Muses on the Move (5 page)

Wednesday, 4:40
P.M.
, Nova High, Athens, Georgia

A
pollo
landed on earth with a hard thud and immediately realized traveling in the future without powers was going to be harder than he had originally thought. How was he going to find Thalia? How was he going to get from one place to another? Then he reminded himself that Thalia needed him. He’d just have to figure it out.

Apollo felt something in his pocket. He pulled it out and recognized it as modern American money. He looked up to the skies for a second and silently thanked Zeus. He knew the guy had a heart.

Once again he was decked from head to toe in his football uniform. He had landed in the woods behind the football field of Nova High School. He crept onto the field and immediately noticed there was no
one around. No one on any of the athletic fields. No one coming in or out of the school. He walked up to the side hall door slowly, only to find it locked. Apollo pressed his nose against the windows and looked in. The halls were oddly calm.

And then he saw a kid from Nova, someone he recognized from his and Thalia’s media class, skateboard by. He called after the guy, but he didn’t remember his name, so he just stood there, shouting, “Hey, kid, you, you media kid, stop.” But to no avail. The boy just rolled on by and out of sight.

“Arrgggh,” screamed Dylan. But no one heard. What was going on? Then it clicked. Of course. School was closed. He shifted direction and ran as quickly as he could to the Muses’ house on Castalia Way.

He wasn’t even out of breath when he ran up to the door in anticipation. He pounded and then gently knocked, fearing he might scare the girls with his mega-exuberance. But nothing. So he pounded again. Nothing. He ran around back and peered up into the huge oak tree where Polly liked to sit, but nothing. He pressed his face to their windows, but everything was dark. Nothing. He circled the house as fast as he could and then once again, slower, but nothing.

He feared the worst. He feared he was too late. The Furies had struck. Hera had succeeded. They were in Hades, and he was stuck on earth. It was the only explanation. But then after a moment or two of
meditation to clear his mind, he realized they could be eating out or shopping or any number of mortal things they did on earth. He thought of hitting every one of their hangouts—there was no time to spare. Knowing Thalia, every minute was another minute they might be getting themselves into trouble. And then he thought of Claire. Yes, he’d try Claire’s house and see if she was home first. And if she wasn’t, surely her parents would know where she was. And perhaps she’d be with the girls.

He ran again, this time straight to Claire’s, taking shortcuts through unknown backyards and an alley or two. He pounded on the door and then regretted it as he heard loud noises from inside. But at least there were people, live people, here. Maybe one of them would know where Thalia was.

A sour-faced woman answered the door. “Yes, what do you want?” she asked.

“Please, I must speak to Claire—is she here?” cried Apollo, out of breath.

“And who shall I say is asking?” She wasn’t eager to get Claire.

“Dylan, Dylan from Denver.”

The woman turned around and screamed at the top of her lungs, “Claaairre, there is someonnnne to see YOUU.”

“Thanks, Aunt Sarah, who is—Dylan! Oh my God, what are you doing here?”

Thankfully it was Claire.

“Thalia, where’s Thalia?” he managed to mutter.

“Nice to see you, too. What in heaven are you doing in town, D.? Are you here for Thanksgiving?”

“Yes.” He nodded, although he had no clue what she was talking about. “So, Thalia, where is she? I have looked everywhere.”

“You have, have you? Well, isn’t that interesting—considering you seemed so eager to leave her without saying good-bye.” Apollo wasn’t sure what to say to that, so he didn’t say anything. “Anyway,” Claire continued, “you’re out of luck. Thalia ain’t in Athens. She and the girls went on a road trip with Pocky.”

“With Pocky? Pocky? Why?”

“For some fun. They wanted to see the U.S. sights, I guess.”

“But why Pocky?”

“What do you mean? Why not?”

“But she’s not interested in Pocky, is she?”

“Well, you never know. That Pocky is quite the charmer, and after a few days on the road, and, well, where were you? Just some measly weird note and you’re gone?”

Apollo swallowed the lump in his throat. Claire was just defending her friend. Did that mean Thalia had been sad when he’d left?

“Anyhow, she just called,” Claire said, softening a little. “They’re in Colonial Williamsburg. She was
miserable because she had to be part of a show or something.”

“What else?”

