Chapter Text
My name is Ari Jackson.
I’m twelve years old. I’m a leo. My favorite color is blue. My hobbies include being better than everyone and getting expelled from school.
Actually, that last one is less of a hobby and more of a curse.
More about me? Glad you asked! (If you didn’t, yes you did.)
I’m currently attending the illustrious reform boarding school Yancy Academy. Well, I say ‘illustrious’ but that’s just what they want you to think. Truthfully, they’ll take anyone willing to pay the tuition. They really don’t put much thought into who they admit. That’s how a troubled kid as lower class as myself made it— though I’m currently on very, very thin ice. That’s how the klepto red terror known as Nancy Bobofit made it.
As if it wasn’t enough to be a snotty little brat, she had to start throwing chunks of her peanut butter and ketchup sandwich at the only other tolerable student for miles.
“I’m going to kill her,” I mumbled. “She is not pretty enough to be that horrible.”
Grover tried to calm me down. “It’s okay. I like peanut butter.”
He dodged another piece of Nancy’s lunch.
At present, I am trapped on a bus to the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Sitting next to me is my best friend, Grover Underwood. He was a weepy, scrawny boy with a wispy goatee and a rather unfortunate case of acne. He was excused from P.E. due to a muscular disease that made him walk weirdly. This made him an easy target to the tasteless bullies of the world such as Nancy. Never mind that he was actually really sweet and ten times smarter than everyone else here.
I narrowed my sea green eyes. “It took me forever to get your curls looking that good— not that you weren’t simply darling beforehand, but that’s not the point. I’m about this close to cutting up her shirt.” I let out a snort. “Honestly, I’d be doing her a favor. I mean, red hair and a hot pink top? Criminal. Absolutely criminal.”
Grover gave me one of his weird knowing looks again before shaking his head.
“You’re already on probation,” he reminded me. “You know who’ll get blamed if anything happens.”
“Ugh, fine. But if I lose it and deck her in the face, I expect you to tell the teachers that she hit me first.”
Mr. Brunner, the Latin teacher, was the one to lead the tour.
Now, you’d think he’d be super boring considering the subject he taught and the fact that he was a middle-aged guy who unironically wore tweed jackets and smelt like one of those independent coffee shops that does open-mic slam poetry. Fortunately for his students, however, boring was not in this dude’s vocabulary. He was really funny at times and often let the class play games. Plus, he had this totally awesome collection of Roman armor and weapons.
He was also one of the few teacher’s who I felt gave the slightest damn about me, so I didn’t really want to disappoint him. I didn’t care about once again earning the headmaster’s ire, but I would try to be on my best behavior on this trip for him and him alone.
I wondered which God I would have to sacrifice a goat to to put a temporary pause on my school-trip curse. Maybe Thoth? No, wait, we’re here for old Greek and Roman stuff. Let’s go with… Athena? Was she the right one for school-related stuff? Or maybe I should go with Artemis? I think she was supposed to be the protector of young girls, after all…
Mr, Brunner rode his motorized wheel-chair to the front to walk us through everything. Those neat-looking orange and black pots, the weirdly attractive marble statues, etcetera etcetera.
It blew my mind that this stuff had survived for two thousand, three thousand years.
My twitched as everyone around me chatted through Mr. Brunner’s explanations. Ugh, didn’t they know how rude they were being? This stuff was super cool…
“Shut up,” I hissed at them.
Tragically for me, this caught the attention of my pre-algebra teacher and the other chaperone of the trip, Mrs. Dodds.
Mrs. Dodds was a petite fifty-something year old from Georgia who always wore a leather jacket and for some reason hated my guts on sight and decided that Nancy was the greatest thing since pan dulce. For Jesus knows why, she would point her crooked finger at me and say, “Now, honey,” real sweet, and I knew I was going to get after-school detention for a month.
One time, she had me erase answers out of all math workbooks until midnight. I told Grover I didn’t think Mrs. Dodds was human. He looked at me, real serious, and said, “You’re absolutely right.”
If I had an ounce more of pettiness in my body, I’d try to get her fired. Alas, I was smart enough to realize that trying to take her down would probably only end poorly for me.
Mr. Brunner kept talking about Greek funeral art.
