Hermes’s whiskers felt foreign, but not unwelcome, as they brushed Portia’s cheeks. She forced her eyes open, invariably welcoming a gush of memories. Memories of the night before, spent in a way that couldn’t have actually been real.
Could it have?
Leucosia was standing over a steaming mug of coffee, kneading her shoulders with a gentle fist, when Portia walked in carrying the plump feline.
“I think he likes me,” she announced, setting Hermes down in front of a bowl of food. “How’s your back? Does it hurt?”
“Oh, don’t worry about me, Portia. I’ve been resilient for a long time. The question is, how are you? Ready to face the day, despite our busy night?”
“Hah! ‘Busy’ is a nice euphemism, Leucosia. I would’ve gone with ‘surreal’ or ‘insane,’ but ‘busy’? Come on.”
“Well, at least you’ve got your wit this morning.”
“Yeah, well I don’t think my wit is going to be able to explain to Max that your deranged sisters have wormed their way into my subconscious. My wit is not going to help me accept that last night I actually encountered Gods. GODS, Leucosia! And I sang for them—we sang for them. I do have to admit we sounded pretty good, by the way.
“Maybe my wit will help me think of something clever to say to Charlotte to explain to her why I needed her to cover for me last night. And perhaps it will help me explain to my mom and dad why I failed the chem quiz that I will have to take today because even though Charlotte and I were supposed to be studying last night, I was actually too busy sipping ambrosia from a golden goblet to even glance at the periodic tables!”
The two women stared at each other, each assessing the truths that had just spilled out of Portia’s mouth. What was there to say? The facts were the facts.
“About that chemistry quiz,” offered Leucosia feebly, “maybe I could pull a few strings…”
♪
But when she got to school that morning, Portia was made brutally aware of the fact that chemistry was the least of her concerns. Her whiteboard was filled to overflowing, all of the messages authored by boys. Many with whom she had never so much as exchanged a single voiceless word.
“Hey, Portia, saw u at the café. U were awesome! Wanna hang out after school?” The message was signed Daniel Becker, a senior with a prominent position on the football team—quarterback, was it?
“Portia, can’t stop thinking about you since the café—Call me, Caleb.” Caleb Samuels?! She erased it quickly before Charlotte could see.
“Wanna hang?” The brevity of this note was totally in keeping with everything Portia had heard about William Marks. Big on looks, small on personality.
She read through all the notes dismissively, searching for the only one that really mattered to her. Finally, scrawled into the bottom corner, she found it.
“Whoa, Miss Popular. U think you’ll have time for me today? Text me. Pls.”
Max had signed his name “Max H.”
As if I wouldn’t know?
She took out her phone instantly.
“Music room? Lunchtime?” Her fingers were shaky.
“It’s a date. Let’s hope it ends better than our last one.”
She was mortified by the reference to last night’s disaster.
Was that just last night?
She didn’t have time to respond to his text, though, as three junior boys approached.
“Hey there, Portia,” the tallest one said. She had no idea what his name was and was mildly disconcerted by the familiarity with which he said hers.
She nodded in acknowledgement and turned back to her locker to get out her books for first period. The male posse moved in closer.
“Portia, how about singing us a tune?” one of the other guys said.
“Yeah, Portia,” said the third musketeer, “you were hot at the café the other night. Give us a little sumpin’ sumpin’ to kick off our day.”
“Uh, not this morning, fellas. I’ve gotta focus on my chem quiz.”
“Come on, just a quick jam…”
She was about to walk away, but in a flash she changed her mind. Why not? Why not give them a little solo performance? An odd feeling came over her, a yearning to prove herself, her powers.
“Ok, fine. So who can give me a beat? Something along the “Bust A Move” lines?”
The boys looked at each other, not believing their luck. The tallest one brought his hands to his mouth and started beatboxing the Young MC classic.
