The Dig (14 page)

He shakes his head. ―Zoe, I‘m sorry. I had to be sure about you before I revealed myself.

Okay?‖

But I‘m not reassured. I‘m scared and confused and back to thinking this all must be part of some concussion-induced dementia, but something in his eyes tells me I‘m wrong, tells me I‘m here, truly. I grab his arm as he turns and say, ―Zeus, how long have you been following me?‖

There‘s nothing but blue sky and sunlight and his wings flare and retreat, flare and retreat.

I‘m not afraid to look into his eyes, which is new for me. Most boys either hide their eyes with sunglasses, like silly Columbia Darren, or look at me in a way that makes me nervous. Zeus sees me and I realize that I want him to see me.

He kneels down and replies in a whisper, ―From the moment I first saw you in the village, I couldn‘t stay away from you.‖

―You were there?‖

―I was in disguise,‖ he says.

―Why didn‘t you tell me?‖

He smiles. ―I wanted you to tell me.‖

―But I couldn‘t.‖

―Why not?‖

―Because I…‖

My voice trails off as he steps closer to me. Close enough that I can see that in spite of his name, his notoriety, he‘s the same guy I‘ve been hanging out with, open and wise. He‘s just more serious now and he says softly, in a kind tone I didn‘t think Zeus the big bad god ever employed,

―Trust me.‖ There‘s nothing for me to do but shake my head back and forth like I just woke up from a bad dream.

He puts his hands on my shoulders. ―It‘s okay, Zoe. I know what you can do. I saw you spare the nymph and dredge the silver from the earth.

I watched from the cliffs as you defeated the Hydra. You have incredible power.‖

―And you‘re not scared?‖ I ask.

―No,‖ he says. ―But they are. And it‘s only because they don‘t know you yet.‖Does he understand that I am the only person at Greeley who skipped out on orientation mixers my first week because I simply don‘t like orienting to strangers under stressful circumstances? ―I don‘t know about this,‖ I say.

―It‘s going to be okay. Relax,‖ he says, and he flutters his golden wings, which must be tight from being hidden away all day, and smiles again.

―You‘re one of us, Zoe. That‘s all that matters.‖ He takes my hand and we walk along the bright, lush summit of Mount Olympus. I am reeling from all that has happened, and the feeling of his warm palm pressed against mine and our fingers interlocked makes me feel even dizzier. But as we approach the main entrance, marked by a massive marble arch, he extracts his hand from mine and says, ―We can‘t do that in here.‖

I nod and let him lead the way inside. If he really
is
Zeus, then he‘s in charge. And if the one in charge doesn‘t want to be seen holding hands with a girl…well, I know enough to realize that alpha guys avoid PDA for one reason and one reason only.

Zeus has a girlfriend.

The Goddess Clique

I have had about three minutes to adjust to the fact that Blondie is Zeus.

You know, Zeus, the god of mythology, the domineering old blowhard with the long gray beard and the furrowed brow and the anger issues. This is
Zeus
? I have so many questions and want to sit down alone with him for hours but he says I have to meet everyone now.

―All of them at once?‖

―Is that a problem?‖

―It‘s a little overwhelming. I‘m more of a one-on-one person.‖

―Not here, you‘re not. Here we‘re always together.‖ Oh, great. Olympus is like a Saturday on campus. If you happen to be the kind of person who feels like reading Jane Goodall under a tree on the main green, you‘re going to get hit in the head by a Frisbee because wanting to be on your own is somehow an affront to those who prefer to be in a group. My stomach is rumbling with nerves and my cowlick is standing on end and all the while Zeus continues leading me toward his friends, his friends that he doesn‘t even like.

―If you‘re nice to them, they‘ll be nice to you,‖ he says, and he‘s seeming dumber by the second. ―Not right away, but, you know, soon.‖

―Okay.‖ And by ―okay,‖ I mean, yeah, right.

He leads me to an open garden, surrounded by white marble buildings with alcoves and beautiful mosaic-lined pathways. At the center of the garden stand eleven teenagers, lined up like the cast of a CW drama.

They‘re as chiseled as mannequins. One girl stands a little in front of the group, as if she has to confirm her power, as if her pretty upturned nose and billowy long dark hair don‘t already confirm it. God, every girl at Greeley would
kill
to have her straight, frizz-free mane.

―This is Hera,‖ Zeus says.

―Hi, Hera.‖

She crosses her arms and shifts her body weight, which isn‘t all that much, onto her left shoe. She looks me up and down and raises an eyebrow and here comes the insult, I can smell it.

