I felt Mela’s hand on my wrist. She wasn’t using her magic, but there was something in her eyes that told me how important this moment was. “She’s not wrong,” Mela whispered.
“Okay. What do you need us to do?” I asked.
Ari smiled a little. “I need help finding my tapestry. Athena tore it into four pieces. It’s the best work I ever did, and I need it back.”
“But how will we find it?” Thalia asked.
The answer was on my lips before I could even think about whether I should say it.
“The Gray Sisters. They know everything. They’ll know where the tapestry pieces are.”
“That’s genius,” Nia said. “They can let us know about the tapestry, and the other thing, too.”
“What thing?” Ari asked. Boy, she didn’t miss a beat.
“Muse stuff. Classified,” Thalia said.
I breathed a sigh of relief that Thalia’s loose lips hadn’t given away our mission regarding the tenth muse. We were already breaking about a million rules, I was sure.
“So you’ll help me?”
We all looked at Ari for a moment without saying a word. Then I felt the others, one by one, turning to look at me, like I held the answer.
I took a deep breath. “We’ll see what the Gray Sisters say.”
Ari’s shoulders drooped a little. I could tell Mela was disappointed that I wasn’t agreeing to anything just yet, but Nia and Thalia both nodded at me. Is this what it meant to be a leader? Not pleasing everyone all the time?
Because I really didn’t like the feeling.
“What are we waiting for then?” Ari said, getting on her feet. “Let’s find these sisters you keep talking about.”
“It’s late. We’ll have to go tomorrow afternoon,” I said. “That’s when the Gray Sisters will be . . . where they usually hang out.” I’d almost said the Queens Botanical Garden but held my tongue instead. What if Ari decided to go find the Gray Sisters herself? I didn’t know yet if I fully trusted her.
Nia whispered in my ear, “Should we tell her about the one tooth and the one eyeball thing before we get there?”
My stomach churned at the thought of who we would be meeting.
I made a gagging sound instead of answering her. Whatever these Gray Sisters were, or however they looked, we were in for a very interesting time.
Chapter 11
Exquisite Corpses
“Day two of art camp!” Laura said as she put some scrambled eggs on a plate for me the next morning. Rafaelito was in his high chair, drinking from a bottle of milk.
“Making friends?” Papi asked as he stirred sugar into his coffee.
“Sort of.” I didn’t think Maris actually wanted to be my friend after my limerick yesterday. I promised myself I’d make it up to her. And as for Ari, well, we definitely had to talk.
Laura smiled. “Atta girl,” she said. “Have a great day,” she added before leaving to get the baby dressed for day care.
“Do you think you can get to Corona Arts on your own?” Papi asked. “I have to be at the work site early today.”
“Oh,” I said, trying to keep the disappointment out of my voice. Papi kissed me on the cheek as he gathered his keys. “Papi, maybe tomorrow you and I can go grab some—” I started to say, but he was halfway out the door, slamming it closed before I could finish my sentence. I’d hoped that maybe we could get breakfast tacos, just the two of us. Back when he lived in Miami, we would go on Papi-Callie adventures together sometimes. To the park, or the beach—just the two of us. It had been so long since then. My eyes stung at the memory.
“See ya, Laura. Bye, Rafaelito,” I said, peeking into the baby’s room, where Laura was struggling to snap a onesie in place around my baby brother’s thighs.
Laura seemed to pick up on my mood. “He works hard to provide for everybody, Callie. Don’t be too upset with him.”
I shook my head. “I’m not. See you this afternoon,” I said, though my throat burned like I was going to cry.
“Big camp fun!” Laura cheered, but I only waved goodbye and went out the door.
The walk to Corona Arts helped clear my head, and I was glad to see the papier-mâché bulls standing guard at the entrance of the school. I was even happier to see Ari there, knitting the finishing touches on a sweater the bull on the right was wearing. That’s when I noticed it—the lampposts in front of the school were wrapped in colorful yarn, too, as was the base of the fire hydrant. It was summer and boiling hot in the city, but every inanimate object in view was wearing a sweater.
