“What power did you get?” I ask.
Rada, apparently over being mad at me, or just sick of sitting by quietly, jumps in. “Zahara is incredibly smart.”
“Oh yeah?” I turn back to the harpy. “What’s seven times seven?”
“Forty-nine,” she says absently.
“Damn. You didn’t even have to think about it.”
Rada sighs. “You realize that incredibly smart means more so than a fourth grader? Now give her a really hard question.”
I gotta take a minute on that one. But finally it comes to me. “How many times has Miss Wisconsin won Miss America?”
Zahara looks utterly bewildered. She leans around me to ask Rada, “Is she serious?”
“Ha!” I’m delighted. “Stumped ya!”
“I can’t believe I’m asking this,” Zahara says, “But how many times did Miss Wisconsin win?”
I’m able to look straight at her this time without wincing. Sometimes they’d have these inspirational speakers for some of the pageants. It was nearly always ’bout how beauty comes from the inside. Normally it’d be paid for by someone wanting to sell us waxing or teeth whitening.
Mama said pageants and irony didn’t go together and I guess that right there is a good example of why.
This harpy girl reminds me a bit of this one speaker who’d been in some terrible fire. She talked about all the surgeries she had done to fix her face, but I thought she probably needed at least a dozen more to get herself back in the realm of acceptable-looking. The big thing she talked about was how ugly can be beautiful. The next week I told Mama I was just gonna let my roots go because of the burned girl. I thought it was a real nice gesture, but Mama threatened to light a real fire under my ass if I didn’t get it in the car and make our salon appointment.
Now, looking at Zahara, I remember the Japanese word that speaker used that I really liked. Wabi-sabe. It meant finding beauty in things as they are. I focus in on her eyes and realize they’re nice, a bright blue with surprisingly dark thick lashes. But eyes is kinda a cop-out; everyone’s got pretty eyes if you look.
I finally answer Zahara’s Miss Wisconsin question. “It was two,” I tell her. “And also, your wings are just gorgeous. Look at them feathers. Real, I’m guessing? Between them and your legs, you could be a Vegas showgirl. Off the main strip, but still—”
Zahara laughs and the sound is like a rusty old chain saw. “Thank you, human.”
I turn back to Rada who is looking at me with an actual real smile. You know, her freckles aren’t that bad, really.
“When does this thing get started?” I ask.
“When Athena deems it time,” she responds.
Right then, there’s a strange high-pitched whine, almost like mic feedback, and a woman appears on the stage. Everyone is silent.
Athena has arrived.
7
On stage, all nine of us sit straighter as a very tall, nicely muscled blonde takes the podium. While I was chatting with the girls, the audience filled to capacity with even more angry girl Amazon students. Most are in private school girl uniforms but some wear leather skirts and bodices. Almost all carry a bow, a knife, a sword, or some kind of weapon. Overall, they’re not what I’d call a super friendly crowd.
“Ladies,” Athena says, then pauses, as if pained. “And gentlemen,” she adds, that last word sticking in her throat. Her voice carries throughout the hall as if she’s on a sound system.
A ripple of unease runs through the crowd, followed by some hisses. Athena raises her arms—which don’t have an ounce of wobble—and silence falls.
“My women,” she says, her silver eyes scanning the crowd. “I know this is not our way. I know men are not normally permitted on our island.”
There’s a murmur of agreement, and I shade my eyes against the stage lights, checking out our audience. Quite a few of them have arrows notched on their bows and more than one is aiming at Constantine’s crotch.
I nudge Zahara and whisper, “You see that?”
She nods. “What did I tell you? Target practice.”
I wait for Athena to tell her students to chill out, but she takes a slightly different tactic.
“I, Athena, daughter of Zeus…I promise you, we would not allow males on our campus without good reason. My father died and another must take his place. Seeing as how my father’s inability to control his own masculine urges led to his downfall, I argued that the boys should be stripped of their powers without further ado.”
The girls cheer this idea.
