Heaven Sent Page 8

  “You mean the microphone? The mike?” she asked, laughing.

  “Um, yeah. I was just wondering what kind of…mike…it was.” Claire gave me a weird look and just shrugged.

  “I wrote this song for the most beautiful girl at school,” Pocky boomed over the mike, directing his gaze at me. “The one and only Thalia Moose.”

  Everyone looked at me. I gasped. Era kicked me, and Polly just chuckled.

  Pocky wailed:

  “She’s the vision of a goddess

  Out of Greek mythology,

  I want to hold her in my arms,

  I want to practice biology….”

  I stiffened. Was this his way of telling me he knew who I was? What I was? Before I had a chance to say anything to my sisters, Guy started strumming the guitar frantically. Pocky screamed over the noise, “Thalia! Thalia! Thalia!” for probably three minutes, and then the song was over.

  Claire tried to comfort me. “Don’t be too alarmed, Thalia. Whenever a new girl comes to town, he sings the same song for them, only he repeats their name instead of yours. Pocky is his own little welcome committee.”

  “Okay, great. Right.”

  And then out of nowhere appeared Polly’s prince. Well, it was Tim. He took a seat next to her and flashed us all his extremely white teeth. In this light they pretty much glowed. “Thalia, it seems you have an admirer.” And then he paused for dramatic effect. “As does your sister.” And then he turned toward Polly and fluttered his eyelashes. It was a bit much, but whatever. All that mattered was that Polly got her guy. And it certainly looked like she was getting him. They started whispering things into each other’s ears. And I tried to feel happy for them.

  “I get to do one mo’, right?”

  It was Pocky talking in this weird accent, asking no one in particular.

  No one in particular answered him, so he started. “One and a two and a…” Guy started strumming slowly, and this time Pocky sang instead of shouting, “More than a woman, more than a woman to me…More than a woman, more than a woman to me.”

  And then he rapped:

  “She’s a fine little lady,

  Makes me feel a little shady,

  She’s so cute and squeaky,

  And I’m just a little freaky.

  Let me take you for sukiyaki,

  Then you’ll want a little Pocky,

  She’s the one they call Thalia,

  And she’s surely gonna wow ya.”

  And then he started singing that more-than-a-woman thing again.

  “Now, this one, this one is all you and totally new,” said Claire.

  “Great.”

  “I think it’s kinda sweet, Thalia. That was one fine rap,” offered up Tim.

  “Yep, nobody’s every rhymed Thalia with wow ya before,” I said.

  “Exactly,” Tim said absently, and then he went back to cooing in my sister’s ear.

  Pocky made his way over to the table. “What’d you think, Thalia?”

  “I’m immensely flattered, Pocky, really, very flattered.”

  “And…”

  “And you were really good. Really, very good.”

  “And…”

  “And, um, Guy was good, too.”

  “And…”

  “Oh, give her a break, Pocky!” said Claire.

  “And…you want me now, don’t you?” he continued.

  “Um, no, but I’m immensely flattered. Really very good, Guy, too.”

  “That’s cool.” And he flopped down next to me at the table. Pocky is a man who rolls with the punches.

  It was going to be a few minutes before another performer took the stage, so Polly and Era hit the bathrooms. I stayed at the table, drinking my Coke (which was sweet and syrupy and delicious, by the way) and making small talk with Pocky and Claire. After a few moments of listening to us speak passionately on the topic of fried potatoes with cheese, which I had, amazingly, learned to cook the night before, Tim excused himself and said he, too, had to go to the bathroom. Claire started pointing out all the boys she thought were cute, most of whom were not from our school.

  The conversation turned to tastes in boys. When Claire asked me what I liked in a guy, I just couldn’t shake this visual of Apollo’s sly little sideways grin. I must’ve gotten lost in it because the next thing I knew, Claire was summoning me back to earth.

  “What was that little brain freeze about?” she asked.

  “Nothing, really. A boy back home. Old home. Old boy. Never mind. Really. That guy in back of us, Claire, he looks like your type, no?”

