fog. “This is how it started — when I was pulled through the mirror!”
Roberto stepped into the room, staring into the mirror. “I don’t see anything, Emma. And I don’t want to, either. Everything that you said happened sounded so strange. I’d rather forget about it.”
Emma peered through the fog. Was something there? Yes. A blurry figure was definitely moving behind the mist. Was it dancing? Yes. It was. Why couldn’t he see it?
“Maybe you’re right. You go ahead,” Emma told Roberto. ”I’m going to stay and practice some more.”
“All by yourself?”
Emma stepped toward the mirror almost without meaning to, feeling almost hypnotized by the dancing figure. Something about it was drawing her in. “Madame Andrews is still in her office,” she told Roberto, her voice growing dreamy as the mist worked its spell on her. “I won’t be alone.”
“Okay,” Roberto agreed reluctantly. “Are you sure you’re all right?”
“Mmm-hmm,” Emma assured him.
“Bye, then.”
“Bye, Roberto.”
Emma was so mesmerized by the misty figure that she barely noticed Roberto leave. As she moved closer to the mirror, she realized that the figure wasn’t in the steam. It was in the mirror!
A quick check over her shoulder confirmed that there was no one else in the studio. This wasn’t a reflection.
When Emma was so close that her nose nearly touched the glass, she could clearly see the scene in front of her. It was as though she was standing at the back of a stage, watching the dancers in a ballet from behind.
The prima ballerina was lovely as she danced across the stage. From her blue-and-white costume, Emma recognized that she was playing the role of Cinderella.
Was it Alexa?
No. Emma decided that the ballerina was too tall to be Alexa. This was some other dancer.
The stage was different, too. It was far larger and more elegant than the one they’d been on.
Why was she seeing all this? What did it mean?
The curtain fell and the applause in front of it was thunderous. Cinderella and the prince stepped forward to bow. The crowd’s cheers grew deafening. Bouquets of flowers flew through the air.
The two stars of the ballet backed away from the stage as the crowd continued to cheer. Slowly the ballerina turned so that Emma could see her face.
It was Lucy!
Emma stumbled back, stunned. How had Lucy become such a great dancer in so short a time?
The music box!
The music box was making her a great dancer. “That’s my music box,” Emma whispered into the empty studio. “It came to me.”
Emma watched as Lucy took three curtain calls. An emotion arose in her that she’d never experienced before. It made her belly hurt. She couldn’t think straight.
“It’s my music box,” she spoke again. “That should be me on that stage.”
Emma could see Lucy racing through the back hallways of the theater until she reached her dressing room. Once inside, she locked the door and leaned on it, panting, her hand over her heart. “Unbelievable!” she said breathlessly. “The music box has done it again.”
The music box sat on Lucy’s dressing table. She wound it, and then opened the lid. Da-da-da-da DUM Dee-dum dee-dum Da-da-da-da DUM Dee-dum dee-dum
Lucy gazed down into the box. “Stop that!” she cried. “Stop it!”
Emma realized that the tiny dancers in the music box must be fighting, just as they had when she’d owned the music box. The thought of them made her smile now. How silly the tiny creatures were. She’d been foolish to be afraid.
Suddenly Lucy screamed.
Emma stepped forward, eager to see why.
A pair of eyes was staring at Lucy through the oval mirror on the inside of the music box lid. It was exactly the same as the time when Emma had seen Alexa staring at her.
“Huh!” Emma gasped. All at once, Emma knew whose eyes they were.
Lucy was seeing Emma staring back at her in the music box mirror.
THAT EVENING Emma knelt on her bedroom floor using a kitchen knife frantically to scrape the black goo from the cuffs of the gown Lucy had loaned her. The goo was getting dry, but a little water might turn it back into a paste. She would make it work. There had to be a way to get back through that mirror and get the music box. But how could she go through the mirror and bring the box back with her at the same time?
How had Alexa done it?
She’d forced Emma through and somehow the music box had followed. That was it! She’d force Lucy to come through with her.
Emma began working on the other sleeve. Soon there was about a tablespoon of the stuff smeared onto a plate at her side.
Someone knocked on her door.
Emma slid the plate and the gown under her bed. “What is it?”
Mrs. Bryant stepped into the room. “What’s that smell?”
Emma remembered how much the goop stunk, though she’d grown used to it. “Oh, uh … my socks, I guess. I just took them off and threw them in the closet.”
“Well, put them in the hamper. That’s what it’s there for.”
“Okay.”
Mrs. Bryant seemed to study Emma. “Are you all right?”
“Sure. Why?”
“You seemed agitated at supper and you barely touched your food.”
“I had homework I needed to do.”
“Then why aren’t you doing it?” Mrs. Bryant asked as she looked around the room. She eyed her daughter’s backpack, which hadn’t moved from where it had been dropped on the floor a few hours ago. “I don’t see any books.”
“It’s done.”
Mrs. Bryant nodded, but she still seemed convinced that something wasn’t right. “Why don’t you come down and watch TV with the rest of us, then?”
Emma stretched and yawned. “I’d rather go to sleep early. I told you about how I might get the lead as Odette, remember?”
“Yes, that’s very exciting.”
“I know! So I want to really get a good night’s sleep and stay rested so I can work hard.”
