by May Burnett
26
I greatly enjoyed my first home-cooked meal in our gold and white dining hall, with ambrosia cake specially prepared to celebrate my safe return. The gods made nectar toasts to my continued immortality and luck. Almost all the family and retainers were present, though Eros made sure he kept well away from me. We used the gold plates and all my favorite dishes were on the menu. Two thousand candles lit the dining hall - in New Olympus they last forever, but I'd never seen so many used.
Almost the hardest part,” I told Pallas, “was surviving on bland human food. They do have some excellent dishes, but Jason’s school did not serve any of those.”
“They probably had their reasons.” She was not sympathetic. “Were there any fat students at that school?”
I thought back. “No, not that I noticed.”
“It was a school for the children of the rich. They tend to be slimmer, and the best-tasting foods are often fattening.”
That did not seem reasonable to me, since surely you could have a compromise. I decided that I’d have to show rather than tell her, by taking her to some good restaurants someday.
After dinner, Dad summoned Hell for a report. My brother materialized in front of the whole family rather tousled and in pajamas, though he quickly converted them into a white tunic.
“Oh, hello Dad, Mum, sis, everyone,” he said, still in a sleepy voice, rubbing his eyes. But then he sniffed. “Is that ambrosia cake? Is there any left?”
I handed him a golden plate with a big piece and a crystal tumbler of nectar. It was the least I could do. "Thanks for the rescue, bro."
Hell took a drought of nectar, and immediately became more alert.
“Report,” Dad commanded.
“Well, it’s quite a mess. The headmaster is deathly afraid that our parents will sue the school after what happened to Myra. There’s a county-wide manhunt for the body. They cannot understand how it disappeared in the few minutes between Jason coming for help, and the teachers rushing to the waterfall. They only found bloodstains. One newspaper speculates that a grizzly bear carried Myra off.”
“What of Christabel?” Mom asked.
“She admits what she did. Christabel’s been arrested, but I don’t suppose that will last long. Her family sent a high-powered lawyer, who quit in disgust after just a few hours. They’ve already replaced him. The new lawyer is trying to put the blame on Jason, and to suggest that Christabel is sacrificing herself out of love.”
“Ha!” I snorted. Nobody who knew her would believe such a story.
“They have also sent some expensive psychiatrists to check on her and will probably get her off,” Hell said, “I only know this from the media. The news are full of the case.”
I did not care about Christabel. “How is Jason dealing with the situation?”
“Not well, from what I heard. The media are sympathetic to him, especially as he tried to save you. He refused to leave the mountain for hours and hours, still hoping to find you alive or dead. His parents are sending a top-flight therapist to look after him. There was talk of a suicide watch.”
I felt a stab of pain in my own heart at hearing this.
“He’s been freed of the arrow’s power,” I told Hell. “Surely that will help him deal with the fall-out.”
“Jason still needs some kind of closure,” Pallas suggested. “Maybe you should go to him in his dreams and tell him you’re all right.”
“Will he even care, now he’s been set free?” That thought also hurt, strangely.
“I think so,” Hell said. “Even without being in love, I expect he feels guilty that Christabel attacked you out of jealousy over him. The uncertainty of what happened to you, or your body, must be nerve-wracking.”
“Isn’t it time you also came home, son?” Dad asked Hell.
My brother vigorously shook his head. “Oh no, Dad, I want to stay on. I’m learning new things about the modern world and its people every day.”
“Not to mention all the Spanish practice that you’re getting,” I added. Hell threw me a look, and I shrugged.
“What’s that?” Mom asked.
“Hell has become very close to a human girl,” I told her. “Melinda, from Colombia. She’s really smart and cute.”
“He’s my son, it’s to be expected.” Dad’s voice was complacent. He was a lot more okay with Hell’s friendships than mine, I thought with a momentary flash of resentment.
“Just be careful,” Mom advised Hell. “Don’t go around breaking hearts. You’re only fourteen -”
“Almost fifteen, Mom.” Hell didn’t like to be reminded of his youth.
27
As soon as the feast was over and I found myself alone in my room, I lost no time appearing to Jason. This was the first time I did so, but I had learned the proper incantation from Pallas long ago.
At first I thought the chant wasn't working properly, but then I saw that Jason had been sedated, which made it harder to get through him. Apparently, the drugs in his system interfered with dreams.
I chose to bring him back to the meadow where we’d kissed so recently, and in broad sunlight.
“Hello, Jason,” I said softly. He opened his dream eyes, and stared at me.
“Myra! Are you all right? What happened to you?”
“Yes, Jason, I’m fine. Thanks to you pulling me out of the water. I’ll never forget that.”
“But then – we couldn’t find you – I’m dreaming, aren’t I?”
Even so, he approached and touched his hand to mine in wonder.
“Yes, you’re dreaming, but I’m really here.” I couldn’t resist passing my dream hand over his disordered locks. ”I came to say good-bye.”
“Then you’re dead?” His beautiful blue eyes filled with tears.