Even though it would’ve been nice to compete against fewer people, nothing about that idea sounds fair.
“However,” Athena continues, “the other gods felt strongly that this would go against Zeus’s final wishes. With Mount Olympus Academy in ruin, there were few places on earth equipped to host the competition for choosing the next leader of the gods.”
Athena pauses. “Amazon Academy,” she says, which is followed by a rousing cheer from the crowd. “And Underworld Academy,” she finishes, to a series of boos and hisses.
A man in the front row stands up, his own arms raised for silence.
“Underworld Academy is perfectly capable of hosting the competition,” he says.
“Hades…” Athena warns from the podium, but the man pulls his toga up past his knees and leaps onto the stage.
“You’re on an island entirely full of women!” he yells, grabbing one of the contestants, an extremely good-looking Asian guy. Like insanely good looking. Mouth dropping, lip licking, eye-catchingly attractive. He’s a California ten plus ten.
“Who is that?” I ask Rada.
“Hades. God of the dead.” she whispers to me.
“No, no.” As Hades releases the Asian guy, I point directly to him. “The smokin’ hot hottie.”
Rada glances in the boy’s direction and then quickly away again. “That’s Sora. I can’t look at him.”
“Huh?” I ignore Hades, who’s still ranting about his school not being chosen. “Why not?”
Zahara leans in. “Because,” she cackles, “the last time she did, she drooled all down the front of her shirt.”
Rada’s face goes bright red. “I’m not the only one drooling. He’s got the good looks of a god. It’s what Zeus gave him.”
Hades stomps across the stage, pulling our attention back to him. “Amazon Academy might sound like heaven,” Hades goes on. “But there’s a dark side to this haven of hoo-hoo!”
Athena sighs heavily. “Get it out of your system.”
“A rotten underbelly!” Hades repeats, yanking a dark-skinned boy out of his chair. The contestant immediately shifts into a lion and takes a swipe at the god of the dead. “You won’t leave here with your boy bits—”
“Uncle, I warn you,” Athena says in a low cold voice that sends shivers down my spine. “You are well aware we do not practice castration here at Amazon Academy.”
At the word castration the lion pivots toward Athena, baring his teeth. Constantine, however, seems almost interested. I guess maybe it would at least make his jeans more comfortable.
Hades is still busy avoiding Athena’s eyes, as she continues. “Maybe you should tell the contestants what the price of admission to Underworld Academy is?”
“Oh,” Hades pulls at his shirt collar. “You just have to die.”
There’s a sudden crack of thunder, and I’m super impressed by Hade’s marketing team, but then I realize even he’s confused, looking around for the source.
Rada nudges me and then jerks her chin toward the girl in the sari sitting a few seats down from us.
She seems to be trying to make herself smaller. “Excuse me,” she mumbles.
“Was that you, girl?” I ask.
She nods, her color rising. “I inherited Zeus’s thunder and I can’t quite contr—” There’s another crack and the lion spins again, his hair raised in an alarmed ruff down his back. But he has no idea which way to flee.
Hades plants himse
lf in front of us contestants. “Come on. You want Athena’s boot on your back for the entirety of this competition, or would you rather come to Underworld Academy where every night is a party and it’s always night?” He grins at us in the same way a scary old man asking us to get into his van in exchange for candy would.
And yet, everyone sorta just sits and stares at him, like they’re actually thinking about his offer.
I can’t believe this is even debatable. Am I the only one who heard the part about having to die?
Mama once signed me up for this Bald is Beautiful pageant. The prize was a trip to Disney World and I’d been wanting to go real bad. It was meant for kids with cancer, so it seemed maybe not nice for a professional like me to even participate. Not to mention that I was healthy as a horse. But Mama said them cancer kids were selfish. They already went to Disney all the time with the Make-a-Wish folks, for them to go again with this pageant prize was dirty double dipping.
In the end, though, I didn’t do the pageant. I’d like to say my conscience caught up with me, but the real sticking point was when Mama realized nobody was gonna be fooled by the bald cap she’d bought. She wanted to shave my head for real.
