by Kieran Scott
I groaned. “An assault? That Ty person was the one who grabbed one of your students. I was simply defending her.”
“Violence is not the answer to violence,” she said, leveling a glare at me. “Next time, please report any incidents to school security. We wouldn’t want you getting hurt.”
“Fine,” I said again. “I’ll do that.”
I yanked open the door and stepped out into the hallway. The whoosh of cool air brought my blood pressure down instantly. The security guards hovered at the end of the hall, keeping a sharp eye on me. I turned in the opposite direction to take the long way back to the courtyard, but at that moment, the bell rang.
I leaned back against the wall and kicked it as hard as I could with the sole of my sneaker. Pain radiated up my leg and jarred my kneecap. I bit down on my lip as the hallway flooded with students. Gods, I hated this place and its narrow halls and its tiny rooms and its hordes of shrieking students. I hated this body and its insane limitations. I had to get out of here. I had to get back to Mount Olympus and Orion. But I was no closer to achieving that goal than I had been this morning.
The door to the next office opened and Katrina stepped out, her face hidden behind her hair.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
Katrina looked up at me, startled, then angry. “Why does everyone keep asking me that? Why can’t you people just leave me alone?”
As I watched her storm off, I started to wonder if Zeus had been right to give me that C in psychology. Maybe, when it came to the human heart and mind, I really was clueless.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Katrina
I am not.
I am nothing.
I can’t live without you.
No one knows.
No one cares.
No one wants to see through.
I tore the page out of my poetry notebook and crumpled it as quietly as I could. Even though I had spent the entire period sitting in the back corner with my hair over my face, writing, I knew everyone in the room was staring at me. The same way they had last year after my father had died and his picture had run on the front page of the paper. Poor little Katrina, the girl whose dad died in a freak accident.
Except now they were thinking, Poor little Katrina, the girl whose boyfriend abused her in front of the whole school. The weird girl who was so pathetic she had to be defended by an even weirder girl.
At least that’s what Dr. Krantz had called it when he’d scurried me into his office earlier. Abuse. He’d said that if someone grabbed me hard enough to scare me, it was a “reportable incident,” and he asked me if I wanted to press charges. Against Ty. I almost laughed in his face.
It was one arm grab. One time. It just happened to take place in front of a hundred people. Ty was everything to me. He was my family. He was my home. He was the only person left on this earth who gave a crap about me. He just didn’t like not getting his way.
In the aisle closest to the wall, True sat with perfectly straight posture, staring at the clock. Charlie was right next to her, tapping a quiet beat against the edge of his desk with his fingers. He’d tried to get my attention a couple of times, I think. I’d seen a hand wave through my hair about five minutes into class. But I’d chosen to pretend it wasn’t there. I was too humiliated to look him in the eye. And besides, I didn’t want to get him in trouble with Stacey again.
I looked down at my phone under the desk. Five minutes left. Only three more classes to go in this awful day. I couldn’t wait to get the heck out of here. I was going to practically sprint to the library to blubber on Mrs. Pauley’s shoulder. Thank God I had a shift this afternoon.
“Well, we’ve only got a few minutes left, so it’s time to put you out of your misery,” Mrs. Roberge announced.
My heart stopped. I looked up at her through my bangs. She hovered at the front of the room in an unattractive violet top and black skirt, a Ziploc bag full of paper scraps in her hand. Oh God. I had totally spaced on the project. Today was the day she was going to assign the first chapters.
“If I call your name, please come to the front of the class.”
Please don’t call my name, please don’t call my name, please don’t call my—
“Katrina Ramos! You’re going to be our first presenter on Great Expectations!”
I swear I would have thrown up if I’d eaten anything today. My eyes automatically flicked to Charlie. He gave me a bolstering look, which only made me want to heave even more. Yesterday I thought he maybe kind of liked me. Even just as a friend. Today he thought I was a special case. A loser. Someone in need of bolstering looks.
