New Olympus Trilogy: Teenage Goddess Teenage Star Hell on Earth

by May Burnett

  After some fifteen minutes, we were joined by a middle-aged guy in an expensive-looking suit. The guide eagerly jumped to his feet at first sight of this newcomer.

  “Hello, Mr Callmer, Sir! I didn’t know you were going to join us.”

  Callmer shrugged, and said, “That will be all, Geoff.” The guide, deflated, quickly bid us good-bye and slunk off.

  “So, which of you pretty girls is Jason Mackenzie’s girlfriend?” Callmer asked, with a false joviality that instantly put my back up. He sat down at our table without being invited.

  “Myra, here, is Jason’s girlfriend,” Ms Allerton said, tilting her head at me.

  “Ah, and the young man?”

  “Myra’s brother, Helmuth,” she explained.

  “It only makes sense that Jason’s friends would also be gifted,” Ballmer looked the two of us over appraisingly. He didn’t seem interested in learning who Melinda was.

  “That song you performed in the recording room just a while ago,” he came to the point, “is it an old folk song, by any chance?”

  “On the contrary, it’s a recent composition by a well-known artist,” Hell immediately set him straight. “It’s certainly not in the public domain.”

  “So you know the composer? Who is it?”

  I didn’t want to get this smarmy guy involved with Phoebus, so I said, “A family friend, he lives in Europe most of the time.”

  “Do you have his name and address, by any chance?” Ballmer persisted.

  Hell said, in the voice of power, “What exactly are your intentions? Tell us the truth.” Melinda and Miss Allerton threw him alarmed glances.

  “That song is worth a fortune. If it belongs to some unimportant foreigner, we can easily rip it off with a couple of minor changes.”

  “What!” Ms Allerton looked shocked. So did Callmer, when he realised what he’d just said.

  “You will forget all about the song, and you won’t use it.” Hell looked straight into the executive’s eyes.

  “All right,” Callmer agreed dully.

  “Goodbye, then,” I said to him. “Nice of you to drop by and greet us.”

  We all watched the guy leave.

  “That was weird,” Melinda said, shooting Hell as suspicious look. “Did you hypnotize him?”

  “Yes, sometimes that ability is really useful.”

  She mulled it over.

  “It was just like Christabel, when she suddenly confessed to buying her essay on the internet. Did you hypnotise her, as well?

  No doubt about it, Melinda was pretty smart.

  “I just appealed to her to be more truthful.”

  Ms Allerton frowned. "You can make people act against their own interest? Force them to speak the truth? That's a very dangerous ability. And what else?" Her eyes were big, and she looked at him almost fearfully as the implications sank in. "You wouldn't use this against your teachers, I should hope?"

  “I might if I had to. Like right now. You’re going to forget all about this conversation immediately.”

  Ms Allerton blinked, and said, “I wonder how long we’ll have to wait for Jason?” Her expression was placid once again.

  I briefly thought about the ethics of Hell’s actions, but decided to let it go. Callmer had it coming, and Ms Allerton would be happier without such disturbing knowledge.

  Melinda was looking at Hell with raised eyebrows, her eyes round.

  “There’s still me,” she said in Spanish. It sounded like a challenge. “Want to make me forget, too?”

  “Nunca en la vida.” Never. He smiled at her.

  Uh-oh. My suspicions were confirmed. So that’s why he’d grown half a head overnight.

  Hell was in love.

  18

  The MacDudes were a little surprised to see a group of teenagers among the lunch crowd. They signed a group photo for Melinda’s mom without fuss. Their mood was mellow, no doubt assisted by the excellent food and satisfaction with a very productive session.

  “Jason was inspired today,” a studio executive told me, enthusiastic. “He put much more feeling into the songs than ever before. The public will love it.” I could see for myself that Jason was happy and almost high from their joint artistic effort.

  “Would you like a signed photo, too?” Molson, the MacDude’s drummer, asked me after he’d signed Melinda’s.