Finally, Nancy Bobofit snickered something about the naked guy on the stele, and I turned around and said, “Will you shut up?”
“Miss Jackson, did you have a comment?”
I could feel the heat of embarrassment rise to my cheeks. I said, “No, sir.”
Mr. Brunner pointed to one of the pictures on the stele. “Perhaps you’ll tell us what this picture represents?”
My eyes flickered back to the stele and I resisted the urge to clap my hands in glee. I knew this one.
“Oh! That would be the titan Kronos eating his kids!”
Mr. Brunner prompted me to go on. “And he did this because…?”
“So, like, Kronos was the king titan dude, right? He got that spot because he, er— chopped off a certain body part belonging to his father, Ouranos, aka sky daddy—”
Mr. Brunner choked.
“—because his mom, Gaea, the Earth, was mad at Ouranos for locking away their children in Tartarus— which is like hell on steroids. Kronos chucked that specific body part into the sea, which, if I’m remembering right, caused the sea form that Aphrodite formed from. Anyway, Kronos heard this prophecy that said that his kids— the Gods— would overthrow him like he did his own father. So he ate them. Unfortunately for him, his sister-wife Rhea hid Zeus and instead fed him a rock. Eventually Zeus grew up and tricked his father into consuming some super gross drink and he chucked the Gods up. There was this massive battle and, spoilers, the Gods won. They sliced Kronos to pieces and scattered him throughout Tartarus.”
Mr. Brunner nodded in approval, having not expected such a thorough explanation.
“Yes, excellent job, Miss Jackson. Although, I would ask that in the future you do not refer to the Primordial God of the sky as… that.”
Behind me, Nancy Bobofit mumbled to a friend, “Like we’re going to use this in real life. Like it’s going to say on our job applications, ‘Please explain why Kronos ate his kids.’”
“And why, Miss Jackson,” Brunner said, “to paraphrase Miss Bobofit’s excellent question, does this matter in real life?”
“Busted,” Grover muttered.
“Shut up,” Nancy hissed, her face even brighter than her hair.
“Uhh… Well, my takeaway has always been ‘There will be consequences to cannibalizing your kids,’ but I don’t think that’s what you meant…” I trailed off, ignoring the snickering around me.
“I see.” Mr. looked disappointed. “Nearly full credit. On that happy note, it’s time for lunch. Mrs. Dodds, would you lead us back outside?”
There were some cheers and everyone began to head out. Grover and I were about to follow when Mr. Brunner said, “Miss Jackson.”
I groaned inwardly.
“You go on ahead,” I told Grover. “I’ll catch up.”
I turned towards Mr. Brunner. “Err— yeah, sir?”
Mr. Brunner studied me for a moment. “You seemed as though you had another answer to my question. I would like for you to tell me.”
I rolled my shoulders back and leaned on the balls of my feet. “Umm, well, I think… I think it relates to the idea of a self-fulfilling prophecy? I mean, if Kronos had, like, chilled out for a sec and not immediately jumped to chowing down on his own children, they probably wouldn’t have sliced and diced him. So… I think… um, you reap what you sow and stuff?”
Mr. Brunner looked at me thoughtfully. “You’re very close, Miss Jackson. I want you to further think on how your studies relate to your real life. You’re very good about absorbing what interests you, but what you learn from me is vitally important. I expect you to treat it as such. I will accept only the best from you, Ari Jackson.”
I did my best to hide my irritation. That was completely uncalled for. Did he not see how hard I tried, despite my ADHD and dyslexia? I already had to work three times as hard as everyone else just to maintain my C- streak, but he still expected me to be just as good? No. He wanted me to be better than everyone else. As if I’ve been capable of that this whole time, I’ve just been too lazy to apply myself. As if I didn’t struggle at all to spell things correctly, or learn everyone’s names. Memorizing what little I could, no matter how much of an intense headache it gave me.
I did my best to spit out something about doing better while Mr. Brunner looked on mournfully at the funeral stele. If I were in a better mood, I’d crack a joke about how he’s so old, he must’ve known the girl that was for.
But I wasn’t. So when he dismissed me for lunch, I booked it in silence.
