by Suzanne Weyn
“All right,” Mrs. Bryant agreed. “Sleep well,” she added as she left.
The moment her mother shut the door, Emma snatched the gown and the plate from beneath her bed. Her eyes widened with delight when she saw that some of the goop had also gotten on the gown’s ruffled collar. “Excellent,” she murmured as she scraped it off and onto the plate. “This should be enough.”
“What are you doing?” Jason came through the door without even knocking. “What’s that?” he asked, pointing to the plate.
“A science experiment,” Emma lied. “Now, get lost.”
Ignoring her, Jason settled on the end of her bed. “That doesn’t look like any science experiment I’ve ever seen.”
“It’s black mold. I’ve been growing it in my closet. It’s really deadly toxic, so you’d better get out of here.”
“Oh, yeah?” Jason challenged, instantly off the bed and edging his way to the door. “What does it do to you?”
“It makes your skin rot and fall off.”
“I don’t believe you,” Jason said. “You wouldn’t be so close to it if that was true.”
“I took the protective serum in school.”
Jason continued looking skeptical, but he dashed out the door. Emma sighed in relief. Maybe she’d finally have some privacy.
Emma sat staring down at the plate of black ointment. Did she have to go back to the dance studio in order to get through to the other side or would any mirror do?
There wasn’t much goop on the plate. She’d better not risk trying another mirror. She’d have to wait until tomorrow and hope the misty vision appeared a second time.
The next day in dance class was just as awful as the day before had been. Emma stumbled through Odette’s dance steps, and knocked herself and Olivia to the floor when she spun the wrong way. It didn’t help that Madame Andrews seemed to be watching her all the while. And even worse — that Roberto kept glancing her way, wearing a worried expression.
“Do you feel all right?” he asked during their break.
“I’m sort of off today,” Emma replied. “I didn’t sleep very well last night.” That was true. She’d been so nervous about what she was about to do next that she couldn’t fall asleep.
“It’s as if your mind is somewhere else,” Roberto said. “Are you thinking about the music box?”
How much should she tell him? Emma wasn’t sure.
“It’s almost as if you’ve been hypnotized or are under a spell or something. I think you should try to forget about it,” Roberto said. “Think of it as a bad dream.”
“Sure. You’re right,” Emma agreed. “That’s what I’ll do.” If only she could. But getting the role of Odette was too important to her — and she knew the music box was the only thing that could make that dream come true.
“I just want to put in some extra practice time,” Emma told Madame Andrews after class that day. They had worked with the costumes at the end of the lesson, and Emma felt like a true ballerina wearing a knee-length skirt made from layer upon layer of multicolored tulle.
“All right. I’ll be in my office if you need anything,” Madame Andrews agreed as she left the dance studio.
Emma quickly dug in her dance bag for the black ointment, which she’d put in a plastic bag. Then she stood by the mirror hoping desperately that something would happen.
It didn’t take long.
Once again, mist rose up from the floor, curling up the surface of the mirror. Emma stared as the mirror turned gray and foggy, and then cleared to show Lucy sleeping in an old-fashioned bedroom, likely in a hotel. The blue Cinderella costume hung on a stand, off to the side, and the pointe shoes twinkled in the pale glow from the window.
The music box stood on a night table beside the bed. And it was open. Was it really possible that Emma would be able to come through the little oval mirror as a mist?
It seemed impossible, but Alexa had done it. Emma had to take the chance.
Emma scooped a small amount of black goop from the plastic bag and rubbed it on her wrists. The rest she tucked into the waistband of her dance skirt.
For a moment, she hesitated. Why was she doing this? It was too dangerous. It was crazy. Maybe she was crazy. But she needed the music box.
Her body tingled and her mouth went dry as she leaned into the mirror. Her mind quieted as it focused on one thing only. She had to become the greatest dancer the world had ever seen. Nothing else mattered.
Gazing at her outstretched hands, she smiled as they evaporated into a misty haze.
