The Pantheon

by Amy Leigh Strickland

  -Aesop

  vi.

  The friends were wrestling in the marble temple.

  The young girl broke free of the goddess’ grasp.

  She ducked under her arm and hid while laughing

  behind a column.

  The goddess had not seen where the girl had gone

  but she knew her pattern well and so she smiled.

  The girl managed to slip behind her and crouch,

  ready, set to pounce.

  They played this game often: the young girl would leap,

  the goddess would vault out of her path and strike,

  cutting the air behind and missing her friend,

  and then they would laugh.

  It was all a familiar game by this point.

  He saw the mortal girl charging to attack

  but he did not know that it was all pretend.

  He reacted fast.

  He thought that he was protecting the goddess.

  He thought that her good friend had turned against her.

  There was a flash and his arms circled the girl,

  holding her in place.

  Unaware of this, the goddess spun and struck,

  intending to skim where the girl had just been,

  to miss her friend and laugh about it later.

  But she did not miss.

  She stood over the dead body of the girl.

  She began to weep for her closest of friends,

  “What have I done?” she cried to the heavens.

  They did not answer.

  “Memory is the mother of all wisdom.”

  -Aeschylus

  VI.

  The voice that trickled down the hall met Jason’s ears as he bent at the water fountain. At first he couldn’t tell what he was hearing, then as it became louder he was sure of it. Giggles. He looked back at his office, unsure if he should ignore it and go back to reading or be the responsible adult and go see to it that everyone got back to class.

  The giggle was joined by a more masculine guffaw. Jason started toward his office, wanting to pretend he never heard anything. Candice Matthews came out of the main office and started toward his door. Jason pretended quickly not to see her and started down the hall. He’d rather deal with disciplining skiving teenagers than the chatty English teacher with a clear crush on him.

  The culprit was one Devon Valentine. She was chatting up a senior who was growing a sad excuse for a goatee, leaning close and whispering in his ear. Jason didn’t want to know anything about what she was whispering.

  “Mr. Casey,” Jason said. “Where do you belong?”

  “Study hall,” the senior said. “Just using the bathroom.” He waved his pass.

  “Then I suggest you get back there, unless you’ve somehow found a way to teleport your pee to the urinal while talking to Miss Valentine.”

  Jason was pretty sure he heard Mr. Casey mutter “douche” as he walked away, but he wasn’t in the mood to get into it with a surly eighteen-year-old. He turned his attention to Devon. “And where are you supposed to be? Do you have a hall pass?”

  “Oh, I’m late for Math.”

  Jason blinked. Was she really going to be that brutally honest? How could he not write her up when she admitted so openly that she was basically cutting a required class! “Okay. Well, you need to follow me to the office then.”

  “Wait,” Devon said, reaching out and resting just her fingertips on Jason’s arm. “Wow,” she said. “Do you work out?”

  He rolled his eyes, “Not funny Miss Valentine, and not going to work.” Suddenly he was struck with a wave of what he could only describe as heavy air. It was like a perfumed current of humidity crashed into him, making his eyes droop, his heart race, and his breathing labored. His skin tingled. He looked around and the only clarity he could find was straight ahead, eyes focused on Devon. He had no desire to leave right now, only to focus on her. He couldn’t even open his mouth.

  “Please don’t take me to the office; I just barely got off with that fight June started last week.” She twirled her long blonde hair on one finger, eyes large and fixed on him, lips curled into a nearly-invisible smirk. “I’ll just head to class now. I won’t be very late and you won’t have to bother filling out paperwork.”

  Devon placed her hand on Jason’s arm again and he felt a jolt go through his body. He told himself to focus, to tear his eyes away, and to walk away now because something was very, very wrong and Devon was seventeen.

  “Dr. Livingstone,” a sharp voice called behind him. The air cleared. Jason whirled around, thankful for the rescue even if it was Candice Matthews. It was not. “Great, I was just looking for you.”

