by Melody Rose
My efforts clearly didn’t impress Iynx. She often took my hands in hers and forced me to go through the motions. It reminded me of when my mother first taught me how to peel potatoes. Though much, much harder.
The first time I nicked my finger, I cried out, my scream echoing throughout the clearing.
“Are you alright?” Pomona asked as she jumped up from her spot at the spinning wheel.
“Let me see it!” Iynx commanded as she yanked my hand into hers.
I stared in shock at the slice in my finger as the blood pooled. My mouth flopped open and closed at the sight, unable to find the words or properly process the rush of emotions flooding my brain.
“Oh dear,” Pomona said in a motherly tone as she put her hands on my shoulders to steady me. “You look pale as a ghost. Are you going to faint?”
“I swear to the gods that if you faint on me, I’m going to quit right here and now,” Iynx threatened. “This is nothing more than a little scrape.”
“I’m not going to faint,” I assured both of them. “I just… I’m just surprised is all.”
“You’re working with knives,” Iynx said, as though this should have been an obvious fact. She looked up at me as she waved her hand over my wound. “You should expect to get cut every once in a while.”
“I know that because it makes sense, but…” My voice trailed off. How was I supposed to explain this to them? “It’s just that I’ve never gotten hurt while blacksmithing.”
“Never?” Pomona said incredulously.
“I’m heat resistant,” I explained, my eyes never leaving the cut as Iynx’s magic closed it up like a zipper. “And I never hit my hand with the hammer or anything. It always hits its mark. So this is… weird,” I said, stumbling over the last word.
“You’re not used to making mistakes is what you’re telling me,” Iynx said as she flung my now healed hand back at me. Even though it was attached to my body, I felt the unusual urge to catch my own hand. So I cradled it against my chest with my other arm.
“That’s not it,” I protested, although I couldn’t think of an argument beyond that.
“Uh-huh,” the bird nymph said skeptically. “This isn’t metalwork, daughter of Hephaestus. This is a completely different element. Your powers aren’t going to help you here.”
“You don’t have to tell me twice,” I grumbled.
The nymph wasn’t kidding. Not only was this literally a different element I was working with, but I was so out of my element. I didn’t realize how much I leaned on my magical powers when it came to making weapons until I had to work on something without them.
That didn’t deter me, though. I thought about my determination and force of will when running every morning with Officer Buck. Or physical training with Ansel. Those skills took me a while to learn and build up stamina for. However, now I woke every morning for a five-mile run, and I could spar with the best soldiers at the Academy.
I just had to have the same realistic expectations about wood carving and weaving.
Except when it came to sanding. Then everything exploded. Literally.
I had known of the concept when someone rubbed two sticks together that the friction would create a fire. But I’d never actually seen it in real life. Apparently, the same thing could happen when you sanded a block of wood. Or at least, the same thing could happen when I sanded a block of wood.
I rubbed the rough paper along the sharp edges I carved to even them out a little bit. My fingers pressed into the paper, my strokes short and vigorous. I wasn’t paying attention to my pace until a familiar scent of smoke wafted up to my nostrils.
“What the--?” Iynx asked, but she couldn’t finish the question before a flame popped up against my wooden block.
I wasn’t afraid of fire. I’d never been given my proclivity. However, the sudden appearance of that single flame shocked me enough to send me tumbling over the back of my stump. I exclaimed as I fell and lost my grip on the paper and the block.
The fire tumbled to the forest floor and immediately gathered more fuel in the dry grass. The flames gobbled it up and began to spread.
“Oh!” Pomona cried as she hopped up and rushed to the source of the fire. Iynx stood and ran away from the flames, as though she didn’t know what to do. Pomona danced from foot to foot, her indecisiveness clear.
My instincts from elementary school kicked in, and I rolled over the flames. Since I was already on the ground, this was easy to do. While I wasn’t the one on fire, I still “Stop, Dropped, and Rolled” myself over the flames. Soon, the fire lacked any oxygen to continue, and my resistant body managed to put out the danger.
