Eleven

The new teacher hunched over her desk, her eyes red as if she’d been crying and framed by dark circles. She was plump and middle-aged with dried out, straw-colored hair. Dead plants adorned her classroom and from beneath her long, poppy-red cloak, a cricket chirped mournfully. It was the third week of school, September 22 to be exact, and Ava’s first day of Health Ed.

“Is she okay?” Mathias whispered.

“No,” Fia whispered back. “She just lost her only daughter.”

“And she still came in?”

“It happens every year.”

Mathias looked confused.

“Ms. Demi,” Ava whispered, “short for the goddess Demeter. Every year on the fall equinox, her daughter, Persephone, must leave her and rejoin her husband, Hades, in the underworld.”

Ms. Demi sniffed loudly. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be here for the beginning of the school year. But I find that it’s just as useful to start my class after you’ve had a few weeks to settle in.”

Ava was still astounded by how quickly this had happened. It had taken just a few weeks to feel as if she’d been going to the Accademia del Forte her whole life. The days were a busy blur of classes and sports, the evenings filled with homework and scrumptious meals in the Great Hall with Layla, Arnold, and Fia. She no longer batted an eye when Layla’s hair or eyes changed midconversation. She had learned to take it in stride when strange things happened, such as when Björn, a boy in Mr. Moros’s math class, got frustrated with a quadratic equation and sent a mini hurricane through the classroom (he was simply a descendant of Typhon, the storm monster); or in tennis, when she and Fia were assigned to play doubles against Hester, a second-year who promptly sprouted a set of extra arms (she was related to the hundred-handed Hecatoncheires). Design Lab was Fia’s favorite class and admittedly the most exciting because at least once a week there was a grisly accident that revealed someone’s powers. But Ava, who didn’t feel the same dangerous attraction to Mr. Heff’s forge, preferred Ms. Clio’s class, where she could indulge her passion for mythology while Ms. Clio showered her with praise.

She wasn’t sure what to expect from Health Ed. In fifth grade back in America, the gym teacher had given separate cringey talks to the girls and boys about their changing bodies, but Ava had the feeling that Health Ed meant something different at the Accademia.

“By this time,” Ms. Demi continued, “a few of you have already experienced your powers and figured out who your monster forebearer is. You may feel excited or frightened or a bit of both. This class will help teach you how to regulate your emotions so you can control your powers, rather than have them control you.”

Ava noticed everyone shifting around in their seats trying to identify these early developers. She knew only two not counting herself: Björn, and a girl named Lindiwe who could pull back-to-back all-nighters, a power she’d inherited from Ladon, the hundred-headed serpent that had guarded the golden apples of the Hesperides and never slept.

“For those of you who have not yet developed powers, it’s natural to have some anxiety about the changes to come. You may be worried about an embarrassing or painful metamorphosis; over the years, I’ve heard a lot of fears concerning the sudden development of extra limbs and heads. Or you may start to wonder why you’re not developing powers like the rest of your peers. This class is a safe space—a place to ask questions openly and share experiences without judgement.”

Fia’s hand shot up. But unlike Ms. Clio’s icy reaction, a warm smile spread across Ms. Demi’s face. “A question already! Yes, go ahead.”

“So why do some kids develop their powers later than others?” Fia asked.

Ms. Demi walked around to the front of her desk and perched on the edge.

“There’s no single answer to that—what’s your name, dear?”

“Fia.”

“In some cases, Fia, it’s just genetic. In other cases, there hasn’t been the right emotional trigger. Stress plays a big factor—”

Ava thought about Owen and raised her hand. “So if someone gets frightened or angry, they can trigger their powers?”

“That’s right.” Ms. Demi’s dark eyes locked on to Ava’s. “It’s why we teach emotional regulation.”

Exactly what Ava’s mom had wanted her to learn.

“How did you get this job?” Fia asked.

The question sounded rude, but Ms. Demi didn’t seem angry. She just smiled sadly at Fia.

“I know more than just about anyone—mortal or immortal—about how to control my emotions.”

Ms. Demi spent the remainder of the class handing out a questionnaire for each of them to complete—so she could separate them into developmentally similar groups—and asking them to keep a daily journal about their feelings. Ava expected Fia to crack a joke about the journal—Now we’re supposed to be self-reflective monsters—but she didn’t.

After class ended, Fia went up to Ms. Demi. Ava followed, curious what she was going to ask next. But she didn’t have another question.

“I’m sorry about Persephone,” Fia said. “I never did think it was fair that Hades could just take her against her will—”

“Me neither,” Ava said. Every year, Ms. Demi lost her daughter, and she couldn’t even get angry at the gods, just change the weather for mortals, who had nothing to do with Persephone’s kidnapping in the first place.

Ms. Demi patted Fia’s arm. “That’s very nice of you to say, girls. But the world we live in isn’t fair. Maybe someday that will change.”

Her gaze fell on Ava.

“I taught your mother. She was a feisty one, fearless—”

“My mom? Melanie?”

Ava was certain Ms. Demi was remembering someone else. But Ms. Demi smiled at the mention of her mom’s name.

“You look exactly like her. Ah, here comes Mr. Orion. I’ll see you Wednesday, girls.”

“Welcome back, Ms. Demi!” the headmaster bellowed, marching into the classroom. “I see you’ve met Ava. According to Ms. Clio, she’s on her way to becoming a top student, just like her mom. But I need to bring you up to speed on some of our other students—”

Ava noticed his gaze pass over Fia. She was certain Ms. Clio had complained about Fia’s attitude. But according to Ms. Demi, Ava’s mom had also been feisty and fearless.

“That was weird, what Ms. Demi said about my mom,” Ava said afterwards in the hallway to Fia. “‘Feisty’ and ‘fearless’ are the last words I’d use to describe her. Plus, Mr. Orion made her sound like this perfect student, someone who always followed the rules. Ms. Demi made her sound totally different.”

“Can’t someone be a good student and a rebel?” Fia asked.

Ava grinned. “You mean like you?”

“Exactly,” Fia said.

But Ava couldn’t help wondering if this was really possible, especially at the Accademia.