by Kieran Scott
From time to time I returned to our island without him knowing, just so I could see him in his natural state—so I could make sure he really was improving and not just putting on a show for me. Today he was clearly feeling well, but still, I didn’t want him to know I was there. He was so beautiful in the midst of a hunt. So alive and pure and strong. It had been about three thousand years since I’d seen him look so free.
And then Orion came to a clearing and tripped. A huge black bear let out a bloodcurdling roar and stood up on its hind legs. At full height, it was at least ten feet tall. It was the sight of the beast that had tripped Orion, but I hadn’t seen it until it was too late.
It all happened in a millisecond. Orion lay prostrate on the ground, wisely frozen, his chest heaving as he stared up at the bear. I saw something flicker in the eyes of the predator, its primal instincts set to kill, and without even thinking, I slipped a silver-tipped arrow from my quiver, took aim, and pierced its heart. The bear let out an awful, wailing moan and dropped to the ground. Dead.
Orion sprang to his feet as I materialized in front of him. We stared into each other’s eyes, both heaving in broken breaths, both charged with adrenaline. I took two steps, he took two steps, and suddenly we were in each other’s arms. I kissed Orion for the first time, while still blinking back tears of terror, still trying to convince my heart that he’d survived. He kissed me for the first time, knowing I’d saved his life, realizing somewhere deep inside him that I was always there.
When he finally pulled away, his fingers were tangled up in my hair.
“I was sure I was dead,” he said, searching my eyes.
“I will never let that happen,” I promised him. “Not if I can help it.”
• • •
“The timer’s turned?” Hephaestus called up the stairs.
As I blinked myself back to the now, the timer came into focus. I raced out into the hallway and over to the landing, the echo of my promise to Orion still ringing in my ears. Hephaestus sat in front of the bottom step, smiling up at me.
“It’s turned,” I told him, my hair spilling over my shoulder. “Thank you, Hephaestus. I couldn’t have done it without you.”
“My pleasure,” he said. “I’m gonna hit the sheets. Early day tomorrow at Gino’s.”
“I’m kind of tired too,” I lied. I was far too shot through with adrenaline to sleep. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Congratulations, Eros,” Hephaestus said sincerely. “You still got it. You just had to find it.”
“Thanks,” I replied.
I traipsed back to my room, light on my feet and in my heart. Hopefully, Hephaestus was right, and now that I had my matching mojo back, the next coupling would be that much easier. I twirled into my room and, just for fun, flicked my hand at the door.
It closed.
My heart hit my throat. I stared at my hand. That was just an illusion, right? I’d touched the door and hadn’t realized it.
I turned to the window and flicked my hand again. The curtains fell over the panes, blocking out the lights on the street.
I stumbled back, startled. My fingertips tingled. I flicked them at my bed, and the blankets straightened themselves, the pillows plumping and lining up just as I’d imagined them in my mind.
My powers were back. My powers were back! But why? How? Perhaps Zeus had gifted them to me as a reward for finally succeeding with Charlie. But that wasn’t exactly his style. He’d sent me here to watch me squirm. Sprouting zits, forming awful headaches, being mocked by my peers, and failing three times, but then succeeding under the wire . . . that wouldn’t be enough for him, would it? Surely he would rather I continue on my mission in relative misery and not try to make it easier for me. But there was no denying what I’d just done. I stared at my warm fingers and could have sworn I saw a hazy glow beneath my skin.
A laugh bubbled up inside of me, burbling out and filling the room. I didn’t care how my powers had returned. What mattered was they were back. And with their help, I’d be out of this place in a day.
“What are you about?”
I hadn’t heard the door behind me open. Ever so slowly I turned around to face my mother, pushing my hands casually under my arms. She stood in the center of the threshold in her work outfit—black pencil skirt, white silk shirt—her beautiful face blank.
“I’m . . . nothing,” I told her. “I just got home. How was work?”
Her steely-blue eyes flicked over me and narrowed. She leaned one shoulder against the doorjamb and crossed her arms at her waist.
“It was abysmally dull,” she replied. “Were you aware that the majority of the populace is severely unhinged?”
“I can’t argue with that,” I said, my fingertips on fire.
“And they speak so . . . familiarly,” she said, scrunching her nose. “Is there no decorum in this modern age?”
“It doesn’t seem so, no,” I replied.
At least she hadn’t seen anything. I’d known my mother long enough to know her ways. If she’d seen me use my power, she wouldn’t be acting cool. She’d be demanding I do it again and that I try out my other powers. Which was exactly what I needed to do.
“I see your timer has refreshed,” my mother said casually. “Have you finally managed to form true love?”
I bit down on my tongue at the thinly veiled negative commentary. “Yes! I did. I’m one third of the way there.”
“Thank the gods,” my mother said, looking to the heavens.
“You know, you could be a tad more compassionate,” I told her. “You are my mother, and I am working my butt off over here.”
“Oh, daughter, dear. Must I remind you?” she sang, putting her hand on the doorknob.
“I know. I know. I’m the one who got us sent here,” I replied.
