by KB Benson
“What did you write yours on?” I swivel back to Iris who plays with the ends of her hair.
“You don’t want to know,” she whispers, looking up at me from the corner of her eyes.
“Ahhh, yours was one of the ones that had to do with the cruel and unusual punishments of Daedalus and Icarus, huh?”
“Sort of.” Iris narrows her eyes, a challenge for me to keep guessing.
“Hmm, could it be they returned home and it all ended happily, which in turn would’ve been a fate worse than death as King Minos was on their tail and hunted them?”
Iris laughs and shakes her head. “Not in the slightest.”
“Tell me, Iris.” I suppress the smile that rises to my lips with the sound of her name. It rolls off my tongue as though it’s too sacred of a word to be said aloud. “What did you write it about?”
She watches me with her dark, captivating eyes and finally whispers, “The truth—what happened after Icarus fell.”
“Alright, class, settle down,” Mr. Demonas calls out, making me flinch. I look to Iris for further explanation, but she’s already pulling out her notes and has her attention focused upfront. Or at least she pretends to. I settle back in my chair anxious to hear about this project. I wonder if Demonas will assign us our partners or if we can pick. Would it be weird if I ask Iris to be in my group or for me to be in hers? Maybe.
“As you all know,” Mr. Demonas continues, “Today is the first day of the Odysseus project ‘Piece by Piece’. You will put yourselves into groups of three to construct an 18 x 24 mosaic by the end of the month. The mosaic must depict some aspect of this myth whether it’s Odysseus and his crew or one of the gods who met Odysseus on his journey. The mosaic can be made from tiny pieces of paper, dots of paint, shards of glass or ornaments, magazines, any material you’d like to use; but it must be in pieces.”
Demonas holds up one of the mosaics he has displayed around the classroom to introduce the project. It’s a picture of a woman’s face looking up at the sky. Her hair spirals around her face in a rainbow of colors.
“Be creative in your invention of this piece,” Mr. Demonas raises his voice above the whispers that have broken out. “For example, what do you see in this mosaic?”
A boy across the room raises his hand. “It’s a girl. I’d say she’s a goddess because she is smokin’. Maybe she’s Aphrodite—the goddess of lo-ove.” The class breaks into smiles and quiet laughter.
“That’s a fair answer, Mr. Johnson, but I don’t believe the class takes you seriously.” The students muffle their giggles at Demonas’ stern look. “It is, in fact, not Aphrodite, or a goddess at all. This is Scylla. This particular student who I had a few years back formed the whirlpool, Scylla, into a woman. She is beautiful; she is interesting and draws your attention just as she did to Odysseus. She is the lesser of the two evils Odysseus had to choose to sail through. Look closer at the mosaic, though.”
The class, almost as one, leans forward in their seats to get a better look. The pieces that make up this mosaic are completely made out of colored rice. Scylla’s skin is white, her eyes black. I stare at the mosaic, wondering how I’m going to come up with something like this. Then I notice her mouth, lips stained a faint red. It’s not rice. It’s drops of blood so tiny that from far off it appears to be solid. It may be paint, but it certainly looks like blood. I follow the faint color as it trails over her lips and down her chin.
“Scylla, despite being the lesser of the two evils, is still very much evil. She is portrayed as deceptive and hungry for any passerby. This is the type of work I expect to see from each one of your groups. You will have class time for a month to work on it, but I highly suggest meeting outside of class as well. Go ahead and get yourselves into your groups and begin brainstorming. I will come around and have you sign up with your group and your mosaic topic.”
The moment Mr. Demonas turns around, the class breaks into a frenzy of people leaping over desks trying to reach their friends and get into the groups they want.
I try to act casual, nonchalant. “Well, Iris, what do you say? Want to be in a group?”
She glances at the other groups in the classroom and then back at me and nods. “Sure.”
“Hey, Jace!”
If I didn’t recognize her voice, the loud popping of over-chewed bubble gum would have given her way. I hesitantly turn to face her. “Oh, hey, Candee.”