“Miss Ramos? Come on down and get your assignment,” Mrs. Roberge called out happily.
I pushed myself out of my chair. My knees shook as I navigated around the bags in the aisle, leaning up against chairs or dangling from chair backs. At the front of the room, I took a wide step over Stacey’s outstretched leg, which I could have sworn hadn’t been there a moment ago. Mrs. Roberge held out the assignment to me.
GREAT EXPECTATIONS: CHAPTER ONE
Some points to consider for your lecture.
Lecture? She expected me to lecture?
“We’re looking forward to having you lead our class on Monday,” Mrs. Roberge said with a huge smile.
That was all it took. My whole body flushed with heat and my eyes stung. I was going to throw up anyway, even with an empty stomach. The assignment crumpled in my hand as I flung myself out into the hallway, letting the door slam.
Giving everyone one more reason to talk about me.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
True
I walked into the house that afternoon and, shockingly, found my mother at the kitchen table. She sat with her legs splayed, her back bent, her eyes unfocused and staring. She wore nothing but a fuzzy blue bathrobe and gray socks. Her blond hair was matted and slimy, and her skin looked tired and baggy. The bath was a discovery she’d not yet made. I slammed the door, and she nearly jumped out of her skin.
“Is that necessary?” she asked with a groan.
“I’ve had a bad day,” I told her, walking to the stainless-steel refrigerator and grabbing a bottle of water. I took a long drink from it and licked my lips. “Where’s the money?”
“What money?” she asked.
“The money,” I repeated, sitting down at the end of the wood table. “I assume Zeus sent us here with some cash. Where is it?”
Aphrodite laughed, the sound filling the modern kitchen with its sarcastic tone. If it had been any louder, the untouched cooking utensils would have quivered in their ceramic container.
“You give Zeus too much credit,” she said. “There is no money.”
“What?” I blurted, a bit of water dripping over my bottom lip. I wiped it away with the back of my hand. “But I have to buy some cretin a new cell phone. And according to the unusually handsome librarian at the school, it would benefit my studies greatly to have my own home computer.”
Aphrodite turned her narrowed eyes on me slowly, a glare that had stopped thousands of mortal men cold over the last few thousand years.
“Then I suggest you procure a job,” she said. “In fact, I insist upon it. Because once we consume the food provided, I’m not entirely certain it’s going to reconstitute itself.” She gestured toward a garbage can full of empty green bottles. “I know the wine hasn’t been so kind.”
“You went through the entire wine cellar?” I demanded.
She shrugged. “A goddess must do what a goddess must do.”
“So why don’t you get a job?” I asked, pushing myself up from the table. The chair teetered and fell back on the red tile floor with a clatter. “Isn’t that what the parent is supposed to do? I’m kind of in the middle of an important mission here.”
My mother heaved a grand sigh as she rose to her feet. “You forget, my dear daughter, that I’m not the one who had us banished. Now if you will excuse me, I must situate myself before the television, where an
enthusiastic woman has promised to inform me on how to shed sixteen pounds in sixteen days.”
Then she turned, lifted her imperious chin, and swept out of the room. I threw my water bottle after her, but it bounced off the intricate molding around the door and landed with a thud in the hallway, then rolled back in my direction as if mocking me. My hands curled into fists at my sides and I drew in breath after breath, trying to calm my ire. How I wished Orion were here. What I really needed was a bow and arrow and a run through the woods with my love at my side. A good, sweaty hunt followed by a nice, long, adrenaline-fueled kiss. I needed to blow off some steam.
But there was no time for that. And it appeared that Ms. Austin’s suspicions about me had been correct. I didn’t have the means to pay Darnell Lockwood back for his insidious phone. I was not only a human, I was a destitute human.
“Not for long,” I said through my teeth.
Part of me wanted to run upstairs to check the sand timer to see how much time I had left, but an even bigger part of me didn’t. I grabbed the blue band jacket off the hook near the door as I stormed outside. It was time for this goddess to get a job.