She smirked as she closed the door, and I wondered if she’d ever forgive me for visiting this great shame upon her, for getting her banished to Earth like some criminal. I flicked my hand at it, and the lock turned with a click.
Sweet.
I waited until I heard my mother’s door close, then raced over to the window, shoving the curtains aside. An elderly man strolled by, his shoulders curled, a dog leading him along by a leash. I focused all my energy on him and waited to hear his heart’s desire.
Nothing.
I cursed under my breath and tried again, this time focusing on a young late-night jogger, her ponytail bouncing prettily as she passed my window.
Nothing.
With a groan, I turned my back on the street. So not all my powers were back. Not my soul reading and obviously not my golden arrows. Not the ones I could really use to complete my mission and return myself to Orion’s arms.
But I wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. Telekinesis was something. It would, at the very least, make daily life easier. Give me more time to concentrate on the task at hand. And it had other benefits as well.
I looked outside again. With a flick of my wrist, I raised a square of concrete up an inch, and the jogger tripped right into the arms of a young man toting a small bag of groceries. They both laughed, and as he righted her, she looked down at her feet and blushed. Even with the window closed I could hear the warmth in his voice as he asked if she was all right, and her girlish giggle in response.
I smiled and closed the curtains.
CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
True
“I am pleased you suggested this activity, Eros,” my mother said, sitting back on her heels on the front walk. She wiped her brow with the back of her hand, distracting a guy on a dirt bike so thoroughly that he slammed into the bus-stop sign and went sprawling. My mother giggled. “Fresh flowers soothe me.”
“Did you just say something positive? To me?” I teased as I patted down the earth around the pink asters I’d just planted.
“This place will never be my home, but I’ve decided to approach our exile as an adventure,” my mother said. “And besides, there are a few amuseme
nts to enjoy.” She twiddled her fingers as the man righted his bike. He muttered something under his breath and rode off, his wheels wavering beneath him. My mother laughed.
I rolled my eyes. “Well, they say that gardening is therapeutic,” I told her. “Plus, it’s a good activity for mother-daughter bonding.”
“From whence did you glean this knowledge?” my mother asked.
From the books in the library when I was up all night. After I’d tested out my power a few thousand more times, I’d been far too awake to sleep, so I’d wandered into the library downstairs and read. I had told myself it was research. That the more I knew about actual life on Earth, the better equipped I’d be to match couples. But really, I was trying to distract myself from the many questions crowding my brain. Like whether Zeus was responsible for my regained power. And if not, how had it happened? Did he even know about it? If he found out, would he punish me? Would I be able to regain my other powers as well?
Now, in the light of day and on no sleep, the questions exhausted me.
I lifted my shoulder. “It’s just something I learned in school this week.”
She sighed and looked down at the floral border we’d created. “Don’t place the pink blooms alongside the peach,” she scolded. “They clash.”
“Hey, True.”
We looked up to find Charlie strolling toward us on the walk. I pushed myself to my feet, my heart giving a thunk of dread.
“What is it?” I asked, tugging off the gardening gloves. “What’s wrong?”
“Um, nothing,” he replied, looking confused. He gestured at his bike, which was leaned up against the hedge. “I was just on my way to the library to visit Katrina and I saw you out here, so I . . .”
He trailed off as my mother stood up behind me. I recognized the look on his face. Harmonia and I called it “Aphro-dumbfounded.”
“Wow,” he said.
“Charlie, this is my mother. Mom, this is Charlie,” I said flatly.
She reached out to shake his hand. “Charmed.”
“I . . . um . . . sorry . . . I . . . wow.”
He hardly touched her fingers, and his cheeks were on fire.
“Well, thank you!” my mother trilled, flipping her hair.
“Let’s go inside.”
I took Charlie by the hand and led him past my mother. He watched her over his shoulder until the heavy oak door was firmly closed between them. Inside, he cleared his throat and shoved his hands into his pockets.
“God, that was embarrassing,” he said.
I waved a hand. “It happens all the time,” I told him. “So . . . you’re going to visit Katrina? Everything’s good?”
He grinned. “Everything’s great. I was there till one in the morning,” he said. “We ordered pizza with her mom . . . it was really cool.”
“That’s great!” I said, relieved. “I had a feeling you guys would fall in love.”
Charlie laughed. “I knew it!”
“Knew what?” I asked.
“It was you. You rigged our compatibility tests in econ somehow,” he said with a grin. “That’s why you and Heath didn’t hand in tests when I know I saw you guys filling them out.”
I tried to think of some way to refute this, but then I realized there was no reason to. “Guilty,” I said, raising my hands.
“So we’re not really compatible,” Charlie said. “I mean, not that it matters. I’d never let a computer tell me who to go out with, but still. We wouldn’t have been matched up, right?”
“Actually, you would have,” I told him.
“Come on. Seriously?”
I smiled. “Come with me.”
Upstairs, Charlie hovered at the door of my bedroom while I went over to the desk and pulled his answer sheet and Katrina’s from the drawer just under the sand timer. I unfolded them and handed them to him. He scanned the answers and his eyes widened.
“Forty-six out of fifty match,” he said incredulously.
“Yep. Not that I’m sure the opinions of the Sure Match Corporation matter, per se, but yep.”
