by Audrey Hart
But the moment you say anything critical about someone in the clique, the same person who‘s been trashing them jumps to their defense.
―Zoe, it‘s not going to be easy for you here. If I sound harsh, it‘s only because I worry for you. And at the same time, I‘m frustrated because I worry for my friends.‖
―Oh right, like they would ever need protection from me.‖
―You know…you can be scary, Zoe.‖
―What?!‖
I go into defensive mode. I huff and pull back and tear at my cowlick even though it‘s not being unruly. ―That‘s the stupidest thing I ever heard.
There is absolutely nothing scary about me. I‘m not the one with a gang to back me up!‖
―We‘re not a gang,‖ he snaps, getting exasperated. ―We‘re friends. We‘ve been together for five hundred years, Zoe.‖
―Yeah, you mentioned that. You guys are tight. I get it.‖
―So of course it‘s hard for us to let you in,‖ he says, ignoring my sarcasm.
―And on top of that, you won‘t even tell us where you come from. You just show up one day, a total mystery.‖
Something in his words stings and I run my hand over my scar. He said
―us.‖ He aligned with them over me. I whimper and he comes to me and he hugs me and I stifle my tears. I can smell him and feel his arms and his warmth but it‘s no matter because even in his arms I‘m alone.
He pulls away suddenly. I watch as he walks off toward the bushes.
―Hera! Over here!‖ he calls out.
And now Hera and Persephone and a few of the others approach. The guys have that stupid ball again and they‘ve already got Zeus in a game.
This isn‘t how I wanted the date to end and I don‘t like the way he changes as soon as his friends appear. He‘s not telling them what a great time we just had strolling about Olympus. It‘s like I don‘t exist. Hera links arms with me and whispers, ―Zeus can be a bit much, right?‖ The truth is that I‘m not sure what to make of anything right now.
Maybe he wasn‘t gazing into my eyes; maybe I‘m a fool and he‘s playing me. It‘s so hard to know what‘s real around these people because, as I‘m learning, the only thing scarier and more capricious than teenagers are teenagers who‘ve been teenagers for five hundred years. Hera pats my arm as if as she‘s the senior varsity captain to my JV with a sprained ankle and a bad attitude.
―Z,‖ she says. ―If you‘re all done with your hosting duties, we‘re ready to have the meeting now.‖
He doesn‘t look at me, which implies that he really does view our date as some sort of a charity event, a hosting commitment. I don‘t think things can get any worse, but then Hermes steps in front of me.
―It‘s time for you to go,‖ she says.
―I thought maybe I could go to the meeting…‖ She sneers, ―Well, Zoe, if you went to the meeting, we wouldn‘t be able to talk about you.‖
A shiver runs down my spine and she laughs at me, hard. A few of the other gods giggle too. I realize that Zeus is already gone. Hera too.
―Relax,‖ Hermes says, and presses her hand against my upper back as she leads me to my quarters. It‘s all happening too fast. I was wrong to squirrel away with Zeus like that. Now they‘re all going to meet and decide to burn me on the top of the mountain or just hurl me off the edge into outer space. Will I ever learn to accept the fact that life is all about groups?
Here I‘ve been wandering around with a guy who might not even like me, and in doing so, I‘ve alienated the people who control my fate.
―Hermes, if there‘s any way that I could just go to the meeting for a little while,‖ I plead.
―Just to sit in. Just a few minutes even.‖
―Why do you want to go so badly?‖
―Because I want to talk with all of you. I want to learn about you guys.
Get to know you.‖
―Seems to us like you wanted to run off with Z.‖ We‘ve reached the door and she yanks it open and I step inside, my head hanging like a prisoner‘s.
The door slams shut.
Chapter 28
At Greeley, I hate it when the legacies and the seniors act like they‘re superior just because they‘ve been there longer. I don‘t buy into that in my real life and I certainly won‘t do it here. If the gods want to have a meeting and talk about me, then they can have their little meeting.
But it doesn‘t mean that I can‘t join them.
I‘m powerful, right? I can do whatever I want too.
Okay, marble wall, give me a tunnel. The wall gives way slowly, the marble crumbling and turning into itself as it splits apart. I enter the tunnel and I‘m much less scared this time around—it‘s not so frightening when you‘ve built the tunnel yourself. Or maybe I‘m just becoming a braver person.
Suddenly, I hear Zeus through the wall. I stop short. He‘s not happy.
―Hera, you had no right to use the power of darkness against her.‖
―That‘s not for you to say.‖
―It‘s not part of the trials to send her into a black hole.‖
―I did it for the safety of us all. You should be the one to apologize. For using your powers to save a dangerous imposter.‖ The peanut gallery explodes in objections, grunts. Or is that just the sound of my heart skipping?
―Silence!‖ Zeus shouts, and the room goes quiet. ―She is a god. She is no different from us.