“That’s all I know. I gave her a calling card and told her she had to check in with me often, you know, so I could live vicariously through them. I mean, I’m stuck here, and they’re off having a grand ol’ time.”

“Yeah, okay, so that’s all you know?”

“Yeah, Dylan. So why are you here? I can give her a message if you like. C’mon, tell me, why are you here?”

But Apollo didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t tell Claire to tell Thalia, “Don’t use magic!” He just stood there looking nervous, trying to think quickly.

“Okay, um, well, I know they have to be back by Sunday,” said Claire, “so Pocky can pick up his parents at the airport.”

“That might be too late,” cried Apollo.

“For what?” asked Claire.

But Apollo said nothing.

“I’ll happily tell her you’re in town, looking for her. You sure there isn’t a message?”

“No.” He shook his head. He
had
to find her before then. “Thanks. You’ve been a great help, thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Hey, have a great Thanksgiving.”

“Uh, sure. Okay, thanks. Good-bye.”

And Apollo walked away, defeated and crushed.

Did the Furies know the girls had left town? Had Thalia used any magic yet? Would Sunday be too late? And where was Colonial Williamsburg? All these questions ran circles around his mind, and he felt dizzy.

No, he couldn’t wait, it couldn’t wait. He had to get to Colonial Williamsburg and fast. But without powers, how? He needed a chariot. (He meant a car.)

He knocked on Claire’s door again. This time, fortunately, her aunt Sarah didn’t answer. Claire did.

“I need a car,” he said rather abruptly.

“Excuse me?”

“How can I get a car?” he asked, like it was a perfectly normal question to ask in modern mortal times.

“Um, you can buy one. Or rent one, I suppose.” Claire was looking at him terribly suspiciously, and he felt it.

“How much are they?”

“To rent? Your guess is as good as mine.”

“What do I need to rent a car?”

“A credit card and a license, I guess.”

“Huh,” he said. “Claire, I need your help. Trust me, Thalia is in danger. I can’t explain, but she is.”

“This isn’t some freaky jealousy thing over Pocky, is it?”

“No, this is serious. She is in trouble, and I need a car—I must help her.”

“You look freaked, D. What’s going on? Just tell me.” Now she, too, looked frightened.

“She’d be in even more trouble if I did. Just trust me,” he said, thinking of Hera’s threats to punish the girls if any humans ever found out their true identities. “How can I get a car quick?”

“Well.” Claire thought about it hard but quicklike. “Maybe, um…” She told Dylan to go hide behind the shed and that she’d meet him there in five.

A few minutes later Claire was handing Dylan the keys to her grandfather’s 1987 Buick Le Sabre, which got driven about every once in a blue moon. “It ain’t fancy, but it will get you there. Just please get it back as soon as you can, okay? My parents never go in the shed, but you never know.”

“You’re a lifesaver. Honest, I can’t thank you enough, Claire.”

“Yeah, yeah, well, you and Thalia have got a lot of explaining to do when you get back.”

“I know, Claire, thank you again.” And with that, Claire went back inside.

Apollo opened the car door and sat inside. But he had no idea what to do next.

Wednesday, 8
P.M.
, Colonial Williamsburg, Virginia

F
inally
this fiasco was coming to an end. My shift in the jail was over. I was going to grab the girls and Pocky and firmly suggest we hit the road. We could still make it to Denver tonight if—if—if…I used magic. Just a twinkle. Just a twitch. I felt bad, but c’mon.

NO! Wait! What were THEY doing here?

It was those ridiculously happy colonial girls who got us into this mess, and they were laughing it up with my sisters. I ran as fast as I could toward them.

“Hey, Thalia,” said Polly. “So, was your day as great as mine?” she asked, beaming from ear to ear.

“Highly doubtful,” I said. “I was in jail. As in, a prisoner. They said I was a ‘witch’ and threw me in the stockade. I got booed. One little kid threw his colonial mush at me while his parents rooted him on.
Now I just want to get out of these wretched clothes and get a move on. Where’s Pocky?”

“Oh, you’re gonna love the clothes we get next. They’re not wretched at all—they’re beautiful,” cooed Era.

“What ‘next clothes’? I want my jeans. I want my sneakers. I want to get the heck out of here.”

“No, not yet,” said the brunette colonial girl. What was her name? Oh, who cared. She was annoying. “The best part is yet to come,” she continued. “We reenact the great Thanksgiving Ball.”

