upside down and out on a limb.
Those three can give Thalia the Scyllia disease,
But the very first person she touches will feel dizzy,
And then they too will turn all ugly and smelly,
Their skin will become mutant green mint jelly,
And that person will have Scyllia for good,
Not some twenty-four-hour fake gobbledygook.
And who do you think she shall touch that first time?
Our dear Apollo for sure—we’d bet our fine rhymes!
Apollo will never love anyone evermore,
And on those three Muses we will even the score.
SEVEN
A nyway, back to the life on earth.
We’d been in Athens, Georgia, for a week, and yet we’d had not one opportunity to complete Daddy’s challenge. No progress whatsoever. Zilch. Zero.
“I just love these Pop-Tarts—we need to get more, okay?” said Era, sitting on the ground in the middle of the school quad, scarfing down cold Pop-Tarts one after the other.
“I guess. Personally, I don’t know how you eat that stuff. And for lunch? It’s so sugary sweet. I think you need some more carrots in your diet,” replied Polly. “And something green, too.” Era rolled her eyes, but she picked a piece of celery off Polly’s plate and started gnawing on that—wincing the whole time.
“So, we made it,” I said cheerily. “One official school week. How do you feel?”
“I feel good. Although I wish we could eat lunch together every day like this. That part doesn’t seem fair,” said Era.
On Fridays the whole school had lunch at the same period. Otherwise Era and I were together for the first half of the day, then from there we were all separated. It wasn’t that bad—I got to eat with Claire and her friends Pocky and Hammerhead, and they made me laugh.
Era continued. “But, you know, I quite like it here. The scenery is nice. Very nice.” At that moment ayoung football stud, Jimmy J. Johnson, went walking by. I was plenty sure Era wasn’t speaking of the plants, which, while attractive enough, weren’t nearly as spectacular as back home. No, my bets were on Jimmy J.
Jimmy J. took a seat with my backroom archnemeses, the three witches from science. “See those girls?” I said, pointing them out to Polly. “Claire calls them the Backroom Betties because they always sit in the back of the classroom and gossip. They hate me and Era, and for what reason?”
“They especially hate you,” Era said matter-of-factly.
“But why do they hate me at all?” I moaned.
“It’s simple,” Era replied. “You’re smart. And gorgeous.”
“Really? You think I’m smart? And gorgeous? My beautiful sister, well, aren’t you just the sweetest. But those are not reasons to hate someone.”
“Thalia, you know better than that. Jealousy is just as alive and well on earth as it was on Olympus.”
These were wise words coming from my sister’s mouth. Especially that part about me being smart and foxy. Maybe this place was truly having a positive effect on Era. I couldn’t say the same thing for my elder sib, though. Polly was sitting with us physically, but her mind was obviously somewhere else.
“Yo, Polly. What’s up?” I asked.
Nothing. She said nothing.
“Polly, hello, earth to Polly. What on earth has got you all mystified and tongue-tied?” I asked, making a little rhyme.
“What? Oh, it’s nothing. Math. Algebra. That’s all.”
“You’re daydreaming about algebra? You are not related to me,” said Era.
My thoughts exactly.
“Um, English. I have a big test in my English literature class,” Polly said distractedly.
“Literature is your best subject. What’s the matter with you? Are you sick?” I wondered.
“Fine, I’m…perfectly fine,” she muttered.
I watched her eyes follow this young, black-clad guy with thick, long hair and one of those I’m-trying-to-grow-a-beard-but-I’m-just-too-young faces. He came out of the math building, crossed the quad, and went into the English building. There was a look of pain on his face, like the instrument he
Those three can give Thalia the Scyllia disease,
But the very first person she touches will feel dizzy,
And then they too will turn all ugly and smelly,
Their skin will become mutant green mint jelly,
And that person will have Scyllia for good,
Not some twenty-four-hour fake gobbledygook.
And who do you think she shall touch that first time?
Our dear Apollo for sure—we’d bet our fine rhymes!
Apollo will never love anyone evermore,
And on those three Muses we will even the score.
SEVEN
A nyway, back to the life on earth.
We’d been in Athens, Georgia, for a week, and yet we’d had not one opportunity to complete Daddy’s challenge. No progress whatsoever. Zilch. Zero.
“I just love these Pop-Tarts—we need to get more, okay?” said Era, sitting on the ground in the middle of the school quad, scarfing down cold Pop-Tarts one after the other.
“I guess. Personally, I don’t know how you eat that stuff. And for lunch? It’s so sugary sweet. I think you need some more carrots in your diet,” replied Polly. “And something green, too.” Era rolled her eyes, but she picked a piece of celery off Polly’s plate and started gnawing on that—wincing the whole time.
“So, we made it,” I said cheerily. “One official school week. How do you feel?”
“I feel good. Although I wish we could eat lunch together every day like this. That part doesn’t seem fair,” said Era.
On Fridays the whole school had lunch at the same period. Otherwise Era and I were together for the first half of the day, then from there we were all separated. It wasn’t that bad—I got to eat with Claire and her friends Pocky and Hammerhead, and they made me laugh.
Era continued. “But, you know, I quite like it here. The scenery is nice. Very nice.” At that moment ayoung football stud, Jimmy J. Johnson, went walking by. I was plenty sure Era wasn’t speaking of the plants, which, while attractive enough, weren’t nearly as spectacular as back home. No, my bets were on Jimmy J.
Jimmy J. took a seat with my backroom archnemeses, the three witches from science. “See those girls?” I said, pointing them out to Polly. “Claire calls them the Backroom Betties because they always sit in the back of the classroom and gossip. They hate me and Era, and for what reason?”
“They especially hate you,” Era said matter-of-factly.
“But why do they hate me at all?” I moaned.
“It’s simple,” Era replied. “You’re smart. And gorgeous.”
“Really? You think I’m smart? And gorgeous? My beautiful sister, well, aren’t you just the sweetest. But those are not reasons to hate someone.”
“Thalia, you know better than that. Jealousy is just as alive and well on earth as it was on Olympus.”
These were wise words coming from my sister’s mouth. Especially that part about me being smart and foxy. Maybe this place was truly having a positive effect on Era. I couldn’t say the same thing for my elder sib, though. Polly was sitting with us physically, but her mind was obviously somewhere else.
“Yo, Polly. What’s up?” I asked.
Nothing. She said nothing.
“Polly, hello, earth to Polly. What on earth has got you all mystified and tongue-tied?” I asked, making a little rhyme.
“What? Oh, it’s nothing. Math. Algebra. That’s all.”
“You’re daydreaming about algebra? You are not related to me,” said Era.
My thoughts exactly.
“Um, English. I have a big test in my English literature class,” Polly said distractedly.
“Literature is your best subject. What’s the matter with you? Are you sick?” I wondered.
“Fine, I’m…perfectly fine,” she muttered.
I watched her eyes follow this young, black-clad guy with thick, long hair and one of those I’m-trying-to-grow-a-beard-but-I’m-just-too-young faces. He came out of the math building, crossed the quad, and went into the English building. There was a look of pain on his face, like the instrument he
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