From what little he had seen of the school, James couldn’t quite describe the overwhelming atmosphere of it all. The main hall was much more massive than he thought it would be. The whole situation felt utterly surreal, as if at any moment he would wake up and be back at Karen’s with Joey banging on the door wanting to hang out. But, no, James knew this was not a dream; it was just beyond anything he had ever expected to experience.
“Ready?” Blakeney said. “Huh?” James started, noticing that they had pulled into a small parking lot in the midst of massive trees. He shook his head to clear it. “Oh, yeah . . . right, I’m good to go.” “Great. Come on, then,” said Blakeney, laughing softly. They climbed out of the car and made their way onto a small cobblestone path a patch of trees. The large branches shadowing the path blocked the view, but he could see emerald green grass just beyond the edge of the trees and glimpses of some kind of immense, white building with pillars wrapping around it, almost directly ahead of them. Emerging from the smattering of trees, his mouth dropped and his eyes flared wide. “What in the world is that?” James asked, now seeing that the massive building looked more like a small version of the Roman Colosseum with two large marble statues flanking the entrance. Blakeney flicked a sideways glance at James. “That is Olympic Amphitheater. It’s where the school holds quarterly plays and musical concerts. See those two statues there?” “Yeah,” he nodded. “Dionysus and Apollo. The gods of drama and music, respectively. But come this way, you can check it out another time. The main hall is just over here along the path.” They walked left, continuing on the shaded path, before making their way to a view that James could barely describe. He had to swivel his head left and right just to be able to take in the scope of the building that was facing them. Great Olympus Hall, vast, geometrically squared, and made entirely of white granite. The massive columned portico with broad sweeping steps, the pillars climbing up into beautiful archways that lined the covered walkways wrapping themselves around the building, and the uncountable number of windows, each with their own distinct adornments and casings, all for a structure that’d be at home in a nation’s capital—or Rome or Athens, even. It took a moment for James to remember that he was supposed to be following Blakeney and not standing there with his mouth agape like some foreign tourist gawking at the skyscrapers of New York City. Taking a second to reorient himself and regain his composure, he closed his mouth and hastened to catch up. Blakeney didn’t notice that James had fallen behind—or if he had, he didn’t let on. “Before I give you a proper tour, we’re going to head to my office and discuss a few things, if that’s okay with you?” “Yes, sir. That’s fine with me,” replied James, feeling dazed. “Don’t worry. Most people, when they see the Academy, look exactly like you do right now. Every time I return from a trip of a few days, it’s like a homecoming to me, but even then, I sometimes forget how beautiful and extraordinary the whole place is,” Blakeney said, with that same loving tone of voice. Blakeney led him up some side steps onto a covered walkway leading to a tall, solid oak door with STAFF carved into it roughly at eye level. Walking through the door, James stepped into a hallway paneled and floored with rich dark woods and lined with exquisitely drawn artwork. Continuing along, they made their way to another oak wood door with Director set into it in gold leaf, just before a hallway that lead to the right. “This is my office here. You noticed all the artwork, I see.” Blakeney opened the door and waved James in. “Of course. All of it was so good. Who did all those?” James asked in awe. “Various students over the years. With a school as old as ours, I’m sure you could imagine all the talent we’ve had come through over time.” “Yeah . . . I guess. But, I mean, that stuff is good enough to be in a museum,” James said. “Every piece of art is the possession of the student who made it, and sometimes they do commit them to galleries, but those works of art that are donated to the school are treasured greatly. Please, take a seat.” Blakeney gestured to a chair before sitting in his own behind the desk. James quickly glanced around the room taking in the wainscoting, rich carpeting, antique grandfather clock, pictures, and the large painting of George Washington observing a battlefield from atop a mounted horse situated behind Blakeney’s desk. As soon as the director was seated, he pulled up a document on his computer and faced James. “Okay. First things first. I want to get a few things out of the way before continuing because knowing them will aid in our . . . discussion. Where to begin, where to start,” he mumbled before going on, “All right. As you’ve seen so far there is a bit of a recurring theme here at the Academy. The name, the designs of the buildings, the statues, some of the artwork, link it together and tell me what you think?” James thought a moment before responding. “Um . . . I don’t know. It’s all Greek and Roman stuff and the statues of course are gods from Greek mythology. The name is the supposed location of the throne of the gods from that same mythological idea. Uh, I don’t know what else you want me to say,” he paused. “It’s all a bit incredible if you ask me.” “Hmm. You are correct. That is exactly how everything is linked. Now stay with me for a moment and think before answering: what if I told you none of that was a myth and the gods and goddesses of Greece did—do, in