Portia closed her eyes, adjusting to the beat and hinging at her hips, enjoying the sudden attention of her suitors. One of the boys called out a provocative “
Bust It,
” prompting her to begin:
This here’s a jam for RPA boys,
From a Goddess who now can make noise.
Used to be about maintaining my poise,
Now about treating y’all like play toys.
OK, fellas, time to get jealous,
Not a one of you can make me feel zealous.
You want a piece of me like a slice of pie,
Well, you’ll have to skip dessert, kiss me good-bye.
She felt good. Better than good. She felt high as a kite as the words fell out of her mouth with the ease of reciting the alphabet. The crowd around her grew.
Café was flowin’, then fists were throwin’,
Until I grabbed the mic and minds started blowin’.
So cat’s outta the bag, and my jig is up,
And now you’re begging me to refill your cup.
Best friend ditched me, and hottie kissed me,
And everything around me now is a mystery.
So give it up now for this private show,
Now step aside, fellas, and let me go…
The boys offered a weak rendition of the chorus, their voices and articulation paling in comparison to Portia’s as she began to saunter away. But the crowd drew in closer, demanding more.
Their insistence was irritating at first but then as the drug of their desire began to course through her veins, Portia couldn’t help but give in.
Homer told it, then he sold it,
His story so messed up it makes you say ‘hold it.’
Women with six heads, Giants with one eye?
Odysseus was one helluva guy!
Then you switch classes, put on new glasses,
Another subject that appeals to the masses,
But just because you left it, don’t be fooled,
Keep asking yourself how this world gets ruled.
Gods are planning, mortals scanning,
Entrances and exits they are all manning.
Athena’ll call you in for a calming chat,
Stay away from Ares—OH, I heard that!
But we’ll be ready, holdin’ steady,
As long as my voice ain’t makin’ me heady.
And now I’ve gotta go, nothin’ left to prove,
So outta my way while I bust a move…
Portia pushed through the crowd of students who stood, their mouths agape, wondering at the mythological turn her rap had taken. She strolled off, a suggestive swing in her hips, past Luke and Lance, who had been standing on the periphery admiring her performance.
“Christ, Portia, where the hell did that come from?” Lance questioned her.
“Just giving the people what they want,” she offered, still basking in the glow of the boys’ attentions.
Charlotte and Jacqueline had also appeared on the scene.
“Portia, you are like honey for ze bees this morning.” For some reason Jacqueline’s accent was suddenly very irritating.
“Yeah,” Charlotte added, “you better be careful or the guys are going to be throwing pebbles at your window tonight.”
“And what—would that make you jealous?” Portia smirked.
Visibly wounded, Charlotte paused for a moment of disbelief, before turning on her heel, walking briskly in the other direction.
Portia was as shocked as anyone at her own callousness. It was like some über-bitch had suddenly usurped her power of speech.
“Wait, I’m sorry, Charlotte,” she called out. “I didn’t mean that. I have no idea where that came from…” But her words just littered the hallway, which started to empty with the sound of the first bell.
♪
As the morning wore on, Portia was continually assaulted by greetings from her male schoolmates, making it impossible for her to focus on any of her classes. Worse yet was her own inability to gauge how she would react to each encounter. Sometimes she felt thrilled with the attention, but other times she could see something in the boys’ eyes, something feral that scared her.
Before lunch, she decided to consult Leucosia about her new “celebrity status.”
When she walked into the nurse’s office, there was a very tall blonde girl sitting on the gurney, a thermometer lazily hanging out of her mouth. Portia nodded a casual greeting and shot Leucosia a desperate look.
The thermometer beeped, and Leucosia glanced at it.
“OK, Danielle. You don’t have any fever. Why don’t you go back to class and if you still have a headache later, come back and see me again.”
Danielle looked disappointed as Leucosia shuttled her out of the office.
“That girl is such a hypochondriac—oops, probably shouldn’t have said that, confidentiality and all that. By the way, I spoke to your chemistry teacher and told him you had been to visit me with a bad head cold. He agreed to postpone your quiz until you were feeling better.”
