Five

Ava wiped her mouth with her white cloth napkin, then placed it next to her unfinished plate of tiny doughnuts, or frittole, as the printed menu on the table called them.

“I can’t eat another bite.”

Fia groaned and clutched her stomach. “Me neither.”

Ava still couldn’t believe the meal they had been served at the New Student Banquet—thinly sliced beef with melon, small plates of shrimp and octopus, minestrone soup with basil, buttery pasta with clams, squid ink risotto, a fruit platter, lemon mousse, and finally the still warm frittole. Adding to the lavish feel of the feast, the Great Hall had been transformed: White linen tablecloths covered the claw-foot tables and each one was decorated with its own unique centerpiece of dried starfish, blue anemones, driftwood, and seashells. There were gleaming silverware, crystal goblets, and even gold-rimmed china with the school’s crest—Hercules holding the club he used against the Nemean lion over a fancy motto Ava guessed was Latin: Genus non est fatum. Best of all, Fia had waved her over so they could sit together. Ava had introduced herself to the other kids at their table—including two girls from Poland, a boy from Uruguay, and a boy from Vietnam who’d all surprisingly spoken fluent English—but she’d spent most of the evening talking to Fia.

“You don’t think we’ll eat like this every night?” Fia asked.

Outside, it had grown dark—Ava could see her reflection in the window. “I doubt it. We’ve been here for hours.” Then she pointed to her plate. “Although it does look like the school motto is about being fatum.”

Fia smirked. “Maybe Genus non est fatum means, ‘Genius, don’t fat shame.’”

Ava laughed. “I’m not sure the Greek gods were all that into body positivity.”

Fia leaned in, and Ava expected her to make another joke.

“This place is kind of weird, isn’t it?” she whispered. “I mean, why set up a school for English speakers in Italy?”

Ava didn’t know what to say. On the one hand, she agreed with Fia; everything from the perfect timing of her admission to her mom’s silent goodbye had been strange. But the Accademia was also weird in a wonderful way, with its eight-course meals and double periods of mythology and teachers who already knew and liked Ava. Fia herself was quirky, and that was exactly why Ava liked her. She seemed less likely to care about being part of the popular crowd and to run off with them, although until Ava figured out who the popular crowd was at the Accademia, she couldn’t be sure. Still, Ava hoped they might end up as roommates.

“We better get our room assignments soon,” Ava said. “I need to lie down.”

“No such luck.” Fia pointed at the wall behind Ava. “Looks like they’re just getting started.”

Ava swiveled in her seat just in time to see Headmaster O’Ryan clink a spoon against his goblet. Ms. Clio wheeled a riser with a podium beside it.

“Speech,” Fia said with about as much enthusiasm as Ava felt after the long meal. Still, Ava sat up straight and tried to look excited.

The din around them quieted as Mr. O’Ryan climbed the riser. He rested his glass on the podium and loosened his tie.

“Does he really need the riser?” Fia whispered. “The guy is built like Hercules. It’s not like we can’t see him.”

Fia was right, of course, but Ava didn’t want to get in trouble for talking on her first day, so she just flashed a quick smile.

“I hope everyone enjoyed their dinner,” Headmaster O’Ryan bellowed.

Some kids shouted out “yes!” while others clapped.

“Excellent. Because now it’s time to get down to business.”

Ava waited for the headmaster to continue, but he paused, scanning the room.

“Earlier today, Ms. Clio directed your attention to the marvelous fresco above your heads. One of your fellow students was able to identify the Titanomachy”—Ava blushed as several faces turned to her—“and its victorious heroes, the Olympian gods.”

“And goddesses,” Fia muttered under her breath.

“But it’s now time to expand your understanding of why this fresco is so important to us at the Accademia del Forte. The most powerful of Olympian gods—Zeus, Poseidon, and Hades—founded this school.”

Ava waited for Mr. O’Ryan to add “That’s the legend anyway” with a wink or a grin, but he continued to stare down at them with a solemn expression.

“I know what I’m about to say will come as a surprise, but the Greek gods and goddesses are alive and well.”

“Oh good,” Fia whispered dryly. “The goddesses finally got some credit. For being alive. Which is a real accomplishment when they’re immortal.”