“So, I was thinking we should be in a group since, well, you know,” she says loudly, the massive wad of pink gum rolling around between her words. “I mean, after all we talked about on our date last week, we are kind of set in stone on doing the project together.” Candee rests both of her hands on my forearm, clearly for Iris’ benefit.
I cringe at the word date and glance at Iris who stares at the assignment on her desk trying to stifle a smile.
“Oh yeah, we really just talked about Mythology in general, not really the project.” I move my arm out from under her hands. Scott Hammond talked me into taking Candee on a double last week. The four of us had fun, but Candee and I are very different people and are definitely not going anywhere. She obviously doesn’t feel the same way.
“Well, yeah.” She bats her eyelashes. “But I’m thinking we would make a good team still.”
I open my mouth to tell her, unfortunately, we already have three, when Iris speaks up. “Of course you should be in our group, Candee.”
A wide smile spreads across Candee’s face, her gum almost falling out of her mouth. “Great!” She climbs into the seat in front of my desk.
“What the heck?” I mouth as I catch Iris’ eye.
She winks and glances away, biting back her smile. My jaw drops with my next breath as I realize she’s messing with me.
“So, first things first, we need a group leader.” Candee’s tone shifts from cheerful to something I’d only expect to hear in a courtroom.
“A group leader? With just three of us?” I ask.
“Absolutely, Jace. Someone who will stay on top of the assignment and make sure everyone is doing his or her part.”
Candee waits for us to agree. I glance at Iris who shrugs.
“Alright, I guess a leader couldn’t hurt.”
We all sit in silence for a few tedious seconds before Iris breaks it. “Candee? Would you like to be the group leader?”
“Oh!” Candee places a hand on her heart. She purses her lips and scrutinizes the ceiling as though she needs to think about it. “I’d be happy to. Thanks for asking. As group leader, our first task is to determine the topic.”
Candee babbles on about the assignment. I listen for the first part where she thinks we should make a landscape of crashing waves and the Laestrygones rising out of it. Iris watches her, nodding at all the right times. It’s a few minutes before I realize I’m staring at Iris. My eyes dart down to my lap before making their way back to Candee who’s still talking but looking at me as though I just cheated on her.
“So, what do you think, Jace?” she asks, forcing me into the conversation.
“Umm, I like it.” I look back and forth between the two girls for approval. Candee brightens up, but Iris’ face dims.
“Are you sure?” Iris asks. “There are so many different things we could do like a mosaic of the Lotus Blossom that the men ate on the island of the Lotus-eaters. We could make it out of cotton candy or something to show it’s edible, but then add something into it to show a loss of memory. Oh! Like on the top corner it fades off into nothing just like their minds did.”
“That’s a good idea,” I agree, mostly because it’s Iris’. Honestly, I have no idea what we could do so they all sound good.
“Mm, mm. No, Jace. You already said you liked my idea. Why don’t you want to do it, Iris?” Candee turns on Iris who shifts uncomfortably in her seat.
She shrugs. “It’s just overdone.”
Candee’s face drops in disbelief. “No, it’s not overdone.”
I wonder what they’re talking a
bout, and I’m not sure how to step in.
“As the group leader, I think I should make the final decision on our topic. We can all put in our ideas and discuss them; but ultimately, I’ll choose what topic we do.”
“Wait a second,” I interrupt. “Is there any way we could combine the two ideas?”
Candee glares at Iris as though it were her idea to combine the topics, but she mulls the option over. “The lotus blossom and the siren?”
Aha, so they disagree about doing the sirens.
“It could have potential.” Candee’s eyes light up as she looks at me.
“What if we do the sirens on their island and a lotus blossom floating in the tides next to them?” I offer.
Iris’ frown deepens and she shrinks out of the conversation.
“I like it.” Candee tilts her head toward me. “And the symbolism could be that as men are attracted to the siren’s song, they forget all sense and all reason. We could make the siren out of things that sparkle and are attractive and then make the blossom out of pink fabric.”