fact, exist?” Blakeney might have been joking—but he looked serious. Huh? “I would probably say that I’m all for freedom of religion and all that, but that you’d be a bit crazy to think it was real.” The older man studied James, and a silence filled the room as if being immersed under water. James finally broke it. “I mean, right?” Blakeney rested his elbows on the desk and brought his fingertips to a steeple point. “James, it is not a myth. The reason for the statues, for the art, for the names and design, is because we celebrate that they do in fact exist and that they are very meaningful to us.” Seeing the look on James’s face, Blakeney continued, “This is no joke. This is very real, and I wanted to get this out of the way first before I said anything else so that you might understand it all a bit more. I misled you before when I was at your house. Yes, you do excel in history and science and lacrosse, but that was not the main reason for bringing you here. The actual reason was because you belong here. With others like you.” He paused. “Others with the same bloodlines as you.” James wasn’t sure he had heard correctly, but his ears were ringing. The first vestiges of anger, hurt, and confusion welled up. “What are you talking about?” Blakeney met James’s accusing glare placidly. “Everyone who either goes to this school or has graduated from this school is a descendant of a demigod. That makes them descendants of the gods themselves. You belong here, James, and they are like you in that you, yourself, are a descendant of the gods.” James shook his head and felt his face contort as he took this in, sweeping from anger, to confusion, to hurt, before eventually landing on utter disbelief. “I don’t believe you.” Blakeney smiled for the first time in minutes. “That’s perfectly understandable, given your upbringing. Tell me this. Aside from the fact that you’ve been an orphan for the majority of your life, did you ever feel that you were different from everyone around you? Did anything that couldn’t be explained away rationally ever happen around you or to you?” “I don’t know. I mean, I never paid all that much attention.” James paused, grasping for any answers. “Now that you mention it, people have always been drawn to me even though I never, and I mean never, sought attention. And, sometimes I could swear it would rain whenever I was angry or depressed, though most people just brushed it off as a coincidence. Stuff like that?” The older man nodded. “Yes, things like that. What else? Anything ever happen directly to you?” “Well . . . hmm. . .” He searched the insides of his mind for any unusual happenings. “Oh! There was this one time when me and another foster boy decided to jump off the roof of a second-story house with wings that we had made from sheets, wood, and glue. We thought we were Batman, I guess. Anyway, we both launched ourselves off, and he ended up with a broken arm and some broken ribs. But I didn’t. I just got a few bruises, cuts, and a gash that turned into this small scar here on my chin. None of the doctors could explain exactly why I didn’t get injured more than that. Is that what you’re talking about?” “Exactly. Don’t you see, James? No normal little boy could jump from that high and remain uninjured. Normal people don’t attract attention when they are actually seeking the opposite. Weather patterns do not change just to suit someone’s mood. You are different, whether you’ve known it or not. I wouldn’t go so far as saying you are better than anyone, but you were born from a divine bloodline.” James took this in and thought about other unexplained circumstances that had happened throughout his life. Mainly they were times that he should have been injured but wasn’t. But there was always that annoying trait of attracting others which he had assumed was some weird bit of his personality. Divine, though? He didn’t think this was the case, but the man facing him from across the highly polished desk sure thought so. “Let’s say for a second that I believe you. Who am I actually descended from?” he asked reasonably. “Well, there’s a problem there. I don’t know. I tried locating your father, but to no avail. And as your mother died years ago, I was at a loss there as well. No one in your immediate family on record—your mother or maternal grandparents, for instance—attended this academy, so I don’t exactly have any record of your bloodline. The only reason many students here know who they are descended from is because of knowledge which has been handed down through generations. Sometimes they can be recognized because of specific abilities that may manifest as they get older. But that’s not always the case,” Blakeney concluded. “If you don’t mind my asking, who’s your divine ancestor?” “My father was a demigod. The last few of those died out almost twenty years ago now, and his father was none other than Zeus. My mother was a descendant of Athena and Ares, an interesting mixture to be sure. No, I don’t have any special . . . powers, I guess you could call them, but I have noticed some personality traits and interests of mine that line up with what my ancestors represented.” “You said the last few of those? What do you mean?” James asked. “About seventy years ago, the gods decided not to have any more children and not to interfere with our affairs any longer. I suppose they assumed their presence was causing the great wars and they hoped to stave off our destruction. Didn’t exactly work out of course, but it was an attempt, and as far as I know they have stuck to the decree. They called it the Decree of Humanity. Now…I must ask: have you have rightly