The first thing I did after spotting Grover sitting at the outside font fountain was nose-dive into his lap. I rested my head on his thighs and let out an undignified whine. I almost was grateful that Nancy Bobofit was too preoccupied trying to pick-pocket some poor, unsuspecting tourist lady to notice me.
Grover, well-used to me by now, looked at me with sympathy. “Detention?”
I shook my head slightly. “Nah, Brunner wouldn’t do that. Unless I, like, killed a man or something. He just… I don’t know why he thinks I’m capable of so much more than I am. I don’t get how he doesn’t realize that I’m always giving a hundred as is. I’m just… I can’t give more when I don’t have anything left.”
Grover didn’t say anything for a while. Then, when I thought he was going to give me some deep philosophical comment to make me feel better, he said, “Can I have your apple?”
I snorted, which soon turned into a fit of chuckles. I lifted my head up from his lap, still laughing. “Sure, dude. Whatever you want. But you’ve gotta let me braid your hair again.”
We adjusted positions and I began to gently tug on the ends of his soft brunet curls to get them into place. I would only do a few small braids here and there. I didn’t want him to get teased too badly. I didn’t understand why people got so upset when boys had long or plaited hair. I always thought braids looked good on everyone. Braiding someone else’s hair was my preferred method of absolute affection.
I hummed as I absentmindedly braided, looking out over at traffic. Soon my thoughts drifted towards my mom. The apartment was a little ways uptown from the museum. I briefly considered hailing down a taxi and going home. She told me I’d be glad to see me, but she’d be disappointed, too. She’d send me right back to Yancey, remind me that I had to try harder, even if this was my six school in six years and I probably was going to be kicked out again. I wouldn’t be able to stand the sad look she’d give me.
I was about to unwrap my sandwich when Nancy Bobofit appeared in front of me with her ugly friends— I guess she’d gotten tired of stealing from the tourists— and dumped her half-eaten lunch in Grover’s lap.
“Oops.” She grinned at me with her crooked teeth. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to get food on your boyfriend .” She then noticed the braids I’d done in his hair. Her grin got even nastier than usual. “Or should I say girlfriend ?”
She and her disgusting friends snickered.
“How dare —”
I was cut off by the sound of Nancy screeching.
I don’t remember touching her, but the next thing I knew, Nancy was sitting on her butt in the fountain.
“Ari pushed me!”
I jumped slightly as Mrs. Dodds seemed to teleport next to us.
“Did you see—”
“—the water—”
“—like it grabbed her—”
I hadn’t the slightest idea what they were talking about. I just knew that somehow this would be my fault. Great. I was gonna be in trouble again and I didn’t even get the satisfaction of actually doing something to warrant discipline.
As soon as Mrs. Dodds was sure poor little Nancy was okay, promising to get her a new shirt at the museum gift shop, etc. etc., Mrs. Dodds turned on me. There was a triumphant fire in her eyes, as if I’d done something she’d been waiting for all semester. “Now, honey—”
“If I’m gonna be in trouble for something I didn’t even do, can I at least actually get to push her in the fountain?”
That wasn’t the right thing to say.
“Come with me,” Mrs. Dodds said.
Grover tried to hop to my rescue, claiming it was him who pushed her in the fountain.
“Let it go, dude. We aren’t gonna win this one. Thanks, though.”
“Honey,” Mrs. Dodds barked at me. “Now.”
Nancy Bobofit smirked.
Ugh, I hated that… female dog.
I mentally flipped her off before— Holy frijoles, how did she get to the top entrance so fast? I knew that sometimes my ADHD would cause my brain to miss things, but I’m half convinced this woman can materialize to places at whim. That would be my luck, though, wouldn’t it.
I trudged my way up the stairs to Mrs. Dodds. I glanced back at Grover and did some finger-guns to reassure him, but that only seemed to heighten his anxiety. He was looking pale, cutting his eyes between me and Mr. Brunner, like he wanted Mr. Brunner to notice what was going on, but Mr. Brunner was absorbed in his novel.
“I’m just gonna say right now that I don’t have the money to buy Nancy a new shirt,” I told Mrs. Dodds as we made our way into the museum. But we didn’t seem to be going towards the gift shop. Actually, we were heading in the opposite direction, back towards all the Greek and Roman stuff. When we finally got there, the gallery appeared to be completely devoid of life, save for the two of us.