  And Claire was off again, talking about this boy and that. After several minutes neither my sisters nor Tim had returned to the table. Then Claire said, “Oh, look, it’s Teri, one of your favorite girls.” I followed Claire’s gaze. Yep, there was the head Backroom Betty. And she was talking to Tim.

  Frozen, I watched as the two of them whispered and giggled and Tim leaned in, close, closer, closest, until I could feel my blood rising to the surface of my skin. Tim jerked a finger toward the girls’ bathroom, and they both laughed. That was it. I had to say something, anything. I had to find out what they were talking about because it looked like it had to do with Polly. I got up and walked in their direction, weaving through the crowd.

  Claire called after me, “Thalia, what are you doing?” but I didn’t listen.

  I crossed the club, but by the time I reached Tim, Teri was gone. I looked around, but I couldn’t figure out where she’d disappeared to.

  “Who were you just talking to?” I asked accusingly.

  “Excuse me?” he asked back.

  “Who were you just talking to?”

  “You mean Teri? A friend. Why? What’s the problem?” And then he smiled his slickest of smiles.

  “You should pick better ones.”

  “Excuse me?” Tim said, still grinning. I started to tell him how cruel the Backroom Betties had been to me and my sisters and how evil they were. But he acted like he couldn’t hear me over the din of the club.

  Just then my sisters emerged from the bathroom, and Tim slid his arm around Polly’s waist. I felt like heaving. He’d looked awfully cozy with Teri just moments before. And now he was sidling up to my sister.

  “Let’s sit down, Polly. I want to hear more about your music,” he said.

  Okay, so maybe Tim had just been talking to that girl. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was not right. Still, I had to face it—I had little experience in the relationship arena. My only knowledge, real knowledge, of boys was of Apollo. And he would never, not then and I’m sure not now, flirt with other girls when I wasn’t looking. I was his best friend and the center of his attentions. Apollo always put me first, even when I didn’t want to be. He teased me, for sure, but he always looked out for me.

  Tim better be worth all this headache, I thought. He better be truly interested in my sister. He just had to be.

  Maybe it was just a mistake. Being friends with Teri, that is—maybe Tim just didn’t know how mean she really was. I mean, anyone can make a mistake, right? Even Apollo, the perfect Apollo, made a huge one, with all that talk about treating me like a queen. That still doesn’t make him a bad person.

  But, of course, I wasn’t quite so understanding in his case….

  TWELVE

  “Corsets! Corsets? Can you believe he actually said, ‘You will wear corsets’? What the heck has come over him? I wouldn’t wear a corset if someone paid me all the gold gumdrops and purple dandelions in the world. Doesn’t he know how utterly uncomfortable those things are?” Era and Polly and I were, once again, in the Beautorium. I’d just finished telling them about my conversation with Apollo in the garden.

  I didn’t tell them how I had almost, almost called off our plan. I didn’t tell them that for a brief moment, I’d thought of nothing else but Apollo’s perfect rosy pout.

  “Calm down. You’re not actually going to marry him,” Polly reminded me. “You don’t have to face a future in co
rsets just yet.”

  “Shhh, here come our ladies. They don’t need to know of our plans,” said Era.

  Polly, Era, and I had gathered in the West Wing of the Beautorium, the room specially reserved for gown fittings. In a few days, I thought, everyone would know of our deceit. The thought did make me feel slightly fearful and worried on account of Apollo’s feelings. And there was sure to be an aftermath of some kind. But I’d dealt with my father’s anger before. I’d been punished for tying Hermes’s golden shoelaces together. (I was nine, he took a tiny spill, and I had to wear donkey ears for three weeks.) I’d been reprimanded for conspiring with my cousin Dionysus * to make Hera think she was losing her mind. Now, that was worth it. Daddy spared me that time, and Dion, well, Hera made him go mad for real. All I had to do was scrub walls for three days and three nights in Poseidon’s castle, deep under the sea. It was kinda cool, actually. The freaky sea fishes, not the nasty barnacle busting.

