“We’re done,” the captain says, and I walk over to a mirror in the wall.
I can’t stop smiling. I touch my hair. It’s chin length, and it swings when I move my head. I still look like myself, only younger, sweeter, happier, and I don’t look anything like my sisters.
“I love it,” I say, turning to the captain. “Thank you.”
“Where will she go?” Theseus asks. “Where can she be safe?”
The captain turns to me. “What are you qualified to do?”
“Do?” I ask. “Like, for a job?” I think about my life so far. “I can deal with very difficult people. I can bandage cuts and bruises. I’m a decent tour guide.”
She looks thoughtful. “I have a friend who runs a taverna on Naxos. I bet he’d be willing to take a chance on you.”
“Naxos?” I ask. It’s one of the islands in the archipelago that fills the sea between Crete and the mainland, but since there are 227 inhabited islands, I don’t know much about it other than that.
“It’s the biggest island in the Cyclades,” she says. “There’s windsurfing, beaches, great food. There aren’t that many year-round residents, but the cruise ships and ferries stop there, so you won’t stand out as a young woman passing through. You’ll be another backpacker looking for seasonal work. Most important for our purposes, Naxos isn’t controlled by Crete or Athens or any other great power, and the people like it that way. If someone comes looking for you, no one will be likely to give you up.”
I have a lightening feeling in my chest. Like this might really work.
“Do you think my father could find me there?” I say.
“Sure, if he was looking for you,” she says. “But he isn’t likely to be looking for you there. Think about it—as far as he’ll know, you came to Athens. When you don’t show up here, he’s going to be looking for you on the mainland.”
The walkie-talkie strapped to her belt goes off. “We’re approaching the port of Athens,” a voice squawks.
“Take the sails down and go to motor power,” she says into the device. “I’ll be up in a minute.” Her tone quickens as she turns back to me. “Here’s what we’re going to do. The Parthenos can’t take you to Naxos, it would be too obvious. Stay here and wait while Theseus and the competitors leave. When we leave the Parthenos for supplies, come with us, you’ll blend in with your uniform. At the market, you can buy some clothes to change into—then go to the ferry terminal and get a ticket to Naxos. Ferries run every day.”
“I don’t have any money,” I say.
“Yes, you do,” Theseus says. “Remember, I’m giving you a share of my prize money.”
“Theseus, I can’t,” I protest.
“You can.” He gets his wallet out and hands me an enormous wad of cash, then folds his fingers over mine. “This is yours. Put it in your pocket so you don’t lose it.”
I nod, blinking the tears out of my eyes. I look at the captain. “Why are you doing this for us?”
She shrugs. “I hate bullies, and I hate seeing girls get yanked around by their families. It will be my good deed for the month.”
Her walkie-talkie goes off again, and she salutes Theseus, then leaves.
Theseus brushes his hand across my newly shorn hair. “It feels nice. I’m getting used to it.” He kisses me. “I’m going to miss you so much.”
I wrap my arms around him tightly, hiding my face in his neck. “This isn’t goodbye,” I say. “You’ll know where to find me.”
Theseus kisses me like he’s never going to let me go.
Then the Parthenos comes to an abrupt stop. I draw back from Theseus, putting my hand on his cheek. “You have to go now,” I say. “Your people are waiting.”
He changes into his suit, then there is a knock at the door.
“Call me, text me,” he says. “Promise.”
“I will,” I say. Then I push him toward the door. “Go, Theseus, you have a destiny to claim.”
The door closes behind him and I go over to the windows to watch him meet his people. The port of Athens is gritty and industrial, the low buildings faded, their windows broken. The air smells like diesel fuel and raw sewage. It is as different as it could be from my father’s shiny city of gold and glass. On the dock, there is a sea of people, well-wishers and sightseers, but also a crowd of media with their cameras and microphones. I watch the competitors walk down a ramp onto the dock, where they merge with the cheering crowd.
Now hundreds of people are shouting Theseus’s name. The din of voices overtakes the calling of the seagulls.
Theseus walks down the ramp, looking strong and confident in his suit.