“It’s called yarn bombing,” Ari said as I walked up slowly to her.
“You did all this?”
“I make things when I’m stressed out.”
“I get it,” I said. I’d be stressed out, too, if I’d been turned into a spider, then back into a human, and had to face off with the goddess Athena. In fact, “stressed” didn’t even cover it. I’d be a melted Callie-puddle of anxiety.
Ari twisted bright yellow yarn between her fingers as she spoke. Out of the corner of my eye, it looked like she was weaving a bit of sunshine.
“Stop staring at me, Callie. Seriously, just go find Maris. I’ve got more yarn bombing to do.”
“Okay,” I said. “See you later, for the, um, thing we’re doing.”
Ari gave me a thumbs-up without looking at me, her eyes back on her knitting.
I’d hardly slept, thinking about our visit to the Gray Sisters. Hopefully Clio was right about their soft spot for kids, because we had a couple of big questions to ask them.
I made my way back to the poetry classroom. Maris and Mr. Theo were busy making a poem together.
“Sit with us,” Mr. Theo said. Today, he was wearing a plain blue baseball cap. “We’re writing an exquisite corpse poem!”
Honestly, he sounded way too excited about writing a poem about a dead body.
I must have made a face, because Mr. Theo quickly added, “It’s not what you think, Callie. It’s a collaborative poem. One we make together.”
“Plus it’s a game,” Maris added. “None of us know what lines the others are writing, so the poems can sound completely absurd, or totally beautiful, when you put the lines together.”
Mr. Theo smiled, and handed me a piece of paper and a pen. “Here are the rules. Write one line that uses the following parts of speech in this exact order: adjective, noun, verb, adjective, noun.”
I got to work, but my eyes kept sliding off my page. I noticed how Maris’s left leg bounced, making the table we shared shake a little. She had a pencil and a marker jammed into her hair bun today. It looked like she had antennae. Mr. Theo had written about ten lines and was on to line number eleven.
Concentrating, I wrote my line, put down my pen, and waited.
Mr. Theo cleared his throat, and Maris stopped writing. “Ready?” he asked.
Mr. Theo shared his line first: “Chirpy cockatiels bite unsuspecting humans.”
Maris smoothed her page and read in a slow, clear voice: “Shimmery sunsets stave off sad sentiments.”
“Nice use of alliteration, Maris!” Mr. Theo said.
He and Maris turned to look at me. I knew they were thinking of my poem from the day before. Maris had a single eyebrow lifted. Mr. Theo just looked a bit constipated.
“Um. Okay. Here goes,” I said, then read my line: “New campmate apologizes. Super sorry.”
I didn’t think I got the parts of speech right, but I guess it didn’t matter because suddenly, Maris was smiling, and Mr. Theo was clapping.
“Best exquisite corpse ever,” Mr. Theo announced.
We did a few more rounds of the exquisite corpse game, with lines that included more cockatiels from Mr. Theo, lots more alliteration by Maris, and some stuff about my mom’s café con leche and arroz con pollo (because I was really homesick).
After lunch, Mr. Theo assigned us concrete poems, where the shape of the poem matched the words. Maris went to work right away on a poem about Lebano
n, where her parents were from. Line by line, the country’s shape appeared.
Meanwhile, I was stuck on my poem. Like, neck-deep in quicksand stuck. I might have sighed loudly a few times. Maris glared at me at first, but after my fifth audible groan, she put down her pen.
“Honestly. Just try,” she said.
“I am trying. This is hard.” I usually didn’t get so frustrated about writing projects. I earned good grades in language arts class all the time, and for a while there in fifth grade, I kept a diary every day. But my mind was on other things, like the tenth muse, and the spiders, and the possibility that I wouldn’t sleep all summer thanks to Rafaelito’s crying.
Maris rolled her pen between her hands for a moment, thinking. “Fine. Just think of something blue, that doesn’t belong to you, and can be held in one hand,” she said.
“Specific much?”
“Specificity helps. Trust me,” Maris said.
An image popped into my head at once—Maya had a snow globe on a blue base. Inside, the earth was suspended in water. When you turned the snow globe upside down, silver glitter swirled around the tiny planet. Maya loved that thing. Her abuelita had bought it for her years ago, when she was little.