  Then there was the time Apollo and I took Pegasus to earth. All the punishment in the world would have been worth that day. We stayed out all night, too. Whoa, was Daddy mad. Hera, I think, was secretly thrilled. Daddy said I couldn’t see Apollo for five whole months. I was devastated. But then time flew by. Literally, time flew on by my window and the five months were over, just like that! Apollo is a very powerful god. He tossed a spell on Father Time to fly 379 times faster than he usually does. My dad missed the whole thing because he and Hera were off vacationing in Troy.

  Those were the days. When Apollo and I were happy and normal and he showed me he cared by teasing me and taking me on adventures. And maybe as we got older, we flirted. A little. But it was a harmless flirtation, not an overly dramatic romance.

  All my thoughts of Apollo were interrupted by our ladies-in-waiting, who were carrying in these huge poofy dresses. And to think these things were just for the engagement party. Polly must have sensed my fear, for she whispered in my ear, “Just this once, for the party.”

  Era was actually looking enviously at the enormous ball of foof that I was currently attempting to fit into. “It’s so lovely. This is the very best part of weddings, don’t you think?” she gushed. Polly shot Era a look that all but said, “Can it!”

  “Well, I think you’ll be needing a corset, Miss Thalia; this dress is just a wee bit tight,” said Lenora, my personal lady-in-waiting. Oh, wasn’t that rich! Not even married yet, and Apollo had gotten me in corsets just like he wanted.

  I wanted to whine, to scream, to wail, “Noooooooo!” But Polly gave me that look, the one she had flashed Era moments ago, the one that said, “Can it!” Only when she glanced my way, her face was far softer and deeply more understanding.

  It didn’t matter, anyway; I couldn’t say no to Lenora. She had known me since I was born. Lenora had dressed my mother before me. Sure, she never smiled, and her skin was brittle and cracked, and she wasn’t too huggable, but she loved me.

  By this time Lenora had me stitched and sewn up so tight, I could barely breathe. Or talk.

  “Pol, water, pwease.”

  “Lenora, can you ease up a bit? She can’t even speak right,” said Polly.

  “Right, milady.” But she really didn’t loosen those strings all that much. I still could feel my morning brekkie of ambrosia creeping up my throat.

  “Well, I think you look divine,” gushed Era.

  “And so do we,” said three familiar voices behind me. I couldn’t turn myself, so Lenora spun me around on the giant lazy Susan I was standing on, revealing my three least-favorite girls in all of the universe: Tizzie, Alek, and Meg, aka the Furies.

  “What do you three want?” asked my sister, her voice dripping with dislike.

  “We came to call a truce on the eve of your wedding, Thalia,” said Alek, the one I think I hated the most. She had tortured me when we were children, called me names that were inconceivable, embarrassed me in front of all the heavens—she had even made me eat dirt once. Even when it’s fancied up with marshmallows, dirt doesn’t taste good, in case you were wondering.

  “Please accept our apologies for all that kid stuff. We’re adults now; we should act as such,” said Tizzie, her hair a brilliant shade of orange.

  Thing was, I wasn’t an adult. This marriage stuff didn’t change that. And these girls, these girls were definitely not adults. Why, just last week my sister Clio was outside with her beau and she thought she spotted Meg behind a tree. She went and looked behind the tree, but there was no Meg. Only a giant vat of fish heads, which promptly fell on her head. It was a pointless, silly, and mean little trick, the kind only a child plays.

  Adult shmadult.

  “Pretty scarf,” said Era to Alek. Era takes people at their word. So if Alek said she came in peace, Era believed it. She obviously thought she would make nice with a compliment. Me, I’m not convinced so easily.

  “Thank you,” said Alek. “It was a gift from Jason.”"*

  I told you they were up to no good. The Furies knew darn well that Jason was Era’s crush of the month. That was a little jab thrown directly at my sister’s heart. They couldn’t even control themselves for five minutes.

  “Oh, well, it’s beautiful,” said Era, her lip a-quivering.

  “We come with a prewedding gift for you, Thalia,” said Tizzie.

  “Would it be a tiara of poisonous snakes or maybe a bracelet made of sharp shards of glass?” I asked.

