by Audrey Hart
―Well, I‘m touched, Zeus.‖
Yes, we‘re that couple, the nauseating duo with the perma-grins. And now we‘re drying off in the sun, lying atop an isolated bank in the grass.
The sun is that perfect kind of sun, where you‘re warm but your eyes don‘t sting and you don‘t wish you had sunglasses. It‘s heaven.
For a minute, I worry that I‘m mistaking the dazzle of Olympus for actual chemistry. This place is jaw-dropping. Maybe I would be happy here with any guy leading me around. I mean, look at this patio on the cliff. It‘s a view of the world. Who wouldn‘t be giddy here? As a test, I picture Zeus and me sitting in a dull food court at the mall near school. We‘d be fine.
We‘d have just as much stuff to talk about.
―Zeus, can I ask you something?‖
―Sure.‖
―How did you get your powers?‖
―It was a long time ago,‖ he says.
―Yeah, I know that. But how?‖
He shakes off the question. ―It‘s complicated. I‘ll tell you about it another time.‖ He turns to face me. ―What about you?‖
―Well, I just got them, I guess. Has it been a week yet? Let‘s see…
day one, nymph defense. Day two, chased by wild two-headed dogs. Day three…honestly, it‘s hard to keep track,‖ I say, and smile.
But Zeus doesn‘t smile back. He seems serious, more serious than I‘ve seen him yet.
―And…how did you get them?‖
I shrug. ―They just…showed up,‖ I say, squinting at him. ―Why?‖ But he doesn‘t answer me. He just does that guy-not-listening thing and climbs up off the ground.
―Are you okay?‖
―You really don‘t know how you got your powers? Or you won‘t tell me?‖ he says.
―What are you talking about?‖ I say.
―Nothing. It‘s just…forget it.‖ He sighs.
He‘s bored of me. He‘s annoyed. I never should have started asking questions about his powers.
―You just don‘t know what it‘s like, Zoe. For five hundred years we can do anything we want. No one can stop us. And then one day, without warning, you show up. And suddenly you can do anything too.‖
―But I don’t do anything I want,‖ I say. ―I‘m not Dio.‖
―Look, my friends aren‘t jerks. I know you don‘t like Dio but you can‘t judge him until you‘ve been up here for five hundred years. And on some level, we must have done something right, because the humans down there, they‘re all still trying to please us.‖
―Zeus, no offense, but you sound kind of smug.‖
―I‘m just defending my friends.‖
―Well, can‘t you admit that maybe Dio‘s gotten a little out of control if he‘s ordering little nymphs killed for no reason?‖
―He didn‘t order her to be killed. He ordered her to be captured. And why do you think I was off wandering the forest in disguise in the first place? I was trying to stop it. We‘re not monsters, Zoe.‖ He walks away and it would be so easy to run down the mountain, away from him, just let the earth carry me down. But I owe myself more.
I owe us more.
―I‘m sorry,‖ I say. ―I didn‘t mean to criticize you and your friends. It‘s just, every time you talk about how close you all are, I feel a little more alone. I mean, when we met, you were talking about how you were bored of them. But up here, it‘s like you‘re totally…‖
―Different. I know.‖
―You do?‖
―That‘s what‘s so hard about it, Zoe. All these frustrations I‘ve kept inside because I have no one up here to talk about it with. And then I opened up to you and I brought you up here, and of course part of me feels very guilty about that.‖
―Maybe I really should go,‖ I say.
There‘s silence in the tall grass and it‘s all my fault. I bit his head off.
I‘m impatient and jealous and I should have read all CeeCee‘s magazines and learned about how to talk to boys because obviously I don‘t know how.
Zeus is going to walk away from me just like I walked away from Columbia Darren, because that‘s karma for you. I don‘t belong anywhere, especially here, in this place that looks like the romance novels in the way back of the school library. Greeley. Aunt Sophia. Uncle Alex.
Home. I feel so alone.
―You can‘t go,‖ Zeus says.
―Why not?‖
―Because.‖
―Because why?‖
―Because they won‘t let you, Zoe. And together, with all their powers, they can do anything.‖
They won‘t let me?
My lips start quivering. This is easily the worst, multi-tiered letdown I‘ve ever experienced. Zeus isn‘t telling me to stay because of him, because he‘ll miss me and wants me close to him. He‘s telling me to stay because his friends are dangerous. They can do anything they want.
They can even kill me.
Chapter 26
Zeus reaches forward and grazes my necklace.
―Don‘t worry. It‘s not as bad as it sounds,‖ he says. ―If worst comes to worst, you could always bribe the goddesses with jewelry, you know.‖ I smack him on the arm, grateful that he knew I needed to laugh. He flexes his shoulders and his golden wings unfurl and then he‘s airborne, zooming up and into a large window. When he comes back, he‘s carrying a board of some kind and chalk.
―What is that for?‖
―Gods and goddesses school is now in session,‖ he says with a grin. ―Are you ready for your first lesson?‖
He‘s the most adorable boy ever.