  Miranda Rutherford was the model student at Olympia Heights Senior High. She was intelligent, articulate, responsible, and behaved. Despite standing at an unimpressive five-feet two-inches, she had presence. Miranda, or Minnie, was the top of every class and president of nearly as many clubs as June Herald. Unlike June Herald and her rival, Devon, Miranda didn’t have much style. She had round glasses, shoulder length hair that fell around her face without any attention other than a brushing after her shower, and hadn’t ever bothered to pierce her ears. Today Miranda was dressed for gym, wearing sneakers, track shorts, and a purple t-shirt that read “I believe in Severus Snape.”

  “Jake Estavez hurt his ankle out on the soccer field,” she said, looking like she was still catching her breath. “Coach Morin sent me in to find you.”

  Jason glanced back at Devon, giving her a look that he hoped conveyed how close she had cut it. He was grateful because Minnie had saved him, though from what he wasn’t exactly sure. “Alright,” he said, walking toward his office to grab the first aid kit hanging near the door. “Lead the way.”

  The bell rang in Honors Chemistry that afternoon. Dr. Davis asked June Herald to stay after. June approached the desk. The only other student left in the room was Minnie Rutherford, who was locking up the chemical storage cabinet.

  “Is something wrong?” June asked, her eyes drifting to watch Devon follow Zach into the hall.

  Dr. Davis opened the top drawer of her desk and pulled out a manila folder marked with “Labs” and last Thursday’s date. She presented June with her latest lab grade. A “D”. “You’re an A student, June. What is this?”

  “I uh—I guess I just didn’t grasp the concept of what we were doing.” She bit her lip. June knew exactly what had happened with that grade. She’d spent most of the lab watching Devon bat her eyelashes at Zach. Every time June would get her focus back, Devon would find some excuse to walk by Zach’s table and run her hand along his shoulder. Zach would get all dopey looking and then June’s focus would leave the line graph of temperatures. Devon’s pursuit of Zach was problematic, but this new problem was going to have to take priority. The grade wouldn’t look good in her average and she needed to get into an Ivy League school. She’d been dreaming of Harvard since she was twelve and she’d just barely squeaked out of the fight without a mark on her permanent record. She took a deep breath. “Can I make it up?” she asked.

  “Can you find a lab partner to come and do it after school today?”

  June knew she’d never get Zach to do it. He had football. She considered Dr. Davis’ question for a moment.

  “I can stay.” Minnie had overheard them and came back to the desk. She handed Dr. Davis the keys to the cabinet. “If you need my help. I mean, this kind of stuff is fun.”

  “Oh thank you!” June gushed, “You’re a life saver!”

  “Alright, two fifteen. Don’t be late.” Dr. Davis locked the keys to the cabinet in her desk drawer.

  “See you then,” June ran for the door. She needed to catch up with Zach.

  Minnie was already waiting when June got to the chemistry classroom. She was reading a sophomore lab write-up that had been left behind on the desk. Her hair was pulled back into a very plain ponytail and her glasses had slipped down her nose. Minnie had brown eyes and a slender build that was well
hidden behind baggy fandom t-shirts. Minnie’s legs were very long in proportion to the rest of her body, but all-in-all she was only five-foot two-inches. She pushed her glasses back up her nose, where they stayed for a moment before beginning to slip once more.

  “Ready?” June got her binder out.

  “Yeah.” Minnie set her bag down. It thunked heavily on the table. “Can I just suggest something before we start? Or rather make an observation?”

  “Hmm?”

  “I think you grasp the concept. I think you’re just distracted.”

  June stopped rooting through her bag. “By what?”

  “By watching Devon Valentine.” She’d seen the fight in the hall the other day. Somehow, June kept her composure.

  “Devon’s gone after Zach just to spite me. I don’t trust her.” She attached a rubber hose to a glass tube and slid it through a rubber stopper. June went back to business as if that was the end of it.

