It was a good thing that I liked Nell okay for the most part, since we had every single class together—well, every class but one. An elective. Nell was enrolled in theater, but I was stuck with a study hour in the library during the last hour of the day.
“Ready or not,” she said, handing me a printout of my schedule as we walked down the hall. “Here we go.”
And just like that, I was shaking hands with Mrs. Anderson, my new science teacher. I had her first thing in the morning for homeroom to listen to announcements and do the whole Pledge of Allegiance thing, but I wouldn’t be back until later that afternoon for real class. I sat with Nell at the very back of the classroom, staring at the two aquariums that lined the side of the bright room: one with swarms of rainbow fish, the other with an extremely large, extremely hairy tarantula named Eleanor.
Thinking of my task from Uncle Barnabas, I pointed to it, raising my brows.
Nell shook her head, writing down on her notebook, Find one we don’t have to steal, you idiot. Then she added, Eleanor isn’t what you think. Try a lizard or frog.
A frog! It was the first time Al had spoken since earlier that morning. His presence had turned into a hum of static in my body. Sometimes it intensified, like he was trying to listen or do something. Other times, it was so quiet I could almost forget he was there at all.
I walked through the day in an overwhelmed daze. I had the weirdest feeling that I was outside my own body, watching myself move through the yellow-tiled hallways and their red lockers. From door to door, class to class, hour to hour.
Second period was language arts, with Ms. Mell—a young, blond teacher who had the nervous habit of lecturing about pronouns to the floor instead of to us.
Then it was off to third period for pre-algebra with Mrs. Johnson, who called on me for every single question, either because she was trying to force herself to learn my name, or just to torture me.
Fourth period was humanities with Mr. Gupta. Redhood Academy had combined language arts and humanities into one class—English—so it was actually kind of awesome when I found out that the class was dedicated to studying all kinds of famous works: writing, poetry, mythology, and actual art. And no boring grammar rules.
Mr. Gupta drummed his hands against his desk. “It’s time…for another round of It’s All Greek to Me! Which team will reign supreme and ascend to the heights of Mount Olympus and feast on the ambrosia of a magnificent pizza lunch?”
Mr. Gupta really loved teaching his Greek mythology unit.
Around me, Nell and the other students were shifting their desks, reluctantly scooting them so there was a clear divide between each side of the room. My team was slumped in their chairs or sneaking looks at their phones in their backpacks.
“We never win,” Nell explained in a whisper. “I know that’ll be a change of pace for you, but try not to sulk.”
A change of pace for me…? The last thing I’d won in life was a Silence Cake–eating contest, and only because the guy next to me barfed in his mouth and was disqualified. But before I could explain that, the trivia battle began.
“Why did Athena and Poseidon compete with one another?” Mr. Gupta asked.
Hey—I knew that one. Dad and I used to pore over this amazing mythology book each night before bed. I started to raise my hand, but the guy from the bus, the one with the baseball cap—now hatless, thanks to school rules—shot his hand up into the air.
What art thou…you doing? Alastor demanded. Answer the man, fool!
Al clearly did not understand the rules of this game, if he understood the concept of “rules” at all.
“Yes, Parker?” Mr. Gupta called.
“When Athens was being founded, they competed to see who the Greeks would choose to name the city after,” he said while his team pounded their desks in approval. “Poseidon could only give them salt water, which isn’t exactly useful. But Athena gave the people an olive tree, which they could use, so they named the city after her instead.”
“That’s correct!” Mr. Gupta said, marking one point for Team Two on the whiteboard. “Next question, my demigods. Who searched for the Golden Fleece?”
That was easy. Jason and the Argonauts.
You must answer the man, Maggot, not bask in your own brilliance! Alastor growled. The other team conquers yours!
The girl beside me, Anna, was quick to answer. “Perseus?”
Ack, no—
“I’m sorry, that’s incorrect. Team Two?”
It was clear that Parker was the key to their success. He smiled smugly before answering, “Jason and the Argonauts.”
We do not like him. Alastor’s voice was flat and cold. Do not allow him to take your throne of…this…pizza.
A sharp elbow jabbed into my side as I raised my hand to answer Mr. Gupta’s question about Zeus’s wife.
“Hera,” I said. Finally, we were on the board. A boy sitting opposite Nell looked up from where he was knotting and unknotting his sweatshirt strings.
“Holy crap, we have a point,” he said, ignoring Mr. Gupta’s warning: “Language!”
It went back and forth between the two teams. A girl sitting a few seats behind me answered the next one, which sparked another girl into answering the one after that.
“Who completed the Twelve Labors?”
Another point for our team. It volleyed back and forth and back and forth until there was only one question left, and we were, of course, tied.
“And now…for the pizza party,” Mr. Gupta said, deepening his already deep voice. “Who killed the Chimera?”
I knew this one….I knew it….Dad and I had read this story together a few times, but I couldn’t pull the name out, it was on the tip of my tongue. It started with a P—no, with a B, didn’t it? I glanced over at Parker, who was staring at the ceiling, squinting hard in thought.
Come on, come on…
“Someone must know this,” Mr. Gupta said. “Suuuurely you all did your reading?”
There was the sound of uncomfortable shifting. Chairs creaking.
Then the memory rose, floating up like a feather. A voice at the back of my mind whispered the answer. I lifted a tentative hand, swallowing my nerves.
“Yes, Ethan?” Mr. Gupta asked.
Don’t let me mess up… Nell’s eyes bored into the side of my head. Everyone’s did.
“Bellerophon,” I said.
Mr. Gupta was silent for a beat.
Then he grinned. “That’s correct!”
“Yessssssssss!” The kid beside me, Blake, pumped both fists into the air like I’d just won us a gold medal at the Olympics. Blood rushed to my face as my teammates pounded the top of their desks.
“Oh my God, we never win—no one can beat Parker! Good job, Ethan!” a girl—Sara, I think—said. On the other side of the room, Parker scowled in my direction, quickly looking away to stuff his notebook into his backpack.
It is a difficult thing, to lose, Alastor mused with a smirk in his voice, when one is so accustomed to winning. Soon your family will understand that too.
Go away, I thought, irritated. I’m having a moment, here.
“We don’t suck! We don’t suck!” Blake’s friends began to chant.
Each word, each new voice adding to it, jabbed at my own excitement, until it deflated completely. An uneasiness stirred inside of me, a flutter of unhappiness.
Congratulations, Maggot, Alastor said, sounding unusually pleased. It feels rather tremendous, does it not—being a winner?
Winning classroom trivia doesn’t make you a winner, I told him. It just means you’ve read a book.
But he wasn’t wrong. Some part of me—the part that braced myself every time I got a report card, the part of me that learned to tune my family out rather than speak up—felt like it was shining. I leaned back in my seat, releasing a long, deep breath of relief.
“All right, all right,” Mr. Gupta said, clapping to get our attention. “I’ll see Team One back here for lunch. Come hungry!”
The bell rang for the next hour, and we all quickly put the room back in order. On the way out, Nell punched my shoulder lightly.
“Pretty impressive,” she said.
“Yeah, I mean,” I said, keeping my head down. “I guess?”
I wanted to be happy that I’d done something right, for once. But deep down, past that small slice of happiness, hidden beneath the pride, was an ugly truth. A nagging doubt.
Who had really answered that question—me, or Alastor?