  “No, thanks.” This custom of getting autographs from stars seemed very intrusive to me, particularly after last night’s interrupted dinner. I was not going to start doing it myself. Besides, I’d only recently learned of the band’s existence from Jason and had no idea if I even liked their style.

  Melinda looked at me in surprise. “You could sell it on Ebay! The MacDudes are hot just now,” she whispered.

  Molson also seemed astonished that anyone would turn his offer down. “You’re not into our music, then?” he asked me, clearly puzzled why I was there at all.

  “We’re classmates of Jason’s,” I explained, “he brought us along for company.”

  “She’s Jason’s girlfriend,” Melinda added. I guessed I would have to get used to that role, at least until the damage done by Eros’s arrow could be reversed.

  As lunch was winding down, Murdock came over to our group, Jason in tow. Jason looked shocked. The agent held his cell phone clenched in his hand.

  “Myra, there’s something I need to tell you.” From his expression, I could already guess it was not going to be good news. “A publicist buddy in L.A. just informed me that since the press conference this morning, three separate hate sites have sprung up on the internet.”

  “Hate sites? Against whom?”

  “Against you. It seems that some of Jason’s fans cannot deal with the way he introduced you, and they feel jealous. There’s a good deal of negative commentary about your character, nationality, and appearance. Euro trash is one of the least negative descriptions, I hear. It’s a P.R disaster.”

  Jason was almost in tears. “Myra, I’m so sorry! I had no idea this would happen!”

  “It’s not your fault,” I said, patting his arm, though I felt just a little bit annoyed with him. “Why would I care what a bunch of nasty-minded people write about me? They don’t know me and I’m not likely to meet them.”

  Everybody shook their heads at this declaration.

  The drummer Molson, who’d been listening with interest, told me “These things are not as harmless as you seem to believe. I’ve had some experience with hate sites. The next step is hateful mail and messages, and then actual stalking.”

  “People have had nervous breakdowns over this sort of thing,” Jason added.

  “I’m not as delicate as all that.”

  Melinda disagreed. “Anyone can be broken by too much persecution. Think of a thousand Christabels, all after you.”

  Not a pleasant thought at all. But Christabel was at my school, and these angry fans were far away. I hoped.

  “And what will your parents say, when they learn about it?” This seemed to worry Murdock, though he had no idea just how powerfully our parents could express their displeasure. "I recommend that you immediately retain an experienced publicist and a therapist to work through this with you. Can your parents afford – “

  “Of course we’re going to pay for the expense,” Jason broke in, glowering at his agent. “Though I don’t see the need for a therapist."

  “No, indeed.” The last thing I wanted was a nosy human getting me to talk about my feelings. “My psyche is pretty stable, I promise you.”

  “My own publicist is very good,” Jason went on, “I’ll give Alice a call right away.”

  “Don’t – it would be better if Myra had a different one,” Murdock advised.

  Jason hesitated, phone in hand. “Why?”

  Murdock seemed reluctant to explain, so Molson spelled it out for him. “Conflict of interest. Your own image is your publicist’s main concern, and in such a situation, she might advise you to keep your distance from your girl. Just as an examp
le.”

  Jason was blazingly angry. “What, Myra gets to be hated by my fans because she’s my girlfriend, and my own image is more important than helping her? What kind of attitude is that?”

  Murdock shrugged. “Just business. Show business. Honest feelings and love are best kept far away from the media. It’s time you learned that lesson, Jason. We need to focus on limiting the damage on your own behalf.”

  “Do your worst,“ I told the agent.

  “Myra! “ Jason seemed frantic with worry.

  Hell, who’d been talking to the other members of the MacDudes further away, came drifting back in our direction.

  “What’s going on here?”

  Melinda quickly explained about the hate sites, and the proposal to get me a publicist and possibly a therapist.

  “I can’t leave you alone for an hour,” Hell said to me, grinning. “I wonder what our parents will say about this.” At least he didn’t appear unduly worried, like the humans all around us.