I laid on my back, breathing heavily, arms spread out as though I were making a snow angel. I stared up at the gray sky, which threatened another round of snow. The two nymphs stuck their head in my line of sight, looking down on me.
“What the hell?” Iynx asked with pinched eyebrows. “What do you think you were doing? Were you trying to burn the forest down?”
“No,” I replied indignantly. I sat up, forcing the two immortals to back away a bit. “I don’t know what happened. It’s not like I can create fire or anything.”
“Well, you just did,” Iynx said with a dramatic point to the black spot on the forest floor. “I don’t know how I’m going to be able to teach you when you just blow shit up.”
I rubbed my eyes with the back of my hand. “That was nothing! It was just a little flame. It didn’t hurt anything.”
“But it could have!” Iynx protested. “This forest is a sacred place, and you were so careless.”
“We’re just glad you were here to put out the fire,” Pomona said, trying to ease the situation.
“She shouldn’t have been here to start it in the first place,” Iynx complained as she crossed her arms and turned away from the pair of us.
The fruit nymph let out a defeated sigh. She straightened herself back up and offered me a simple smile. “Why don’t we shift over to the weaving lesson for a bit?”
“Good idea,” I agreed.
I pushed myself up and crossed over to the spinning wheel. Pomona tottered behind me, and we left Iynx to her pouting.
“Sit down,” Pomona offered, gesturing with her hand. Once I did as I was told, she added, “So you seemed to know a little about wood carving when you started. What do you know about weaving?”
“Uh…” I stuttered. Then I pointed to the sharp on the spindle. “If I touch that, I’ll go to sleep for one hundred years?”
The nymph cocked her head at me. “Huh?”
“Nevermind,” I muttered. “Different myth. Just assume that I know nothing.”
“Got it,” Pomona said as she snapped her fingers. “Well, let’s start with the parts of the spinning wheel and what it actually does.”
The fruit nymph took more time explaining than the bird nymph had. She pointed out the wheel, the bearings, the treadle, and other parts that made up the spinning wheel. The whole process was done by hand to twist fibers together to make one thread.
Pomona taught me about the two different types of twist yarns, an S and Z shape. Even though cotton was the most modern-day fiber for yarn, Pomona insisted on using wool.
“It’s what was most common in ancient Greece,” the nymph explained. “And Mac has the nicest sheep with the best coats.”
I started with a clump of fibers and had to stretch them out. It felt a bit like teasing hair, like the girls used to do in the 80s. Then I would spin the wheel so that the twisted fibers would wrap around the spindle. It was a mesmerizing process, one that transfixed me with the constant movement. I had to hold the wool fibers in one hand while I spun the wheel with the other.
While it was fascinating to watch, it was extremely boring. A wave of tiredness overtook me quickly. The heaviness of the last week weighted on my eyelids, forcing them to droop. I could feel the wool in my hand and the wood in my other as it spun in a consistent motion. However, I didn’t seem to be aware of much e
lse.
Which is what caused it to happen again.
I wasn’t paying attention to the speed of the wheel or the rate in which the wool left my fingers. Before I knew it, there was a crackle like the pop of a firework. Then, the entire length of yarn I had already created was on fire. It wrapped around the whole wheel and culminated in a blazing flame on the spindle.
Pomona gasped and jumped back out of the way. My body froze at the sight of the spinning wheel, now alight with flame. There was something beautiful about the sight, even more captivating than when the wheel was spinning.
“What are you doing?!” Iynx exclaimed in a high pitched voice. She rushed over with her hands in her blue hair, tugging violently. “Put it out!”
Panic surged through me as I heard Pomona’s wails and Iynx’s shouting. I looked around for some kind of water to douse the flames with. I didn’t see and found myself wishing the snow started sooner.
