Don't Move a Muscle! Read online

  Cora thought for a minute. Then she said, “I’m sorry, Cora, but I don’t like you in that way. You’re much too young for me. I like how you help me in the garden, but you’re more like a little sister to me than a girlfriend.”

  Hailey looked despairingly at Amber and Skye. “We have a lot of work to do,” she said.

  The high school and middle school had been built near a cluster of stores and small businesses. A couple of coffee shops and diners were also close by, as well as a dance studio and a branch of the library. “It’s lucky I brought lots of fliers,” Evan said to Cora on Monday afternoon. “You can’t take a step in this neighborhood without tripping over a public bulletin board. I’m going to hit a few more spots tonight. But I’ll need more fliers. Want to swing by the sculpture garden with me?”

  Cora groaned. “We’ve just been walking for an hour and a half! Sure, I’ll go, but only if we can get a snack first. I’d bet the deli will be very excited to see us twice in one afternoon.”

  When they’d provisioned themselves with cans of lemonade and some chips, they set out for the sculpture garden. With each step, Cora became more and more nervous. Not about the garden this time, but about the dance. She had promised her friends that she’d ask Evan that afternoon, and unfortunately time was running out.

  “You’re awfully quiet all of a sudden,” Evan said. “Is this hike too strenuous?”

  “It’s not that. It’s—I’m sure you’ll say no, but would you maybe want to go to the eighth-grade dance with me?” Cora blurted out.

  Right away she wanted to slap herself. All that rehearsing with her friends the day before! All the careful, strategic openers they had planned! And this was what she’d come up with?

  But Evan was smiling broadly. “I thought you’d never ask,” he said.

  Cora stopped midstep. “What?”

  “Well, I had to put up fliers in the middle school,” Evan reminded her. “I saw all these posters for the dance. I figured you’d be going, and I kept wondering when you were going to mention it. Then I started wondering if you were going to mention it. And then . . . well, I figured you weren’t going to mention it. But I hoped I was wrong.”

  “You were!” said Cora fervently. “I mean, you were right that I wasn’t going to mention it. But only because it never would have occurred to me that you would even think about going with me.”

  “I would love to go,” Evan told her. He took her hand, and they started walking again. “I had already decided that if you didn’t ask me, I’d have to ask you. Which would have been weird because it’s not my school’s dance, so I’m glad it worked out this way.”

  “Me too,” said Cora. Suddenly it was as though the sky opened up—the trees lining the street were greener, the sun was shining brighter than ever, and Cora finally, finally had a date to the dance. She couldn’t help thinking, It’s so, so lucky that I bought that dress!

  “And here we are,” Evan announced fifteen minutes later as they walked up to the sculpture garden. “Do you want to come in with me?”

  “Definitely,” said Cora. “I don’t like being alone here.”

  “That’s a little dramatic. Just wait one second while I make sure the bosses aren’t downstairs.”

  As Cora watched, Evan sprinted through the foyer, down the long hallway, and back again. “It’s fine,” he panted. “No one’s here.”

  Just let it go, Cora told herself. This had been a perfect afternoon. There was no reason to spoil it by wondering why Evan wouldn’t want the sisters to meet her.

  “I’m going to work on seeing the good points about this place,” she said as they headed to the conference room. “It’s . . . interesting. There aren’t a lot of girls who get to hang around with monsters, even if the monsters are just made of stone.”

  “I’m hoping you’ll get to spend even more time here,” Evan said. “Now, where are those fliers? This place has gotten a little disorganized, if you haven’t noticed.”

  Cora pointed. “Aren’t they under that vase?”

  But that was a pile of press releases. After a few minutes’ hunting, they finally found the fliers in a cardboard box marked WINTER SUPPLIES.

  “Typical,” said Evan. “After you, mademoiselle,” he added gallantly.

  Cora turned to face him. “There are a couple of things we should figure out about the dance,” she said, walking backward out of the doorway. “Do you want to go with my friends and their dates? Or maybe you could have dinner at my house and then we could—”

  “Cora! Don’t move!” Evan shouted.