The crowd cheers as he passes. They will follow him anywhere.
TWENTY
I go out into the city with the crew.
The crowd has dispersed, but the docks are still full of people. No one pays any attention to me. In the market, I get supplies for my new life—clothes, a toothbrush, and a tote bag. In the market bathroom, I change into jeans, a T-shirt, and a hoodie. The only things left over from my old life are my golden sneakers, my phone with its new identification card, and the silver thread and piece of blanket in my pocket.
I say a quick goodbye to the captain and follow her directions to the ferry terminal.
It is the strangest feeling, moving through the crowd with no one noticing me. No one following me. No one pays any attention to me as I wait in line to buy my ticket and board the ferry. I find a seat at the bow, among a mass of people, no one looking at me, and watch as the lumbering, slow-moving ferry pulls out of the harbor, the engine a low hum.
It’s only when I’m settled into my seat, feeling the salt spray on my face, watching the churning waves, that it hits me what I’m doing. I’m going to a new place, where I’ve never been before. Where I don’t know anyone. Alone.
I pull my phone out of my pocket. There are no messages from Theseus or Icarus, the only two people in the world who know this number. I open the newsfeeds for a second and see Theseus crowned in Athens, followed by Is there a future for Crete after The Labyrinth Contest? I quickly shut it down, my heart racing. It’s too soon.
I look out at the sea, but then I feel like someone is looking at me, and I have a feeling of dread. I look up, and there are three girls in sundresses. They see me looking at them. “First trip?” one of them asks with a smile.
“Yes,” I say, feeling overwhelming relief. They don’t know who I am. They’re just being nice.
“You had that rookie look of panic,” another one says. “Don’t worry, you’ll have a blast traveling.”
“Where are you headed?” the third girl asks.
I tell them Naxos, and they say that they are going to Mykonos first, then heading to Naxos in a day or two. They are on a gap year traveling the world. They ask me where I’m from, and when I tell them I’m from Kydonia, they clearly have no idea where it is. Which is what I am going for.
“Where are you staying on Naxos?” they ask.
“I don’t know yet. Where will you stay on Mykonos?”
“In a youth hostel,” one of the girls says. “We heard it has an infinity pool and everything.”
“I’ll believe that when I see it,” another one says. “You don’t know where you’re staying?”
I shake my head.
“You really are a newbie!” She pages through a guidebook. “Look, there’s a hostel right next to Naxos town; grab a bed as soon as you get there, before it fills up.”
“Thanks for the tip,” I say, not wanting to seem any more like an idiot, but I think—A bed? Do I get anything else?
The announcement goes out that the ferry is making its stop on Mykonos, and the girls gather their things. “Maybe we’ll see you on Naxos,” one of them says.
“That would be nice,” I say, and I mean it.
Once they are gone, I use my phone to look up what a youth hostel is, and I text Theseus to tell him that I made it to the ferry. I don’t want to bother him on such an importan
t day, but I don’t want him to worry, either.
Soon, the ferry pulls into Naxos. I look out at the little town as we come into the harbor. Rows of white houses rise up the island hillside. Multicolored fishing boats bob in the late afternoon light.
I get off the ferry, following a crowd of tourists. For the first time in my life, I walk around without my bodyguards. I explore the cobbled streets of Naxos, letting my feet take me wherever I want. I go up the whitewashed stairs, smelling the flowers that grow up the sides of the buildings. I’m just a girl in a town. People smile at me, but it’s the way that people smile at other people on a beautiful day—like we’re all sharing the pleasure of being alive. I’m hot in my jeans and T-shirt, and I decide that I’m going to buy a sundress like the girls on the ferry.
But first, I need to find the youth hostel that the girls mentioned. It is a whitewashed building close to the beach, and I am going to be sharing a room with five other people. It’s super-cheap, though, and they have free storage for my tote bag.
