The Pantheon (11 page)

The police suspected that Valerie’s attacker had killed the Heckley boy found in the Olympia Heights woods. So now Epimetheus, as he had called himself, was being called a serial killer. It was Wednesday and, though Valerie had come back to school for the first time today, Teddy Wexler and Nick Morrisey had spent the whole week already being hailed as heroes. Their faces were plastered all over the news.

Jason wrapped her left wrist and continued to make quiet conversation as Celene fought with the child proof cap on the painkiller bottle. “You’ve been coming in here a lot with headaches. Have you considered seeing a neurologist?”

“
Do you think I have an inoperable brain tumor, Dr. Livingstone?”

Jason smirked, “Unlikely. But even stress related migraines can be controlled with medication. Even prevented.”

“
I think I just need to drink more water and get more sleep,” she said. Celene had other theories about her headaches, but the vivid nightmares that had haunted her for the past few months were definitely costing her rest.

“
I’ve noticed a few of the students having frequent headaches,” Jason observed. Of course he didn’t name these students, as their confidence was important to him. He wasn’t sure Astin Hill’s headaches weren’t related to his interesting glowing hand rash. “Maybe there’s an irritant in the ventilation.”

“
Then we might all mutate from the toxic substances in our school,” she said with a smile. It was only half a joke. Some of the strange abilities she had begun to notice in herself and the students had lately made her wonder if there was something in the water.

Jason was about to remove the bandages on Valerie’s right wrist when his phone rang. He excused himself and got up. Celene washed her pill down with a cup of lukewarm, chlorinated tap water.

“
You seem upset,” Valerie said. The sound from the previously silent girl surprised Celene and made her jump a little. She was so quiet and inconspicuous that it was easy to forget she was there. “Very upset.”

Celene looked at the girl for a moment. “I am a bit distracted,” she said slowly. She was distracted by supernatural abilities that appeared to be cropping up around her. She was distracted by the fragmented dreams that constantly flashed in her mind whenever she closed her eyes. She’d been having these dreams for weeks before school started. They felt like memories. They were so detailed and the grief was so real.

Were they metaphors or reality? Yes, Celene was aware of the mythic parallels of her dream. The rape of Persephone was a subject she’d studied in undergraduate Art History. This didn’t seem to her like an archetypal image she had latched on to in her worry for her daughter’s fleeting innocence. This seemed like she’d lived it before.

“
Worried. I can tell.” Valerie was very soft-spoken. It made Celene really have to listen.

“
How about you?” Dr. Davis tried to turn the subject, “Are you okay?”

“
Traumatized? Sure. A little. But with the spotlight shone on me I don’t think anyone would be foolish enough to try anything again. I feel pretty safe.”

Celene sat on the edge of the desk. She could hear Jason’s muffled voice on his cell phone from the bathroom. Valerie continued, “It’s the others I’m worried about, whoever he might attack next.”

“
I think serial killer is a stretch,” Celene said.

“
He tried to kill me. He killed that Titans player.” She shrugged. “The funny thing is, I feel like I knew him.”

Celene watched Valerie for a while, hoping she would go on if she just gave her a silence to fill.

“
I only heard his voice,” she said eventually, “but I felt like... well you know when you were a kid and you did something wrong, how it felt when your mom found out? Like you were waiting for the axe to fall and here it is?”

“
You couldn’t have done anything to deserve this.”

“
I can feel people’s emotions when they’re angry or worried or aroused. I feel a lot of uneasy feelings from people and his anger felt righteous, like he believed it was justified. I felt like I knew what he was talking about.”

“
I’m sure there’s a lot of confusing feelings when you experience something that horrible.” Celene was still caught up in the thought that Valerie believed she could read other people’s feelings. She had heard of empathy but this was either extreme emotional perception or madness. It was amazing how many supernatural things she noticed around this school when she was looking for them.

“
Maybe. I just feel like I remember him.”

Celene stopped breathing. Like she felt she remembered those dreams? Like she felt she remembered Peter?

Jason came back into the room and Celene got up from her spot propped against his desk. He sat down and started on the right wrist bandages. Celene stood there, thinking. Valerie had won the role of Semi-formal Committee Chair, but she was also the president of the abstinence club. Maybe she could be a good influence on Penny.

“
Valerie? Abstinence Club is doing a pledge drive for the Semi, yes?”

She nodded, “Outside the cafeteria the week of the event. We’re going to give away purity rings from a drawing. Cameron’s Jewelers is donating.”

“
My daughter, Penny, was looking to get involved in some clubs. Could you talk to her?” Heck, even drama club would be great as long as it was after school and Penny couldn’t walk home with Peter Hadley.

“
Yeah, definitely. We need to reach out to the freshman class. They’re usually the ones feeling the pressure to grow up the strongest. And they’re easily influenced to make poor decisions.”

That was not very comforting to hear. “Yes, I agree.” Celene tried to smile.

Valerie hissed as Jason cleaned her burn.

“
Sorry, I know that stings,” Jason said. He took the clean roll of gauze and began wrapping it comfortably around the burn.

“
Thank you, Valerie.” Celene said. She started back to her classroom. When she got there she sat down, taking a moment to breathe. She unlocked her desk drawer and took out a black moleskin notebook. She had an addition to her list.

“
These things surely lie on the knees of the gods.”

-Homer

ix.

She was the most beautiful girl he had seen.

He had torn her robes in his haste to have her.

Now he stood, draping fabric around his hips.

Now she was crying.

She lay curled up on the temple floor, ashamed.