She huffs, ―Nice pants.‖ I try my best to seem unperturbed. ―Thank you.‖ I didn‘t try hard enough and they all laugh and I curse myself for being so solicitous. Wake up, Zoe. When a mean girl insults you, don‘t thank her.

Ugh. Will I ever learn?

―Hera,‖ Zeus says. He glares at her. She laughs. ―I‘m just being funny.‖ He motions for her to follow him to one of the pathways to talk in private. She shrugs her annoyingly tiny little shoulder and walks off with him. I hate her. I hate the way she walks. I hate the fact that her face would be more at home on a doll that was discontinued for promoting impossible standards of beauty. And I hate that high buttery voice of hers.
I’m just
being funny
. Ick.

I try not to stare at them as they huddle together in private conversation and I desperately fight the urge to run over and hug him and kiss him right then and there. Obviously, Zeus sees right through this cookie-cutter girl and would never in a million
years
go out with her. A scan of the room reveals that there are five more girls to meet, but maybe, just maybe, he‘s not attached to anyone. If the others are as rude and transparent as Hera, who‘s looking me up and down literally nonstop, then I‘m going to assume he didn‘t want to hold my hand because he‘s a shy guy.

―Well, dear,‖ Hera says, returning to the center of the garden, with Zeus at her side. ―You must be
dying
to bathe after your disastrous effort getting up here. Poor thing probably just wants a bath. Am I right?‖ I cringe. It‘s never a good thing when a girl your age calls you ―dear.‖ It‘s a sign of dominance, like on those Animal Planet documentaries when only one female can be the matriarch. In some monkey communities, a mother will actually kick her own daughter out of the group if she becomes pregnant. Girls like Hera don‘t really have friends; they just have followers.

But I try to buck up. I want Zeus to see that I can handle mean girls without getting flustered. ―You know, Hera, that sounds wonderful. I haven‘t taken a bath since I went skinny-dipping and met Zeus.‖ Now they all look at me like I‘m nuts. ―Skinny-dipping?‖ one of them mumbles. Apparently, in 1000 BC there‘s no such thing as skinny-dipping.

It‘s amazing. When I was alone with Zeus, we had no problems talking in spite of our different vocabularies, but five minutes with this clique and I can‘t communicate.

―I‘m sorry,‖ I guffaw. ―I‘m so tired I must not be making sense. You‘re right. I‘m a mess.‖

―Aw,‖ Hera says. ―Don‘t worry. First impressions aren‘t everything.‖ Jerk.

But Zeus, eager to get the introductions rolling again, is moving on to the next person in the lineup, who‘s clearly the quirky member of the group. He has a shock of red hair and looks like a long-lost royal. If it were 2011, he‘d be texting nonstop and wearing skinny jeans.

―Hades, I‘d like you to meet Zoe.‖

I extend my hand. He looks at it with disinterest, then runs his hand through his hair and looks away. I‘ve read him wrong. He‘s not the quirky prankster. He‘s the snob, the one who can‘t get through a sentence without referencing his family‘s ―place‖ in the Hamptons or that time they went skiing in Geneva with Jennifer Lopez.

The girl beside him reaches out and extends her hand. ―Oh, come on now, new girl. Surely somewhere inside of you, you have a sense of humor.‖ I‘d be stung no matter what, but I‘m double-stung because of the way Zeus has been telling me all day how funny I am and the way he‘s not saying that now in front of his little friends. And this goddess rubs me the wrong way too. Her vibe is unreadable. Mostly she seems tired—very tired, like she would use the ―I‘m tired‖ excuse to cover every mean little thing she ever did. Never trust the tired girls. Hades jabs her and she squeals and he lifts her up and carries her away from the circle. I look at Zeus.

―So now you‘ve met Hades and Persephone. And, well, this is, kind of the way they are lately, you know…like that.‖ It‘s fun seeing this awkward side of Zeus. We both watch Hades and Persephone roll on the grass.

―She seems…nice,‖ I say.

―Oh, she is. Quite nice.‖

But the more we watch them frolic in the high grass, the more I start to worry that I‘ve entered couple zone. Hades and Persephone are clearly together. It‘s possible that the clique is just a collection of couples. Not that I should be surprised by this. That‘s how most cliques operate. At Greeley, they‘ve all dated each other at some point.

Zeus nudges me. He gestures toward a handsome guy who looks like he spent his day at a regatta. His hair is windblown and his eyes are too blue, especially since they didn‘t make colored contacts in ancient Greece.