discerned the truth in everything I have told you?” Blakeney leveled his eyes at James. James didn’t know why, but it all just felt right. It was almost as if his body were crying out in exultation at having finally heard this. The feeling was a bit overwhelming. His nerves were tingling and his ears were buzzing as endorphins coursed through his body. Yes! He said to himself. I know it’s true. I wonder if this is what it would feel like if a little girl actually did find out she were a princess of a country or something . . .hmm. “I believe you,” he said simply, his voice ringing with the clarity of belief. “Good,” Blakeney said, smiling warmly. James barely caught it, but it almost seemed as if Blakeney had something more to say before charging on. “Now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, we can move on. Class schedule first. Let’s see . . . you’re currently taking Algebra II, so we’ll put you in Advanced Algebra.” Blakeney seemed to be talking more to himself as he typed away on his computer. “I’ll tutor you over the summer to prepare you for Pre-Calc. You are already taking AP U.S. History, so U.S. II will fit nicely there. English Lit. II and of course you’ll do well in Advanced Chem.” He turned his eyes to James and said, “All right, that does it for your basic classes. Since you have to take gym this year, that leaves two slots to fill up with electives. Here’s a list of what we have.” Blakeney slid a sheet of paper to him with the electives printed on it. James looked down the list and at first glance nothing caught his eye. Well, maybe? “I was taking Spanish already, but could I take a different language?” “Yes, you could. You would be starting in the middle of a year so you’d have to study some to catch up, but I’m sure you could do it. What caught your eye?” “Latin sounds kind of cool. All the archaeological conspiracy books I’ve ever read had a lot of Latin in them,” James admitted with a shrug. Blakeney burst laughing. “What a way to make a choice! I love it. Sure, we’ll sign you up for that. You don’t mind being in a class with mainly freshmen, do you?” “Doesn’t bother me.” “Okay, great. Now, what else?” James looked deep in concentration as he studied the sheet. “Um . . . er—I don’t know . . . Photography? I’ve never tried it before, but I could always learn something new I guess.” “That’s a good attitude to have. Photography it is, which means, of course, we’ll have to order you an appropriate camera, but until then you can use one of the school’s. Well, that takes care of your schedule. Let me print you a copy.” Blakeney grabbed the paper with James’s new class schedule on it as it ejected from the printer and handed it to him. “Now,” he continued, “on to dorm assignment. All the juniors are on the third floor, and yours is room 320.” He typed away at his computer for a minute and sent a quick text on his phone before turning to face James again. “There are a few ground rules to cover: first, your room must be clean and orderly before leaving for class every day—there will be weekly, sometimes daily inspections. Second, no members of the opposite sex are allowed in your room. Ever. This is a very serious rule and can get you expelled. Lights out is at 11 p.m. on weeknights, and the resident ambassadors on each floor will check. Hmm . . . that about covers it for now. You ready to see the rest of Mount Olympus?” James nodded and half-smiled. “Absolutely!”After leaving Blakeney’s office, the pair made their way straight down the first hall to a nondescript wooden door, which the older man opened to reveal some kind of grand entryway. Right in the middle of the beautiful, white marble flooring was a fountain with a statue of a nude woman—maybe Aphrodite? James thought—and winged cherubs shooting water out of their mouths across her sprawled frame. The walls weren’t paneled with wood, but instead retained the same white granite as the exterior. Here, unlike the unadorned exterior, exquisite painted carvings of cherubs, laurels, heavenly bodies, and lounging figures graced the walls at what at first seemed random. The more James stared in wide-eyed wonder, the more he recognized the pattern of it all. The cherubs were dancing in the air around the bodies, throwing laurels at their feet while the reclined figures themselves seemed to be studying representations of the stars and planets. It was like nothing he had ever seen be
Once he made it to the third-floor landing, finding his room was easy. Everything was labeled clearly, so it was just a matter of following the numbers until he found a simple wooden door with 320 carved into it. The flooring that ran the length of the long hallway was the thin, rugged-type carpeting that many schools and office buildings used. With so much traffic, it made sense. James had passed several other guys and of course in keeping with guy code, the greetings were nothing more than sup’s, what’s ups, and hey. Sometimes they were nothing more than a quick nod. Ah, the simplicity of being a guy. His new room was across the hall from the bathrooms, so maybe he wouldn’t have to wait too long to get into the shower most mornings. Staring at the door marked 320, he looked down at the key that Blakeney had given him. He raised a single eyebrow as he studied it some more. It was just a simple, black aluminum stick with a knob at the end of it. He couldn’t make heads or tail