“Got it,” I said.
Maris smiled. “Now think about the person who owns that thing, and what they mean to you. Write about them, and the object, in the shape of whatever that small, blue thing is.”
“Oh,” I said softly. Then, “Oh!” loudly as the words came to mind.
Maris dusted her hands, like she’d just finished a big job. “Just a little poetry magic, that’s all.” Then she went back to her own poem.
“Thanks, Maris,” I said, and started scribbling away. Just as I was getting to the line about Maya’s scientist dreams, Maris suddenly shouted, “Calliope!”
“Callie,” I said. Why did people insist on doing that?
Maris laughed. “No, I mean, Calliope, Muse of the epic poem!”
I froze. First Ari knew who I was, now Maris? Clio was going to be so mad.
“Listen, Maris. This is really important. You have to—”
“Muse of poetry! No wonder we were so inspired today!” she said.
“Well, this is absolutely delightful!” Mr. Theo put in.
I needed to come at this from a different angle. Maybe logic would help. “Okay. So you know. But you can’t say any—”
Maris gave me a high five. “It’s so cool that your parents named you after one of the muses. So cool. Or maybe they just named you after one of those circus pipe organs. Aren’t they called calliopes, too, Mr. Theo?”
“Ah, well. Let’s go with the muse instead. Right, Callie? After your work today, I’d say you were perfectly named,” Mr. Theo said.
I felt dizzy with relief. They didn’t know my secret after all.
We worked until lunch, then Maris and I watched the salsa dancers in the courtyard as we munched on sandwiches. “Wanna go get some frappuccinos after camp?” Maris asked.
I was surprised to find that I did. I really, really wanted to hang out with Maris. Except I had to find Ari, gather the other muses, and go find the Gray Sisters.
“Can’t today. Next time?”
Maris frowned a little and ate the rest of her lunch in silence. I was pretty sure she thought I’d just brushed her off. We spent the afternoon watching a documentary about slam poets. The bell rang just as the film ended. Maris packed her things, said, “Bye, Callie,” and walked out of the room.
“Bye,” I said. Somehow, I’d managed to hurt Maris’s feelings two days in a row. I felt like the world’s worst campmate.
Chapter 12
The Gray Sisters
Ari was outside the poetry classroom, waiting for me.
“So where are they? The other muses?” she asked.
“We’re meeting back at headquarters,” I said. “Come on.”
Ari followed me down the stairs, through the school foyer, and out the front doors. The papier-mâché bulls were completely dressed in yarn sweaters. They even had on matching beanies. “You did all this in one day?” I asked.
“Not my best work,” Ari said, her nose scrunching up as we passed the colorful statues.
We walked quietly to the Hall of Science. I had about a million questions to ask but kept my mouth shut. The rest of the Muse Squad was probably waiting inside the museum.
School buses once again lined the museum driveway, and it looked like all the kids in Queens were jammed into the cafeteria, talking loudly, spilling drinks, laughing, and comparing souvenirs.
Ari looked around, her hands on her hips. “What I could do with a place like this,” she said, her eyes spanning the large, open museum. I tried to imagine what she was envisioning—the floor covered in woven rugs, sculptures wearing new yarn outfits, even the rocket outside wrapped in a colorful sweater!
I could picture Ari clearly, surrounded by all that colorful wool. The picture was clear and true in my mind, and I could begin to feel the muse magic around me, the way I always did when I was near someone who was feeling inspired.
“Don’t,” Ari said with a start. “I don’t like it.”
“Don’t like what?”
“Magic forced on me. I’m not asking for your help, so don’t give it.” Then she marched away from me, as if she knew exactly where to find the other muses.
I let her go and watched her walk away and enter the museum. Is that what I was doing whenever I used my magic? Forcing it on someone? My stomach felt like it was sinking in on itself, and so I sprinted after Ari to shake the sensation.
As we made our way to my entrance point I saw the other muses before Ari did. They were on the deck of the ship, waving at us. Thalia had found a pirate’s hat and she had put it on her head, the giant red feather on top bobbing up and down as she waved.