Then I spotted Pomona’s checkered blanket that originally covered the basket of wool. Like a matador, I yanked on the blanket and draped it over the flaming wheel. I wrapped my arms around it, to limit the amount of oxygen feeding the fire. After a solid minute, the fire fizzled out. I could feel the heat shrink until it no longer existed. Only then did I feel comfortable letting go and slumping back on the stump.
The two immortals stared at me with contrasting expressions. Pomona’s eyes were wide with shock and horror, whereas Iynx’s face contorted into one of pure, unadulterated anger.
The bird nymph shook as she pointed back towards the path. Her cheeks vibrated under the force of her anger.
“Get out,” she said sternly.
At first, I didn’t think I heard her, but then she opened her mouth wide and shouted the words again.
“Get out!” Iynx roared.
A flock of birds scattered out of a nearby tree, scared off by the force of the nymph’s command.
I didn’t even bother arguing. Shame and embarrassment propelled my legs forward, shuffling along the dry grass. I left the forest clearing, the smell of burnt wood wafting in my wake.
11
“You set the wood on fire?” Benji said through breaks in his laughter. “And the wool?”
I grumbled as I crossed my arms over my chest, my dismay apparent at ever having told my friends about my first wood carving and weaving lesson. We were walking to our respective classes the following day. For me, I was on my way to the dreaded drama class with Oliver.
While I was tempted to ditch considering how terribly the first lesson had gone, I knew that if I showed up, then Oliver would have to hold up his end of the deal. Even if Pomona was now terrified of me, and Iynx was out for my blood.
“I’m sure it wasn’t as bad as you say,” Violet said sympathetically. She reached out and touched my shoulder as we walked. “You’re exaggerating for effect, right?”
“Somehow, I don’t get the impression that Cheyenne would joke about almost burning down the entire forest,” Darren said as he pushed his glasses up his nose.
“I don’t know how I’m going to show my face in that clearing again,” I said as I threw my arms up in the air, exasperated.
“I want to come with you just to see the looks on the nymphs' faces!” Benji cried out with glee.
Benji was still laughing when I threw out an arm, whacking him in the stomach. He grunted at the impact and slowed his laughter to a few chuckles.
“I don’t need more people witnessing my utter failure, thank you very much,” I countered, letting my spitefulness come through in my voice.
“It was just your first time,” Violet offered as an excuse. “Maybe you’ll get better.”
“It can’t get much worse,” Benji said, stiffing his laughter behind his gloved hand.
“It could have,” Darren said matter-of-factly. “She could have burnt down the entire forest.”
“Okay, enough!” I said, throwing out my hands and stopping all conversation. “I get it. I fucked up. But what am I supposed to do when I go back? How am I supposed to make the Fates’ tools if I keep lighting shit on fire?”
“That’s the part that confuses me,” Darren said as he stuck his hands in his pockets. He looked at the cobblestone paths, clearly thinking. “You’ve never made things spontaneously combust before, have you?”
“Not in recent memory, no,” I said, keeping my tone flat.
“Then it’s interesting to think about why that would start now.” Darren popped his lips together, stalling. “Could you still have powers that are developing?”
“Holy Hermes, Shy,” Violet chuckled, though it wasn’t with as much enthusiasm as Benji’s laughter a moment before. “You’re turning into a regular Captain Marvel.”
My shoulders slumped at the thought. “I cannot take any more powers right now. I’ve got enough going on.”
“You’ve got that right,” Benji added. Then he shot me a playful sneer. “Like drama class.”
“You’re already on thin ice, Benj,” I said, pointing a finger in his face.
Benji backed away and held up his hands in surrender. “I’m just saying, brace yourself, Shy. If you thought weaving and wood carving were bad, you’re going to be a fish out of water in Oliver’s class.”
“Thanks for the encouragement,” I grumbled as we approached the art building.
