The Mystery of the Tenth

by Chantel Acevedo

  Mr. Theo said, “Let’s do an old-fashioned applause contest. But first, we’ll have the weavers onstage tell us a little bit about their tapestries.”

  Athena smiled brightly. Ari’s cheeks looked even greener than before.

  “Oh no,” Nia said. “She looks really nervous up there.”

  “Callie, I don’t feel so good,” Maris was suddenly saying beside me, massaging her temples. She moaned as she rubbed her head.

  I turned to face her. “Hey, are you okay?” She was breathing hard through her nose and bending forward, as if she’d just run a marathon.

  Then, suddenly, Maris popped back up. “Huh. That was weird,” she said. “Maybe I’m allergic to the paint on the sets, or . . . ,” she started to say, then just muttered to herself.

  I set my eyes back on the stage, on Ari, “Tina,” and their tapestries.

  Horror, Dread, and Alarm sat primly in the front row, clipboards on their laps.

  All around the auditorium, the muses sat very still, their eyes trained on the stage.

  “Tina Olimpica, please present your tapestry to the audience,” Mr. Theo said, handing the microphone to Athena.

  Athena curtsied. The students in the audience giggled, and then she frowned. Beside me, Thalia started laughing, and I elbowed her. “That won’t help,” I said. “Don’t make everybody laugh. This needs to be fair and square or Ari will be disqualified.” Thalia cleared her throat and tried hard not to smile at Athena’s odd behavior.

  Athena seemed awkward, because she was. It was as if she wasn’t exactly sure how a kid our age was supposed to act, like she was wearing a costume that didn’t fit her right. Finally she licked her lips and spoke into the microphone. “My tapestry is a representation of the ways in which human pride can lead to disaster.” She looked over at Ari and nodded. “In each panel, a human being has filled themselves up with so much pride, puffed themselves up with so much arrogance, that they lose everything they ever loved—in some cases, even their lives.” Again Athena looked at Ari, who stared at her feet, her hands trembling against her tapestry.

  Curtsying one more time, Athena handed the mic to Mr. Theo.

  “Um, thank you, Tina,” Mr. Theo said. “That was . . . intense. Now, Ari, your turn.”

  Ari stood very still. So still that I worried for a moment that Medusa was back and had turned her to wax.

  “Ari?” Mr. Theo asked.

  Athena smiled at the audience, stroking her tapestry with her right hand.

  Ari stared at all of us, stage-struck.

  That’s when I heard Maris whispering beside me, “My tapestry is a representation of . . . come on . . . come on . . .”

  Ari cleared her throat. She took a long, long breath that seemed to fill her up. “My tapestry is a representation of—” She stopped, blinking rapidly.

  “Come on, come on,” Maris was whispering again. She was still rubbing one of her temples and wincing a little.

  Onstage, Ari relaxed visibly and pointed to the tapestry. “It’s a representation of the ways in which the ancient gods denied love to the humans who worshiped them. It’s a lesson for everyone. We are supposed to take care of one another. Love one another. Even when we make mistakes. Even when we are full of pride,” she said, stopping to stare at Athena. “Especially then.”

  The room had gone very quiet. Ari went on. “I’m sorry if I was ever rude to any of you. If I was too proud. I know I have been. I really am sorry,” she said, her eyes resting on Athena once more. Athena looked away.

  The clapping started. “Not yet, not yet,” Mr. Theo said.

  That’s when Horror, Dread, and Alarm rose to their feet and ambled toward the stage. Horror led the way, with the three sisters linking arms. They climbed the stairs while everyone watched in silence. Then Horror snatched the microphone from Mr. Theo.

  “We are very impressed by the showcase,” Horror said. I caught a glimpse of the tooth in her mouth.

  “Yesssss. Inspired!” Dread lisped. “I especially liked the poems.”

  Maris squeaked.

  Alarm took the microphone. “It’s almost as if you all had some sort of . . . divine help!” she said, which sent them cackling.

  Horror started digging into her bag. “Did either of you bring the checkbook?” she whispered, forgetting all about the microphone. Everyone in the audience started chatting at once.