―Let‘s start with Zeus,‖ I say.
―Zeus, god of the sky,‖ he says, as seriously and teacherly as he can. ―As you might have noticed, Zeus can fly.‖
―Should I be writing this down?‖
He grins. ―Zeus also makes very impressive lightning bolts, if I do say so myself.‖
―What a modest god is Zeus.‖
He laughs. ―Okay, moving on, we have Hera.‖
―The nicest girl ever, so sweet, really.‖ He points at me and I zip my lip shut. I‘m so grateful that sarcasm was invented long before modern times.
―Hera‘s power is over darkness, over nightfall. She can shape and manipulate it.‖
―Darkness?‖ I had always read that Hera was the goddess of marriage and childbirth. Then again, from what I‘ve seen so far, darkness is a better fit. ―Okay,‖ I nod. ―Who else?‖
―Well, Persephone has the best powers, if you ask me. She controls the seasons. The seasons are the backbone of everything.‖
―I never thought of it that way. But it‘s true,‖ I say, realizing that if summer never came, I would never go on digs, would never have come to Greece, would never have met him.
―She works really hard. Anyway—‖
―Wait. Works hard? There are four seasons. How hard can that be?‖
―Look up.‖
All I see is what I‘ve already seen, the same placid blue ceiling of sky, the same fluffy harmless clouds. I don‘t know what I‘m supposed to be seeing.
―Seasons are always changing,‖ Zeus says. ―The first day of summer is the beginning of the end of summer.‖
―That‘s deep.‖
―Well, you know, five hundred years.‖
Something shifts in me. I worry that I‘m too young for him even though we‘re the same age. He‘s looking around again and I‘m afraid to ask what he‘s looking for. This boy isn‘t a boy.
He‘s a man with five hundred more years of experience than me. That‘s a long time, and I suddenly feel young and foolish.
―Hey, Zoe.‖
―Yes.‖
―Um,‖ he blushes. ―I can‘t remember what I was going to say.‖
―Happens to me all the time.‖
―Really? Because it doesn‘t happen to me that much.‖ I know enough to not say anything in return. He was definitely flirting and it‘s definitely my moment to savor it and smile, unsure of where to go from here and excited abo
ut being so unsure, about caring so much.
Maybe being a teenager is like running in place. You could do it for four years, you could do it for five hundred years, but you‘d never really get anywhere new, you would just stay there forever.
We‘ve moved on to the gardens and we‘re standing under the cover of a plum tree. Zeus is right. Though I don‘t want to overdo it, I could go on about these plums for centuries. I didn‘t know plums could be this perfect, firm to the touch but exploding with juice and flavor. They are the definition of ―ripeness.‖ At Greeley, all the fruit is either a day old or a day short of being ripe.
I almost wish Zeus would walk away for just one minute, because if I put my mind to it and didn‘t care, I could probably eat ten plums in a row.
―Persephone, she is really amazing with the gardens, right?‖
―This isn‘t even like a plum. Well, it‘s like a plum, only better.‖
―She‘s spent five hundred years learning exactly how long each season should last in order to maximize the flavor and taste and nutrients of the fruit.‖
Grrr. It seems like it‘s always coming back to the goddesses. If I compliment the fruit, he starts talking about Persephone. I make an observation about the light shifting; he starts droning on about the beautiful layers and complications of Hera‘s dark side. I marvel at the statue of a man; he tells me that Dio is a genius artist. I mean, can‘t a girl just eat a plum without hearing about the goddess who made it?
―Does she do that for the humans?‖
―What do you think?‖
I toss my pit into the bushes. ―I‘m gonna guess no, because I‘ve never had a plum this good.‖
―She would never do that for the humans. She views them as weak and dull. And everyone, everyone‘s so convinced that if they give anything to humans without asking for a sacrifice, that the humans will become spoiled and destructive.‖
―That‘s kind of snobby.‖
―Well, it‘s not entirely untrue.‖
Here we go. I cross my arms. ―Zeus, you know that I’m human.‖ He flashes that mischievous smile again, and oh sometimes I wish he wasn‘t so cute. ―Whatever you say, Zoe.‖ He starts walking again. I‘m torn. I want to tell him about where I come from. I want to show him my iPhone and tell him about the dig and my aunt and uncle as I watch him stretch and spread his wings. If I don‘t open up to him, we will never really, truly know each other. But how can I?
Sure, he can accept me with powers, but that‘s because he has powers too.
But a girl from the future?
―You coming?‖ he calls out.
Sometimes, there‘s nothing to do but keep walking.
―So,‖ I say. ―You were gonna take a break to talk about the fun stuff.
You know, who‘s with who.‖
―I was?‖
I laugh and say, ―No, but will you?‖
He scans the garden. ―I don‘t know, it‘s just not that interesting to me.
After five hundred years of breakups and make-ups, you sort of start to lose track.‖
I get it. I can‘t imagine listening to CeeCee talk about boys for five hundred years. But I have to know his history with Hera, and I can‘t bring myself to ask him outright. ―Oh, come on.