  But Cora pivoted instinctively. What was it that Evan was looking at with such horror?

  The Minotaur.

  Its massive human hands were reaching for Cora. Its hideous bull head was lowered, ready to charge.

  And it was only inches away.

  Just seconds after Cora let loose a bloodcurdling scream, she heard voices and footsteps coming from the other side of the foyer.

  “What is this dreadful racket?”

  Two women, perhaps just younger than her grandmother, rushed through the front door and across the foyer. When they reached the Minotaur statue, the woman in front maneuvered her way around it and yanked Cora toward her. “Stop these hysterics!” she snapped. “Why are you making so much noise?”

  Still shocked, Cora pointed a shaky hand at the statue and gasped out, “H-how did it get here?”

  “The Minotaur?” asked the woman, as if there had been room for Cora to point at anything else. “We have been arranging the statues to prepare for the unveiling of our new arrival. We thought it best to move the Minotaur out of the labyrinth while the hedges were being clipped. I cannot think why the movers chose to bring it inside.” From the woman’s grim expression, the movers were in trouble.

  “But this isn’t the Minotaur from the labyrinth!” Cora blurted. “I’ve seen the one in the labyrinth. He’s sitting on a throne.”

  “Nonsense,” said the woman who hadn’t yet spoken. “This place belongs to us. There is no seated Minotaur anywhere.”

  Cora had already guessed that these women had to be Evan’s bosses, the Metaxas sisters. For one thing, she had recognized their voices right away, and besides, they were obviously sisters. They looked almost identical, though the woman who had been first to reach Cora was perhaps two or three years older than the other. Both were wearing dull-colored, unstylish clothes. Both also had matching—and ugly—old-fashioned hairstyles in the same dull-reddish gray. For a second Cora wondered if they were wearing wigs.

  All right, so they live here and this place belongs to them, Cora told herself stubbornly. I still know what I saw in the labyrinth, and so does Evan. . . .

  Cora looked around to see Evan awkwardly hanging back by the conference room door near the foyer. “Evan, the Minotaur we saw was sitting down. Right?”

  Evan grimaced uncomfortably. “Uh, no. He was charging, actually.”

  “No way! I may have been wrong about that other statue turning her head, but there’s no way I would remember a sitting Minotaur instead of this one.”

  “We own only one Minotaur,” said the second woman.

  “And it has always been posed this way,” said the first.

  They should know, Cora told herself. It’s their museum. But the conversation was already moving on.

  “Evan, I assume this girl is the friend you spoke of,” said the first woman.

  “Yes, this is Cora,” said Evan. Somewhat stiffly, he added, “Cora, these are the women I work for—Eunice and Stesha Metaxas.”

  Cora extended a reluctant hand, but Eunice just stared at her without moving. Her face hot, Cora dropped her hand. “I’m glad to meet you, Miss Metaxas and Miss—uh—”

  “Our first names will be easier,” said Stesha. “You need not use ‘Miss.’”

  “Thank you. Evan’s—um—told me so much about you that I feel as if I know you already.” And I see that he wasn’t exaggerating, she thought. “I’m sorry that I over
­reacted. My friends all say that I’ve got too much imagination. But the Minotaur is such an impressive statue, it’s no wonder I was startled. Will it be returned to the labyrinth once the hedges are clipped?”

  “I regret to say that we have not yet reached a decision as to what spot in the garden it will occupy,” said Eunice. “We have so much preparation for the unveiling that many matters are escaping our attention.”

  Stesha added, somewhat grudgingly, “We are grateful for the help you have given Evan. Is there perhaps a chance that you might help next weekend as well? The unveiling is on Sunday. We could use help on Saturday. Our assistant has left us—”

  “Most inconsiderate of her,” interrupted Eunice.

  “And we could use more hands.”

  “I’d be glad to help on Sunday,” Cora said cautiously, “but Saturday night I—we, Evan and I—are going to a dance at my school.”