• • •
Approximately forty-two frustrating minutes later, I found myself inside the Lake Carmody Public Library. I’d gone door-to-door from business to business, but so far, no one had been hiring. Not the small Italian catering company that smelled so good it made my mouth water, not the gift shop with the ridiculous ceramic cats, not even the funeral parlor, though they had kept me there for fifteen minutes, grilling me on why I wanted to work in the mortuary. As I stepped into the hushed, airy lobby of the impeccably kept library, I felt my muscles begin to uncoil.
Peace. Peace and quiet and words. I could definitely spend some time here.
The walls of the grand foyer were hung with muted works of art, watercolors of covered bridges, secluded streams, and fields of wildflowers. A closer look at the placards near the paintings and I discovered that they were the work of local artists, donated to the library this past spring. As the foyer opened up to a large circular room, I saw a small partition wall made entirely of cork, the words STUDENT POETRY pinned across the top in cardboard letters. There were a couple of pedestrian pieces written in pencil by second graders, a missive about love penned by a girl named Carrie in seventh grade, and a poem about a motorcycle by twelve-year-old Zeke. But right in the center was a short haiku, and the name at the bottom stopped me short. It was by Katrina, aged sixteen.
She the sun and moon
He the earth the sea and life
Torn apart. We die.
It was so mournful. I realized in an instant that it was written by the Katrina I knew. The kind girl with the awful boyfriend who’d taken pity on me in my time of need. She was still suffering from the death of her father. That much was clear. Was that why she stayed with that horrid troll of a male? Because she was in need of a father figure? Or was it something more?
Powers. If I could only read her, I’d know.
I heard hushed voices on the far side of the first row of shelves and found a wide, gleaming oak desk marked CIRCULATION. Behind it two women talked urgently, their heads bent close together. I took a step toward them, and the younger one glanced up. It was Katrina.
She looked better than she had when last I’d seen her, running out of English class that afternoon when her skin had been positively gray, but I could tell by the tightness of her lips as I approached that she wasn’t happy to see me.
“Can I help you?” the other woman asked politely.
Her brown hair was cut into a bob, and she wore an autumnal striped sweater over brown corduroys. Her smile was friendly.
“I hope so,” I replied. “My name is True Olympia. I’m looking for a job.”
The woman opened her mouth to reply, but Katrina cut her off. “We’re not hiring.”
“Katrina,” the woman hissed in admonishment. She reached out a hand to me. “I’m Olivia Pauley,” she said. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“It’s nice to meet you, too,” I replied, giving Katrina’s glower a sidelong glance. We shook hands and her skin was soft and warm. If I’d had my powers, that one touch would have told me every last thing about her, from her shoe size to the number of times she’d had her heart broken. But today, nothing. Not even a zip of emotion.
I suddenly felt very, very tired.
“But I’m afraid Katrina is correct,” Olivia told me. “We’re not hiring right now.”
“Okay,” I said, my shoulders slumping. “Thank you for your time.”
As I turned to walk away, I heard Katrina whisper, “That’s her—the girl who humiliated me today.”
My face flashed with anger. I turned right back around again, standing up straight. “Excuse me, but I don’t believe I was the one who humiliated you. I helped you.”
“Please. I would have been fine,” Katrina whispered harshly. “Ty’s my boyfriend. He loves me.”
“People who love you don’t hurt you,” I shot back.
Olivia’s eyes widened with concern. “Katrina? Did he hurt you?”
“He grabbed her. Hard,” I told the librarian. “And from where I was standing, it didn’t look like he had any plans to let go.”
“Well, you don’t know him like I do,” Katrina replied, her face flushed with color. “And you didn’t have to attack him.”
“I don’t believe this!” I cried. “You should be thanking me!”
“Thanking you? I’ve never been so embarrassed!” Katrina whispered. “Everyone was talking about me the rest of the day.”