Da-da-da-da DUM Dee-dum dee-dum Da-da-da-da DUM Dee-dum dee-dum
Emma heard the familiar notes even as she hung as a vapor in the air. Her form thickened and she could see herself once again. The soft glow of an oil lamp flickered, enabling Emma to make out Lucy’s sleeping form in the four-poster bed.
In the music box, the little man and woman dolls were on their springs. Was she imagining it, or did they smile at her when she lifted the box to peer in? Emma was sure they did. They had missed her. After all, she was the true owner of the music box. They were simply putting up with Lucy while Emma was away.
Closing her eyes, Emma let the melody of “The Blue Danube” wash over her before twirling around Lucy’s bedroom in a blissful trance. There was no stumbling this time. Her every step was in time with the music, each gesture elegant and lovely. Yes! It had been worth the risk of coming through the mirror to experience this perfection once more.
When the music box wound down and Emma stopped moving, Lucy was sitting up in bed, staring in surprise. “Emma?”
“Yes, it’s me,” Emma replied.
“Are you a ghost?” Lucy asked.
“A ghost? No! Of course not. Why would you ask that?”
“You look rather…. ghostlike.”
Emma stretched her hands out and realized she could almost see through them. She recalled how Alexa had appeared when she first showed up in Emma’s bedroom. Emma had also thought she was a ghost.
“I’m not a ghost, but I’ve come to take back the music box,” Emma said, hoping her voice was firm. This wasn’t a request. She was taking the music box no matter what happened.
Lucy clutched the music box. “No! You can’t have it. It’s mine!”
“It was mine first,” Emma insisted.
“It belonged to Sonia Rubenya first,” Lucy argued. “And it most likely belonged to someone else before that.”
“Well, it’s mine now,” Emma said, her voice climbing with anger.
“I think not!” Lucy got out of bed. Holding the music box close, she faced Emma defiantly.
“I think so!” Emma grabbed for the music box and the two girls struggled, yanking it back and forth. Lucy finally pulled free, but Emma tackled her around the waist. Lucy fell hard onto the floor and the music box slid out of her grasp.
Emma pounced on it, covering it with her body. The power of the music box surged through her. She felt suddenly much stronger, as though she were absorbing the magic strength of the music box. It was truly hers now.
“Emma, don’t do this to me. I thought we were friends,” Lucy said, her face filled with distress. “I have a performance in the morning. It will be a disaster if I go onstage and can’t dance.”
Emma felt a wave of compassion for Lucy but it washed away quickly. “That’s not my problem. You couldn’t even dance before you got your hands on the box. You’re a fake. I’ve studied ballet since I was small. I deserve it.”
“I can’t believe you’re the same girl I met before. What’s happened to you?” Lucy asked.
Emma didn’t want to listen anymore. Lucy was just trying to trick her. She got to her feet, still holding tight to the music box. “This is mine and I’m taking it back through the mirror.”
“You won’t be able to,” Lucy said. “The music box will stay with me. I’m the one it wants.”
“In that case, you’re coming with me,” Emma said, her voice nearly a growl. She’d never heard herself
sound like this. It was frightening. What was happening to her? Emma shook her head to clear it. She didn’t care what had happened. The only thing that mattered was that she would dance like an angel, and nothing could stop her success with the music box there to protect her.
Emma took the plastic bag of ointment from the waistband of her skirt and scooped out a bit of the goo. With a quick movement, she smeared some on Lucy’s arm. “You’re coming through, too — just to be sure.”
“No!” Lucy shouted. “I have to dance tomorrow. I don’t want to go with you. You’ve become a monster!”
Emma ignored Lucy as she put the goop onto her own wrist again. Gray mist swirled around the bedroom as both girls dissolved into fog.
Da-da-da-da DUM Dee-dum dee-dum Da-da-da-da DUM Dee-dum dee-dum
The music played louder and louder. The mist twirled itself into a ribbon of vapor and entered the oval mirror in the music box.