With all the commotion of the day, Portia had completely forgotten about the looming chemistry quiz. Although grateful that she wouldn’t have to suffer through it today, she still didn’t feel any less overwhelmed.
“What’s the matter? I would have expected at least a smile for getting you out of the quiz—”
“I’m getting an obscene amount of attention from the boys,” Portia interrupted. “And I gotta admit, I’m kind of into some of it.”
Leucosia flinched slightly as Portia described her rendition of “Bust A Move.”
“…Boys who never even knew that I existed are suddenly all over me. It’s like they’ve never seen a girl before or something…”
Leucosia sat her down. “Look, Portia, the other night at the café, you showed these boys something the likes of which they have never seen or even imagined. The impact your voice has already had on anyone who heard it that night is immeasurable. In their eyes, you are already a Goddess. Your physical beauty has increased to them. You even have an aroma about you. And your voice, just the memory of your voice, is enough to send any male into a tailspin.”
Leucosia pulled a hand mirror out of her desk drawer, handing it to Portia, who took it reluctantly, knowing that Parthenope and/or Ligeia might be staring back at her. Holding it up tentatively, she examined her reflection and was relieved to see her normal self. But even she had to admit that she was looking pretty good, her skin more lustrous and the blue of her eyes more chromatic than ever.
“No. This isn’t me.” Her voice was barely above a whisper, but still she could hear the loveliness it held. “The real me is gone…” She forced the mirror back at Leucosia.
“You are not gone, Portia. You will never be gone.” Portia looked up and Leucosia sat down next to her, holding the mirror back up so that both of their reflections appeared. Their combined beauty was breathtaking.
“Oh, but I pray to the Gods that you remain grounded, for so easy will it be for you to control those who now beg your attentions. I fear that the day will come when your beauty will lead you down a path of evildoing. I hope that at that moment you remain wise, for then the destruction of mortals will seem to you sweeter than the finest ambrosia.”
“Whoa, Leucosia—we’re not at Mount Olympus. You don’t need to speak to me like that.”
The green of Leucosia’s eyes suddenly turned stormy gray.
“What? What’s happening?” Portia was suddenly alarmed at the unmistakable sense of dread that had fallen over her mentor.
“Surely, Portia, we are now in the presence of a God, for no other force would have guided my language unto the style to which I was born. My arms and legs even now feel the prickle that alerts me that there is a God among us who does not wish to make his or her presence known.”
“Leucosia, you have to stop speaking like that—it’s freaking me out.”
Leucosia did try a few times then, but her efforts were in vain. Everything she said sounded Homeric.
And dire.
The hair on the back of Portia’s neck stood on end.
“You mean your sisters are here? At RPA?!”
“Indeed, at least their spirits are here. I fear that they have become ever more powerful, for why else would I be thus feeling the prickle of the Gods? We must not allow them to know our fear,” she said, though her voice lacked the confidence that Portia wished it would have had. “If they perceive our fear, it will only fuel their powers. You must go about your day as usual. I beseech you, though, keep your eyes wide open. Do not tarry alone, not even for a moment. I will now reach out to the Gods for counsel, praying all the while for your safety.”
If Portia was not terrified beyond all measure, she would actually have laughed at the ridiculousness of the situation. How was she supposed to go hang out with Max now, acting like everything was totally normal?
They are just spirits. They are just spirits.
She repeated the mantra to herself as she headed out into the hallway.
They can’t really harm me. They are just spi—
But just as Portia was settling herself into the comfort of these words, she felt an unwelcome prickle travel down her own arms and legs like a slithering snake.
♪
Max was in the music room as promised, his fingers floating lazily over the black and white keys of the baby grand. She watched him through the window of the door, his eyes closed, lost in his own world, his fingers dancing over the keys:
I’ve seen blue in ocean tides,
Have tasted blueberries sweet,
Sang the blues as moods I ride,
Blue flames have licked my feet.