There’s some things that aren’t worth giving up for a free trip to Disney World.
And even though I wouldn’t mind relocating to a co-ed school for this contest, there’s no way I’m dying just to have more boys to flirt with.
“I’ll stay here with the thunder girl—” I point to her, wanting a name.
“Prisha.”
“Yeah, I’ll stay here with Prisha, rather than dying, thanks,” I say loudly. Hades glares at me.
“Same here,” says Rada, and the other contestants nod their heads in agreement. Hades raises his arms in frustration, but leaves the stage, disappearing in a poof of fire.
“As I was saying before the dramatics,” Athena continues, looking not a bit ruffled. “The competition to decide who will be the next leader of the gods is being held here at Amazon Academy, regardless of the fact that half the contenders are male. While this violates our custom, it will give Amazons the chance to instill our own way of life, our values, and the high esteem we hold for our own sex into each and every contestant.”
“So important,” Rada agrees heartily. I guess as an Amazon she’s gonna rubberstamp anything Athena says. It also occurs to me that she’s totally got hometown advantage.
Beside me, Zahara’s a little more skeptical. “You can take the boy out of the toxic masculinity, but can you really take the toxic masculinity out of the boy?” she queries in a quiet undertone.
“Toxic what?” I say, probably not in my quietest whisper. “You telling me these boys are poisonous or something?”
Athena is suddenly standing in front of the three of us. “Ladies, there is a lot of chatter in this section.”
Rada immediately goes so red I’m afraid her face might burn off. “I’m so sorry,” she whispers.
Zahara nods. “We’ll stop.”
I know Athena’s right. Stage-side whispering isn’t in good taste. Save it for the judge, Mama used to say. She also used to say, “Bury your mistakes in roses, so nobody knows how bad they stink.”
“Excuse me, we were discussing this very important topic amongst ourselves.”
“You were?” Athena skewers me with a skeptical look. “Please tell me more.”
I gulp and smile and then pushing my shoulders back, I stand gracefully. One hand on my hip, the other at my side. Right hip forward. Left foot slightly back. Feet in a pretty feet formation. It’s as natural to me as breathing. As is delivering my opinion on tough topics in front of a crowd.
“We all want world peace. That much is obvious. And sure it’d be easier if us girls could just get rid of all the angry boys. But we can’t. We need boys to help us make babies. And I’d argue we need them for other things too. Without boys, who will take out the garbage? Who will open the tight pickle jars? And it’s not just these little things. Imagine our world without all the tall monuments men build because they’re so impressed with their wieners? In conclusion, when given the correct guidance boys can be really good kissers and if we could all remember that, maybe we might someday actually have world peace. Thank you.”
I nod to Athena and sit.
There is dead silence. It stretches out to where it becomes a little uncomfortable. Maybe I said the wrong thing? I run back through my answer and it was solid. An intro, at least three specific examples, and a conclusion.
Sophia stands. “That peasant does not speak for me.”
“Nor I.” Prisha stands with a roll of thunder.
Whoa. Now that I’ve gotten a good look at her I can tell she’s definitely competition in the looks department. She wears her sari and head scarf with casual grace, and her skin is absolute perfection. I’m officially jealous.
Prisha continues, “Not that she’s a pheasant, but I was raised in an all-female coven and we never had any difficulty in taking out our own trash.”
The lion dude stands. “I, Malik, am not here to take out trash or open these jars of pickles or make monuments. I have come to claim the powers of Zeus.” After a slight pause, he adds, “And I do not take kissing directions.” He folds his arms over his chest, looking pleased with himself. It’s a decent personal statement. Lacking in detail, but very clear.
“Uh, Sora here.” The Asian guy stands.
All eyes are on him. He is just so…I wipe a bit of drool from my mouth. Even the man-haters are looking on in appreciation. I have a weird desire to feed him grapes as he lounges in a toga. What the hell? I shake the thought from my head.