“What do you think, Iris?” I ask hoping beyond hope we found a happy medium. I’ll gladly change it if Iris doesn’t like it, but I’m not sure Candee will.
She sighs defeated. “Yeah, I guess.”
Candee starts talking again; and when Iris thinks I’ve turned away, she takes a deep breath, sits up straight, and forces a smile.
The hour drags on as Candee overestimates how much power she has as our team leader. When the bell finally rings, though, Candee’s the first one to sling her backpack over her shoulder.
“I’ll see you two tomorrow. And bring your thinking caps for materials.” She races to the door with a skip in her step and is the first one out.
Iris sighs. “Wow, that girl has some control issues.”
“Just remember, I was going to tell her our group was full.”
Iris rolls her eyes. “Yeah, yeah.”
Chapter 6
JACE
I arrive at the beach twenty minutes before my scheduled tryout for Santa Cruz’s surf team. Twenty minutes before Mr. Sudds. Originally I’d planned to warm up a bit and catch a few waves before he arrived, but as I drove over I thought better of it. When my acceptance onto the team rides on how well I do today, I don’t want to be tired in the slightest before I start.
“Well, Mr. Jacobsen,” Mr. Sudd’s rugged voice booms across the beach as he walks toward me, “It looks like we’ve got the perfect day for a tryout.”
I nod, glancing at the sky. The sun hides behind a wall of clouds lending us a barren beach with only a few beach enthusiasts.
“Like it’s meant to be.” I reach out and shake Mr. Sudds’ hand. He didn’t have to make an exception for me to try out for the surf team.
“Well, let’s get started. I’m a little unsure of how long our good fortune will hold with the current forecast so best if we move this along.” Mr. Sudds pulls out his clipboard and pen. “Here’s the deal, Jace. Since you’re the only one trying out today, you’ll be timed and scored on each of the events. I’ll take the results back to my office to compare with the team’s individual scores and have a decision for you by Monday.”
“Fair enough.” I run my fingers through my hair. “Where do we start?”
“Half mile beach run. Head along the coast until you get to the pier and then turn back.” Mr. Sudds pulls out his stopwatch as I lay my board at his feet. “On your mark, get set, go!”
I take off in a sprint, trying to find the right gait to propel me through the sand. My calves burn almost immediately; and I back off, slowing my speed. The half-mile run tests your speed just as much as it tests your endurance. There will be at least three other events after the run. If I exhaust all of my energy now, I’ll fail the other tests. I watch the horizon as I focus on my breathing, my legs kicking sand up behind me as I run. Before too long I’ve reached the pier. I touch its moss-crusted surface before turning around and hauling it back to Mr. Sudds.
I pant slightly as I reach him. He clicks his stopwatch, sweat forming underneath my wetsuit.
“Two minutes, thirty-two seconds. Well done.” He jots the numbers down on his clipboard. “Next up is the Capitola swim loop.” Mr. Sudds explains how far in each direction he wants me to swim off Capitola Beach. I repeat the directions in my head a few times as he pulls his stopwatch out again.
“Have you caught your breath?” he asks.
“I’m good to go.”
“Alright. On your mark, get set, go!”
I barely hear the click of the watch as I splash into the water, diving in when the water reaches my hips. I pull myself through the waves—a quarter mile west, a quarter mile north, a quarter mile east. Despite reserving my energy during the half mile run, it’s already waning. I pull my arms in and out, focusing on the flow of water rushing past my face as I turn and suck in air at every other stroke.
The muscles in my arms scream as I reach the beach a quarter mile from where Mr. Sudds waits. Without taking so much as a deep breath, I break into a jog back to him. When I reach the beginning, he clicks the watch and scribbles some notes on his clipboard. My slight pant has turned into full on puffing; I don’t even ask what my score was.
“Nicely done,” Mr. Sudds offers anyway. “You get a five-minute break and then we’ll get started on the half-mile paddle.”
