“Look, if you pay for the powder and beef, I’ll give you the dairy for free.”
“Deal!”
“So that will be…two hundred even. Cash or trade only.”
“Thanks, Carl!” I throw the bills down on the counter. Before I wheel my cart on out, I ask him the same question I always do. “Hey, uh, any outsiders come through town lately?”
He looks at me with something like pity in his eyes. “Ya know I woulda told you, if I did.”
“Right, I know,” I lie. The truth is, I’m pretty sure Carl would lie. He thinks my plan to get myself kidnapped in order to save my best friend is suicidal.
“I’ll see you next week,” I promise him with one last smile and wave.
I keep an eye on the lot as I move out toward my truck. The group I’m looking to have steal me aren’t the only villains roaming these streets. These are desperate times. It’s best to assume somebody’s watching me, wanting to find out what I bought and how hard it would be to take it from me. And if that somebody decides I’m an easy target, they’ll attack now—while I’m moving stuff over to my vehicle, no hands free to wield my bat.
I saw a movie once where a secret agent infiltrates a beauty pageant. Her talent is self- defense. I wish I’d made that my talent instead of tap. What, am I going to dance an attacker to death? Although I did take kickboxing down at the Y twice a week, so I know a few moves. Kickboxing burns some damn calories, let me tell you. Also, you could bounce a quarter off my ass after only two months.
“Brandee Jean?” someone says, and I spin around, baseball bat raised, heart pounding with fear.
It’s a girl about my age. She’s beautiful, with long legs and a heart shaped face. With a little refinement, she could kill it on the pageant circuit. She’s also wearing some kind of school girl outfit, from a private school or something. Or a porn film shoot. I hear that business is still doing just fine.
“What do you want?” I ask, brandishing the bat.
She smiles, not at all afraid. “My name is Edie and I’m here to take you to Amazon Academy.”
I spit out a laugh. “Guuurl, I’m not into that line of work.”
I look around to make sure there’s no one else lurking nearby. Sometimes they work in groups. One will distract you while someone else steals your stuff.
“I don’t want your food,” she tells me. “I just need you to listen for a moment…”
I don’t let her finish. I get into the truck and hit the gas, giving her a pageant wave as I speed away. The world is crazy enough. I don’t need a rando girl talking about academies—whatever that’s code for. And given her getup, I’m assuming something slightly south of acceptable.
I watch her grow smaller in the rearview mirror. It looks like she doesn’t have a vehicle either, which means she won’t be giving chase. That’s a relief. My old truck starts to rattle something awful anytime I get over 40mph.
Usually, I can relax a little once I turn onto my street. But as I make the left onto Colby Court, I spot something flying overhead. I immediately pull the truck over, scanning the perfectly blue slice of sky in the rearview mirror.
Is it a helicopter? Is someone coming to restore order and make everything go back to the way it used to be?
I get out, shading my eyes.
Dammit. No, of course not.
It’s a stupid dragon up there.
I give the dragon the finger. The world is a messed-up place now. Six months ago, I would’ve thought I was taking too many diet pills. Or that I just needed a Lunesta and a good long nap.
Now, though, a dragon doesn’t even count as the weirdest thing I’ve seen lately. Before the news went out, there were reports that vampires are real. And I swear, last month I saw a girl change into a cat and run off.
When I get home, the same girl from the Piggly Wiggly parking lot is waiting on my doorstep. I get out of the truck, bat in hand and ready to swing. I’m not playing right now. This is my property. My safe place. But her being here makes it a lot less safe.
And I hate that.
“How do you know where I live?” I ask, tightening the grip on my bat.
“I Googled you,” she tells me with a smirk.
“How did you get here so fast?”
“I flew. And you really didn’t need to flip me off,” she adds.
I’m about to ask her what in the seven pageant hells she’s talking about (circle two is the swimsuit competition), when purple wings sprout out of her back. Crap.
I keep my bat up as I approach her. “You’re the dragon?”
“Are you ready to listen now?”