  “Do you trust him?” Minnie asked.

  June didn’t look up. “I don’t trust her.”

  “It shouldn’t matter if you trust her; it’s not about her. It’s him that matters.” Not that Minnie would know. She’d never had a boyfriend. She’d never even tried to have a boyfriend. Still, her lack of interest in dating didn’t detract from her ability to see human relationships clearly and she saw that June and Zach’s was not so healthy. “You did nothing but spy on Devon when we did the lab. And now you’re here making it up and she’s out on the football field shaking her pom-poms in his view.”

  June’s initial imagining of Devon’s pom-poms did not include synthetic plastic streamers mounted on handles. She set the burner down hard and looked at Minnie, “It doesn’t matter if I trust Zach or not. She can still lay distrust between us. She can still drive a wedge if she wants to with her own dishonesty.”

  Minnie was about to say that she doubted Devon would do that, but she knew Devon was pretty cut-throat when she wanted something. So was June.

  “I’m just gonna say the distrust is working.” She quickly changed the subject. “Okay, so what we’re looking for when we graph the temperatures is a plateau. That’s the boiling point.”

  Dr. Davis came in with a fresh cup of coffee to check on the girls. Her eyes fell on them, side by side, cooperating but at odds. It was like watching family. They looked like a pair of bickering sisters as Minnie corrected June’s lab write-up.

  “How the hell do you remember that?” June remarked about a procedure Minnie rattled off from the text-book. She’d seemingly memorized the whole lab.

  “I have a perfect memory,” Minnie bragged.

  Celene moved to her desk and sat down to watch. They didn’t seem to notice her.

  “Really? Like photographic?”

  “Everything. I don’t study anymore, I just do the reading at night and remember everything. It’s called eidetic recall.”

  “Lucky,” June wouldn’t have to work so hard, she’d have time to keep an eye on Zach if she had that ability. “I hate you so much right now.”

  “I can recite whole books I’ve read. Wanna hear Harry Potter?” Now she was just showing off. “The Dursleys of number four--”

  “No, we’re good! I’ve read it,” June lied. “Come on. I’ve got to get this done.”

  Minnie lit the burner. She pushed the button on the stop watch. Thirty seconds passed. “Temperature.”

  “Sixty three degrees.” June marked the graph. “How long have you had this memory thing?”

  “About... well I’ve always had a good memory, but it went haywire about April last year. Gradually, not all on one day. It made finals a breeze.”

  “I can tell when people are lying,” June was trying to one-up the other girl. “Most people. There’s only a select few I can’t read.”

  “Zach?” Minnie asked.

  “Zach.”

  “Temp.”

  “Seventy two degrees.” June sighed, “Zach, Devon, Lewis. Those are the ones I know. Everyone else I can read like an open book. Freaked out Dr. Livingstone Friday.

  “Ooh, try me!”

  “Uh... okay. Tell me two things that are true and one that’s false.”

  “Okay, um. I have never met my mother. I wanted to join the army when I was a kid. I have a pet tarantula.”

  June watched her for a moment, “You didn’t want to join the army.”

  “No, I did.” She really wanted to for the longest time. Of course she’d always planned to aim missiles, not run over a sand dune with a gun.

  “Okay then, the mom thing.”

  “Nope, never met her.” Her mother had hemorrhaged and bled out in childbirth. Minnie was totally a daddy’s girl. Her father spoiled her terribly.

  “Really?” June wrinkled her nose. “I could definitely see you with a tarantula.”

  “Ew, no! I hate spiders.” Minnie had forgotten the stop watch. “Oh! Temperature!”

  “Right, eighty-eight degrees.” June marked the chart again. It was still climbing fast.

  “So you can’t read me?” That was good to know.

  “Apparently not. Congratulations, you’re now one of four out of, like, a hundred people I’ve tested.”