Ava bit her lip, trying to stifle a laugh. Surely this was some sort of bedtime story. She had to give Mr. O’Ryan credit, though—he was doing an excellent job of staying in character.

“The Olympians not only founded this school, they still run it today,” he declared with a straight face.

“All hail Zeus!” a boy at the table next to Ava’s shouted, looking for a laugh.

Mr. O’Ryan gave a tight smile. “You are lucky that school has just started, young man, and you don’t yet understand where or who you are. But mock the gods like that again and you will be given a strike. Three strikes and you will be thrown out of the Accademia, which I can assure you is a fate no one wishes. Show respect!”

With that, Mr. O’Ryan lifted his hand. A thin ribbon of water spiraled up from the boy’s goblet, then hung in the air, swirling in front of him. The boy stared up at it, mesmerized.

“How’d he do that?” Fia asked.

Before Ava could answer, coils of water sprang into the air from every goblet and pitcher in the room and combined to form shapes—dolphins leaping over waves, a herd of flying horses, a whirling ring of dancers.

Ava stared up, speechless. The entire Great Hall had fallen silent. Was this a trick, like at one of those fancy magic shows? Other kids may have been thinking the same, because a few of them—including the boy who’d hailed Zeus—started to applaud. But before anyone could join them, the swirls of water combined into waves and scooped up the applauding students. Terrified shrieks filled the room as they were carried high over the tables on the foamy swells.

Fia turned pale, eyed the door. “I feel seasick.”

But Ava was too amazed to respond. This couldn’t be a magic trick. The only person who could make kids fly and water defy gravity was a god.

Mr. O’Ryan made a diving motion with his hand, and the waves broke, dropping the kids gently back into their seats. Ava heard Fia let out a breath.

“All hail Poseidon,” the boy who’d hailed Zeus said in a quivering voice.

“I am hardly the great Poseidon,” Mr. O’Ryan said. “Merely—”

The headmaster’s name suddenly made sense.

“His son,” Ava said. The giant Orion was also known as the Great Hunter.

“Very perceptive, Ava,” Mr. O’Ryan—or actually Mr. Orion—said.

“I don’t like this—” Fia said. But she kept her voice low, a whisper.

“There is other magic at work at the Accademia,” Mr. Orion explained calmly. “You are all speaking your native tongues, and yet Hermes has cast a spell so you can understand one another.”

“I was wondering how you all spoke Vietnamese!” said the boy from Vietnam who was sitting across the table.

“You just said that in Polish,” said one of the girls next to him.

“I’m hearing you all in Spanish,” said Mathias, the boy from Uruguay.

To Ava they were all speaking English, but she was distracted by a bigger question. Her mom must have known the Accademia was run by the gods. Why hadn’t she told Ava? Ava was certain that the answer had to do with who the Greek gods were running the school for in the first place.

She nudged Fia.

“The ancestry tests!”

But Fia was still nervously eyeing Mr. Orion. “What?”

“That’s why they had us do them. It wasn’t just a fun activity. There’s a reason the gods selected us. Our ancestry—”

Fia swung around, stared straight at Ava.

“You think we’re related to the Greek gods?”

“Yes!” Ava whispered. “It’s the only thing that makes sense. The gods set up this school for kids like us because we’re demigods!”

Fia’s brow wrinkled. “You sure?”

“Now, you’re probably wondering why you’re here,” Mr. Orion said.

“You can say that again,” murmured Fia.

“Listen!” Ava whispered.

“Each one of you is special,” Mr. Orion continued. “The DNA we took from you today proves that you’re not ordinary mortals.”

Ava beamed at Fia. She couldn’t wait to find out which god or goddess she was descended from. She hoped it was Athena. It seemed possible; Jax had always been super smart and both Mr. Orion and Ms. Clio—Ava almost laughed aloud as she realized that Clio was the muse of history—had praised her intelligence. Her mom had been a star student too. Ava imagined getting to train with Athena’s spear and aegis, her special indestructible shield. Maybe she would even be allowed to keep an owl, Athena’s totem, as a pet?

Mr. Orion’s booming voice rang out across the Great Hall. “This may come as a shock, but it’s time you know the truth. You are all the descendants of . . .”

Gods, Ava mouthed, leaning forward in her chair.

But Mr. Orion said an entirely different word.

“Monsters.”