We must bring her into our ranks where she rightfully belongs.‖
Hera huffs, ―She will never be one of us.‖
―You‘re wrong.‖
―Oh really, Z? Then explain something to me. Where do her powers come from?‖
―I…don‘t know,‖ Zeus says quietly.
―Exactly. If her powers came from the Petros, as ours do, we would know how to deal with her. How to…control her.‖
The Petros? Wait, their powers come from that bluish rock? Why didn‘t Zeus just tell me that?
―But as this girl‘s powers do not come from the Petros,‖ Hera says, getting louder, like a trial lawyer delivering her final remarks, ―then we must treat those powers as a threat. You cannot trust a power if you don‘t know where it comes from!‖
They clap and hoot in agreement, raging and booing me. Zeus is trying to speak but they‘re shouting over him:
―She could be evil!‖
―She could destroy us all!‖
―If not from the Petros, then from what?‖ Hera must have moved from where she was originally standing, because she sounds closer now, as if she‘s right on the other side of the wall.
―You see, Zeus. She is too dangerous. Too unpredictable.‖ Dangerous? Unpredictable? These words have never been used to describe me. They sound like the names of celebrity perfumes.
Hades, whose voice I would recognize anywhere, says, ―Friends, I have no bloodlust in my heart. But if this girl learned how to use Lioste, we would be unable to stop her.‖
One of the goddesses cries out: ―She could enslave us!‖ Another goddess: ―She could kill us!‖
It‘s an outright town meeting upheaval now, with gasps and shrieks.
And there is nothing I can do except say it aloud, ―Lioste,‖ wondering what it could mean and how it could terrify a horde of gods.
―Enough!‖ shouts Zeus, and the group quiets down again. ―You‘re all forgetting one thing.
She is nothing like us.‖
―Well that‘s what I‘ve been trying to say,‖ Hera purrs.
I mutter, ―Oh shut it, Hera.‖
―She is nothing like us because she comes to us alone,‖ he says. ―She has not spent centuries with us, learning together, hiding together, working together. You act as if she is an enemy, but she did not come to Olympus for power. Or revenge. She came here looking for a home.‖ Oh, Zeus. You‘re right and you‘re wrong and you‘re choosing me over them and this is not my home…
But could it be?
He goes on. ―You all look down on the humans when they behav
e this way, when they gang up on one another. What are we if we do this to one of our own? We would be no better than humans. It is our obligation to set an example. If we cast Zoe aside simply because we don‘t know her yet, then we cast humanity aside. And for what? Because we were afraid of someone like us?
Because she didn‘t grow up with us? Because she arrives from somewhere else?‖
I bring my hand to my necklace. Zeus, you saved me again.
But before I can celebrate being accepted by the twelve, Hera clears her throat, and I cringe. ― If her intentions were pure, as you say they are,‖ Hera says, ―then she would not hide the source of her powers. She would not hide where she comes from. The girl that you wish to accept as one of us is nothing but a hoarder of secrets.‖
―She is…private,‖ Zeus says, but even I can tell that he‘s lost the argument.
―There is no privacy amongst us,‖ Hera crows.
Hermes starts to speak, but I can barely hear her. I shift aside some more marble and crawl another ten feet through the tunnel. I make a slim opening in the marble wall and, peering through it, I can see the twelve of them standing by the small natural pool with the Petros.
Suddenly, my phone buzzes. Are you serious, universe? I‘m really gonna get reception here, in a marble tunnel on top of Mount Olympus?
But when I pull out my phone, it‘s still switched off. My pocket continues to vibrate.
Tentatively, I reach in. Could it be a bug? Did something nasty crawl in there?
I pull out the obolus. It‘s vibrating and straining itself toward the crack, as if it‘s magnetized. I stare at it in confusion, as the faint blue light from the obolus casts cool shadows around the small tunnel.
What could be drawing it? Is it the gods? But the obolus never reacted to them before. And the only other thing out there is the pool, and it hasn‘t reacted like that to water either.
And then I understand. It‘s attracted to the Petros in the center of the pool. Only it‘s not just attracted to it—it‘s the same material.
The obolus is made from the Petros.
I really am just like them, one of the gods.
Suddenly, they all start to move away from the pool. They‘re chatting and murmuring amongst themselves. The meeting is over.
Oh no. I have to get back to the room before they find me missing.
It‘s hard to turn around while crouched in the tunnel. I‘m awkward on my hands and knees and I‘m huffing and puffing. Surely one of them is headed directly to my room. Hopefully it will be Zeus and he can tell me all about the meeting and I can pretend I didn‘t hear any of it and he can say all those nice things about me in person and we can run away together and live happily ever after. But if it‘s not Zeus?
I scramble down the tunnel. If I don‘t get there first, they‘ll know that I snuck out, and I hear someone approaching from the hallway outside. There is a click as a hand turns the lock and, in sheer panic, I fling myself out of the tunnel and onto the floor, and as the door swings open, I command the tunnel to seal shut fast fast now!