Charlie laughed and pulled me into a hug. I was so stunned it took me a second to realize what he was doing, but eventually I hugged him back. Instantly I felt calmer, when I hadn’t even realized I’d been tense. I missed touching people, hugging, kissing, holding hands. It was a part of daily existence on Olympus, but people hardly ever seemed to do it on Earth.
“Thanks, True,” Charlie said. “If I had to be the new kid again, I’m glad I got to do it with you.”
I grinned. “Same here.”
Together we walked downstairs, and I watched from the porch as he pedaled off to his new love, the compatibility tests clutched in one hand. My mother shaded her eyes and watched him go. I noticed she had entirely rearranged my plantings, and they looked much prettier her way.
“Who was that lovely young man?” she asked with a familiar gleam in her eye.
“He’s not for you,” I replied. “He was my first match.” I took a breath as Charlie lifted his hand, then dipped down the hill and out of sight. “And my first human friend.”
CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
Charlie
Universal Truth had just come to the noisy climax of the Romantics’ “What I Like About You” when the garage door rattled open. Fred shielded his eyes against the sun as the grille of my dad’s truck slowly scrolled into view. My father started to hit the gas, but then slammed on the brakes when he saw us. His jaw hit the steering wheel.
“Here we go,” I said under my breath.
This was it. I was about to have the dreaded conversation with my dad. And I was going to do it with an audience.
“Should we bail?” Noel asked. Noel Finkle was the real name of Steve Miller Band. His friend, Clean-Cut, was actually Tom Lipnicki. I’d found this out earlier when I’d texted Fred—whose last name was King—to see if they wanted to come over and jam.
“No. We’re cool,” I replied.
Then my dad unfolded his massive body from behind the wheel of his truck. He was wearing his SJP polo and baseball cap, his whistle still hanging around his neck and his playbook gripped in one hand. Tom whistled.
“We don’t look cool,” he said.
“Charlie?” My father slammed the truck door so hard it reverberated in my bones. “What’s all this?”
I cleared my throat. “This is my new band.”
“We’re Universal Truth,” Fred said.
My father flicked his eyes over Fred’s unruly hair and too-tight T-shirt like he was a toad.
“Your band?” The word dripped off his tongue like poison. “No one asked me if you could be in a band.”
“It just sort of happened,” I said, keeping my voice even.
My dad put his hands on his hips. “You’re supposed to be concentrating on cross-country.”
“I can do both,” I told him, gripping my sticks in my sweaty hands.
“How exactly?” he asked. “How are you going to make time for your studies and the team and . . . this?”
“Practice is only an hour after school,” I told him. “I can study at night and then we rehearse on the weekends. Besides, the season’s over in two months. Then I’ll have tons of time.”
He shook his head. “I don’t like this, Charlie. Look at your brothers. They dedicated themselves to one thing and one thing only, and look at how successful they’ve been.”
I swallowed hard as that telltale resentful anger burbled up inside me. It was always about my brothers. Always about how perfect they were and how I should follow their lead. Well, not this time.
“Okay then,” I said tersely. “I’ll dedicate myself to the band.”
My father paled. So did my new bandmates.
“You will not!” my father shouted, pointing at the floor. “You made a commitment to the team.”
I stood up from my stool, shaking from head to toe. “I don’t care about the team!” I shouted. “This is what I want to do, Dad. I want to play the drums.
You want me to be on a team, so I am. But if you make me quit this, I’ll quit that, too. I’ll go back to sitting home doing nothing. Is that what you want?”
“Don’t take that tone with me, son,” my father said. “You sound like a petulant child.”
“That’s because you treat me like a child,” I said. “I’m trying to make a mature decision here. I want to fulfill my commitments to the team, and to the band. I can do both. I know I can. But you don’t even want to let me try. You just can’t stand that I’m not exactly like you.”
My words hung in the air, echoing through the lofty garage.
Tom unhooked his guitar strap. “Maybe we should go.”
“Wait,” my father said.
We all looked at him, surprised. I felt like my heart was about to burst out of my chest. My father looked at the floor, then took off his baseball cap and scratched the top of his head.
“You’re right,” he said.
“I am?”
“He is?” Fred, Noel, and Tom said.
“Yes,” my father replied. “You are trying to make an adult decision. You’re trying to live your life.” He took a breath and blew it out. “You can play in your band and run cross-country. But if your grades start to slip one notch, we’re having a conversation. Understood?”
I was so dumbfounded I couldn’t move. But my heart was darting around my chest like a firework set off inside me.
“Understood,” Fred whispered to me. “Say ‘understood.’ ”
“Understood,” I replied.
My father shook his head and clomped his way across the garage, avoiding wires and amps.
“Universal Truth,” he said under his breath as he opened the door to the kitchen. “What the hell kind of band name is Universal Truth?”
Then the door slammed behind him, and the guys slapped hands and clapped me on the back. I stared after my father, feeling like I could cry and laugh and scream and then laugh some more.
It had actually happened. I’d finally stood up to my father and lived to talk about it. Not only that, it had worked. I grabbed my phone out of my bag and headed for the driveway.
