Authors: Clea Hantman
Polly just looked exhausted. Pained and exhausted. None of us said anything for probably ten whole minutes. We just sat there in silence.
Then the wail. Era let out this cry, this loud, quivering cry: “I doooonn’t want to go to schoooooooll! It’s work—it’s not fun; I want to go to the Beautorium and I want to eat pretty little sandwiches with handsome young men and I want to dance and sing and play with my
good
sisters. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you…Thalia!”
“Look, it’s not going to do you any good to blame me or Polly….”
“Oh, I don’t blame Polly. I blame you! We wouldn’t be in this mess if you had just succumbed to how you really feel about Apollo. He loved you, Thalia, with all his soul, and now look at us. What will become of us?”
Yep, that hurt. “Oh, okay, fine. It’s not going to do you any good to blame
me.
” I paused for dramatic effect before launching into my soon-to-be incredibly inspirational speech. “C’mon, girls, this can be like a game. We can ride dragons and play with the fairies. So we’ll have to go to
school
in between.” Polly’s mouth hardened into a straight, angry line. “It won’t be long before we get to return home. Look how selfless I am acting right now, giving you this great pep talk. We’re halfway there—I’ll prove that I can put others before myself in no time. C’mon, let’s enjoy the adventure.”
“I don’t want to go on any adventures, Thalia,” Polly said quietly. “Maybe some of these things sound interesting and new and different. But I simply don’t care. I want my old life back. My beautiful serene life. The one where I woke up to a choir of blackbirds every morning, singing just for me. Then Lady Josephine would bring me a large bowl of ambrosia. Who’s going to bring me a large bowl of ambrosia here?”
But she didn’t wait for an answer. Not that I was going to offer to give her one. Sure, maybe they had gotten themselves into this for my sake, but they had offered to help, right?
Polly continued. “And then she would lay out one of my twenty finest silk gowns, unless of course it was Tuesday, in which case she would lay out one of my velveteen pantsuits so I could take Pegasus for a ride through the heavens. After I dressed, she would bring me my jeweled crown because I couldn’t go out without my jeweled crown. When she placed it on my head each morning, she would say, ‘Oh, goddess, high priestess of the heavens, woman of the world, I bow in your presence, for you are a supreme being worthy of any woman’s idolatry and any man’s love.’”
“Yeah, but didn’t all that bowing and supreme-being stuff make you uncomfortable?” I asked, but Polly kept going as if I hadn’t said a thing.
“And then she would escort me down those long, gilded stairs, how I miss those stairs, and then I would meet up with Clio and Calliope and we would play the harp together for hours….”
“And…then,” continued Era, “I would meet up with you after my fabulous morning at the Beautorium, and we would all dance through the gardens on our tippiest toes, twirling and singing and twirling some more. And Pegasus would lie beside us, watching our every move. And occasionally we
would see some boy, a god or even one of the servants, stealing glances at us from behind the large honeysuckle tree.”
“Boys?” I said. “It all goes back to boys, doesn’t it? Don’t you think of anything else?”
But that just set them off. Both of them. Their idle dreaming turned into pointed rage, pointed squarely at me.
I couldn’t understand either one of them—they were both screaming and yelling at me at the same time. I heard words like
beastly
and
selfish
and
scolly wog
(I don’t know what that means, either). And then each of them stood up and stormed away, stomping through two separate doors, neither of which we had yet explored, and slamming them simultaneously, hard.
I just sat there at the table, in the kitchen, where we were to cook things.
Cook things.
Goddesses don’t cook things. Maybe this wasn’t such a grand adventure after all. I hated the idea of cooking and cleaning—those weren’t
real
adventures. And what good were adventures anyhow if I had no partners in crime, for both my sisters were truly miserable and blamed me and only me. And school? What would that really hold for us? Era was right—it sounded like, well, work. The word
work
sends chills down my spine.
I laid my head down on the cold table. It was filled with sad thoughts of work and cleaning and
errands. Thinking of all those things made me grouchy. And sleepy. I hadn’t realized how tired I was until just that moment.