“The what? No. No, no, no, no, no. We’ve got America to see. We’ve got country to cover. We can’t possibly stay, but thanks so much, oh, so much for the offer. C’mon, girls.”

“It’s mandatory—all employees must attend,” said the red-haired colonial girl. Jeez, she was more annoying than the other one.

“But we’re not even real employees and—”

“We want to go, Thalia,” said Polly firmly.

“You should see the clothes, beautiful ball gowns almost like the ones back home, er, I mean, the ones in the magazines back home. I mean,
those really old magazines
.” Era was grasping. Polly was shooting her the death look.

“I’m sure Pocky doesn’t want to stay for a big ball. I mean, c’mon, this is the guy’s Thanksgiving vacation. Where is he? Let’s ask.”

“Oh, he’s still at the apothecary,” explained the last colonial girl. “He was having fun mixing up his herbal potions. The head chemist has been showing him the ropes. He doesn’t want to leave.”

Okay, all three were truly annoying. Maybe it was something in the colonial water.

“We’re staying, Thalia. Get over it—you’re outvoted.” Polly was in full confidence mode. She was sticking by her own desires instead of letting me bulldoze her into what I wanted. I was proud of her. Really proud. But her timing stunk.

“Fine. Where’s my gown?”

Just then the red-haired colonial girl whipped out a truly stunning dress. It didn’t look like the others, either—it was bright and vibrant and orange! It was awesome. It was going to look smashing on me.
Well
, I thought,
I’m miserable, but at least I’ll look fantastic
. Dylan could wait an hour or three.

Moments later we were in the big hall with classical music blaring in the midst of a sea of fluffy ball gowns. The music wasn’t quite as grand as the sweet sounds of the harps and lyres back home, and there certainly was less gold and glitter everywhere, but it wasn’t bad. I joined my sisters on the dance floor and took a few twirls round and round with a boy or two. It was fun to let loose—it seemed like it had been too long.

But an hour later the fun had worn off. I guess I
had forgotten just how boring these sorts of soirees could be. There was nothing to do but dance. And you can’t dance all night. Or rather, I can’t. Era probably could.

Plus without Apollo around to make a little mischief—you know, slipping magic jumping beetles into the petticoats of stuffy old ladies and such—dances are generally downright dull. This was no exception. My sisters were off dancing with young colonial men, Pocky was nowhere to be found, and I was sitting in a corner by myself, wishing the evening would just go away. But I did have to admit, I looked good.

I thought about our day. What a day. I hadn’t really had time to think in jail, with all the snotty little tourist kids taunting me. But now, with my sisters off and Pocky still gone, I couldn’t help thinking about home. Not Olympus home. But Athens. What were the Furies doing? Had they noticed we weren’t in town?

More boring music, more dancing. There wasn’t even good food. I couldn’t take it. My sisters had gotten over an hour of fun. Pocky had gotten yet another hour of potion mixing. Wasn’t it my turn yet? I had to do something. I mean, we weren’t even supposed to be here in the first place. It was all because those girls got sick and someone needed to fill their work shoes. This just wasn’t fair. Fate had
taken a left turn when it should have made a speedy right.

The girls
. The sick girls. Surely these were their beautiful ball gowns. We were just replacements. If they came back, we’d have to give them their dresses back, right? And then we could be on our way. Sure, they were under the weather, but the best thing for that was getting out and putting mind over matter, right?

It seemed simple. It could work. Of course it would. It would just be a touch of magic. I’d blink them back here, to the ball, in search of their gorgeous gowns.

So I did it. I blinked. And then there they were, at the front door of the large wooden hall, dressed in normal clothes, their eyes scanning the crowd in confusion. I didn’t hesitate. I grabbed Era out of the dancing arms of some foundry boy and with my other hand I nabbed Polly, who was chatting it up with an admittedly very handsome colonial guy. I pulled and pushed them toward the door and stopped in front of the three girls whom we had replaced.

“They’re back, they need their dresses, we must return them, it’s only fair, c’mon.” I started unzipping Era’s gown right there in the ballroom.

“No! I don’t wanna give up this dress. No, I’m not leaving!”

“Era, it’s their dress, not yours—you only borrowed it. Now let’s go.”