I get a sandwich, then go to find the taverna that the captain recommended. It’s on a cobbled street, two blocks back from the harbor, near a bookstore. It is whitewashed, with a bright blue awning draped in electric-pink flowers. Through a gap in the buildings, I can see the sea. Tables and blue-painted chairs are set up outside, and they are crowded with families and backpackers and older tourists enjoying a meal. A waitress in an apron with a long braid down her back moves quickly between the tables.
The food smells delicious.
There is a HELP WANTED sign in the window.
I run my hand through my new short hair and then open the door. A bell jingles as I enter. The inside is dim and cool after the heat outside. Ten tables are lined up along one of the stone walls, and a long bar is on the other side. At the entry, there is a coffee station and a freezer full of gelato.
“Grab a seat anywhere,” a tall guy with blond-streaked hair says. He looks a few years older than I am, and he is carrying a full platter. He looks harried. Every table is full, and other than the bartender and the waitress outside, he looks like the only person working.
“Actually, I’m looking for a job,” I say. “Someone I know from Athens said that you might need someone.”
A broad grin breaks across his tan face, showing perfect bright-white teeth. “Stay there. Seriously, don’t move. I’ll be right back.”
He gets the food to his table and then comes over to me and holds his hand out to shake. “I’m Dionysus. I own this place, and the windsurfing shop down on the beach, so I’m back and forth a lot. But we’re short-staffed at the moment, so I’m doing everything.”
“I’m Ariadne,” I say.
“Ariadne, what brings you to Naxos?”
“Looking for a change,” I say.
“Anything happen at home?” he asks, then stops himself. “Sorry, that was a personal question—you don’t have to tell me. If you ever need to talk, I understand complicated families.”
“No, I’m fine,” I say. “Just ready to see a little more of the world.”
He nods. “Sure,” he says. If he doesn’t believe me, he’s polite enough to not say so. “Do you have ID?”
I give him my phone, and he scans it with his. I cross my fingers, hoping that Icarus did everything right. Dionysus’s phone makes a chime that sounds positive and I breathe a sigh of relief. He hands my phone back to me. “Perfect, Ariadne of Kydonia. Can you bus a table?”
“Yes,” I say. “Definitely.”
Which is technically true. I can do anything, and he didn’t ask me if I had ever bussed a table before.
He brings me an apron, and I meet the waitress I saw outside—her name is Irene, she’s nineteen, from Sparta, came here for a month and stayed on; she smiles at me in a distracted but friendly way—and then I start bussing tables. It’s hard work and I’m constantly getting it wrong. But Irene and Dionysus aren’t too hard on me. They really must be desperate for the help. The hours fly by, and I have no time to think about anything but not dropping the trays of glasses and plates that I’m carrying back to the cramped kitchen.
As the sun sets, a musician sets up outside, and the taverna is full of music and laughter. We keep working for hours. The lights come on in our street. Irene and Dionysus grin at me as we pass each other in a dance that I am learning. People look at me in passing, but only as the girl who is clearing their table.
Late in the night, the three girls from the ferry show up at the restaurant.
“Ariadne!” they call, greeting me like I’m an old friend. The infinity-pool hostel on Mykonos was full, so they hopped another ferry to Naxos and will go back to Mykonos next week. They are staying in my hostel.
After midnight, the last customer leaves and I give my apron back to Dionysus.
“How was your first day?” he asks.
“Great,” I say, and I can’t stop smiling. I know I should be nervous or concerned about my performance, but I’m not. The music and the food and the joy around me have taken any nervousness right out of me.
“We open at ten tomorrow; I’ll see you then,” he says.
Irene waves to me as she walks down the street to her own apartment.
The girls from the ferry have waited for me, and we walk together down to the hostel, laughing and talking the whole way as the girls recount some of their craziest adventures since they left home six months ago.
We get to the door of the hostel, and I look out at the beach, the moon hanging high in the sky over the sea.
“Are you coming?” one of the girls asks.
“I’ll be up in a minute,” I say.
I pull my phone out of my pocket. There’s a message from Theseus—I miss you already. And one from Icarus—a picture of himself with wings. I smile, then slip my phone back in my pocket.
I take my shoes off and walk down to the silent beach. My footprints are the only marks in the sand.
