Although right now this seems more like a riot than it does a cohesive, school-sanctioned event. I’m sure if Athena Hall was in charge of this activity instead of Zeus, it would bea lotmore organized.
Still, I have to admit, it’s kind of fun to run up the stairs with all the others, feet slapping on the ancient white marble as those in the front of the pack burst through the large sliding glass doors that lead to theHall of Legends. A place I’ve only dreamed about before this very moment.
It’s where all the legends—from ancient Greece and the very first Anaximander’s Academy all the way through today’s most important graduates of Anaximander’s—are depicted with statues and other works of art. It’s always been a secret dream of mine to one day be represented here.
But that day is a long way off. Right now I have to concentrate on finding my coin and getting into Athena Hall, or all my dreams—secret or otherwise—will be crushed before they even start.
“Come on!” Paris shouts to be heard over the excited yells and squeals of the others, who are all trying to get into the hall at the exact same time.
I follow him as he winds—and by winds, I mean elbows—his way through a microscopic opening in the crowd until people part enough to let us through and we finally,finallyget to the doors.
I take a deep breath, trying to prepare myself for the momentous occasion that is seeing the Hall of Legends for the first time, but before I can so much as breathe out, someone behind me gives me a powerful shove.
I fly over the threshold and then I’m inside, really inside.
I have one moment to register high, ornately painted ceilings and huge floor-to-ceiling windows before I’m struck in the head by a flying gold coin.
I gasp as it bounces off my forehead, then try to catch it. But a green-haired kid dressed all in black snatches it out of the air right in front of me with a crow of triumph.
“Hey, that was—” I start, but he ignores me as his triumph quickly turns to defeat.
“It’s not mine,” he interrupts with a groan, and then instead of handing it back to me—the person it literally just crashed into—he pulls his arm back and throws it all the way to the other end of the hall.
“Are you kidding me?” I demand as annoyance floods through me. “That was my coin before you ever grabbed it.”
“Sounds like a personal problem to me,” he shoots back before melting into the milling, churning crowd.
“Fantastic,” I mutter.
But there are one hundred and fifty-two more coins to grab, many of which are currently flying through the air above my head, totally out of reach. I just have to figure out how to get one of them and I’ll be set.
Except all around me, people are jumping and climbing onto benches or each other’s shoulders trying to snag a coin. Some of them scream in delight the second they grab one, but others moan in dismay and toss the coins away.
Anxiety fills me as I realize I must have missed more than I thought. I thought we just had to get any coin, that Dr. Britomartis was just being dramatic when he said we had to get the one that was right for us. But a lot of these people are acting like we really do have to get aspecificcoin. Just like that green-haired boy.
I turn to ask Paris, but he’s already gone. I scan the room, and it only takes a few seconds for me to find his red hair in this sea of blondes and brunettes. He’s all theway across the room, leaping for a coin hovering just out of reach.
Of course he is. I’m sure he figures helping me get through the crowds was the end of his brotherly duties. And normally it would be. But it would have been nice if he’d filled me in on the most important rule before we got here.
Although I’m still not exactly sure what that rule is.
But just standing here is only putting me further behind, something I absolutely can’t let happen again. So I dive in, looking all over for a coin that might be within my reach. I start by trying to get to the one the boy threw across the room. If it literally hit me in the head, I feel like the odds are pretty good that it might actually be my coin…whatever that means!
But by the time I manage to slide, wiggle, and at one pointcrawlmy way to the far corner, that coin is long gone. And so are any others that might possibly be meant for me.
Thankfully, the hall has thinned out even more, so I’ve finally got room to breathe a little—and to actually look around and see if there are any coinsnothovering near the rafters.
Turns out, there’s one. But it’s currently floating right next to a giant statue of Perseus holding up Medusa’s chopped-off head.
Unlike a lot of the sculptures in this building, this one definitely didn’t come from ancient Greece. Instead, it’s modern and hyperrealistic. Perseus is wearing dark blue jeans and a white T-shirt while Medusa’s decapitated headis battered and bloody and a little too horror movie for my liking. There’s even an artistic pool of blood on the ground beneath it.
On the plus side, there’s a bench right next to the statue, which means I can climb up and get the coin, as long as I don’t mind getting up close and personal with Perseus’s “trophy.”
Just thinking about Medusa that way—her head a trophy for some rich, old dead guy—makes me really sad. From what I know about Perseus, he was actually a major player in a lot of myths. So why is he always shown in this one terrible, violent pose? I didn’t expect much more from the ancient Greek or Renaissance times, but I kind of thought Anaximander’s would have a little more originality.
Standing around thinking about stuff like that isn’t going to get that coin for me, though. So I force myself to swallow down the disgusting bile creeping up my throat and climb onto the bench to grab it.
But the coin is still a few inches out of my reach—even on my tippy-toes—which leaves me with two options: Climb Perseus or climb onto the back of the bench.