You can give me a little juice.
Can‘t you?‖
I must have batted my eyelashes just the right way, an obvious miracle, because suddenly I‘m getting the whole romantic history of the Olympic gods.
What an incestuous little group they are! They remind me of the Ones at Greeley. At some point or another, everyone has dated everyone. I lose track of the stories. Somehow, I expected it all to be more interesting because of their powers. But it‘s just like listening to girls in the bathroom gossip about the latest dramas on campus. And it‘s nice in a way, because I feel less intimidated.
Let‘s face it. For all their magical powers and their five hundred years of experience, they are, at the end of the day, no different from normal teenagers. I feel closer to Zeus than ever.
And then he starts in about Aphrodite‘s amazing power of emotions, how she sees to it that all humans learn to deal with different feelings, how she intuitively knows how to challenge people. At first, I don‘t mind that he‘s gushing over yet another goddess. After all, isn‘t it a sign that he‘s a strong man who isn‘t threatened by powerful women? He didn‘t run from me when he saw what I could do. Breathe, Zoe. Jealousy is an unattractive quality, and in some ways these girls are just like you. They have powers.
But then again, they‘re really not like me. They‘ve been practicing for five hundred years and he‘s got me here and doesn‘t even know where I‘m from, and yet all he wants to talk about is how incredible these goddesses are.
Now he‘s moved on to Artemis, the hippie chick, and her ―boundless‖ creativity with animals. He can‘t say enough about Artemis and her flair for all things wilderness; how smart she was to create this unison in color between animals and the terrain and to invent hunting. I mean, what have I done with my powers? I saved my own butt—and Creusa‘s—and made a necklace.
God, I‘m so intimidated. When he starts in on Persephone, who reminds me of the environmental fanatics on campus, with their dreadlocks and their unshaven legs, I hit my breaking point. The green-eyed monster bites. Hard.
―Zeus, I get it. Your girlfriends are all really cool. And powerful. And unique. Now maybe you could talk about the boys for once?‖ His face falls, ―Sorry. I didn‘t mean to upset you.‖
―You didn‘t, but you have to admit, you barely talk about the guys.‖
―Well, I guess I never get a chance to talk about the girls because…‖ His voice trails off.
He looks around nervously. ―Anyway, the guys.‖ As he talks, we enter an open building with sky blue walls and an indoor waterfall. I tune Zeus out for a moment and feel the cool wind blow in from the enormous windows. A tiny red bird flies in and I can‘t believe it‘s just a bird; it could be a spy conjured by Artemis. Creusa was right.
Nothing is what it seems. The way Greeley girls analyze four-word text messages as if there is deeper meaning, I now have to accept that no bird is just a bird. No cloud is just a cloud. I reach for his hand and squeeze it because his hand is all I trust.
He stops talking and squeezes back. ―Hi, Zoe.‖
―Hi, Zeus.‖
―Hi, Curly.‖
―Hi, Blondie.‖
This is it, our first kiss.
But we don‘t kiss. Instead we just hold each other with our eyes, for seconds that span hours. I can see the flecks of gold in his irises and feel his gaze memorizing me. I‘ve kissed boys before. But this is a whole new world.
And then, we‘re on our way again.
And as nice as it was, I still wish we had kissed.
Chapter 27
Zeus is, shall we say, just a little more critical when it comes to his guy friends. I hear about Hades and how annoying he can be, out of control, acting as if fire is more important than anything, playfully punishing humans, wiping out their homes, asking them to set fires for him.
And then Poseidon, well, he‘s no better, the way he cavalierly strikes up rogue waves, claiming that humans must fear and respect the ocean, when really, what he wants is for them to fear and respect him.
If you ask Zeus, Hermes acts like one of the bad boys. She‘s just a thief at heart. She‘s that girl who, if you left her in your dorm room for ten minutes, you‘d come back and your iPod would be gone. And at the same time, you have to deal with her because she‘ll get anywhere faster than you. As the messenger of the gods, she keeps the humans informed of what‘s happening on Olympus—the demands of the gods, their pleasure or displeasure. Zeus doesn‘t have to tell me that there is plenty of power in being a messenger. Hermes is like a super powered gossip girl.
Especially since Zeus says she‘s prone to exaggeration.
For example, he tells me that all Dio said was for his followers to capture a nymph. But Hermes
went and changed the message and the next thing you know, Creusa is under attack in the village center. Zeus waits for me to say something forgiving about his friend Dio, but I‘m not ready to let him off the hook for what he did to Creusa. To be honest, I‘m not really convinced that capturing a nymph is all that much nicer. He still wanted her attacked in public, in front of all these people. It sounds to me like Dio is just as bad as Hermes.
When I tell Zeus this, he looks at me and says, ―I wouldn‘t be so quick to judge the gods, Zoe. Power‘s not an easy thing to carry. You‘ll see.‖ I let it go. This is exactly what I don‘t understand about cliques. It always seems to turn out that nobody actually really likes each other.