  Celene was lost in thought by now, trying to remember her undergrad psychology course and what they’d learned about human memory. Surely Minnie was exaggerating when she said she had a perfect memory. That wasn’t possible. But then the other week... Penny and that plant... No. That wasn’t possible either.

  “We’re done.” Celene looked up, startled. June stood over her with a lab worksheet in hand. “Thanks for letting me redo it. It was really easy. I think I was just preoccupied that day.”

  “Alright. No more do-overs. Pay attention in class.”

  “I will. I promise.” June darted for the door, off to football practice to supervise Devon and Zach.

  “Miranda--” Celene began.

  Minnie was almost out the door behind June. She stopped by grabbing the doorframe and swung back into the room. She hung from her arm as she spoke. “Yes, Dr. Davis?”

  What was she planning to ask? She’d be carted off in a straight jacket if she started asking her students about extra-human abilities. “Thank you.”

  “No problem,” Minnie said. She stood there for a moment, feeling awkward. She should have left right away, but now the pause was too long and she had to make small talk. “That yellow plant on your desk was really sorry-looking this afternoon. Did you use some fertilizer or something?”

  “Oh, no,” she lied, “I threw that one away. This one came from the lab table back there.

  “Oh.” Minnie frowned. “Okay then. See you tomorrow.”

  Celene would have to be more careful about what plants she revived. Someone else was bound to notice.

  “Must not all things at last be swallowed up in death?”

  -Plato

  vii.

  Two boys scrambled up a tree in a close race.

  An enticing vine of violet grapes dangled

  beyond their hands, out of their reach, above them.

  It was a great game.

  The younger boy was ahead of the other.

  He glanced back at his friend with a cocky smile.

  He was inches from the prize and gaining speed

  until his foot slipped.

  He fell back with his arm extended, reaching,

  Time slowing in his mind as he floated down.

  The older boy climbed half-way down the wrapped tree,

  then jumped to the ground.

  The younger boy lay with his body broken.

  The twinkle of life in his eyes had gone out.

  The older boy wept ‘til he could taste his tears.

  Slowly, salt beads dripped.

  A single tear splashed on the dusty gray ground

  And one more just as clear on the dead boy’s face,

  before the tear changed to a deep blood red hue.

  Wine on a white cheek.

  “A bad beginni
ng makes a bad ending.”

  -Euripides

  VII.

  Every year Olympia Heights had a Halloween Carnival to raise money for the O.H.S.H. Athletics Department. This year the carnival took place the Saturday before the actual holiday, giving kids a second chance to wear costumes they might otherwise only get to wear once a year. The carnival was held just outside of town in a parking lot by the beach. The lot was unrecognizable during the days of the carnival between the ferris wheel, booths, and fences set up on the pavement. The lifeguard on duty at the beach was a formality. Nobody was expected to be down at the beach today. Most of the public stuck to the carnival because that only happened once a year.

  The wealthiest family in town, the Wexler family, was a big sponsor of the carnival. Mr. Wexler was a retired state senator. His son, Theodore Jr., was supposed to be at the carnival at noon to set up but he’d been out late Friday night and overslept. He’d really overslept. Teddy arrived at the carnival by five, just late enough to miss all of the preparations.

  Theodore Wexler Jr. was adopted. His mother had been the housekeeper at the Wexler home when Tommy and Lindsay Wexler were still in high school. It was a big to-do when she’d had a terrible accident and then died in labor. All the papers covered the puff piece on the compassionate adoption of her son by the Wexler family.

  In truth, Miss Castellanos had been the housekeeper at the Wexler residence but she had not born the son of a deadbeat mechanic like they claimed. Mr. and Mrs. Wexler’s marriage had been strained for some time and Mr. Wexler had started up an affair with the beautiful young housekeeper. When Mrs. Wexler found out that the housekeeper’s baby was her husband’s son, she’d pushed her down the basement stairs. The housekeeper gave birth to Theodore and then died. An “accident.”