“Ahoy there, mateys!” she shouted, just as Nia plucked the hat off Thalia’s head.
Ari smiled. “They’re fun to hang around with, huh?” she said a little wistfully.
“Yeah. Tons,” I said. It had probably been a long time since Ari had had real friends, and the thought of it made me sad. “Ready?” I asked.
I felt Ari’s hand slip into mine for just a moment, squeezing my fingers then letting go. “As I’ll ever be,” she said.
Clio had said we would find the Gray Sisters at the Queens Botanical Garden, and she was right. They were exactly where she said they would be—in the arboretum, sitting close together on a stone bench. I’d remembered to stop and get churros first, since Clio had suggested that, too.
Except Thalia had already eaten two of them.
“Sorry,” she whispered. “It’s well past dinnertime back home. I’m starved.”
Nia and Mela sent a harsh “shh” in her direction.
“What are we waiting for anyway?” Ari asked.
The five of us were hiding behind topiaries shaped like chess pieces. I was crouched behind a pawn. So was Thalia. Nia and Mela were smashed together behind a bishop, and Ari was peering at the Gray Sisters from between the legs of a leafy horse with a knight on top.
“I don’t know, actually,” I said. The truth was, I didn’t have a clue about how to approach them. Casually? (Hey, there, Gray Sisters, what’s up?) Formally? (Your ancient Graynesses, we need your assistance.) How did one approach eternal, all-knowing beings?
“Oh, this is ridiculous,” Ari hissed, and I watched in horror as she stepped out from behind the bishop topiary. “Yo, ladies,” she said loudly.
That’s when the Gray Sisters looked up. I say “looked,” but the three of them were wearing very dark glasses, and I knew that there was, somehow, only one eyeball staring in our direction behind the lenses.
I cleared my throat, stepping out from behind the pawn, and gesturing to the others to join me. “Um, Sisters. G-Gray Sisters. We need your help.”
The sister on the left elbowed the one in the middle. “I told you today would be interesting.”
The middle sis
ter said, “Bah!” to that and elbowed the one on the right, who had been sleeping and now startled awake.
“Are you the all-knowing Gray Sisters?” I asked. I had to make sure. What if we’d just stumbled upon three random retirees in the park?
At my question, the sisters began to laugh, and that’s when I noticed that only one of them had teeth. Or rather, a tooth. Then they removed their glasses, and where their eyes should have been were dark holes. Wasn’t there supposed to be an eye somewhere?
Mela whimpered beside me. Thalia muttered something about peeing her pants a little. Nia shoved me forward a step.
“So, it—it is y-you. Good. That’s good,” I stumbled. “We have a question to ask, since you’re all-knowing and all that. We’re muses, by the way. Not all of us. Not her,” I said, pointing at Ari. “But the rest of us are and we thought that maybe you could—”
“Stop talking,” the Gray Sister in the center said. She spit a little bit when she spoke. “If you want our help, you’ll need to do us a favor, dear girl.”
“Yes, Calliope, Muse of the epic poem,” the sister on the right said. “How is your little brother, by the way? He’s got a tooth coming in, poor dear.” She pointed at the tooth in her mouth. “If he grows an extra one, feel free to bring it to us.”
The sister on the left piped up then. “Churros! I smell them!” Extending her hand, the sister curled her fingers in a “gimme” gesture.
Thalia handed over the oily bag that held what was left of the churros. The sister on the left took it and divided the treats among her sisters. In horror, we watched as, one by one, they took turns sharing the tooth in order to munch on the churros.
“I can’t deal with this,” Ari mumbled, and started pacing behind me.
“You said you needed help?” I asked after the last bite of churros was gone.
The three sisters grew serious. “Indeed,” the center sister said. “Our eye is missing. Without it, we cannot see very far in any direction. Not the past.”
“Not the present,” added the left sister.
“Not the future,” said the one on the right.
“And so any questions you may want to ask will not be answered. Not until we get the eye back,” the center sister finished.
The Mystery of the Tenth Page 8