“No, I’m not dead, and I don’t expect to ever die. Jason, I was just visiting Earth for a while. My home is elsewhere.”
“I don’t understand.” His voice was choked.
“Don’t try. Jason, I have a confession to make.“ Even in the dream, the next thing was difficult to say, but I forced myself to plough ahead. ”You were compelled to love me, although not through my doing. I’m sorry if that caused you pain. Now the compulsion to love me has been removed, and you can forget me.”
“You want me to forget about you?”
“It’s for the best.” A good thing that goddesses don’t cry.
“And are you going to forget about me?”
“No.” I said it so low that I wasn’t sure he heard, but apparently he did.
“Why, Myra? I haven’t loved anyone before. I don’t want to love anyone else. If you’re truly all right, can’t you come back to me?”
“You’d still want that?”
“Always.”
I was torn. Did he know his feelings? He’d been drugged, after an extremely stressing time. In a week, everything might look very different.
“I’ll stay away for a while. If you still feel the same at the end of the school year, send me a message, and I can come for a visit.”
“You promise you’re alive?” He still seemed anxious.
“I promise. Quite alive and well, even the broken spine is healed already.”
“Nobody else would know about that,” he breathed, eyes wide. “I just told them you were badly hurt, bleeding from the head and nose.”
“All that is past now, you can relax.”
He was looking me over carefully. “You look different somehow. More alive, more real.”
“That’s because I’m my true self now,” I said. “I’m not exactly human. Does that bother you?”
“You mean, you’re an alien?” That thought seemed to intrigue him.
“No, not an alien, but a supernatural being.”
“Wow. Just wow. I always knew you were special, but that’s incredible.” He blinked. “Can I still kiss you?”
I had to laugh at that.
“A kiss good-bye, for now.”
It was a great kiss, eve
n if it was only in the dream. I ended it with a slow fade. Then I was at home in my room in New Olympus, and he was deeply asleep in Colorado.
It was strange to come to the end so unexpectedly. I was feeling happy and sad at the same time.
As long as Hell remained down at the school, I’d be able to keep tabs on my first boyfriend. Maybe I could save him from some danger in the future, to repay his own quick action?
Jason would probably forget me over the next starlet in the upcoming Hurricane Riders II, but at least I had relieved him of the unearned guilt. After my dramatic demise as a human student, I liked Jason more than ever before. He was a good guy, and deserved better than either Christabel or me.
But if he should by any chance persist in his delusions, well, who knew what the future would bring…..
THE END
Teenage Star
Children of New Olympus Series
May Burnett
Copyright © 2014 by May Burnett. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording , scanning or otherwise without the prior written permission of the author.
This book is a work of fiction. Any similarity to actual persons or institutions would be unintentional and mere coincidence.
FALL
1
I woke in the dark, in my room in the Rockview Academy, my heart beating fast and my thoughts churning.
Was I losing my mind? Did the sudden loss of my girlfriend cause me to hallucinate? I’d had an incredibly vivid dream. Myra, more beautiful than ever, had reassured me that she was alive. She even promised that we might meet again in the future, if I still loved her.
Unfortunately everything in real life pointed to a far more depressing conclusion, including my own memory. Less than two days ago I had pulled Myra’s broken, bloody body from the icy waters of a mountain pool. After placing her on dry ground, I’d had to take one of the most difficult decisions of my life – stay with her to the end, which seemed only a question of minutes, or go for help. I’d run for help. I’d never seen her again.
Well, except in this dream. Did that count?
And how could a mere dream make me feel so much lighter, more hopeful? It didn’t make any sense, but after the unrelenting misery of the day before – the school actually installed a camera in my room and watched it around the clock “just in case” – well, I’d take any improvement I could get.
Myra. Why did she come into my life, like a blazing meteor, only to leave it so suddenly just weeks afterwards? Would it have been better never to meet her at all? No. Whatever the cost, I was glad we’d been together even for the short while we’d had. Loving her had been like stepping from an old black and white movie into a modern, colourful one. Or like extending my vision with a tenfold zoom, so that I now saw a bigger picture, much more clearly. The effect was still there, even with Myra gone. I was not ready to return to my small cramped world of before, if it had even been possible.
My eye fell on the blank notebook the new therapist had handed me on our first session the previous day. “After a trauma,” he’d told me, “it can help to write down your feelings.” He probably wanted me to discuss my scribbling with him later on. I wouldn’t. I’d write down my dream so I’d never forget a single detail, but it was private; my own secret source of hope, however irrational.
Strangely, since last night I’d felt more lucid than I had for several weeks. Even my love for Myra, which had engulfed me like a tsunami, was more under control. Now it felt like a wave I could choose to ride or sit out. I’d ride it, even now that she was gone and likely dead.
After writing down every detail of my dream, I stared at the remaining blank space of the notebook. Maybe I could figure out a solution to her disappearance, though the local Sherriff’s office was stumped. Surely they had better resources, but then they didn’t know Myra, as I had. As her boyfriend, my motivation to find her was a lot greater.