Exhaustion came over me like a wave. My eyelids started to flutter. Better to get some rest, I thought, and think about everything in the morning. But just before I fell asleep, a single and horrifying thought popped into my head:
Could this, in fact, be the dreaded Tartarus…in disguise?
T
hat whole night I dreamed about Apollo. About the look of disappointment and hurt on his face the last time I saw him. And about all the stuff that I did to make him feel that way.
So what happened? What got us into this mess? And why, if Apollo loved me so much, did I hurt him like that?
Well, I was hoping to tell this whole story and just kind of gloss over that whole thing because it’s not something I’m proud of. But now I’m thinking that it’s the most important part of all. And I guess I have to tell it if any of this is going to make any sense. So I’ll shed a little light here. And maybe tell a bit more later.
Anyway, here goes…
Apollo
*
was just standing in Daddy’s chamber when I got there. Which was surprising because, number one, I hadn’t expected him back that night, and
number two, Apollo and Daddy don’t usually hang out all that much.
I was excited to see my best friend. He had been gone two whole weeks, and I’d been dying to tell him about how I’d swapped Hera’s wig with this one I made out of rat hair, which suited her much better. And tons of other stuff that only he could appreciate.
But then I couldn’t help but wonder what business Apollo could have with Daddy. And why had I been summoned? I figured I was in trouble, but for what this time? I’d already been punished for the wig incident.
But then, I was always being called into Daddy’s throne room for my little indiscretions. You know, embarrassing an upper-echelon god, making my wicked stepmom cry, little things like that. Getting into trouble was a typical part of my day.
It’s just that I was always getting bored. I wanted to be more than just party entertainment. Back on Olympus, my sisters and I are sort of a “freebie.” If you have a party and you have some stature and standing in the Titan community, then we have to sing and dance for you and your guests.
It’s law.
It’s scripture.
It’s boring.
I mean, occasionally it’s fine.
For Daddy, well, okay.
But for every Tom, Dick, and Harry Olympian it simply isn’t fair.
And so I guess I just acted out sometimes. And Apollo was usually my partner in crime. He was devilish. He was adventurous. He was loads of fun. ’Course, he wasn’t looking so fun at the moment. Probably an act, I thought, for Daddy’s sake. To cover up his guilt. Oh, what in heavens had he done? I was obviously being implicated as an accomplice! I just hoped I was going to get blamed for something good. Something awfully good.
Apollo looked still and stoic and, well, terribly serious.
“You rang?” I asked nonchalantly.
“Thalia, my dear, dear daughter. Your manners, please,” said Daddy, nodding toward Apollo.
“What? It’s just Apollo—cut me some slack,” I replied. “Hello, Apollo.”
Daddy rolled his eyes at me. “Thalia, you know, you are really a favorite of mine. You have a mind all your own, and you are never afraid to express it. I admire that in a goddess. Just don’t push your luck,” he said, and with that he winked at me.
Apollo just stood there, stiff as a board.
“Slay any dragons while you were away?” I asked him.
“No,” he said, almost under his breath, his eyes
diverted from mine.
“What’s wrong? Did that witch over in Athens finally find out about what you did to her cat? Did she put a hex on you? You seem so out of—”
Daddy cut me short. “Thalia, please. Now, we have some news. Some fabulous, grandiose news that I am just certain is going to thrill you to no end.”
“Well, can you please just get to it, then?” I asked eagerly. I longed to be thrilled.
With another roll of his eyes Daddy said, “I am a very happy man today.” He glanced back and forth between me and Apollo. “Thalia, Apollo is here because he has asked for your hand in marriage. And I have agreed that this will be a fruitful and prosperous union.”
At that moment the world just seemed to freeze. I looked back and forth between my father and Apollo, confused.
“Oh, sure,” I said, venturing a nervous smile toward Apollo. “This is one of your jokes, right? Well, you’re a riot. How did you ever get Daddy to go along?”