“But I—”
“Girls!” Olivia hissed, leaning her hands into the desk. “Both of you calm down.” I set my jaw and crossed my arms over my chest. Katrina stared at her copy of Great Expectations, which lay closed in front of her. Beneath it was a black spiral notebook with frayed corners. “Katrina, it sounds like True here only meant to help you, not humiliate you,” Olivia continued. “You were just trying to be a friend, right, True?”
“Right,” I replied.
“So maybe you can see a way to forgive her, even if she embarrassed you in the process?” Olivia suggested.
Katrina took in a deep breath and blew it out. “I guess.”
“Good. Now why don’t you two apologize to each other and move on?” Olivia suggested, gesturing between us.
“I have nothing to apologize for,” I protested. “I didn’t—”
“Eh! Yes, you do,” the librarian said.
I shifted from one foot to the other. It wasn’t every day I took orders from a human. But this Olivia person seemed wise, and kind. And she clearly had Katrina’s best interests at heart. It was always nice to see humans caring for each other.
“Fine,” I said finally. “I apologize if I embarrassed you or that Ty person.”
Katrina looked up at me through her thick eyelashes. “I’m sorry I got mad at you for trying to help.”
“Apology accepted.” I glanced at Olivia. “Are we done here? Because I really have to go find a job.”
“We’re done.” Olivia smiled at me and seemed to be on the verge of a giggle. “Thank you, True Olympia. And might I say you have quite the poetic name?”
“Thank you,” I said. “I chose it myself.”
Then I turned my back on her curious expression and headed for the door. When I got to the sidewalk, I heard someone running up behind me. I whirled around, set to defend myself, but it was only Katrina.
“Hey,” she said sheepishly, her hair falling forward over her cheeks. “I thought you’d want to know I saw a ‘Help Wanted’ sign the other day. I’m not sure if it’s still there, but—”
“Where?” I asked.
Katrina turned and pointed up Main Street, where dozens of bright awnings and sale signs and colorful flags waved in the breeze. Pedestrians dotted the walkways, carrying paper shopping bags and sipping at iced coffees. I saw the mail carrier who’d seen me through my window the other morning,
and when he spotted me, he dropped the mail he was flipping through all over the crosswalk.
“See the pink-and-brown awning? That’s Goddess Cupcakes,” Katrina told me. “They’re hiring.”
I smirked as I zeroed in on the business in question. “Goddess Cupcakes?” I said. “Perfect.”
As I turned up Main Street, I passed by a small French restaurant called Pourquoi Pas?, where the waiter was setting up a few outdoor tables for that night’s meal. The linen tablecloths and gleaming crystal glasses brought me right back to Valentine’s Day earlier this year and a little thrill warmed my heart. It was the day my existence had changed forever.
• • •
My toes were so cold they’d gone numb, so I imagined them warm as I turned away from the window of Coatstown, Maine’s, finest eatery and walked through a packed parking lot. I smiled as I passed by a compact car where Sandy Luongo and Leanna Chen were sharing first love’s kiss, thanks to my golden arrow.
Every year my mother sent me to Earth for Valentine’s Day. She told me it was to give me an opportunity to glimpse the fruits of my labor up close, but really I think she wanted to force me to walk past cardboard images of the “God of Love,” depicted as that bulbous male baby. I think she got a good laugh out of it.
Still, I often enjoyed these little sojourns, watching lovers share intimate meals or nuzzle noses under icicle-hung eaves, witnessing the more elaborate declarations of love like fireworks displays, messages stomped into the snow, or a path of deep-red rose petals leading a loved one to the diamond ring of her dreams.
This year, however, I felt bored by it. Even with success stories like Leanna and Sandy to my credit. With a sigh, I turned my thoughts inward and tried to figure out why I felt so melancholy. Nothing was amiss in my life. My mother was happy with her latest consort, which meant fewer tirades for me, and fewer evil divorces on Earth. My brothers were hermited away in their marble palace, striking fear and terror in random parts of the world at will, while Harmonia tried as hard as she could to sweep up after their messes. Everything was normal. Everything was fine.