  They were going to do it! They were going to fund the school again! Corona Arts was saved!

  The Gray Sisters were now all digging through their purses, tossing out chunks of stale churros as they looked.

  “No matter!” Horror yelled into the mic, causing the speakers to screech.

  Everyone covered their ears.

  “The check will be in the mail,” Alarm shouted into the mic next, followed by another squeal of the sound system.

  “Well done, children,” Dread shrieked. “Might any of you have a question for us?”

  Everyone was quiet. “Oh my goodness,” I heard Mela say.

  “Ask them about the tenth muse!” Nia urged.

  I raised my hand.

  Horror scanned the room. “No? No? Well, we’ll be going, then.”

  I waved my arms, but Horror, Dread, and Alarm were already trotting off the stage and out the door, back to the Queens Botanical Garden, probably, and their favorite bench.

  Everyone was cheering anyway, except for Ari, who looked like she might puke. Athena was busy sighing, rolling her eyes, and glancing at her watch.

  “What a plot twist!” Mr. Theo said once everyone calmed down. “Congratulations to all. Now let’s wrap this up with our contest. Winner gets a free ice cream, my treat, from the Queen of Corona!” He stood beside Athena and raised his hand over her head. “If you think Tina’s tapestry is the winner, please clap!”

  A handful of students applauded. Athena’s smile faded slowly until her lips were set in a tight line.

  I looked at the Muse Squad. They shook their heads.

  “Wasn’t us, I promise,” Thalia said quietly.

  Mr. Theo gave Athena a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. Then he moved over to Ari. The clapping began before he could even say anything.

  Paola was the first to get to her feet, then everyone else followed like a wave. The smile on Ari’s face could have lit up the whole school.

  “Congratu—” Mr. Theo began to say, then froze. Athena was clapping slowly. One by one, everyone in the audience except for the muses froze, too. As she clapped, she stopped looking like Tina Olimpica, and started looking like herself again—all golden, tall, and imposing.

  In the echoing silence that followed, Athena spoke. “I suppose that was to be expected. Tina was a stranger, and Ari was a friend. The results were flawed,” she said. “Disqualified, Arachne!”

  “YOU PROMISED!” Ari shouted. There were tears staining her cheeks. A gentle rustling sound filled the room, and I turned to watch as thousands of spiders trickled out from under the stage.

  Athena noticed them, too. With a deep sigh, she snapped her fingers, and the spiders became butterflies that flittered in the air, landing in our hair and on the backs of chairs, before turning into dust.

  Ari sat down with a thud and covered her head with her hands. “All for nothing,” she said. “It was all for nothing.”

  “Come on,” I said to the Muse Squad, and we leaped out of our seats and joined Ari on the stage, huddling around her. The other muses soon joined us.

  “Be reasonable, Dread Goddess,” Clio said. “She’s just a child.”

  Athena shrugged. “It was a gift, don’t you understand? She loves to weave so much. I gave her the ability to do so for an eternity. Webs for years and years! A human can’t do what a spider can. And she’ll live forever as a spider. Humans die. If you ask me, children are ungrateful.”

  A melodious voice boomed from the auditorium’s balcony. “A human can love and be loved, Athena. A spider can’t. And we all know love is the most powerful force there is.” It was A
phrodite, sitting on the lip of the balcony, swinging her feet back and forth.

  Athena groaned. “Not you! You cannot get involved, little sister. You know that.”

  Aphrodite jumped down, landing gracefully on her feet. She sauntered up the center aisle. “Yes, I know that. Nobody can stop you when you set your mind on something.”

  Athena laughed, but it wasn’t a happy sound. “Usually that’s the case, except we are in the presence of the storyteller just . . . now.” Athena rolled her eyes.

  My backpack suddenly felt a little bit heavier. I opened it up, and there was the book Tia Annie had shown me. My emblem. It had come to me when I needed it most. But now, I was afraid to touch it, scared of what it might mean.

  Athena walked right up to me. I tried hard not to shake but couldn’t manage it. She crouched down to face me. My arms were still wrapped tightly around Ari. Athena seemed to observe me for a moment, the way we look at interesting animals at the zoo.