―And this is Poseidon.‖

―Of course you are.‖

Poseidon doesn‘t mask the fact that he‘s puzzled by my reaction. But of all the gods, he‘s the one who most closely resembles the illustrated books from my childhood. It doesn‘t take long for
his
girlfriend to entwine her arm around his. But she‘s no Hera; she looks smart. If she were at Greeley, she would have big glasses—not the cool hipster ones, but big awkward old-school glasses. She extends her hand and I take it. Her handshake is firm but welcoming. I‘m surprised she‘s clinging to Poseidon, who‘s a legendary grump, but that‘s life for you.

―I‘m Athena.‖

―I‘m Zoe.‖

She smiles at me. She seems like someone I might make friends with.

―Can I have my hand back, Zoe?‖

―Sorry,‖ I say, releasing her. I‘m really starting to get nervous. I don‘t know how to act around them. It‘s bad enough to have to meet all the friends of the guy you like at the same time, but then to have them
also
be the Greek gods? That‘s asking a lot of a person.

The gods have started talking among themselves, already bored of me, and Zeus whispers,

―You‘re doing great. Keep going.‖ So I smile at the next girl in the receiving line. She‘s got wild, curly hippie hair and I can picture her whining on a couch about how badly she wants to go to Burning Man and how much she misses her mother‘s couscous in Marin County or some cool hippie place like that.

―Hi.‖

―Artemis,‖ she says, as if this is somehow normal, you know, to be the goddess of animals.

―Yes!‖

Everyone laughs and I can‘t even blame them. I am officially acting weird.

―Sorry, I‘m a little sleep deprived. But it‘s nice to meet you.‖

―We‘ll see,‖ she says and tilts her head. ―Anyhow, this is Ares.‖ She links her arm through his and I nod. He‘s stereotypically handsome, like a lacrosse player from Connecticut. If he lived in Los Angeles, he would get a lot of work playing the wolf-in-sheep‘s-clothing preppie in Lifetime movies, and Artemis probably is the kind of girl who thinks it makes her even
more
unique and quirky that her boyfriend is so plainly handsome.

There‘s noting subtle about the way she links up with him. She‘s telling me that Ares is her boyfriend and that if I so much as ask him for directions to the dining hall, I‘ll face her jealous wrath.

Zeus practically has to rip apart the next couple. I haven‘t even met them but am already referring to them as the Jersey Shores.
They‘re both ridiculously tanned, with full dark hair. And she appears to have been the inventor of eyeliner.

―Okay, Zoe. I finally have their attention.‖ The guy huffs, ―For what I don‘t know.‖

―To meet our guest, Zoe, of course.‖

―Apollo,‖ he says.

―Hello.‖

The girl is mad-dogging me and I guess I have to be the one to speak first. ―Hi, I‘m Zoe.‖

―Hermes.‖

―What? No you‘re not.‖

She pushes her boyfriend away. ―Excuse me?‖

―Sorry, I just…I thought you were...you know…‖

―Thought I was
what
?‖

―Someone else,‖ I reply lamely. I can‘t say that all the mythology books have gotten it wrong and I‘m stunned to learn that Hermes is actually a woman.

She shrugs me off, shrugs her boyfriend off and sashays over to Hera.

Good going, Zoe. Good going, mythology picture books. I look at Zeus and hope that my body language says it all. I hear giggling and then Zeus is on the move, headed straight for Hera.

They look like the couple that‘s going to be fighting all night.

But more important, they look like the couple that always gets back together.

Hera runs her hand over Zeus‘s forearm and he pulls away. Maybe they‘re not together.

Maybe they‘re just brother and sister! Maybe I should stop obsessing and overanalyzing and just smile at him.

And look at that. He‘s beaming at me.

―So, what‘s next?‖ I ask.

―I saved the best for last,‖ he says.

Suddenly, I feel reconnected with him, reminded of all his good qualities.

―Zoe, I‘d like you to meet my friend Dio.‖ A tall, long-haired boy in a messy toga looks down at me.

―Nice to meet you,‖ I say, extending my hand.

He doesn‘t take it. He just stares at me.

―Finally,‖ he says. ―I meet the girl who stole my nymph.‖

I shake my head in confusion. ―Your nymph? You mean… Creusa?‖ He rolls his eyes. ―I don‘t know her
name
. The nymph I ordered my followers to bring to me. The one you then stole from them.‖ It‘s hard to believe that Dio would want to kill a nymph for kicks. His toga is splattered with paint, and if I didn‘t know any better, I‘d think he was the pacifist in the bunch.