  “Thalia!” scolded Lenora. “You apologize at once. They come in peace.”

  Oh, great, they’ve got Lenora hoodwinked.

  “Yes, ma’am. I’m oh, so terribly, ridiculously, apologetically, resolutely sorry, girls,” I said.

  “Enough,” said Lenora through gritted teeth.

  “Look, we come bearing gifts,” said Meg. “An ancient perfume oil from the nether reaches of the deep blue sea. It smells of purple and yellow sea lilies.”

  The perfume she held out to me was in this gorgeous bottle all adorned in glitter and gold. That was one of the cruddiest things about the Furies—they always had the best stuff.

  “Take the gift, Thalia, and thank your visitors,” said Lenora.

  “Yes, ma’am. Thank you, thank you so very much. I will treasure this gift always….”

  The Furies, in unison, said, “You are most welcome,” and then turned on their heels and left.

  “Don’t touch it!” said Polly as soon as they were gone. “It’s got to be a trick.”

  “Oh, you girls are far too suspicious,” said Lenora. “Those young girls are harmless. They came in peace. Let’s have a whiff of that old stuff.”

  “I’m dying to smell it!” said Era, her eyes as wide as they could be.

  “I don’t know. I don’t trust them. Not one bit. Still, that bottle is exquisite looking,” said Polly.

  “I just want to smell it,” said Era. “I’m sure it’s harmless.”

  “No!” screamed Polly and I in unison.

  But Era opened the bottle and nothing came out. No demons, no snakes, no spiders.

  I put my nose to the bottle and took a sniff. Oh. I was taken aback—this was truly the most gorgeous smell I had ever smelled, a smell so fabulously smelly, all I could do was yell at Polly, “Smell!” and with that, I thrust the bottle out to her.

  Polly smelled, and nothing bad happened to her, either. We swooned at the ripeness and plumpness of the perfume. It was, without a doubt, heavenly.

  “Okay, maybe they weren’t up to anything,” said Polly, still smiling from the sweet intensity of the perfume.

  “See,” said Lenora.

  I dabbed a touch on my wrist and another drop or two behind my ears.

  I actually felt a little bad about taking a wedding gift knowing full well I didn’t intend on getting married at all. Then I got another whiff of the ancient sea lilies, and I didn’t feel that bad at all. Not at all.

  I should have listened to the little voice inside me that told me nothing involving the Furies could possibly come to good. But I ignored tha
t voice. I ignored a lot of things I should have paid more attention to….

  Oh, Thalia, you make this much too easy for us,

  To fool you and your sisters wasn’t much fuss.

  We put a minor spell on old Lenora, you see,

  Then she backed us up like a faithful chimpanzee.

  That perfume you think smells so divine

  Is filled with a mutant form of ol’ strychnine.

  Like we said before, Scyllia will befall

  the first person Thalia touches at her very fine ball.

  All thanks to the ancient sea lily perfume,

  Tomorrow she’ll have a forever green groom!

  One that slobbers and oozes and drips, don’t you know,

  With an ugly third eye where there should be a nose!

  And who will the finger of blame be pointed at?

  Our own little Thalia—a tit for a tat!

  THIRTEEN

  Back in our little house in Georgia, Polly tiptoed into my room. All quiet, like a castle mouse hiding from a guard. But I wasn’t sleeping. I was wondering if Tim really liked that evil Backroom Betty and how life on earth wasn’t all adventure and escapades; it was a whole lotta headache.

  “I’m awake,” I said in a whisper.

  “Oh, good. I wanted to talk. Can I get in bed with you?”

  “Well, it’s not that I don’t want you to, but have you noticed where I sleep, Polly? This tub isn’t exactly big enough for the both of us.”

  “But I need some sisterly bonding,” she said in her sweetest, most sugary voice.

  “Okay, okay, get in.”

  She climbed into my tub, her feet to my head and my head to her feet, and got under the comforter I had stolen from Era’s bed. My little sister is hot-blooded; she didn’t really need much in the way of blankets, anyway.