Apollo opened his mouth to say something, but Daddy cut him off. “This is not a joke,” he said to me sternly.
I stood there, wide-eyed and stunned. “But this is ridiculous,” I choked out with a nervous giggle. “Apollo, you know I don’t want to get married. Why are
you doing this? What…” A lump the size of a melon was starting to form in my throat, and I couldn’t catch my breath.
“Silence!” my father roared. “Of course you want to marry Apollo, Thalia,” he explained. “Stop this nonsense. You two have much in common, and you obviously love to be with each other—I see it in your eyes, in the gardens, at the festivals.”
“What? You’re kidding, right? Arranged marriages are so 100
B.C.!
You can’t be serious. C’mon, Apollo? Daddy?” Fear and shock were quickly turning to anger. I could feel the blood throbbing in my head.
“Enough, Thalia,” said Daddy.
“This isn’t even fathomable! What do you know of my feelings? Have you ever asked? Have you ever asked me, Apollo?” I cried, turning to my friend and trying to keep my hands from shaking.
But Apollo didn’t look at me. He didn’t answer me. His face was unmoved outside of the slight flush of his cheeks and the quick dart of his eyes away, far away from me.
“Apollo? Apollo!” I cried again.
“You have no say in this matter, dear daughter. The engagement commences now. You will be married in a fortnight. End of discussion.”
“It most certainly is not the end. I will not get married. Shall I count for you both the innumerable reasons? One, I am far too young. Two, while I am
very fond of you, Apollo, and enjoy hunting with you and lunching with you and shopping with you and flying with you, I do not think I love you like a wife. I don’t think so. No, I do not. Three, I am too young. Oh, I said that one already. I want to be a huntress and go on battles and never marry and—”
“Silence. Thalia, the time has come for you to grow up.”
And I could tell Daddy meant it. He didn’t say another word for a whole long minute. I looked at Apollo again, and he stood there stiff as a board, looking stunned, his mouth pressed into a thin, straight line. I think he was almost shaking like me, but he was fighting it something fierce. I felt a twinge of guilt—I didn’t want to hurt him. But get real. I was far too young for this.
“I don’t think I need to marry to become a grown-up,” I spat. “I don’t think I have to listen to my father’s ludicrous ideas or stand here and feel sorry for a man whom I do not love.”
Apollo winced.
“Enough,” Daddy roared. “How dare you talk to me like that? This marriage will take place whether you like it or not.”
“You cannot make me.”
“You obviously have not been paying attention. I am Zeus. The great and powerful Zeus. I think this marriage is the best thing for you, and Hera thinks
you need to grow up, and therefore you will marry. Now, leave my chamber at once. You must begin preparations. Leave.”
Apollo did not say a word. His breaths were low and shallow. His face hard. It broke my heart to see him as such, it really did, but sympathy is not a reason to get married. Still, what choice did I have?
I knelt at my father’s feet. “Please,” I whispered. “Please, Father.”
He just bellowed that awful word again. “Leave.”
And so with that I left.
T
hat first night on earth I dreamed about this stuff all night. And the very first thing I said to my sisters the next morning was a heartfelt “sorry.” I really meant it. It wasn’t just because of the nightmares I’d had. I’d had a minor epiphany sometime before dawn. My sisters were here because they’d supported me through the whole Apollo situation, even at a hefty cost to themselves. So I decided I had better start feeling some remorse. And besides, if we weren’t getting along, who was I going to talk into making me some food?
Era rushed over and hugged me so tight, my back made a monstrously large cracking noise. Which, to my surprise, felt outrageously good. It was stiff from falling asleep at the table.
Era is a sucker for an apology. She might have gone to sleep mad, but she can’t stay that way, especially when she hears the
s
word. And Polly, well, she simply doesn’t like conflict of any sort.
“I suppose we have no other choice but to just barrel ahead and do this. Together,” said Polly with her trademark sweet smile. “It’s the only way we will ever live up to Daddy’s challenges, and besides, I do love you, Thalia, even when you’re a selfish little girl with only adventure on the brain.”