  Finally, she spoke. “You can force me to concede, storyteller. That’s the gift you’ve been given, and the power you’ve been granted. End the story the way you see fit.” Athena then rose, pouted, and kicked a churro off the stage. It bounced off the head of someone in the first row, but they didn’t notice, of course.

  Etoro and Paola were wiping tears off their cheeks.

  “The storyteller,” Etoro whispered.

  “Such a blessing,” Paola said.

  Elnaz was clapping softly. “I always knew you were special, kid,” she said.

  “Mm-hmm, me, too,” Tomiko added.

  As for Clio, she only looked on with a sad smile on her face.

  “Go on,” Etoro said.

  “No tengas miedo,” Paola added.

  Tomiko and Elnaz each squeezed one of my shoulders.

  “Squad?” I asked, looking to Nia, Mela, and Thalia. “I didn’t mention it, but apparently I get to finish this story. This,” I said, holding up the book, “is my emblem.”

  Thalia laughed softly. “You’re the captain, Captain.”

  “And we’ve always got your back,” Nia said.

  Mela sniffled and gave me a watery smile.

  I pulled out the book and opened it to the end. There was a description of the contest, of Ari’s tapestry, and Athena’s. At the very bottom was white space. A silver pen materialized in the seam of the book.

  Aphrodite clapped. “You’re toast, Athena! Go on, buttercup! Tell my big sister what to do.”

  My hand shook as I gripped the pen.

  “No,” Ari said, looking up at last. She held on to my wrist. “If you force Athena to give up, it won’t be real. It won’t be just.”

  “But I can fix it. I can make it safe for you forever,” I whispered. “I know you don’t like it when I use my magic on you. But this is different, can’t you see?”

  Ari only shook her head. “If it isn’t real, then I’d rather be a spider.”

  I knew what I had to do. Ari wanted justice, not a favor. She wanted help, not a rescue. Tia Annie had told me that Ari was a hero whose story needed to be told. Not a hero who needed to be saved. Ari was in charge of the story, not me.

  So I did what I could.

  “Okay,” I said to Ari. “Trust me?”

  Ari wiped her eyes with the heels of her hands, sniffing and nodding.

  I picked up the pen. With the shakiest, worst handwriting ever, I wrote:

  Athena was fair.

  And so Athena was.

  Chapter 31

  The Tenth Muse

  The moment I wrote the words, I expected the book to disappear. But it stayed there, heavy in my hands.

  Athena eyed me intently. She walked over to Ari’s tapestry and started to look at it. Really look at it. “Come,” she said to Ari, who rose on shaky legs and joined Athena, facing the artwork.

  “How did you manage to hide the warps during the repair?” we heard Athena ask. Ari pointed to the tapestry here and there, and the two of them spoke quietly. “The discontinued wefts are particularly good,” Athena said.

  “What are they talking about?” Thalia asked.

  “I don’t know. Tapestry stuff?” I said.

  After a while, Athena took a step back. Then another. “It’s clear to me that Arachne has woven the superior tapestry. Well done, young one.”

  Aphrodite whooped and cheered, high-fiving people’s foreheads up and down the aisle seats. “You can stay with me, Ari,” she said. “There’s no way I’m giving up the Queen of Corona. Business is too good.”

  And just like that, Aphrodite was gone.

  “It’s been very educational, Arachne,” Athena said. What she learned, she didn’t say. I didn’t expect an apology, and she didn’t give one. But it was enough. Ari would get to be a human forever. But more importantly, Athena had been honest, and a little less full of pride herself, if only for a moment.

  “Thank you all. It was an enjoyable quest. I hope my monsters weren’t too much trouble.”

  “Oh, no bother at all,” Thalia said.

  The rest of us looked at Thalia and shook our heads.

  “What? I’m English. We’re polite.”

  Then, just like Aphrodite, Athena was gone, too.

  Mr. Theo was the first to stir back to life. His glittery microphone clattered to the floor.

  “What happened?” he asked, smacking his lips together, as though he had a funny taste in his mouth.

  “Headquarters,” Clio said under her breath.