He did not feel any guilt for taking her.

He was used to taking what he desired now.

She should have been pleased.

In his mind he believed that he deserved thanks.

Here she was pulling her clothes about her form.

He took whatever he pleased when he wanted.

She should have complied.

The shrine door slammed open. A woman strode in.

Her straight path was aimed unswervingly for him.

Her hair was pinned; a helmet was set on top,

dressed with a gold owl.

She looked down at the maid who had ceased her tears

and drew her blade from her belt to point at her.

“
Your devotions are required no more,” she said,

and then back at him.

“
Desecrate your own house,” she bellowed to him.

He smiled and waved a hand to dismiss her wrath.

“
I could not help myself, she was too handsome.

Irresistible.”

“
That will no longer be a problem,” she cried.

She pointed her sword once more at the poor girl.

He turned away as his mortal victim screamed.

Then they heard hissing.

“
All I know is that I know nothing.”

-Socrates.

IX.

Nick Morrisey liked being a hero. He liked attention. He liked praise. He liked girls. With the heroic tale of how he had saved both Valerie and Teddy (because Nick had spared Teddy no embarrassment about his poor swimming) Nick had managed to gather himself a flock of adoring fans. He was sitting high and mighty all week. He might have been more popular than even Zach Jacobs.

Despite his lack of humility, there was something going on behind the cocky smile that week. Nick was worried and confused about the phenomenon that had taken place Saturday. He had breathed water, or at least he thought he had. There was still a level of doubt holding him back from testing this theory. Nick would get into the pool after school and duck his head below the surface. He would take a breath and seemingly be fine. Then his mind would kick in and tell him that this was wrong. This was supposed to be impossible. He’d panic and rise to the surface, expelling the water quickly and coughing to make sure it was all out. He psyched himself out of fully testing it every time. Clearly he wasn’t a fish, so clearly he must have been crazy.

Someone else had been thinking about this all week. Theodore Wexler was unsure of what he had seen that day on the beach. He probably should have been preoccupied by the rumors of the serial killer in Olympia Heights. Instead he was replaying the mental recording of Saturday’s rescue in his mind. Nick had breathed out water. It had poured from his lungs without making him so much as cough. He was sure he had seen it.

Friday after the final bell Teddy decided to say something. He had a reputation for being the eccentric Drama Club President and a heavy drinker. He could just laugh it off and say he was drunk that night if he turned out to be imagining things. He had no reason not to put the question out there.

Teddy went to the soda machine and got two orange sodas during the last minutes of class. It was art. Teddy didn’t worry about missing a few minutes. It wasn’t like they actually learned how to draw from basic forms or talked about Renaissance painters. It was a joke, free time for students to try and disguise a bong as sculpture so it could get into the kiln.

When the bell rang he was waiting by Nick Morrisey’s American History class. Nick came out, surrounded by girls. Teddy held up an orange soda (he had cracked the seal and worked his magic on the way over) and made eye contact with Nick. “Morrisey, walk with me.”

Nick excused himself from the girls and turned to walk with Teddy. Teddy took a sip of his alcoholic orange soda and continued in silence to the back door to the auditorium.

“
What is it, Wexler?” Nick asked.

“
Saturday,” Teddy said, closing the door behind them and finding a lamp at the assistant stage manager’s station. “Saturday I saw something funny, thought you could confirm it for me.”

Nick’s shoulders tightened visibly under his polo. He nodded. “Alright. What did you think you saw?”

Teddy tapped his soda bottle against Nick’s, encouraging him to take a drink. Nick sipped the soda, looked at the label, and back at Teddy. “You always sneak in the good stuff.”

“
Not hard,” Teddy said honestly. “Now tell me. Did I or didn’t I see you breathing water?”

Nick stopped the bottle inches from his lips. “Didn’t,” he said. Teddy laughed. “You think I’m lying? That’s crazy. Nobody breathes water.”

“
No. I was just laughing because, well, it is absurd. But you got really defensive, man.” Teddy put his hand on Nick’s shoulder. “Now listen, Morrisey. I know I sound crazy, but I’m willing to believe anything. You know why? Because ten minutes ago that soda was in the vending machine and I haven’t brought any alcohol through the school doors today.”

“
I don’t get it.” Nick looked at the label again. “You keep a stash somewhere?”

“
No. You see, my friend,” Teddy said, using a phrase that was commonly uttered by Senator Wexler, his father, “there’s a reason I’ve become the go-to guy for party supplies in this town. It has nothing to do with money or power. I make liquor out of water. All I ever have to do is touch it.” He took his hand off Nick’s shoulder and poked his nose. Nick jumped back, sloshing alcoholic soda on the front of his shirt.

“
Shit,” he mumbled, raising his shirt to his lips to dry and suck the liquid out of the fabric. “I’m gonna reek like alcohol.”

“
Better not get pulled over on the way home. Actually, you’d better stop now if you have to drive.” Teddy took the bottle from him. He didn’t really like Nick. Nick was a tool. He had just bought him the soda to prove a point. “Your adamant denial proves what I saw. I just needed to know. You know, for my own sanity. Tell anyone what I told you and I’ll tell everyone you’re the fish boy. Got it?” Teddy winked and turned off the lamp. He pivoted on his heel and strode out of the auditorium.

Nick watched his purple and green plaid blazer retreat out the back door. He sat down on a prop couch (one that Nick was unaware all of the football players had taken a turn peeing on last spring) and rubbed his chin. Maybe it was time to give water breathing another try.