I hesitate, weighing the risks and rewards. If this dragon wanted to hurt me, she would’ve done it already. Unless she’s a psychopath dragon who likes to play with her victims first. Either way, she seems determined. I’d rather invite her into my home, than have her go all dragon again and come crashing down through the roof.
“Sure,” I say, trying not to look impressed. “If you help me get the groceries inside.” My mama taught me that whatever else is going on, keep your priorities on track. Dragon-girl shrugs and grabs a box of Quik Powder.
“And no shoes in the house,” I call over my shoulder. I put the food in the icebox and motion for her to sit at the kitchen table. I also make two glasses of Quik Powder as a snack. When I place it in front of her she stares at the mixture like it’s roadkill.
“Drink up,” I tell her. “That stuff’s precious.”
“Yes, of course.” She takes a hesitant sip.
“So,” I eye her. “What do you want with me?”
“Well, here’s the thing—god is dead.”
“Oh no, are you one of those end-of-the-worlders?” I shake my head. “I’m not joining your dragon cult and sacrificing myself to the flames, or whatever it is you weirdos do. Sorry, but I already got plans to join this ‘we keep girls in cages’ group next time they come through town recruiting.”
She frowns at me. “You want to join a group that plans to put you in a cage?”
“Long story, I’d rather not get into it right now.” It’s actually not that long of a story, but I don’t feel like sharing it with a stranger. “So if your group is looking for some sucker to feed one of their organs to a warlock who promises to roll back time, well sorry, but I’m not voluntarily giving any of them up.”
One year, Miss North County Bee Hive Queen donated a kidney, faked appendicitis, and had her uterus removed, all in an effort to lose a few pounds. Her scars totally showed during the bikini competition though. Not worth it.
“There are no warlocks who can turn back time. Probably. Not that I know of. And—” She stops and takes another sip of Quik Powder. “We’ve gotten off course. Let me start again. A god is dead. Zeus, to be exact.”
“The lightning bolt guy?”
“Yes. Exactly.” She looks relieved. “You know who Mr. Zee, er, Zeus is. At least that’s one less thing I have to explain.”
“No…I think you still got a lot to explain. But let’s start with Zeus. You’re telling me he’s real and also that he’s now dead. And I’m…what? His long-lost daughter set to inherit everything he left behind?”
“Actually…” She hesitates and I see laughter in her eyes. Like she knows this is absurd. “I’m his long-lost daughter.”
I take a moment to wonder if I got a batch of bad powder and am hallucinating. But, if people accept that vampires are real, and I witnessed this girl—as a dragon—follow me home from the Piggly Wiggly, how much larger a leap is required to accept that the Greek gods are real?
She gives me a sugar-free candy smile. Sweet, but definitely not the real thing. She’d never make it on the beauty queen circuit. “Anyway, after Zeus died, things went to Hades overnight. A bunch of the minor gods went haywire without anybody in charge. There were crazy storms. Earthquakes. Hurricanes. Tornadoes.”
“I noticed,” I tell her. “Here in Wisconsin we had a blizzard in August. Also, you know, vampires. And”�
�I give her the side eye just so she knows not to make fun of me when I finish my sentence—“I totally saw a girl turn into a housecat.”
“Oh,” Edie lights up. “That was my sister, Mavis. With all the chaos in the world, many of us supernatural creatures have been doing what we can to restore the balance. Mavis has been keeping an eye on you for a while.”
My side eye still stands. “Because?”
“We’re pretty sure some of Zeus’s powers went to you when he died.” She studies me, almost like she’s trying to see beneath my skin. “Notice anything weird lately?”
“Oh, I don’t know, like maybe that time I got struck by lightning and it didn’t kill me?”
Edie leans back in her chair. “Can you walk me through exactly what happened?”
“I was out looking for Bethany Ully—she’s Miss All-Midwest Body Butter. I had a bone to pick with her, on account of I found out she’d been using body wraps to shed some pounds.”
“Is that illegal in a pageant?” Edie asks, and I shake my head.