“No!” said Era. Polly just looked on, confused.

“I don’t want to leave, either, but Thalia is right—these girls deserve their dresses back.”

“Fine.” Era was pouting.

Meanwhile the girls hadn’t said a word. In fact, they looked a little, um, green.

“Okay, then,” I said. “Let’s go get Pocky and blow this cherry pop stand.”

My sisters looked at me.

“It’s an expression,” I said.

We were almost out the door. So close.

“Thank…thank…thank.” It was a meek, quiet voice. It was one of the girls. We turned to look at her squeak out the last word. But it never came. Instead a shower of vomit hurled from her lips. The crowd noticed immediately. How could they not? It was accompanied by a guttural shriek that resembled that of a horse giving birth to triplets.

It was all the girl next to her could take. She, too, looked a not-so-lovely shade of lime. She answered the first girl’s vomit with vomit of her own. We gasped. I turned away for fear of vomiting in response. Which is exactly what three young women in the crowd did. Maybe it was the smell. It was enough to send me over, but I jumped outside for fresh air. I yelled for Polly, who stood there in the middle of the
crisis, wanting to help but not knowing how. Era quickly came outside, too, totally grossed out.

I stuck in my head and argued with Polly. “We’ve got to get out of here.”

“Thalia, these people need us, they need help. There must be twenty people vomiting! Look at this place—it’s turning into a Vomitorium!”
^*

“Polly, if we get this heinous sickness, how will we get home in time for Pocky to pick up his parents? And how can we help? Magic? No!”

“Oh, but I feel horrible,” cried Polly.

“I know, but I don’t feel we have any other choice. We must leave—c’mon.”

She slowly crept out of the hall.

“To Pocky!” I yelled.

We ran as fast as we could to the apothecary. Or rather, Era and I did. Polly sulked behind at a slow trot.

I threw open the door to the apothecary and screamed, “NO!”

The fates were not cutting me any breaks today. Pocky was there. But he was practically asleep. He looked a little ill, even.

“What’s wrong with you, Pocky?” I demanded to know.

“It’s this herbal potion the master chemist mixed up. It’s made me very light-headed. Very woozy. Very silly. Hi, Polly, you’re pretty. Hi, Era. Smile, Era. Hi, Thalia. Out of jail?” But he didn’t wait for an answer. His head hit the counter with a violent thud.

“Well, I guess we are stuck here overnight, Thalia. He obviously can’t drive,” said Polly.

“We can’t stay here overnight. I mean, we could get sick, influenza. We’ve got to get out of here.”

“But how?” whined Era, who had plopped herself down in one of the uncomfortable wooden chairs in the apothecary waiting area.

“We can’t drive. We’ll have to use magic—we have no other choice.”

“Of course we have another choice. To
not
use magic. Thalia, we can’t. I suspect any day now we’re going to feel the wrath of using our magic that time at the Grind. I don’t think we can take another chance. No, I forbid it,” said Polly.

“Look, we have to be back by Sunday. This is a modern mortal illness—who knows what it could do to us? And besides, it’s only fair that we each get to choose a destination, and so far you’re the only one who has gotten to make a choice.”

“Yeah,” Era added suddenly, jumping on my band-wagon. “What about me? There’s lots of stuff I’d love to see. Like the chocolate factory.” Now was my chance.

“Era’s right. I think the only alternative here is to
use magic. Just a little. Besides, what harm has come to us thus far? The Furies aren’t here—they don’t have to know! The only reason we got here so fast is beca—”

“Wait, what does that mean? Have you used your powers?” Polly demanded.

“Well, sort of, um, yes. And see, nothing bad has happened to us.”

They both yelled at me simultaneously so loud that I couldn’t understand either one of them. Surprisingly, they didn’t wake Pocky from the dead.

When they finally stopped to take a breath, I said, “Face it, Hera is probably not even paying attention to what we are doing down here. I mean, she’s probably so consumed with redecorating our rooms, not to mention the sheer joy of having three less Muses around the castle, that she doesn’t miss us at all. We’re fine.”

“She does get awful preoccupied with that decorating stuff,” said Era.

“You know what? I don’t care. Do what you want.
I’m not getting involved
. But I will not use magic,” said Polly defiantly.

“Fine, we don’t need your powers, anyway. Now help me carry Pocky to the car.”