I nod, my dripping hair and suit darkening the sand around Mr. Sudds’ white sneakers. I fold over, head between my knees, and suck in as much air as possible to quench the fire in my lungs. It’s been awhile since I’ve straight up swum that far, that fast, through the changing currents of the ocean. Mr. Sudds hands me a water bottle which I guzzle until empty. I walk around the edge of the beach thinking about what tricks I know to help me gain back some of the points I surely lost during the Capitola swim loop.
The five minutes isn’t nearly long enough for me to catch my breath, but all too soon Mr. Sudds’ rough voice cuts through the breeze that’s picked up. “Alright, Jace, grab your board. The half mile paddle will go from here to the pier, just like your run. Get yourself about a quarter mile west and flag me when you’re ready.” Mr. Sudds holds a fist up into the air to show me the signal. “I’ll count off and then you can paddle. Got it?”
“Got it.” I pick my board up off the sand.
“After the half-mile paddle, it’s a free surf so stay in the ocean and show me what you’ve got on the first wave you can.”
I nod and head back into the ocean. Paddling is much easier for me than the swim test. With the board firmly planted underneath my body, I suddenly have the power of control I don’t often feel when floating in the water without it.
I pull myself about a quarter mile out from shore as Mr. Sudds had directed before holding my fist up in the air. He matches the signal and then starts counting off, his fist holding up fingers to match his counting. Three, two, one, he swings his arm down and points toward the pier. I take off, paddling as though a shark nipped at the tip of my board. My arms tingle with the burn from the three-quarter mile swim, but I force my brain to concentrate on the pier growing in size with each stroke instead of the sore muscles I’ll have tomorrow.
When I reach the pier, I don’t bother reaching out to touch it. I flip a quick turn and paddle back to Mr. Sudds, not stopping until I’ve paddled past where he stands. He raises his hand into the air and clicks his watch.
Now I can free surf. I pull myself farther into the ocean to get a sense of where the waves will break and take a quick inventory of my body. The muscles in my arms feel shot, but I don’t rely on them for most of my tricks. My legs are tired—a given—but I’ve got it in me to show off a bit.
I sit on my board, catching my breath and trying to relax. The clouds have darkened, and the slight breeze has picked up into a stronger wind. The water is choppy as the wind creates rough waves that hit my board from all sides. I better make this quick—whether or not we’re finished, it looks like the ocean is.
I peer out to the horizon searching for any wave to help me prove myself to Mr. Sudds. Fortunately, in the distance, a series of swells grows. I can definitely catch one of those. I watch the swells with intensity until the first one reaches me. I let it pass hoping the next set of waves will gain a little more momentum and height. They don’t disappoint. The second wave breaks as I catch its crest and then drop into the flats riding frontside so I face the wave. I cut back and carve the wave face adding a few sharp turns. The lip of the wave drops, coming close to the trough, which will end my tryout as the wave disappears. Without another thought, I steer myself back to the crest and punt into an aerial move before landing back on the face just before kicking out and exiting the wave.
And with that, it’s over. Mr. Sudds scribbles a few more notes on his clipboard and hands me a towel when I reach the shore.
“Very nice.” He looks over his notes and then up at the darkening sky. “And it looks like just in time. I need to compare these results with where the rest of the team is at, but I’ll have a decision for you soon enough.”
“Great.” I throw the towel over my shoulders and hope my aerial was enough to get me some extra points.
The Mythology project moves along quickly. Each day Demonas gives us to work on it in class is very much needed—no matter how much we do, there’s always more to be done. We tear magazines, crush ornaments and shells, and glue beads of all sizes to our mosaic board. Every day when we pack up to leave our desks it looks like a piñata exploded. After two weeks, we’ve finished the siren’s body along with the rocky island for her to sit on and some of the waves crashing around her. The siren’s hair is covered in enough silver glitter to make her body pop from the page. If sirens really existed, I doubt they’d look so girly. Our fearless leader decided the siren needed “More sparkles. More! Don’t stop until I tell you!” When Iris saw it for the first time, she actually snorted she was caught so off guard.
After we finished piecing together her body, we had almost eight people come over and watch as we worked. I’m pretty sure they were staring at the siren.