Emma was the first to come back to solid form on the other side. She still had the music box.
Lucy came out of the fog next. But Emma had no more need for her. Lucy was half solid, half mist when Emma used all her strength to push her by the shoulders.
Lucy disappeared back into the mirror.
In the dance studio mirror, Emma watched as Lucy tumbled into her hotel room. The moment she landed on the floor, the scene was gone.
Emma stared at her own reflection, breathless. The music box was beside her. Hers.
She’d won it!
“Are you ready to leave, Emma?” Madame Andrews asked from the doorway. “I’m locking up.”
“I’m ready,” Emma agreed, loading the music box into her dance bag.
“I’m glad to see you’re working so hard,” Madame Andrews said as they walked to the front of the dance studio. “You were kind of unsteady today in class.”
“That’s all over now,” Emma said. “You’re going to be amazed at my dancing from now on. I promise!”
EMMA, PLEASE sit still,” Mrs. Bryant requested that night at supper. “Be seated and eat your dinner.”
Still dressed in her leotard and dance skirt, Emma balanced into an arabesque, her back leg extended, before turning three perfect pirouettes around the dining room table. The music box sat on a stuffed chair in the corner of the room, playing. Da-da-da-da DUM Dee-dum dee-dum Da-da-da-da DUM Dee-dum dee-dum
“And silence that confounded music box,” Mr. Bryant added. As though defying Mr. Bryant’s order, it played louder, seeming to turn up the volume by itself. A light rain began to patter outside and on the roof, a perfect rhythm that accompanied the beautiful music.
“I’m so excited about Swan Lake that I can’t sit still,” Emma said, still dancing. “I’m sure I’ll get the lead if I keep practicing, which is fine because I love to dance. I just want to dance and dance and dance. There’s nothing else I’d rather do.”
“Since when?” Jason challenged.
“Oh, since always. You know that. Dance, dance, dance. I’ve always been that way, I just never allowed myself to dance as much as I wanted to, but I’ve finally gotten serious about my career.”
“What career?” her brother asked.
Emma noticed her parents exchanging worried glances across the table, but she ignored it. How could she expect them to understand the kind of passion that drove an artist to strive for excellence? After all, they were only ordinary people. They didn’t understand the soaring glory of the ballet. They weren’t gifted like she was.
“I asked you to cease playing that musical contraption,” Mr. Bryant said more firmly, his voice getting louder.
In response, the music box increased its volume until it blasted so loud that Jason covered his ears, cringing. DA-DA-DA-DA DUM DEE-DUM DEE-DUM DA-DA-DA-DA DUM DEE-DUM DEE-DUM
Mrs. Bryant stood up. “Emma! Turn that thing off right now!”
Why would they want her to shut off the music box? To Emma it could never be loud enough. Such a sweet sound. So beautiful. It was as though the melody was traveling through her like a warm, flowing musical river, and it made her dancing more dramatic and graceful. “Oh no! I never want it to stop playing. Not ever, never, ever. I want it to play all the time, so I can dance all the time.”
Emma’s father got up from the table and went to the music box. He slammed the lid shut, stopping the music.
Jason took his hands off his ears, sighing with relief.
Emma froze. Her parents stared at her as though she’d lost her mind. But they were the ones who didn’t know what they were doing. “Why do you want to stop me from dancing?” she asked.
“Young lady, we are attempting to partake of a meal together,” her father replied. “This is not an appropriate time for practicing one’s hobbies.”
“It’s always time to dance,” Emma said, growing upset. She needed her music so she could practice. She had to be Odette!
A buzz filled the room. The music box’s lid had opened, and it was vibrating. “The Blue Danube” began to play softly, and Emma realized the music box was protecting her. It wouldn’t let anyone stop her from dancing. Not even her own family. She swayed to the tune, letting it wash over her once more.
“Come on, Emma, cut it out,” Jason said.
Emma looked down. Inside the music box there was now a crowd of little music box men — and they were starting to climb out. Just as they had back in 1892.