Hmpf.
“Well, I’m hungry,” said Era. And I was, too. We took a good look around the kitchen. We opened the cupboards and doors but couldn’t find anything that resembled food. It was obvious: Hera was out to starve us. This had probably been her plan all along.
“No handmaidens, no cooks—how does one survive?” cried Era, her perfectly heart-shaped lips turned down in a pout.
“You know, maybe they have food at school,” Polly offered.
“Do you think they really could have food there?” Era asked suspiciously.
“I think so.”
I didn’t really buy it—I figured this was just Polly’s way of getting us to go to school. Still, I was willing to try, for food. And we had to go, anyway.
“Only one problem,” I said. “While I don’t know much about this modern-day-earth thing, I have a feeling that chiffon nighties with big holes are not proper school attire.”
“Doesn’t your room have clothes, Thalia?” asked Era.
“My room?”
“Yes, your room. Mine has some clothes, and although they aren’t velvet and silk, they aren’t awful,” said Era.
“I haven’t been to my room. I have a room?” I wondered aloud.
“Surely it’s that one,” said Polly as she pointed to
an unexplored closed door.
I opened it to find no clothes. Just a strange, shiny white basin with a silver handle—it looked like a fancy, modern version of the toilets I’d seen when I’d visited earth in the past. There was also another basin big enough for someone to lie in—a bath, I guessed. But who had baths and toilets inside? That wasn’t very civilized.
“I don’t want this room,” I called out.
“Well, you can’t have mine,” said Era. “I need it. The bed is almost as soft as my bed at home. I need my beauty sleep.”
“There has got to be another room. Let’s have a look around,” said Polly. But we looked. And there was no other room. Daddy had screwed up again. Urgggh.
“You’re just going to have to use that room with the bath, Thalia. Now let’s get dressed and get to school,” directed Polly.
“Whoa! Wait a second—I’m not taking that room. One of you must share. This is not acceptable, wholly incomprehensible, and—and—and…”
But then I thought back to my early-morning epiphany. And the reason we were here. And I shut up. I would take this little room with the tub and the toilet. It was what I deserved. And who knew, maybe when things calmed down a bit, I could trade with Era. This room had one thing Era loved that I bet her room did not have: a big, well-lit, almost glowing
mirror. Just like the one in the Beautorium, Era’s most favorite place back home.
“Never mind,” I said.
“This will be fine,” I said.
“I’ll take what I deserve,” I said.
“Let me just fix my hair in this incredibly gigantic mirror and I will be ready to go,” I said. Hey, it couldn’t hurt to plant the seed early.
“Well, you’ll need to wear some different clothes, Thalia. Come into my room, and we will pick out something,” said Polly.
The clothes were wild. Polly had already picked out the most plainest Janest dress of the bunch, which was fine because it meant more of the good stuff for me. I found a skirt the color of a ripe orange and a shirt the shade of a juicy plum, which I thought would look perfect with my dirty-blond bob. But the shoes were the best. They were almost squishy soft, not like the itchy rope sandals we wore back home. And they tied up all tight to my foot. And they were bright turquoise and shimmery silver. I felt like I could run a thousand miles in these shoes. So what if I had to sleep in a tub from now on? I had fancy new shoes. Life was swell.
Era came into Polly’s room, her cheeks flushed and rosy, dressed, well, like a goddess. She’d piled her hair on top of her head, but some of her long, golden blond curls wouldn’t obey, and they cascaded down
around her shoulders. Her dress was beautiful and fit her as if it had been sewn straight onto her body. Trimmed in lace and beads, it was befitting a goddess. The only odd part was that she had chosen these painful-looking shoes that pitched her foot forward and into a teeny-tiny point. Era is dainty, sure, but she has massive feet. I couldn’t believe she had gotten them into such achingly small shoes.
“And how are you going to walk in those?” asked Polly. In case you haven’t noticed, she’s the practical one.
“They’re not as uncomfortable as they look. And besides, now I tower over even you, Polly.”
