Tears burn against the backs of my lids for what feels like the hundredth time today. I try to blink them back—Athena girls don’t cry—but then I remember I’m not an Athena girl. I’m an Aphrodite girl, one without her labors or her gumballs or any chance of ever getting out of this place. Not only can’t I get Athena to change her mind about me without doing my labors, I can’t graduate without them either.
All of which means I’ll be the first member of my family in five generations to be a total and complete failure.
More tears well up at the thought, and this time I can’t stop them from rolling down my cheeks, no matter how hardI try. I duck my head in an attempt to hide them, but with my hair back in a braid, it’s pretty much impossible.
“Hey, what are you crying for?” Suddenly Calliope sounds as freaked out as I feel. “Do you need inspiration? You don’t really look like the typical epic-poetry sort, but I can give it a shot. What do you want to write about? A boy? A journey? A war?”
“No, I absolutely do not want to write about any of those things.” I squeeze my eyes shut and force the last of the tears back even as I swipe my hands over my cheeks. The only thing more humiliating than crying on my first day of boarding school is this woman actually thinking I want to be a poet. Is there any less practical job on the planet?
“Okay, then. How about your dog?”
I make a low, frustrated sound, and her eyes grow even wider.
“Okay, not a dog person then. Your cat? Your rabbit? Your hamster?” Her voice goes up with every subsequent pet she names. “Look, kid, you’ve got to give me something here. I’m supposed to be on my way to London by now.”
“It’s fine if you just go,” I tell her wearily, because what else am I supposed to say? “It doesn’t matter anyway.”
“Really? You sure?” she asks, even as she starts to back away. “What am I saying? Of course you’re sure. I’ll just be going then—”
“Oh, hey! You must be Calliope!”
We both freeze as Fifi comes out of the bathroom, looking supercute in her flare jeans and glittery shirt. She’s smilinghugely as she crosses the room, completely oblivious to the disastrous meeting Calliope and I have just had.
“It’s so good to meet you!” Fifi continues. “I love that jacket, by the way. It’s très cool!”
“Thanks.” The muse flashes her a smile. “I’m actually on my way out—”
“Already? So, does that mean Ellie got your list of twelve labors?” She turns to me, holds out an expectant hand. “Give them here! I want to see them!”
Her enthusiasm makes my fear of invading her privacy by looking at her labors seem ridiculous.
“Actually—” I start.
But before I can say anything else, Calliope squawks, “List of labors?” She looks thunderstruck as she reaches into the pocket of her jacket and pulls out a crumpled-up piece of paper. “Isthatwhat this is?”
The stained, wadded-up paper is a far cry from Fifi’s frame of honor, but a tiny flare of hope stirs inside me anyway. “Maybe?” I answer, using every ounce of self-control I have not to rip the paper out of her hands.
“This weird list showed up in my pocket a few hours ago. I didn’t know what it was.” She uncrumples the tightly scrunched ball and tries to smooth it out a few times before giving up and handing it to me.
I look down, and sure enough, it appears to be a list of twelve things. My labors! Finally!
“What’s the first one?” Fifi asks, leaning forward to peer at the list upside down.
“I don’t know. There’s a, um, splotch of ketchup—”
“Sorry ’bout that.” For the first time, Calliope sounds sheepish. “I might have used it for a napkin a little while ago. I forgot to grab one from the vegan hot dog stand.”
Fifi’s eyes go wide in horror, but I’m so relieved I can’t stop smiling. “Don’t worry about it,” I tell her as I try to scrape the ketchup away with my thumbnail.
“I mean, maybe she should worry a little bit.” For the first time since I met her, my roommate looks doubtful. “Is there perhaps another copy of these lying around somewhere?”
“Sorry, that’s the only one I got.” Calliope starts backing away. “Now that you have what you need, I’m going to get out of here. I’ve got—”
“London,” I finish for her. “I know. Thanks for the labors.”
“Thanks for your patience. Next time, I’ll do better.” She lifts a hand in a little half wave. “I mean, if there is a next time.”
“Wait a minute!” Fifi demands, hands on hips, as she glares at Calliope. “What about her gumballs?”