The early morning sun gradually bathed the small room in a pale, gray and pinkish light as James opened his eyes from a dreamless sleep. He glanced over at the clock on the nightstand. The red holographic numbers of 6:28 a.m. stared back at him from tether-less suspension. What a weird clock, he thought. He was too excited on this newest of new days, so he knew trying to gain any more sleep would prove futile. Taking a deep breath, he swung his legs out from under the covers, deciding to get a head start on the day. Doing his best not to wake up Tres, he quickly made his bed, grabbed a few hygiene items, a towel, and some boxers, and headed out the door in search of an early shower. James thought he would’ve been one of the first to make it to the bathrooms, but by the time he swung open the door, he found that wasn’t the case. Of the six showers, only one was available. He stepped in, put his boxers and towel on the offered hangers, and stripped off the athletic shorts
When Blakeney had dropped off his textbooks last night, James had been a little confused upon seeing the title of the text for Photography. Thinking he might have been the butt of a joke, he slipped Photography For Dummies, along with his history text, into his bag. He shut the door to his room and hurried up to the fourth floor, not wanting to be late. The classroom was on the opposite side of the building, next to the girls’ dormitories, and James found it easily enough. As soon as he walked in, he realized no one else had their schoolbags with them. The only accessory they happened to have was a camera. He felt a little out of place as he made his way across the room to the only friendly face he saw, Jennifer West. She smiled at James as he approached. “Well, hey, James. Could a girl have any more luck?” “Uh . . . hey,” he said, glancing around. “Did I miss something? Why doesn’t everyone have their books with them?” “Oh, you only need it on Wednesdays. And don’t worry
Sitting with this new group of friends was different, he realized. Gone was the familiarity of the sibling-like relationship of Eliza and Tres. Conversation was more refined, as if even here, while just having dinner and enjoying each other’s company, reputations had to be preserved and images upheld. It was actually exhausting. Of the three—Ceres, Rachel, and Ricky—the only one he had any kind of interesting conversation with was Ricky. They talked a lot about lacrosse and the upcoming spring season. Of course, Jennifer didn’t know much about lacrosse, so she mainly talked across James to Rachel while keeping a hand on him flirtatiously. James learned that Ricky had several big parties every year. The shorter boy’s eyes lit up at the mention of his get-togethers. “Normally I just throw one for Halloween, Christmas, Valentine’s Day, and my famous End of the Year Bash. But from time to time, I like to just go crazy as hell and throw one for no reason at all.” “Let me gues
“Tres?” he said to his roommate. Hearing no response, he looked over at his friend and found him entranced in WOW—again. “Tres!?” “Huh?” Tres looked over. “Whatcha think?” James asked nervously. “Eh . . . good enough,” Tres said, and quickly turned back to his computer. James breathed deeply and let the exhale out slowly, as if his lips were the release valve of an air pump. He shook his head, wondering why he was so nervous. “It’s the first date, that’s why,” he mumbled under his breath. The last week had flown by and now Saturday night was here—his first date with Jennifer. Normally, when James was looking forward to something, time slowed down so much that it seemed the hands on a clock stood still. But this week had disappeared in a blink. A comfortable routine had probably helped with that. It seemed so easy and normal. Every day he would eat breakfast and lunch with Tres, Eliza, and Svet. Dinner was reserved for Jennifer and her friends. In between class
The library was the place of choice to avoid being cooped up in the dorm room all day. He and Tres had made their way down a few hours after breakfast to grab a table and get to work on what little homework remained. A pattern was starting to emerge. James had finished all of his assigned work yesterday—all, that is, except for Algebra. He hated the subject, so he found himself putting it off until last. James knew he shouldn’t, but he procrastinated anyway. He felt like he had been running in circles with it for the last hour. Without Tres, he recognized, he would never complete any of it. Almost done. Then I can enjoy the rest of the day. He sighed and looked around. Tres was humming merrily away across from him and fooling around on one of his tablets. He seemed oblivious to his surroundings. Tres had already finished his homework. He was home free. Meanwhile, Eliza, who had joined them shortly after arrival, was working hard on a rewrite of a submitted essay for Engli
Ms. Allie had been talking all period, but James was hardly paying attention. The past two days, the students had all been talking about the power outage, even though there hadn’t been a storm. But thoughts of betrayals and seductions had been plaguing James’s mind nonstop. He thought he was comfortable with his decision, but for some reason there was this strange and consistent tugging in the back of his mind like his subconscious was doing its best to tell him something. James couldn’t quite pin it down. He glanced at his friend next to him. Of course Tres would be mesmerized by the young and beautiful woman; he looked like he was in dreamland whenever he saw her. Hard to believe Tres could ever get any work done in this class. Eliza hadn’t talked to him very much since Sunday morning, and he didn’t like that at all. He enjoyed their battles of words and wits, and without them, he felt empty. Even Svet had been more subdued recently, as if her best friend’s emotions h