Normally, Oliver held drama classes in the amphitheater, but as it was winter and Oliver was a princess, he reserved one of the larger art rooms for winter classes. But the minute that sun shone, and it was higher than eighty degrees, the drama class was back outside.
As I stared up at the art building, my throat went dry. “Actually, on second thought, I’m sure I can figure out these skills on my own. I don’t need the nymphs’ help. They probably hate me. I’m just going to...”
“Oh no, you don’t!” Violet said as she braced her little body against my tall one. The boys soon jumped in and created a barrier to prevent me from turning around. I could have drop-kicked the lot of them, but against my better judgment, I let them spin me back in the direction of the art building.
“You gotta stop doing that, Shy,” Benji warned with a wagging finger in my face as if he were scolding a student.
“I know, I know,” I said, though it came out more like a moan. Then I jumped up and down, shaking my hands and arms. “Okay, I can do this. I can do this.”
“You can do this!” Violet cheered.
“Go get ‘em, Shy,” Darren said with a smile.
“Can’t wait to hear all about it,” Benji smirked.
I restrained my groan and decided it was best to take the steps at a run so I could just get this thing over with. The sooner I got in there, the sooner it would be over.
The drama class was on the top level of the art building. It was in an emptied out storage room, with a golden wooden floor and a wall of windows that looked out over campus. I could see the northern side where Mac’s barn and an assortment of animals roamed. One wall still had layers of assorted storage items, most of it covered with a dusty canvas cloth.
When I entered the classroom, I could see that everyone was already gathered in the center of the room, sitting on the floor. They were all dressed in our black uniform, though none of them wore boots. Just socks or were barefoot, which surprised me. There were about eleven students, most of them young enough to be first or second years.
However, there was one person that stood out from the rest. Not only because he was significantly taller and older but also because of his pale skin and shockingly black hair, the color of midnight. The sight of him took me aback, surprised to see the new Fotia leader amongst the group of students.
Instantly, that fact intrigued me. Being the new branch leader, he shouldn’t have to take any classes at the Academy. He would have been a graduate already. So what the hell was he doing there?
Oliver perched himself on a black box, legs crossed over one another, back straight. His eyebrows rose when he spotted me.
“
Ah, yes,” he crooned when I walked in. “Welcome, Cheyenne. You can take off your shoes and leave them by the door with the rest.”
I did as I was told, though feeling slightly self-conscious about not having my boots on. It was a small thing, I knew that, but it was enough to unsettle me. I didn’t like the level of vulnerability that it implied.
“Oh, also remove your sash,” Oliver added as he pointed in my direction. “We’ve all equal here.”
I eyed the son of Dionysus with clear disdain. He shrugged one shoulder in response, not caring about my displeasure. I didn’t like what the removal of sashes implied. It meant that in this room, it didn’t matter if I was an Olympic Official or not. Oliver was in charge, and he wasn’t going to let us forget it.
“Come and join us, my dear,” Oliver invited with a wave of his hand. “Class, this is Cheyenne, daughter of Hephaestus. She will be joining us this semester.”
Some nodded their greeting while others waved. The Fotia leader that I recognized from the introduction ceremony shot me a closed-mouth smile with a glint in his eye that I couldn’t quite read. I plopped down at the back of the group, still giving myself a couple of feet between myself and the rest.
“Great,” Oliver said brightly as he clapped his hands together. “We’re going to start with our morning exercises to get our bodies loose, and then we’ll jump right in. Everybody up!”
What happened next was one of the weirdest things I’d ever experienced. Sure, Oliver wove in basic stretches to the warm-up, but there were also unusual vocal exercises to warm up our voices. I found myself having to roar like a lion or scrunch up my face like a mouse. We had to massage our own faces while groaning like zombies. Then there were the tongue twisters. I fumbled over every single one of them. One would have thought that I’d never spoken English in my life.
Oliver often came over to adjust my posture during the stretches, but there was one time he approached me and grabbed my jaw. He moved it long and wide in time with the tongue twister.