Soon they would fill the house, protecting her. Making sure nothing and no one stood between Emma and her dream — to be the greatest ballerina in the world.
One by one, the music box men came out of the music box. Her family hadn’t even noticed them yet.
The music box was so loud now.
DA-DA-DA-DA DUM DEE-DUM DEE-DUM DA-DA-DA-DA DUM DEE-DUM DEE-DUM
The windows in the room cracked. A glass on the table burst into shards.
Emma’s parents cringed, closing their eyes and covering their ears. Jason was under the table, his head tucked into his arms.
It didn’t bother Emma, though. The music was wonderful. It couldn’t be loud enough.
And then suddenly — she couldn’t hear it at all. She spun and leaped in a world all her own. It was as though her feet had taken on a life of their own — moving faster and faster. Emma loved it. Was this what it was like to be a truly great dancer — to not even think of the movement but to become one with the music?
Emma no longer heard the music. She was in an ecstatic trance where nothing existed but the dance. Everything around her was completely silent. She was lifted by the rapture of her own movement.
But through it all, Emma could still see what was going on around her.
The music box woman now stood in the doorway, laughing, a terrible expression in her gleaming eyes. One by one, the music box men were growing larger and shuffling around the dining room.
The music box men began to surround her family. Mrs. Bryant fainted. Then Mr. Bryant passed out, his head down on the table. Jason still quivered under the table.
Emma blinked hard, as if waking from a deep sleep.
Her family was in trouble.
She couldn’t let these creatures hurt them. Not even the chance to be the world’s greatest ballerina meant more than her family.
The reality that her family was in danger hit Emma like a bucket of ice water, completely rousing her from the spell the music box had cast over her.
But the nightmare didn’t go away upon awakening. It was still right there in front of her. The music box men continued to advance on her family. The music box woman still roared with sinister laughter.
What did these creatures plan to do to her family? How could Emma protect them?
FEELING AS though she was walking in a dream, Emma picked up the music box and held it over her head. The music box men and the woman stopped and stared at her.
Emma did a pirouette ending in an arabesque, and they moved closer — toward her, the master of the music box, and away from her family at the table.
In a
series of grand jetés, she moved through the house. With the music box still held high, she danced out the door.
As she’d hoped, the music box men and the woman began to follow her. It was their job to protect her, wasn’t it? That meant they had to be with her at all times. As long as she danced, they didn’t have to protect her from anything.
But how long could she keep dancing?
Lightning flashed, though Emma couldn’t hear any thunder. She still couldn’t hear anything at all. A torrent of rain poured down on her as she moved through the streets, spinning and leaping.
The music box people followed, trudging along through the rain. Around them, people stared at the strange parade. Emma just hoped no one would try to stop them. Who knew how they would act if they felt threatened?
Emma’s mind raced. She’d wanted to dance so badly, but now she was exhausted. Now she’d give anything to be able to stop. How was she going to get rid of this music box? No matter what she did, it would always come back to find her. Why had she ever gone back to get it? She’d been such a fool!
Emma spied a bicycle sitting in an open garage. Not knowing what else to do, she ran for it. She’d never stolen anything before, but she was desperate. The music box creatures growled and grumbled the moment she hopped on the bike, but they didn’t stop following her.
Stowing the music box in the basket, Emma pedaled madly toward the Haunted Museum. It was her only hope.
In her deafened state, she didn’t hear the horns honking at her or the wheels squealing as she led the bizarre group through the streets. Finally she reached the dark and locked Haunted Museum.
Emma found a side door and pounded to be let in. Maybe they could control the music box. At least they might know what to do.
As she pounded at the door, the music box began to vibrate, sending shock waves up Emma’s arms. On its own, the lid opened. She knew “The Blue Danube” had to be playing, but she couldn’t hear a single note. She felt a crawling sensation on the back of her neck, and knew what she’d see before she even turned around. The creatures surrounded her.