  The muses and Ari hurried off the stage while everyone else was waking up. The students sitting on the aisle were rubbing their foreheads where Aphrodite had smacked them, but otherwise, nobody seemed to notice that anything strange had happened.

  I could hear Mr. Theo thanking everyone for coming as we ran out. And from the corner of my eye, I spotted Maris, watching me go, her hands raised in a “What’s up?” gesture.

  We walked, hopped, and skipped to the Hall of Science, not worrying about entrance points. The muses chattered happily around me, while Ari and I walked together, our arms linked.

  “Thanks for everything,” she said.

  “It was your story, after all.”

  “Yeah, but you didn’t have to help. None of you did. You were all amazing.” Ari gave my arm a little squeeze.

  There is no real trick to taking a compliment. Sometimes, you just have to say thanks, which I did. “You were amazing, too. So brave! I would have totally pooped my pants back there.”

  Ari laughed and laughed, and it was the first time I’d heard her really crack up like that, which made me start snorting with laughter, too.

  We slipped into the Hall of Science while Elnaz distracted the woman at the front desk with a song.

  “Your powers are pretty handy,” Ari commented. “Do you sneak into movies a lot?”

  Mela gasped, scandalized. “We do not.”

  Back in the comforting blue light of the Great Hall, we took our seats on the beanbag chairs. Clio stood at the front of the room.

  “Thus concludes yet another adventure, muses.” She looked directly at Ari. “We trust you will keep our secret, as we will always keep yours.”

  Ari saluted, which made Clio frown. Ah, so Clio was back to her usual disposition.

  Behind Clio, the muse finder clock still refused to budge, its arrow stuck on Queens. Clio laid a hand on the globe. “We still, however, have the question of the tenth muse to contend with.”

  Thalia gasped. She bounced in her beanbag until Clio looked at her. “Hang on! What if it really is Ari?”

  Nia and Mela cheered. “Yes, more Muse Squad members!” Nia cried.

  “Make sure you get a good entrance point, is all I am saying,” Mela said to Ari in a whisper.

  But Ari lifted her friendship-bracelet-covered arms and shook her head. “Nope. I’m inspired, not inspiring. I just want to be a kid again.”

  Clio agreed. “Ari is correct. She was clearly a Fated One from the very beginning, and I look forward to what your
art will do for the world now that you are in it again. But she is not a muse.”

  Nia, Thalia, and Mela sighed.

  “Worth a shot,” Thalia muttered.

  I heard a knock on the door to the Great Hall then. I turned and caught a glimpse of a face in the window.

  That’s when I knew, without a doubt, who the tenth muse was.

  I didn’t just know. Like Aphrodite had said, I would find the tenth muse when I noticed her, because she’d been there, all along.

  She was kind. She was talented. She’d stopped a pair of curious kids from getting hurt by the lions at the library, and even helped me with writer’s block a few times. But most importantly, when the time came, she inspired a Fated One who was struggling to get the right words out onstage.

  Just in case, I opened my book and wrote:

  Maris Emad was the tenth muse.

  The muse finder clock began to chime again, just as Maris slowly opened the door.

  “Hi,” she said, wiggling her fingers.

  Clio took a deep breath, her eyes falling on me for a moment. Then she turned to Maris.

  “Welcome, Maris Emad, you are one of us.”

  Later I sat with Clio in her office and munched on a brownie while she paged through the book. Finally Clio asked, “How did you know that Maris was the tenth?”

  “Remember when Ari was struggling onstage?” I said. “She was frightened. Maris started complaining of a headache, then she started rubbing her temples, encouraging Ari under her breath. In that instant, Ari got braver. I could feel it, the magic in the room. At first I thought it had been one of us. But it was Maris.”

  “If you’ll recall, the muse finder clock located her at the beginning of the summer,” Clio said.

  “Aphrodite told me that the tenth muse was helping us all along. And she did! Maris helped me write a concrete poem on the second day of camp, she convinced all the campers to stage a protest, and she told me about the Nemean lion. She even saved two little kids at the library from becoming a lion’s lunch,” I said, excitement building in my voice as I listed each example. “Who knows how long she’s been inspiring people?”