Next to me Rada whispers, “I’d love to nock his arrow in my bow.”
“Damn, girl.” I grin at her. She shrugs. I am really starting to like Rada.
“I want to eat the flesh from his bones,” Zahara adds in. Rada and I both turn to stare at her. “What? Harpies are not gentle lovers.”
“I didn’t prepare a speech, but I’ve got a question,” Sora continues.
He is definitely the hottest of all the guys. I send a glance over at Alaric to make sure. He winks at me and I wink back, with an upper lip tongue touch thrown in for some extra sauciness.
As I turn my attention back to Sora, I realize he’s looking at me. “Okay, so if a girl doesn’t give you any notes after kissing, does that mean you totally aced it?”
“I’ll rate your performance,” yells someone in the audience and surprisingly there are a few catcalls and lots of laughter. So not all angry-girl man-haters, then.
Since a lot of the contestants are now standing, I get up on my feet once more. “Well, Sora, that depends on—”
On either side of me Rada and Zahara stand as well.
“You already spoke,” Zahara objects.
“I had a follow-up question directed my way, Zahara.” Geez, for a super-smart person there’s a lot she doesn’t seem to know.
“Why is everyone standing up and talking?” Rada adds. “You’re all interrupting Athena. And now I’m doing it too. It’s like a sickness.”
“Yes,” Sophia loudly agrees. She points a finger at me. “And that one is the main carrier and transmitter. Her rudeness is spreading.”
“Ladies,” Alaric stands. “I understand how you feel. I feel it too. As the heir to my father’s dukedom, I was raised in a world of decorum and ceremony. But let’s not be too hard on little Brandee Jean. As the only person on this stage without blue blood, we’ll need to be patient with her.” He tips another wink my way, like this is all just a joke, but his words aren’t quite matching up with his face. “And let’s at least give her credit for making it here. My poor bastard half-brother, Trevor, seems to have lost his nerve. As a blood relative, and in the tradition of succession practiced by English royalty for centuries, I would like to formally request that Trevor’s powers be bestowed upon me.”
“Absolutely not!” Rada’s bow leaps from her shoulder. Is she going to shoot him? Escalation muc
h?!
Sophia takes to the air. “I will not allow such an unfair advantage!” She hovers above us.
“Let him have it!” Malik says with a dangerous smile. “Take one down before the competition even begins!”
It’s difficult to hear what anybody else says after that. Everyone bursts out arguing over who should get the missing Trevor’s powers and whose turn it is to speak. I sneak a peek at Athena and she’s watching us all like she’s trying to figure out which one of us to murder first.
And then to top it all off, Constantine stands up on his chair. His boner points out at the crowd like an accusing finger. “Stop looking at me like I’m here to steal your virginity. I’m gay. Okay? I. Am. GAY!”
His announcement is followed by another crack of thunder, this one strong enough to shake the stage. Prisha looks totally mortified.
“Silence!” Athena shouts, and I guess goddesses are pretty used to people doing what they say, because she seems totally miffed when nobody settles. “That’s it!” she says. “I’m putting everyone in time out.”
“Whatever, lady,” I say to her, my mouth getting ahead of my good sense. “You can’t put BJ in a corner.”
But beside me, Rada puts her face in her hands, her gorgeous red hair flowing over her shoulders. “Oh no,” she moans. “Not time out.”
“What’s the big deal?” I ask, reaching out to comfort her.
“No,” she shrieks, slapping me away. “It’ll take your hand right off!”
Apparently, Rada’s superpower is not mental stability, because I have no idea what the flip she’s talking about.
Then, I see it. A black shadow is zipping around her feet, weaving an enclosure as it repeats the pattern. There’s one around my feet, too, climbing rapidly. I’ve just got time to pull my arms close and get a glance at everyone else—Malik has shifted back into a lion and is trying to leap out of his box—when mine closes over my head.
The noise stops immediately.
I am completely and utterly alone.
Amazon Princess Page 5