“No, but we’d all made a pact that we were playing it straight for the summer. Strictly self-starving. But I spotted Bethany’s name on the sign-in sheet at the Skinned and Tanned—that’s a local business that does real well around here. The husband is a taxidermist and the wife is a cosmetologist.”
“So they’re both into preservation,” Edie says, with a wry smile.
“Anyway,” I say, waving my hand, “I went in for my bi-weekly tanning bed bake and that’s when I saw her big loopy handwriting three slots above mine. She’d been in for a wrap appointment earlier that day.” I shake my head, still peeved about it. “Beth didn’t even bother covering her tracks. You can be shady or you can be sloppy, but not both. At least that’s what my mama taught me. As a friend, I decided to deliver that message to her in person.”
“Just a friendly chat?” she asks, raising her eyebrows.
“Not hardly. I was gonna rip out every single one of her new extensions.”
“Seriously?” Edie looks disgusted and I wonder if she’s some sort of pacifist dragon, but then she adds, “Hair pulling. Slapping. Spitting. That sort of fighting almost seems quaint.”
I narrow my eyes at her. “Quaint my ass. She would’ve had bald patches when I was done with her.”
Edie gives a slight nod that almost looks like approval. Not a peace-lover after all, then, I guess.
“So what happened?” Edie asks.
“I stopped home before paying her a visit. I wanted to wear my crown from the Miss Street & Sanitation competition, just to remind her what’s what. I was cutting across the high school soccer fields when the first storm whipped up.”
“Let me guess,” Edie interrupts. “The sky went from bright blue to darkest black in an instant?”
“Out. Of. Nowhere,” I confirm. “I made a run for it, but I might as well have had a lightning rod on my head. Took all of three steps before—WHAM!”
I smack the table with both hands and Edie jumps.
“Just like that I was on my ass, smelling like a Pop Tart that’s been in the toaster too long.”
“And…?” Edie prompts me. “Did you notice anything after the lightning strike? Anything unusual?” She’s leaning forward, practically salivating.
“Like the fact that I can deadlift three hundred times my own body weight?” I ask, chugging down my Quik Powder and wiping my mouth.
It took me a few weeks to figure that out. At first I was just happy to have survived that lightning strike. Then all the social fabric busted wide open—kinda like when Jenny May Malone dropped her baton at the third annual Miss Midwest Pure Pork Princess and the seams on her dress couldn’t continue hiding her five months along baby belly. It wasn’t pretty.
I can’t remember much of the dark days right after that. Mama was real low and I didn’t see the point of pulling her out of it. But then one night she woke me at 3 a.m., all hopped up on something that made the smile on her face look all painful and stretched out. Mama said she’d had a vision that mani-pedis would help pull us through the apocalypse. By the time I pulled on the dress Mama insisted I wear, she was passed out cold. But I figured I’d go and get the nail polishes Mama wanted anyway. Figured it might keep Mama from sinking back down in the darkness…and taking me with her.
I was picking my way across Main Street when an abandoned car rolled onto my evening gown hem. That’s when I noticed the not-so-nice guy eyeing me from the alley. Instead of ripping my dress (Dolce & Gabbana, secondhand, $4,500), I tried to lift the car…and succeeded.
I thought it was just the adrenaline, you know, like when a woman goes all mama bear because her baby is in danger? But then when I got back home I did an experiment and flipped the neighbor’s RV. So…
“That’s not normal,” Edie says, grinning.
“I do know that,” I tell her. “So fine, if you say I got a bit of Zeus’s power or whatever, I believe you.”
“Good!” She sits back. “You’re honestly way ahead of where I was when I started.”
“You still haven’t said what you want with me.”
“If you want to keep your new power, you have to come with me to Amazon Academy. Once you’re there, they’ll find out if you can fill the void that was created when Zeus died. A bunch of different people got different pieces of him. We need all of you to compete. One winner will end up with all of Zeus’s powers, and he or she can then restore order to the world.” She sits back with an ‘easy peasy’ look on her face.
