Another gust of wind, another slam of water, and I know this is it. If I don’t find my way out of this waterfall right now, I’m going to die.
I force my legs together and kick as hard as I can. And I keep kicking until somehow, someway, I’m back on top of the churning falls.
The moment I break through and feel the sun on my face, the coin starts feeling warm in my hand. Yet another gust of wind blows through, whipping the water into a frenzy and catching me. The next thing I know I’m spinning through the air—which totally beats spinning through the water.
I’m not flying—I’m not so delirious that I think I’ve suddenly grown wings—but I’m definitely soaring through the sky…and away from the waterfall.
12.Every Gumball Has Its Day
SOMEHOW—I DON’T KNOW HOW—I slam into the ground several feet back from the edge of the cliff.
The crash knocks what little breath I have out of me, and I roll, soundlessly, breathlessly, across the craggy, rocky cliff until I smash into the base of a giant tree. For long seconds I can’t do anything but lie there, stunned and gasping for breath, even as the coin starts burning in my hand.
Eventually I manage to suck in a little bit of air. But as soon as I do, my whole body revolts. I start coughing and choking, coughing and gagging, coughing and spewing out water, over and over until my lungs finally remember how to work.
When I’ve finally gotten rid of most of the water, I try to take a second to breathe—just breathe—but time is runningout. So I stagger to my feet, coin still clutched in my fist, and look around for a way back to the amphitheater.
When the ground twisted or whatever the heck happened, I got completely turned around. Every direction but down looks the same up here on this cliff, and I don’t have a clue which way to go. I start to pick a random direction, but before I can take more than a step, the sparkles are back.
Instead of coming for me, though, they head straight for the tree line. Once there, they dance on the wind, knocking hundreds—maybe even thousands—of leaves off the trees on this side of the waterfall.
As if that isn’t strange enough, the leaves die the second they fall from the tree branches. They turn different shades of brown and gray as they float to the ground…in a pattern that looks very much like the cobblestone path I followed earlier.
Which is totally bizarre…but also all the sign I need.
I take off down the path, running as fast as I can as I pray that I’m heading in the right direction, and that somehow—someway—I’ll find the amphitheater just around the next corner.
Turns out it’s not around the next corner, or even the three after that, but as I finally—finally—burst out of the forest, I can see the top of the amphitheater in the distance.
There are a couple of buildings between it and me, buildings that look nothing like the Stoa and classroom buildings I saw earlier. But I don’t worry about how that’s possible—the ground did shift, after all. Instead, I push myself to runfaster, my now completely waterlogged Vans squelching with each step I take.
I weave around the buildings without even noticing them, my eyes firmly on the prize of the amphitheater.
Chest heaving, muscles aching, heart nearly pounding right out of my chest, I push myself faster, harder, than I ever have before. And then suddenly…it’s right there, the entrance looming wide and large directly in front of me.
As I race through the huge opening on this side of the amphitheater, I realize the time clock wound down before I made it back. Embarrassed to be late again, I pull up, sharp and hard, at the edge of the stage so I can catch my breath. And so I can figure out what’s been happening in here while I’ve been gone.
The answer is a lot.
While I was chasing my coin, huge banners have been placed equidistant around the bleachers, creating five distinct sections. Most students are now sitting behind a banner the same color as what they’re wearing. The Athena banner, light blue with a picture of her snow-white owl emblazoned in the center of it, marks section one—all the way to my right.
My heart skips a beat when I see it. I’m so close to getting there—getting everything that I’ve planned for and dreamed about—that I can barely believe it. I can’t wait. I squeeze the coin in the palm of my hand, determined to hold on to it until it’s finally my turn.
As I suck another deep breath into my lungs, I look around to see where the other halls are located.
Next to Athena is section two, delineated by a turquoise banner with a large silver trident on it—definitely Poseidon Hall.
Directly in the middle of the stands—big surprise—is the purple-and-gold Zeus Hall banner, complete with a jagged lightning bolt ripping diagonally from the top right corner to the bottom left one.
Next to Zeus is the black-and-gray banner belonging to Hades Hall. It’s decorated with an array of forget-me-not flowers and, surprisingly despite its dismal colors, it’s the prettiest of the banners.
And finally, all the way to the left side of the seats, is the banner for Aphrodite Hall. It’s a giant, bright pink heart with a dark red, glittery apple sitting directly in the center of it.
Glitter on their hall banner? Really? I swear the Aphrodites don’t take anything seriously.
Thankfully, they aren’t my problem. But still, it’s all I can do to keep from rolling my eyes as I move from the banners to the rows and rows of students sitting behind them in the bleachers.
From where I’m standing, it looks like every section is filled to capacity—every one, that is, except the Athena area, where there’s one empty seat in the very first row, right next to the banner.