“Take them off.”
“No! You can’t tell me what to do. These shoes are the best thing about this dreaded place. They stay.”
“Fine, do as you please, but you will not be using your powers to get home later when your very own feet feel like they’re going to fall off.”
I kept quiet. I was on Era’s side on this one. She and I had found something in common on earth. Sure, hers were high and pointy and mine were flat and squishy, but amidst the hunger and awkwardness of our new life, we’d both taken solace in shoes.
Seeing as we were starving and now, hopefully, appropriately dressed, we decided to set off. Polly grabbed the directions to school, and we headed outside. Athens, Georgia, really wasn’t much like Athens, Greece. But it was beautiful. The streets were lined
with cherry blossom trees (at least I recognized the trees), and a moist, hot wind blew the little white leaves all around us by the thousands. They looked like tiny little enchanted snowflakes.
Polly’s eyes smiled. The sights and smells of nature do it for her every time. Sure, there were lots and lots of houses everywhere, but there were dog-woods and azaleas, too. We turned right onto a large, wide street and saw some buildings that sort of resembled the structures back home. They were awash with bright white and had tall, lofty pillars out front. They were nothing like our new house, which was simply a well-lit box with dead ferns out front. Polly would probably fix that, though. She has a green thumb.
“I don’t smell any food yet,” said Era, who was hobbling along a few steps behind us. Polly told her to be patient.
“Well, so far modern-day earth seems to be completely devoid of leprechauns and dragons. How do you think a girl is supposed to have fun around here?” I asked after a few minutes.
“You don’t even know if leprechauns are fun,” Polly replied. “And I know for a fact dragons are not. What about these monstrously loud horseless chariots everyone seems to be riding? They look like fun, sort of.”
“Yeah,” I said, watching one of the chariots race
by us. “They look all right. Figures Hera and Daddy didn’t provide us with one of those.”
A few minutes later we came to a stop in front of a huge building. “Here we are,” said Polly. “I wonder what we do now?”
Just then a plump, energetic woman came rushing our way. Her cheeks were all flushed. “You girls must be the new exchange students, the Moose sisters, is it?”
“Actually, it’s pronounced ‘Muse,’” I said.
“Very well, good, okay, I’m Mrs. Haze, and I’m the assistant vice principal. Welcome to Nova High, home of the Titans. Now, you girls are late, so let’s get a move on. Which one of you girls is Polly? You, dear, the tall one, are you the eldest?” But she was looking at Era. It was the shoes.
“No, I’m Era. Is there food here?”
“Ha, aren’t you delightful, your host parents sent you off this morning without breakfast? You poor things. Well, just hold on a few hours and you can get lunch in the cafeteria. Now, Polly, your first class is literature with Ms. Oakes in room 3B; that’s through these doors, turn left at the nurses’ station, go five doors down and turn right out on to the courtyard, then make your first left and third right, and you will find the class in there. Go on, hurry, you’re already late.”
“But—but we’re not together?” Polly stuttered.
“No, dear, of course not. As I’m sure you know,
your sisters are freshmen, and you’re a sophomore. Now, hurry, go on. Oh, wait, here is the rest of your schedule. You can meet up with your sisters at these steps after school. Now, run.”
Polly can’t resist doing as she is told. She rushed off to literature, alone.
Mrs. Haze then turned to Era and me. “Now, you two have your first class together. Biology with Mr. Zeitland.” Era turned to me and beamed. “Come this way—I will take you there.” We followed Mrs. Haze down the hall and passed what we could only assume was the aforementioned cafeteria. The smells of food wafted outside and into the hall. It wasn’t ambrosia, but it did smell edible.
“Please, we must stop here and eat,” Era begged.
“Sorry, no can do, they aren’t finished cooking for another two hours. Gosh, you really are a hungry little thing, aren’t you?” She looked at Era sympathetically. “Okay, let’s stop in my office. I’ve got a candy bar in my desk you can have. It isn’t all that nutritious, but it’s something to put in your belly.”
