Plus, there’s something really cool about the school putting the stars on our ceiling at night—in an exact replica of the stars outside the windows. They’re also the very same stars I saw through the window last night when I was lying in my bed waiting for my new life to start.
I find the five stars that make up Delphinus—the dolphin—first. It’s been one of my favorite constellations since I was a kid, partly because of its name (Who doesn’t love dolphins?) and partly because it looks a lot like the kites Paris and I used to fly when we were little.
My parents rarely came to the park with us—they were too busy—but that didn’t matter when I was with Paris. Some of my favorite memories are from those afternoons with my brother.
After Delphinus, I find Cygnus and Vulpecula and finally the collections of stars that make up Perseus and his wife, Andromeda. She’s another one of my favorites, though my mother says Perseus is far more interesting—as a constellation and as an important figure.
I’m not so sure, though. All we know about Andromeda is what they’ve told us about her in reference to the other people in her life—her boastful parents who caused Poseidon to demand her as a sacrifice for his sea monster, and her husband, Perseus, who used the severed head of Medusa to rescue her from that same sea monster.
There must have been more to her than that, though—what did it feel like to be chained up by your parents as a sacrifice? And what made her marry Perseus? Gratitude? Or did she really love him?
I don’t know the answers and I’ll never know the answers, because no one who lived back then thought they were important. That doesn’t stop me from wondering, though.
But a glance at my alarm clock tells me it’s time to stop wondering—and stop worrying about tomorrow. It’s after one in the morning, and I have to be up for class in six hours.
I roll onto my side so I’m no longer staring at the ceiling and force myself to close my eyes. And promise myself tomorrow is going to be better than today.
I almost believe it too—I mean, it’s pretty hard to imagine things getting worse.
But then I remember that at some point tomorrow I’m going to have to contact my parents and ask for a new phone.At which point my mother will want to talk about how disappointed she is that I didn’t make Athena Hall. And, more importantly, what I plan to do about changing that.
The fact that my best plan—solving my labors superfast to impress Athena—has pretty much gone up in fireworks smoke is only going to make the conversation worse. All of which means I need another plan before I talk to her. Too bad I don’t have a clue what that plan is supposed to be.
I eventually drift off to sleep, but when I wake up in the morning, I’m no closer to solving the problem of what to say to my mother. And to make matters worse, trying to figure out the very abridged map of the school on the ceiling is a little bit like trying to read ancient Greek—only much, much harder.
“I think we should leave early,” I tell Fifi as I slide into Anaximander’s distinctive cobalt-blue blazer. “I thought the ceiling would show a map of the whole school today, but it looks like it’s only showing one side. And I have no idea how to get to Dr. Minthe’s class.”
She doesn’t even pause in applying her bright blue eyeliner as she answers, “Levi says it only ever shows one side—based on our knowledge of the school, we’ve got to figure out where to go from there.”
“Yeah, well, we don’t exactly have any knowledge of the school.” I reach for my navy tie with metallic blue embroidered flowers and carefully tie the Windsor knot I practiced all summer. “Except for knowing that the classroom buildings are supposed to be next to the amphitheater. Which,according to the current map, is definitely not true at the moment.”
Our ties are the only part of the Anaximander uniform that we get to choose—as long as they’re mostly made up of the school colors of navy, white, and cobalt blue, we can have any design we want—and I chose the five I brought with me carefully. My favorite is the one with little owls on it like my socks, but there’s no way I can wear it while I’m still in Aphrodite Hall. So my second favorite, the flowers, will have to do for the first day of classes.
Fifi switches from eyeliner to raspberry-colored lip gloss as I slide into navy-blue socks the exact color of my pleated skirt. “Lucky for us, I’ve got an excellent sense of direction…and two older siblings who warned me this would happen.”
Now that she’s done with her makeup, she plops back down on her—unmade—bed and stares up at the ceiling. “It looks like we’re actually in pretty good shape. Because right now the cafeteria is super close—yay to breakfast—and three classroom buildings are on the other side of the cafeteria along with whatever those two unlabeled buildings are.”
“Yes, but we don’t need any of those classroom buildings right now. We’ve got myths class first, in the learning fields, and they are definitelynoton that map.”
“Yeah, but theyare reallyclose to the arts building, which is right there.” She points to the upper corner.
Her matter-of-fact explanation makes it very hard not to tear at my very carefully arranged hair. “You really figured this all out just yesterday?”
“Despite acting like a total goof most of the time, Levi is super thorough. Plus, while he was getting stuff ready for the first years, I walked around and got to know the campus. From what I can tell, each part of the cube has one main landmark that never moves—the amphitheater, the lake, the library, the cafeteria, the gym, and the Non. So as long as you know what is normally next to one of them—like the classroom buildings next to the amphitheater—you can figure everything else out.” She grins as she slings her backpack over her shoulder and heads for the door like she hasn’t just confused me a million times more. “Ready?”
At this point, I have no idea. But I nod, because the day is coming at me whether I’m ready or not.
As we move toward the front door, I notice a group of students gathered around a table that’s been set up in the middle of the entryway.
“What are they looking at?” Fifi wonders as we join the crowd.
“I don’t know. But it’s obviously important.” I go up on my tiptoes to try to see, but it’s not just first years trying to get a look. The upperclassers are here too, and there’s no way I’m tall enough to see over them.
But then, the two upperclassers in front of me turn to go, and I finally get a good look at what’s on the table. It’s a large gold box with a giant sun on the front, along with a variety of other symbols—including two large snakes.
“What is it?” I ask Fifi, since she knows so much more about this place than I do.
“Totally epic,” she answers. “But I’ve got no idea what it’s for.”