  Jason was on the phone, talking to his publicist after all. He was giving her instructions regarding the handling of the problem, as well as listening to her advice.

  “Alice sent me the name of a guy specialising in difficult cases,” he announced. “She says he handled the latest oil spill, and airlines call on him whenever they have a plane crash – “

  “No, thanks,” I said, getting angry at last. “That tells me all I need to know about the guy’s business ethics. And are you saying I’m a disaster of similar proportions?”

  Jason blanched. “No, Myra, I certainly didn’t mean anything like that…You can’t think….”

  Hell interrupted his floundering. “I think we’re over-reacting. These hate sites will be down just as quickly as they turned up, mark my words.”

  “I’m heading back to the hotel to have a look for myself,” I decided. I had had just about enough of the studio and its denizens.

  Everyone in our party except Jason, who had more recording sessions, left with me.

  Hate sites? Just because Jason said he liked me?

  A good thing I was not a fragile mortal.

  19

  After switching on my laptop in our suite, Hell, Melinda and I had a quick look at the trash on the net. The hate sites were easy enough to find just by typing my name into the search bar. There were four up by now. After scanning the first one, I felt filthy just from reading those effusions. The author must have had an obsessive and unhealthy fixation on Jason, and her hatred for me – whom she’d never met, and only seen for a few minutes on the screen – came through loud and clear.

  “Why don’t you take a nap while Melinda and I deal with this?” Hell suggested.

  “A shower sounds better just now. What are you going to do?”

  “Well, technical glitches are about to bring down these sites and their entire hosting networks. Millions of pages will be affected, at least temporarily. After the networks are back up, any new site containing your name or picture will crash immediately, and irrevocably. Is that enough, do you think?”

  “I guess – until they invent some nasty nickname instead.”

  “True. We’ll have to do some checks for that as well.”

  “And there might be articles in print media, too.”

  “I’ll help you search,” Melinda offered.

  “Thanks, guys. This is less expensive than the publicist would have been, I suppose.”

  “For us,” Hell said, smiling. “I wouldn’t care to calculate the total damage I’m about to inflict.”

  “You are incredible,” Melinda told him, briefly putting her hand over his on the keyboard. She seemed to have it as bad as he. I envied them. No Eros with his arrows had interfered in their friendship; it seemed to follow a gradual and healthy trajectory towards more. If only Jason….

  I turned on the shower. Standing under the warm water far longer than necessary, I wrestled with uncomfortable thoughts. The silly fans outside the studio, the people behind those hate sites, and I had something in common: we’d all been captivated by the attractive, almost irresistible image of Jason presented by his skilful publicist. When I got to meet him in person, I’d learned that Jason, the real person, was both less and more than the image. Due to my own divine status I’d not felt the temptation to become a fan in the usual sense, - instead I’d hoped to make him my own fan, to be honest - but was my behaviour much better than theirs? Without me, Jason wouldn’t have become the victim of Eros.

  It could be worse, I told myself. If he’d had a human girlfriend instead, these hate sites could have caused a lot of damage to her self-esteem. She wouldn’t have a brother able and willing to crash half the internet to deal with this nuisance.

  Finally, I turned off the water, and wrapped my body in the fluffy cotton bathrobe provided by the hotel. A nap might not be a bad idea after all. Maybe reality would be less complicated by the time I woke up.

  20

  By dinnertime, when Jason arrived back from another recording session, everyone was feeling more cheerful. The hate sites had inexplicably vanished from the net, Jason told us. His publicist was puzzled about this. Ms. Allerton had not been aware of the day’s publicity flap, and was horrified to hear about it now. The rest of us pretended to be surprised and relieved.

  The recording had gone so well that the MacDudes and Jason hoped to wrap it up with another full day, ahead of schedule.

