there, Era. Bad crime, haven’t you seen Cops ?” I said, grasping at straws.
“That’s where I want to go, Thalia.”
“But it’s dirty!” I yelled.
“A Beautorium, Thalia, we need to get to a Beautorium. Look at my hair!” Now Era was screaming. It was no use.
“What’s a Beautorium?” It was Pocky, leaning up against the car, groggy and half asleep. He was stirring.
“Oh, Pocky, good to see you’re all right. Okay, we’re off. Why don’t you get in the car? Here, I’ll help.” I gave him a hand up and opened the backseat car door. He slid in and slumped back. I shut the door, and he slid down the window, stopping with his chin on the door lock. He started to drool.
I whispered, “Okay, okay, okay. Now that Pocky is up again, someone needs to drive till he falls backasleep so we can, you know, do our thing. I think that person should be me.”
“Um, no,” said Polly. “Why should it be you? You think you’re better than us at everything earthly, but you’re not. I think I should drive.”
“Have you ever driven before?”
“No, have you?”
“No, but I watch very closely.”
“Well, so do I!”
“Well, I think it takes some athletic prowess, and face it, I’m just more adept at these things than you.”
“I don’t think it takes athleticism; I think it takes a level head and smarts, two things you’ve proven tonight—and, dare I say, previous nights—you severely lack.”
“W-well…” I stuttered.
“Plus I’m older, right, Era? Era, you choose.”
“I don’t wanna,” she said, all quiet.
“That settles it,” said Polly. “I will drive. Now get into the car. If we’re going to go, let’s go.”
Polly got in the front seat, pulled on the seat belt, and clicked it into place. She put the key in the hole and turned it, and the car started right up. She looked so pleased with herself. For a moment. But then she panicked ever so slightly. She shook a little. And looked around furiously. She began to breathe heavily, and then she turned to me with an expression of extreme confusion and said, “How do you get it to go forward?”
ELEVEN
Wednesday, 11:46 P.M. , parking lot of Colonial Williamsburg, Virginia
A pollo pulled into the Colonial Williamsburg parking lot with the same wild abandon that he drove those 528 miles from Athens. He stopped the car randomly, covering no less than three actual parking spots, and jumped out of the car before it had even stopped chugging. He was a man on a mission, a man with a one-track mind, a man who’d left the keys in the car. But that didn’t matter. All that mattered was that he was finally within reach of Thalia, he was finally going to tell her the whole story—how he was actually Apollo in disguise, how Hera intended to send them to Hades if they messed up just one more time, how he still loved her after all the vomit and greenness and snakes. He loved her.
He ran for the nearest building, a small structure with a sign out front that said Tickets. But he quickly realized that the lights were out. He could see no one inside. He hadn’t thought about the fact that it was late, after hours, and that most people were probably already at home, asleep. He pounded on the glass of the little kiosk—not to get anyone’s attention, but just out of sheer frustration. Now where to? He scanned the parking lot and saw cars but no people. He let out a groan, a groan of anger and pain.
“Can I help you?”
A little mousy face peeked out from inside the kiosk. She looked like she had been sleeping.
“Oh, my, someone is in there! Thank you! I’m sorry to disturb you, but can you please tell me where I can find a young girl by the name of Thalia?”
“Don’t know anyone by that name, sir, sorry.” She looked at him with a mixture of curiosity and sleepiness.
“No, of course you wouldn’t. I’ve missed them, surely,” he said. Apollo hung his head low, unsure of what to do next.
“You know,” said the woman from the
“That’s where I want to go, Thalia.”
“But it’s dirty!” I yelled.
“A Beautorium, Thalia, we need to get to a Beautorium. Look at my hair!” Now Era was screaming. It was no use.
“What’s a Beautorium?” It was Pocky, leaning up against the car, groggy and half asleep. He was stirring.
“Oh, Pocky, good to see you’re all right. Okay, we’re off. Why don’t you get in the car? Here, I’ll help.” I gave him a hand up and opened the backseat car door. He slid in and slumped back. I shut the door, and he slid down the window, stopping with his chin on the door lock. He started to drool.
I whispered, “Okay, okay, okay. Now that Pocky is up again, someone needs to drive till he falls backasleep so we can, you know, do our thing. I think that person should be me.”
“Um, no,” said Polly. “Why should it be you? You think you’re better than us at everything earthly, but you’re not. I think I should drive.”
“Have you ever driven before?”
“No, have you?”
“No, but I watch very closely.”
“Well, so do I!”
“Well, I think it takes some athletic prowess, and face it, I’m just more adept at these things than you.”
“I don’t think it takes athleticism; I think it takes a level head and smarts, two things you’ve proven tonight—and, dare I say, previous nights—you severely lack.”
“W-well…” I stuttered.
“Plus I’m older, right, Era? Era, you choose.”
“I don’t wanna,” she said, all quiet.
“That settles it,” said Polly. “I will drive. Now get into the car. If we’re going to go, let’s go.”
Polly got in the front seat, pulled on the seat belt, and clicked it into place. She put the key in the hole and turned it, and the car started right up. She looked so pleased with herself. For a moment. But then she panicked ever so slightly. She shook a little. And looked around furiously. She began to breathe heavily, and then she turned to me with an expression of extreme confusion and said, “How do you get it to go forward?”
ELEVEN
Wednesday, 11:46 P.M. , parking lot of Colonial Williamsburg, Virginia
A pollo pulled into the Colonial Williamsburg parking lot with the same wild abandon that he drove those 528 miles from Athens. He stopped the car randomly, covering no less than three actual parking spots, and jumped out of the car before it had even stopped chugging. He was a man on a mission, a man with a one-track mind, a man who’d left the keys in the car. But that didn’t matter. All that mattered was that he was finally within reach of Thalia, he was finally going to tell her the whole story—how he was actually Apollo in disguise, how Hera intended to send them to Hades if they messed up just one more time, how he still loved her after all the vomit and greenness and snakes. He loved her.
He ran for the nearest building, a small structure with a sign out front that said Tickets. But he quickly realized that the lights were out. He could see no one inside. He hadn’t thought about the fact that it was late, after hours, and that most people were probably already at home, asleep. He pounded on the glass of the little kiosk—not to get anyone’s attention, but just out of sheer frustration. Now where to? He scanned the parking lot and saw cars but no people. He let out a groan, a groan of anger and pain.
“Can I help you?”
A little mousy face peeked out from inside the kiosk. She looked like she had been sleeping.
“Oh, my, someone is in there! Thank you! I’m sorry to disturb you, but can you please tell me where I can find a young girl by the name of Thalia?”
“Don’t know anyone by that name, sir, sorry.” She looked at him with a mixture of curiosity and sleepiness.
“No, of course you wouldn’t. I’ve missed them, surely,” he said. Apollo hung his head low, unsure of what to do next.
“You know,” said the woman from the
Similar Books