Mrs. Dodds stood with her arms crossed in front of a big marble frieze of the Greek gods. She was making this weird noise in her throat, like growling.
“Er— are you okay, ma’am? Do you need a cough or something…” I asked, a mix of genuinely concerned and more than a little on edge. At least I wasn’t taking up too much space…
I bit my lip to keep from asking more questions as Mrs. Dodds gave her best threatening death-glare at the frieze.
“You’ve been giving us problems, honey,” she said.
I shrunk into myself, trying to look smaller and less punishable.
She tugged on the cuffs of her leather jacket. “Did you really think you’d get away with it?”
The look in her eyes was beyond mad. It was evil.
She can’t hurt me. Chill out. She’s a teacher. She can’t hurt me. They’d never allow that…
Thunder shook the building.
“We’re not fools, Ari Jackson . It was only a matter of time before we found you out. Confess, and you will suffer less pain.”
Uh… what?
“Is this still about the fountain? Because I swear, I really didn’t touch her—”
Her eyes began to glow like barbecue coals. Her finds stretched, turning into talons. Her jacket melted into large, leathery wings. She wasn’t human. She was a shriveled hag with bat wings and claws and a mouth full of yellow fangs, and she was about to slice me into ribbons.
As if that wasn’t absolutely buck wild enough, Mr. Brunner wheeled in out of nowhere, holding out a pen.
“What ho, Ari!” He tossed the pen towards me.
Mrs. Dodds lunged at me.
“This totally cannot be legal!” I yelled as I dodged her attempt to disfigure me. I barely managed to snatch the pen mid-air, but the moment I grabbed on to it it was no longer a pen. I recognized this. It was the bronze sword Mr. Brunner used on tournament days.
“WHY DO YOU HAVE— HOW— WHAT—”
Mrs. Dodds spun towards me with a murderous look in her eyes.
“Die, honey!”
And she flew straight at me.
I, not wanting to die, did the first thing that came to mind.
I stuck her with the pointy end of the blade, which passed through like a hot knife through soft butter. She exploded into yellow powder, vaporized on the spot, leaving nothing but the smell of sulfur and a dying screech and a chill of evil in the air, as if those two glowing red eyes were still watching me.
I was alone.
There was a ballpoint pen in my hand.
Mr. Brunner wasn’t there. Nobody was there but me.
My knees buckled and gave out. I was on the cold marble floor of the exhibit, shaking uncontrollably. I pulled myself into a ball and choked back the tears threatening to spill. I allowed myself a few more minutes to calm myself down before struggling to get up. I took several deep breaths and forced myself away from the room.
When I got back outside, it had begun to rain.
Grover was sitting by the fountain, a museum map tented over his head. Nancy Bobofit was still standing there, soaked from her swim in the fountain, grumbling to her ugly friends. When she saw me, she said, “I hope Mrs. Kerr whipped your butt.”
I ignored her, not bothering to ask who the heck Mrs. Kerr was, and planted my face in the crook of Grover’s neck before beginning to sob. Everyone froze as they witnessed the sight.
“Is Jackson crying?”
“Damn, Kerr must be way stricter than we thought—”
Grover let out something that sounded almost like a mix between a squeak and a bleat and patted me on the back. “Ari…” He trailed off.
Mr. Brunner wheeled over and asked if I was alright and if he could have his pen back.
Was… was he serious?
“Mrs. Dodds… where did she… Did I…”
Did I murder my pre-algebra teacher?
Mr. Brunner frowned and sat forward, looking mildly concerned. “Ari… who is Mrs. Dodds?”
I blinked rapidly and wiped away my tears with the back of my hand before putting the ballpoint pen in his still outstretched hand. “Umm… The other chaperone… math teacher… You…”
YOU'RE THE ONE THAT GAVE ME THE DARN SWORD.
Mr. Brunner’s expression grew more worrisome.
“Ari, there is no Mrs. Dodds on this trip. As far as I know, there has never been a Mrs. Dodds at Yancy Academy. Are you certain you’re feeling alright?”
…Was it too late to take that taxi to my Mom’s?