But I feel like she left out a big piece of the puzzle. “Okay and what about the losers?”
“Oh, um,” Edie clears her throat. “If you lose, you lose your powers.”
“But you just said I gotta go to this Amazon Academy if I want to keep my power!” The words explode out of me, because truth to tell, even though my super strength is still new, it’s already become a part of me. Sorta like when you get a new lipstick and immediately realize it’s gonna be your new signature color.
Edie holds her hands out in a calm down gesture. “Okay, look. Anyone who doesn’t arrive at Amazon Academy by the evening of the opening ceremony will lose their powers. And that’s tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow!” I take a deep breath, fighting back the growing panic. “So let me get this straight. If I want to stay super strong, I gotta follow you to this Wonder Woman Academy, Hunger Games it out with a bunch of other suddenly supers, and eventually rise to the top?”
“Don’t freak out, but”—she reaches across the table and takes my hand—“the other contestants aren’t all people. Some are vampires or shifters, like me, and yes, some are humans like you. And there are quite a few royals in the mix.”
A sharp laugh escapes me. “Like another pageant queen?”
“Well…no. Royalty by blood,” Edie admits.
“So you got stuck with me, a beauty queen? Are they punishing you?”
“No, actually. I chose you.”
I bark out a laugh. “You had the option of picking an actual princess or queen or whatever, and you chose me? Aren’t I a longshot?” What’s wrong with this girl? Mama always said you gotta back a winner, even if you like the loser.
“I’m not going to lie to you. The general consensus is that you’re the underdog. But I was once like you. I thought I was normal and then discovered I had incredible power. With my help, I think you can do this. You can be crowned the new Zeus.” She pauses. “I’m not explaining this very well, am I?”
“Nah, you’re doing just fine. You want me to compete for a crown. If I win, I’ll be in charge of the gods.”
My heart pounds loud in my chest as I look around the house. Mama wasn’t much into decorating, but she always made sure to frame and hang my pageant pictures. From ages five and up, I’m there on the wall, competing for sashes and scepters.
Usually winning meant a crown, a sash, and a cash prize. Most of the money would go to paying for my dresses, the dance choreographer, and dental work. Shiny chompers d
on’t come cheap. Any money left over, Mama would hide in a Ziploc at the back of the freezer. Her not believing in banking institutions is why I still got money to spend.
Some of the bigger pageants cost so much up front that—even though Mama never said it aloud—losing wasn’t an option. I always at least placed at those times. Mama always said, “You’re a diamond, Brandee Jean. You shine brightest when you’re pressed the hardest.”
She also said, “Only losers worry about what happens when they lose.”
Finally, I turn to Edie, and push my chair back with a screech.
“Girl, I understand perfectly.” I stand. “Let me grab my tiara, then we’ll go show them what a real queen looks like.”
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About the Authors
Demitria Lunetta is the author of the YA books THE FADE, BAD BLOOD, and the sci-fi duology, IN THE AFTER and IN THE END. She is also an editor and contributing author for the YA anthology, AMONG THE SHADOWS: 13 STORIES OF DARKNESS & LIGHT. Find her at www.demitrialunetta.com for news on upcoming projects and releases. Or join the newsletter list for DEMITRIA LUNETTA
Kate Karyus Quinn is an avid reader and menthol chapstick addict with a BFA in theater and an MFA in film and television production. She lives in Buffalo, New York with her husband, three children, and one enormous dog. She has three young adult novels published with HarperTeen: ANOTHER LITTLE PIECE, (DON'T YOU) FORGET ABOUT ME, AND DOWN WITH THE SHINE. She also recently released her first adult novel, THE SHOW MUST GO ON, a romantic comedy. Find out more at www.katekaryusquinn.com and make sure you’re receiving newsletters from KATE KARYUS QUINN
Marley Lynn is a lost child of the gods, who waits on the shores of Lake Erie for her parents to bring her home. In the meantime, she contents herself with reading, writing, and gardening. Find out more at www.MarleyLynn.com or sign up for MARLEY LYNN’S newsletter.
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