We stopped in Mrs. Haze’s office, and she pulled out a small, shiny brown log with writing on it. Era grabbed it and bit right into it without even offering me any. “Dear girl, you have to take the wrapper off first; where did you three come from, anyway? Don’t they have candy bars there?”
“No, ma’am. No candy bars in, um, Europe.”
“Hmmm.” Mrs. Haze gave us a dubious once-over.
“This is sooooo delicious; it’s so sweet,” cooed Era as she gobbled the last bite.
I didn’t need any, anyway.
Mrs. Haze then took us to our classroom. We walked into dead silence. Every eye in the room was fixated squarely on us. Mrs. Haze whispered something to the teacher, Mr. Zeitland, and then everyone in the room started whispering.
“Class, please welcome Nova High’s new exchange students, Era and Thalia Moose. Girls, would you like to tell us something about yourselves, like where you’re from, or your hobbies?”
We just stood there, looking at each other. “Um, Europe,” I said, taking my cue from Era, which probably wasn’t my smoothest move. Everyone laughed.
“Europe, okay, where in Europe?” asked the teacher.
“Uh, Greece,” I said.
“May we sit down now?” Era asked. “My feet are killing me.”
Everyone laughed again, and Era smiled and curtsied. She loved having every eye on her. She loved being the center of attention. I didn’t really mind it, either.
“Sure, go ahead and take those two empty seats on the right.”
My heart started to race, in a good way. Everyone
looked so, well, different and exotic and beautiful. Not beautiful like my sisters and some of the other goddesses, but more like incredible paintings or unusual plants. Beautiful because they looked so unique.
All eyes seemed to be watching our every move as we sat down. Era was moving very self-consciously, positioning herself perfectly in the stiff wooden chair, fluttering her eyelashes and thrusting her chin out proudly. I wondered if I looked as nervous and excited as she did.
“Class, please be still,” said the teacher. “I need to talk to Mrs. Haze outside for a moment, so just be patient and quiet—I’ll be back in a flash.”
They left the room, and everyone started to chat. The back row of the classroom was lined with pretty, perky, perfect girls. Three of the girls were huddled together whispering, and for a second my eyes met with one of the three as she slipped a folded piece of paper to the other two. Then they all smiled these Cheshire, mile-wide grins my way. For some reason, the looks in their eyes gave me the chills, and it took a huge effort to smile back with the same kind of smug, fake expression that they were flashing me.
“Wow, look at all the handsome young men.” Era giggled.
“Oh, please,” I said, shifting uncomfortably in my seat. “Those girls in the back—have you noticed,
they’re just staring at us?”
“Everyone is staring at us. Everyone,” Era crooned happily.
And she was right. At that moment Mr. Zeitland came back into the room, and everyone quieted down.
“Okay, where were we? Yes, so now we were talking about the various species of native American tree frogs. Who can tell me what the common name for the
Phylomedusa bicolor
is?”
“Monkey tree frogs!” I shouted.
The class laughed again. A lot.
“That’s right—very good, Thalia. Say, what do we say next time, if you know the answer, you raise your hand. Then I will call on you for the answer. Okay?”
I raised my hand. Mr. Zeitland looked at me funny and said, “Yes, Thalia?”
“Okay,” I answered.
“Don’t be a smart-ass,” he muttered, and then he went on to lecture, dryly I might add, about frog gizzards. I felt a little bit hurt by that comment, but whatever. I didn’t see the problem—I’d known the answer, after all. Isn’t that what school is all about? Anyway, I could already tell I’d prefer to socialize and people watch than pay attention to frog talk. Maybe this place could be my adventure after all. The kids were all so wild looking. They didn’t look anything like my sisters or me. Sure, they had eyes, a nose, a
mouth, hair, and all that jazz, but they looked so, so cool. Even the girls in the back looked cool, although they didn’t act it—they just whispered through the whole lecture. Sure, the lecture was boring, but that was just plain rude. Something told me these girls took pride in being rude.