What had happened in those few minutes? No girl, no body, nothing to explain the mystery. The police arrived within thirty minutes, a record given our remote location in the Rocky Mountains. They conducted a widespread search with several helicopters and dozens of men on the ground, starting within two hours of the emergency call. Yet no trace of Myra was found.
I refused to believe the “Grizzly” and “Puma” theories propounded by the avid TV newscasters, but had no better explanation. The fact that the mystery involved me – already so much in the media through my singing and acting – had guaranteed a veritable frenzy of speculation and round-the-clock coverage of the search, which would resume as soon as the night ended.
By the time it got light outside, and time to leave the sanctuary of my room, I still was no closer to a solution.
The in-school telephone interrupted my brooding. “The headmaster wants a quick word at 7.30 a.m.,” Mrs. Balz, the school secretary, told me. “Then the FBI will interview you again at eight. We’ve set aside the small room off the recreation hall.”
“Okay, I’ll be there.” I was glad that she wasn’t asking about my feelings, as everyone else had since the day before. Since the accident. It wasn’t really an accident, but my mind shied away from what had happened just before Myra’s fall.
“You probably don’t feel like eating, but if you’re up, there’s just time if you hurry.”
“Yes, okay. Thanks.” I put the receiver down and left for the school cafeteria. Since the dream my appetite had returned, and I figured I’d better grab a sandwich or some fruit before a gruelling day of more police interviews and therapy.
There were only a few students up yet. They greeted me with surprise, as though eating breakfast was somehow wrong after losing your girlfriend in the mountains.
Defiantly, I poured myself some hot chocolate, and assembled a helping of scrambled eggs, vegetables, and toast.
Paul, one of my classmates, came to sit beside me. “Man, that really sucks, what happened. I never much cared for Myra or that brother of hers, but still, I’d never have expected Christabel to become homicidal over you. It’s flattering in a way.”
I turned my coldest expression on him –“freezing like the Arctic” according to my major fan site. “If you never cared for Myra, I’d prefer that you take your comments elsewhere. Scram.”
Paul was bigger and taller than I, but temporarily incapacitated by a broken wrist. Just as well: an ugly expression crossed his handsome face. He wasn’t above hitting others on occasion, thought he’d never tried it with me.
Now he shrugged with exaggerated carelessness. “Have it your way. Nobody but you liked the stuck-up cow. See you around.”
After Paul had left for another table I quickly ate some more, just for fuel, as my appetite was flagging again. The food in our school was never its greatest selling point. Myra used to complain about its blandness.
The headmaster’s office was not far. Dr Hollingsworth briefly expressed his condolences. It was plain he considered Myra dead.
“What you told the police yesterday,” he added, “is likely to ruin poor Christabel’s life. Have you considered that the truth won’t bring Myra back, but can cause terrible harm to a girl – er – whose unrequited love for you caused her to panic?”
I didn’t buy his concern for a minute. No doubt Christabel’s powerful relatives had been putting pressure on the school. It wouldn’t be the first time.
“Serves her right.” I looked at the headmaster challengingly, an expression I’d used in a couple of scenes of the forthcoming action movie Hurricane Riders. “Would you really advise me to depart from the truth, Sir?”
“Oh… of course not, but there’s always some shades of grey in any situation ...” He was in a tight spot, as I was the most famous student of his school, yet Christabel’s family had important political connections and lots of clout. She’d abused this fact one time too many, as far as I was concerned.
“I doubt Chris
tabel will suffer too much,” I said. “I only care for Myra, and want her found. She is also a student here – don’t you care that she got hurt and lost?”
“Er- of course, that goes without saying. A most unfortunate occurrence.” He sounded genuinely sorry, but I’d bet it was the damage to the school rather than to Myra he most cared about.
“If that’s all, I’ll go to see the FBI now,” I said, a bit more shortly than I usually spoke to authority figures. His blatant hypocrisy disgusted me.
2
Outside the headmaster’s office, a tall young man in a grey suit stood waiting. I was about to storm by, but he stopped me by grabbing at my arm. My angry look did not faze him at all.
“Mr. Mackenzie, I’m Joe Zackary, your lawyer. Your parents retained me. I’ve been travelling all night. Is it true you’re going to have an interview with the FBI in a few minutes?”
Seeing that I was listening, he removed his hand from my arm, and thrust a business card out at me. It looked legitimate.
“I’m supposed to see them in a few minutes, at eight. Do I really need a lawyer of my own?”
“That question alone proves that you do. Where can we talk?”
I led the lawyer to one of the sofas of the empty recreation lounge, under a huge screen, silent now. I’d watched a couple of movies here with Myra – no time to think about that.
Zackary lost no time in getting to the point. “Your situation is dangerous. A girl from a rich foreign family has inexplicably vanished on a school hike. Only her boyfriend – you – and another student who apparently hated her guts are witnesses. Correct so far?”
“So far.” For someone who’d been travelling all night, he seemed pretty alert.
“You told the police that the other girl – Christabel Lennox – was jealous over you, and pushed your girlfriend into a rock-filled pool, where she was badly and probably fatally hurt.”