Is this what a bird feels like the first time it flies? This is what I dreamed of. This is freedom.
The waves roll in and out, tickling my toes. I put my hand in my pocket, touching the blue blanket and ball of silver thread. I think of my brother. The peaceful look in his eyes as he lay on the floor of the maze; his hands, healed from their scars. He gave up his life so that I could be free. Free to be my own person. To find my own life.
And I did.
I stare up at the stars spangled across the sky, and it feels to me like they are singing the same song I heard when Asterion disappeared.
I know he is up there, watching me. And he is happy.
AUTHOR’S NOTE
I have loved Greek mythology since I was a kid, but I started thinking about the myths in a new way with the rise of reality television. I started to wonder how the most salacious elements of the myths became public knowledge. This brought me to one of the weirdest and most shocking things in mythology: Pasiphae and her wooden cow. How did the word get out about that? Which made me imagine the mythological paparazzi, and that led to everything else. For this story, I have tried to stay as close as I could to the commonly agreed-upon points of the myth of the Minotaur, but in some cases, I’ve switched chronologies or events for story reasons. The biggest change is that in the myth, Theseus leaves Ariadne on Naxos because the goddess Athena tells him to. Also, the myth doesn’t say that Aegeus is taking money from Minos, but it doesn’t say that he isn’t, either. Which is to say, don’t use this version of the story on your ACT. However, the sea north of Crete is now called the Aegean because Aegeus threw himself into it, so there are many things that I drew straight from the myths. I loved finding the connections between our world and a story that was first written down over two thousand years ago.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Writing can be a solitary art; easy to hold close to you, quiet and secret, but I’m terrible at secrets. I have always wanted to collaborate and create with other people, and this book has let me do that. For that I’m eternally grateful.
&nbs
p; Janine O’Malley has been the editor of my dreams. She made my book better on every page, and it would not be what it is without her. Working with Janine and Melissa Warten has been a gift. They loved and understood this book from the beginning.
To my amazing, absolutely brilliant, and tail-kicking agent, Kerry Sparks, I cannot express my gratitude enough. I love knowing that I have someone in my corner with your literary taste, business savvy, and eye for fashion. Thanks also to Sarah Bedingfield and Elizabeth Fisher at Levine Greenberg Rostan and all the rest of the LGR team.
To Joy Peskin and the entire FSG Books for Young Readers team, thank you so much for all your support for this book.
Two different critique groups were instrumental to making this book. To my DFW Writers on the Square, Amy Kelly, Denise Dupont, and Kellye Abernathy, thank you for every time you pushed me to make it weirder. And to Mervyn Dejecacion, thank you so much for inviting me to join a critique group. It has made all the difference. To my fellow Arkansas writers, Melissa Bacon, Monica Clark-Robinson, Elle Evans, Heather Breed Steadham, Angelle Gremillion, Amelia Loken, Stephanie Vanderslice, and Annmarie Worthington, you believed in this book before I did. Thank you.
Some writers keep everything close to their chest, never sharing anything, and others force their families and friends to read everything. I’m definitely of the second variety. To my parents, John and Valerie McNee, and my sister, Elaine Kemp, thanks for supporting me every step of the way. To Camille Hemmer and Jenny McCallum, thanks for reading so many drafts. To Kirsten Sanford, thanks for being my friend forever. To my husband, Russell, thanks for never giving up on me, even when the road seemed unsure. To my boys Will, John Henry, and Grant, you make everything better. For the rest of our family and dear friends (you know who you are), thanks for listening to me talk about the motivations of imaginary people, and helping me figure out how to put this story out into the world. I could not do this without you.
Last of all, I want to thank some wonderful teachers who set me on this road. Judy Goss, thank you for teaching me about writing and showing me what a writer’s life can look like. The late Susan Taylor Barham was a spark of light in this life. She was the teacher sponsor for my high school senior trip to Greece that first got me thinking about Knossos. She believed that I belonged among the company of writers, and she would have absolutely loved every minute of this.
Lifestyles of Gods and Monsters Page 25
