For some reason Hades kept finding random things to talk about, as if he just wanted to talk.
In history lessons, for example, he kept overlooking over my shoulder at my notebook, the textbook, or anything on my desk, as if it were of great interest to him. When I finally couldn’t figure out why he would do that, I asked, “What are you doing?”
“Doesn’t it seem to you,” he stammered, “that we’re learning the same things over and over again?”
I raised my eyebrows, flipped a few pages back and forth to try justifying his claim, and said, “No. Just because the same thing is repeated a few times doesn’t mean we’re learning the same things over and over again.”
He invited me to dine with him, which I didn’t want to, because I wanted to be with Calliope. On the other hand, now that it was summer, I couldn’t go near Selene without accidentally looking at her papery legs, which had gotten more skinny over the last two months; of course Selene would be with Calliope, no matter what. She was like a ghost.
I loved this kind of invitation. So I told him I’d come if I could.
I changed my mind when I got to the cafeteria: Zeus and his gang were catapulting food into the air, so that beans and vegetables fell everywhere. They acted like kids, but others looked like they wanted to join the war too. I spotted Hades in a corner, out of the reach of flying food.
If it were a normal day, I wouldn’t refuse to sit with him, but right now—with all the chaos—I didn’t want to come into the cafeteria. The other reason for me to leave this mess was that Apollo was laughing with his twin sister, Artemis, at the table to Hades’s immediate left.
He didn’t see me, he didn’t see me, he didn’t see me, my thoughts flew two hundred miles per second in my mind.
So I left for my room.
(featured image by Richie Souf)