  Jason’s agent had hired a guide to show us something of the city in the meantime, so the next morning we set out to explore Atlanta. The city used up a lot more space than necessary, I thought, but most of the parts we saw had a pleasant vibe. Ms. Allerton added some historic and geographical knowledge to the tour guide’s explanations, true to her teacher’s calling. Despite her efforts, we enjoyed the day, especially our mid-afternoon lunch at an Indian restaurant I’d selected on the net.

  “A good thing that nobody recognised me as Jason’s girlfriend,” I commented, as I dug into my vegetable curry. Now I came to think of it, nobody had given us a second glance.

  “That would have been difficult,” Hell replied, “anyone looking at you, outside our group, sees a boy.”

  “What?” I quickly looked at Ms. Allerton, but she was talking to a waiter, asking for some water.

  “Just a precaution, until they forget about you.”

  Melinda chuckled. “I had no idea you could do that. Can I see?” She stared at me for some seconds. “That’s uncanny.”

  “So what do I look like?”

  “Brown hair, glasses, jeans and sneakers – not much change in the clothes. The kind of guy people immediately forget again.”

  “Thanks very much, bro,” I said to Hell sarcastically. “Is this really necessary?”

  “Better safe than sorry. You didn’t see all the stuff on the sites we crashed.”

  Jason had returned from the session late but quite hyper about its success. His agent also seemed to be more cheerful than I’d last seen him.

  “You do have a great effect on Jason’s singing,” Murdock grudgingly told me as he said good-bye. We were starting back to the school very early the next morning, while he was taking a midnight flight back home to L.A.

  “I’m dedicating this album to you,” Jason told me just before we went off to our separate suites.

  “Thanks. But what about the MacDudes? It’s their album too.”

  “They already agreed, at least for the US version.”

  “Okay, whatever. I’m sure your fans will love it, anyway.”

  “I don’t care about that, as long as you like it. You are my inspiration, Myra.” He pressed a kiss on my knuckles.

  “Your passion for music reminds me of – of a good friend who’s also into songs and poetry,” I said, half yawning with fatigue. “He’s blond and handsome too, but in a very different fashion.”

  “Oh? How close are you to him?” Jason was instantly suspicious.

  I started. “Phoe – well, he’s a lot older than me and a relativ
e too. There’s nothing between us.”

  “And what kind of music does he do?”

  “Several different styles, from ancient to modern. He writes the lyrics and music himself, and has a divine voice.” As well he should, being a God. Poor Jason, I really should not have mentioned the comparison.

  Jason was gnawing on his lips, staring at me with a frown. What had I done? Victims of Eros could be irrationally jealous.

  Trying to make him feel better, I added, “He’s had a lot more time to develop his art. I’m sure you could write your own songs, if you wanted to, Jason.”

  “You think?”

  “Uh, sure. Whatever you try…. I guess I’ll go up to my room now. Good night, Jason.”

  He stood staring after me with an abstracted expression.

  21

  On the way from the airfield back to school, we admired the trees’ spectacular autumn colours and the imposing mountains in the background. On my first trip along this route, just a few weeks ago, it had still been late summer. The Rockview Academy should really have been called Mountainview. It was built atop a hill, like a medieval castle, and in every direction you could see snow-covered peaks.

  “Fall is my favourite time of the year. In winter, we get snowed in now and then,” Jason told me. He was sitting next to me, his arm slung around my waist. “I missed the start of a tour one time because of early snowfall.”

  “But then we have skiing excursions.” Melinda sounded enthusiastic. “I love skiing. You guys are probably much better than me.”

  “Not all Swiss people are expert skiers,” I said, after exchanging a long look with Hell. In fact, we had no experience with the sport. New Olympus is too warm and we’d only left it for summer vacations, usually in tropical latitudes.

  “We missed the history test.” Melinda did not sound sad about it. “Did you also get an essay assignment to make up for it?”

  “All done,” Hell declared.

  Jason sighed. “I don’t know when I’ll find the time. You must be a very fast worker, Hell.”