Hera stands in the doorway, like some sort of human punishment. She looks down at me, crumpled on the floor, sweating and out of breath, and lifts her perfect little nose into the air.
―Sweetie, you look even worse than you did before.‖
―Hello, Hera,‖ I say, forcing myself to be civil. ―How was the meeting?‖
―Oh, never mind that. We‘re all just so excited you‘re here. We‘re going to talk more in the morning.‖
I nod.
She tilts her head to one side and smiles a big cheerleader smile. ―You know, Zoe, I think we got off on the wrong foot.‖ Oh my goddess, she‘s really gonna try this?
―No, no we didn‘t,‖ I said.
―Oh yes we did,‖ she says, entering the room and standing across from me. ―It‘s my fault.
I‘m sorry. Let‘s start over. What do you say?‖ It‘s a fascinating thing about being an outsider.
Sometimes, even when you know the insiders have said terrible things about you behind your back, you can‘t help but feel good when they‘re nice to you in person. To be fair, there‘s a big part of me that wants to believe that Hera really is good at heart. Hey, I can be mean when I‘m jealous too.
―It‘s my fault too,‖ I say. ―I should have, um, tried to hang out with everyone.‖
She links her arm through mine and her voice becomes as soft as a kindergarten teacher‘s.
―Now, if I know Z, he probably talked your ear off and didn‘t so much as offer you a sip to drink?‖
―Well, I guess I haven‘t had anything in a while.‖
―Oh, you must come with me, then, you dear parched girl. Z could drive someone nuts with his talking. Talk, talk, talk. He‘s unreal sometimes.‖
―I guess so.‖
―Zoe,‖ she says. ―It‘s why all the little human girls turn to mush when he so much as smiles at them. Zeus is afflicted with this terrible, terrible universal pity for all earthly women that he repeatedly mistakes for love.‖ She squeezes my forearm and pats my hand. I don‘t say anything.
Chapter 29
Hera‘s room isn‘t so much a room as a stage, a performance space.
There are no posters on the walls, no books, no gum wrappers on the floor and there‘s something beautiful but decidedly un-adolescent about it all. How do you live in here? I mean, what happens if you drip hot fudge on the floor?
Hera passes me a goblet and when I bring it to my nose and breathe in, I feel better already.
I take a sip, looking around the room in awe. The place is bigger than the common room at Greeley, bigger than the senior suites I might never see. It‘s an apartment, really, and I don‘t know anyone my age who has her own apartment. So I‘m standing there gaping at the sheer sprawl of it.
There are chaise lounges and drapes everywhere and everything is a perfect shade of white. I believe they call it ecru in online catalogs. I believe they call it the color that flatters Hera‘s honey-hewed skin. I believe they call it woefully unjust that she gets to live like this and my awe and envy are written all over my face.
―Amazing, right?‖ she asks.
―Uh huh.‖
It feels like she‘s laughing at me but I‘m probably just feeling insecure and out of place, so I tell myself to play it cool. I sip from my goblet, savoring the taste of the sweet tea. A cool breeze flits across my face. God, but the cross ventilation in the room is the stuff of dreams. I‘ve never been anywhere more beautiful or breathable in my entire life.
―Anywhere you want to sit, dear. Just try to keep your feet off the settee.‖
I nod agreeably. I have no intention of propping my feet up and putting my modern-looking boots on display.
Of course, my attempts to keep my boots hidden only backfire, as Hera instantly notices the way I tuck my feet out of sight behind the settee—though luckily she misinterprets the reason behind my reluctance. ―Oh don‘t be embarrassed,‖ she tells me. ―Anyone‘s boots would be filthy after what you‘ve been through.‖
She gives me a patronizing smile. It‘s a smile that could sell beauty products; it says, You’ll never be elegant like me, but if you spend forty dollars on face cream, at least you’ll feel a little better. Don‘t let her get to you, Zoe.
It‘s ridiculous of Hera to be so bold about her authority. She‘s my age.
But then again, she‘s been my age for a lot longer than I have. I shiver as the nastiness I just overheard jumps back into my head, the way she wanted me gone, her disgust at my presence here, and it‘s as if she can read minds, because she appears now like some fawn in a Disney movie:
―Zoe, are you mad at me?‖
―I‘m just…upset.‖
―You‘re mad at me,‖ she says with a wounded air. ―It‘s not fair.‖
―Not fair? You were pretty hostile, Hera.‖
―Holding a grudge is pretty juvenile. If I can get over it, don‘t you think you should be able to also?‖
/> Ah, the old passing the baton of nastiness. So she‘s not a jerk for being mean to be, but rather I‘m a jerk for being hurt. This is why I spend so much time in the library. My heart is beating too fast and I‘m not good at debating stuff like this. I‘d rather be discussing archeological ethics.
―Hera, I heard what you said at the meeting.‖
―Did you now? And how did that little accident happen?‖