  “You may attend your dance,” said Eunice, as if it were up to her. “Perhaps you can come for a few hours on Saturday morning?”

  Cora was willing to go along with the Minotaur story, but she wasn’t willing to go along with this. “I’m saving Saturday so my friends and I can get ready for the dance together.”

  Evan’s face visibly dropped, and Stesha’s voice was cold. “That is our loss.”

  “I can still come on Sunday, though,” she offered.

  Both women nodded gravely. “That will work for our plans,” Eunice said. “And we still have time to order your uniform.”

  “Uniform?” faltered Cora. “Just for working one day? Why?”

  “It is an important day,” said Stesha. “People from all over the city will be here for the unveiling. We must look our best.”

  Eunice patted Cora on the shoulder again. “The uniform is a custom-made tunic. You will look as lovely as any of the statues in our garden.” Coming from her, the compliment had an unpleasant—borderline creepy—undertone.

  Now Stesha spoke up. “If you have recovered from your fit of nerves, let us go measure your height. There is a tape measure in our office.”

  “My height?”

  “For the tunic, of course. The dressmaker will need to know how long to make it.”

  “But I can tell you how tall I am. I’m—”

  “Girls your age are always growing,” interrupted Eunice brusquely. “For such an important day, it is best to be sure.”

  This was getting to be too much. “Is Evan going to wear a tunic too?” asked Cora a bit maliciously.

  “Evan will be suitably attired,” Stesha said. “The two of you will look well matched and appropriate for the occasion.”

  Evan was sitting down now. He had picked up Cora’s mythology book and was idly leafing through it. She could see him roll his eyes at the “well matched” comment, but he still didn’t say anything.

  “Come to our office,” Eunice said. “This will not take long.”

  The Metaxas sisters strode down the hall, Cora trailing unhappily after them.

  What should have been easy turned out to involve a lot of fuss. The sisters had to first get the tape measure and then something to write with. Clearing a spot for Cora to stand in was also a big deal. Next came finding a notepad. After what seemed like an hour, the information had been recorded and Cora was free to leave.

  Evan jumped to his feet as they returned to the foyer. As he did so, a crumpled piece of paper fluttered to his feet. It looked familiar, but Cora was too flustered to look closely. All she wanted to do was get out of there.

  “All set?” asked Evan in a fake-hearty voice.

  Cora gave him a tight smile. “I think so. Finally.”

  “She is perfect,” Eunice told him, to Cora’s surprise. “You are lucky to have found her.”

  “I agree,” said Evan. And he sounded so sincere that Cora forgave him for getting her into all this.

  The next day at lunch Cora and her friends finalized their plans for the day of the dance.

  Hailey, who loved running things, had a notebook and pen ready. “First things first: I think it would be best if we don’t have a sleepover on Friday night,” she said in a brisk, businesslike voice. NO SLEEPOVER, she wrote in big capital letters.

  “Hey, wait,” protested Skye. “Why can’t we have a sleepover?”

  “Because we need to sleep,” said Hailey sternly. “You’ve heard of beauty sleep, right? If we had a sleepover, we’d stay up too late. By the time the dance started, we’d look tired and stressed. So I think we should meet the next morning at eight.”

  This time both Amber and Skye spoke up. “That’s like the middle of the night!” said Amber. “Haven’t you ever heard of beauty sleep?”

  “But we have so much to do! We have to give each other mani-pedis and facials and moisturize our legs and help with each other’s hair. We should work out, too. We want to be calm, yet energized. ”

  “I think we’ll have plenty of time to get everything done if we meet after lunch. Don’t you, Cora?” said Amber.

  Cora jumped. “Don’t I what?”

  Amber rolled her eyes. “Don’t you think we should meet after lunch?” she said with exaggerated patience.

  “Sure. Whatever you want.”

  “Have you been listening to any of this?” asked Hailey.

  “I was thinking about our mythology project.” Cora had actually been thinking about the Minotaur statue, so she wasn’t too far off. “Remind me when it’s due?”

  Hailey flipped the notebook to a different section. “Next Monday. I haven’t started any research for it.”

  Cora sighed. “I’m all caught up in our other classes. But for some reason I haven’t felt like doing anything with mythology.”

  Skye yanked a book out of her overstuffed backpack and started flipping through it. “Let me find the Perseus and Andromeda story. We should definitely— Hey, look at this!” She held out the open book to the other girls. “Here’s a picture of Andromeda. Remind you of anyone?”

  The page showed poor Andromeda chained to a rock in the middle of the ocean. Perseus was flying above her, looking worried. Which made sense, because a huge openmouthed sea monster was on the verge of swallowing Andromeda, who also looked worried.

  “Her hair looks just like yours, Cora,” Skye pointed out. “And her eyes are green like yours too.”

  Amber bent over the picture. “Actually, she looks a lot like you, Cora. That’s kind of weird. I never noticed it before.”

  “Me either,” said Cora. “But you’re right.”

  “And you’re bringing your own personal Perseus to the dance,” teased Hailey.

  Skye had stopped paying attention to them and was going through her mythology book again. “Okay, so for our presentation, we’re going to have to include the story of how Perseus was raised on that little island. And we’ll want to talk about Medusa and her sisters. And—”

  “Wait a minute,” said Cora. “Medusa had sisters?”

  “Uh-huh.” Skye flipped through a few pages until she found the Medusa chapter. “Two of them. Euryale and—I don’t know how to pronounce it—Sthenno. They were just as horrible-looking as Medusa. You sure don’t hear about them as much as Medusa, because it was Medusa who was killed by Perseus. So I guess that would make her more famous.”

  “I can’t believe I missed them!” Cora pulled out her own textbook. “What page are you on?”

  “One hundred forty-three.”

  Quickly Cora leafed through the pages. When she got to the right spot, she paused. Frowning, she turned back a couple of pages. Then she took the book by the spine and gave it a shake.

  Nothing fell out.

  “Um, Cora? What are you doing?” asked Hailey.

  “I’m looking for the right page,” Cora said slowly. An unexpected image had just flashed through her mind.

  Yesterday afternoon. At the museum. When Evan had stood up, a piece of paper had fallen to the floor. From his lap, maybe? Or from the book he’d been reading—which was Cora’s m
ythology textbook.

  She closed her eyes and tried to remember what the piece of paper had looked like. She hadn’t been paying much attention at the time. . . .

  No, she couldn’t remember anything about the way it looked. But here, right in front of her, she could plainly see that the page about Euryale and Sthenno had been torn out.

  Cora knew right away that she couldn’t share the details about the missing book page with her friends. It would have been impossible to explain. As she thought about it that night in bed, she couldn’t even figure out a way to explain it to herself.

  If Evan had torn out the page, why would he have done it? She remembered him saying that her mythology book had gotten a few of the details wrong, but would he really go so far as to tear out the bad pages?

  If he hadn’t done it, then what was the piece of paper she’d seen? And if he hadn’t torn out the page, who had? Those textbooks were brand new. Ms. Finch had made a big deal about “respecting” them.

  But if he had done it—for whatever reason—it meant she was spending all her time with a guy who tore pages out of books and didn’t tell her. . . .

  Which just couldn’t be true. Cora was sure it couldn’t. Maybe she didn’t know everything about human nature, but she knew she could trust her instincts on this. Something weird might be going on, but Evan himself was trustworthy. And he really liked her. Cora sat up in bed and tried to smooth her rumpled sheets. If I didn’t have such a big imagination, this wouldn’t be such a problem, she thought. I would know I could trust what I saw. I wouldn’t freak out about stuff that can’t happen—like statues moving, or Evan looking into my English class.

  But those fantasies had colored everything. However hard she tried, Cora couldn’t feel quite the same about Evan as she had. One way or another, there was something . . . unreliable about him.