The Demigod Unison
- by nike_goddess-of-victory -
- by nike_goddess-of-victory -
Have you ever heard of the term "demigods"? Wait, you think that they don't exist? I envy you, my friend, for this is one-hundred percent real. I envy you for being able to think none of this could possibly ever happen. I envy you for believing this whole thing is a work of fiction for one's entertainment. But be warned. None of this is fake, and if you soon start to realize the truth of what you may be, get rid of this immediately and burn it, unless you want to travel the road I've been down.
* * * * *
I think it all started with Science. I mean, I hate that class as much as the next guy, but this was just... weird. Imagine if you were in my shoes: an often hyper girl who can't even write her own name without it looking like a two-year-old writing for the first time. Yeah, I can read just fine. I'm the most advanced reader in my grade. For Pete's sake I even earn awards for it! So it was quite a surprise for me, and possibly the rest of my class when I don't know what my teacher wrote on the whiteboard.
Allow me to explain my Science teacher, Mrs. Rufy. She has eyes like a hawk, and dresses like she hadn't realized that Afros were out of style. Or bell-bottom pants. Or anything related to the 1970s. Her eyes are intense. If the saying 'looks can kill' are true, there would be World War III: her face versus nuclear weaponry.
So she called on me to answer a question on the whiteboard. Some kids were whispering frantically watching me of all people have trouble reading the question. "Well?" Mrs. Rufy prodded. "Are you going to answer?"
"I honestly don't know the answer, ma'am," I concluded.
"Since Miss Emilia Peck wouldn't give us an answer, what do you think it is, Mr. Tony Jenkins?"
The rest was muffled in my epiphany that I couldn't read something. Now Mrs. Rufy would hate me even more. You see, though she may have eyes like a hawk, she doesn't even bat an eye when one of the mean kids or snobby stuck-up kids like Tony Jenkins do something wrong. But she'll definitely see every little detail and flaw with me and everything I do as... as self-defense, you could call it. And she also says every single time I 'get in trouble', "Now, Sweetie." The last part comes out more like a question than an actual statement.
Tony sits next to me in Science, a fact that I call very unlucky. He said the right answer, I suppose because somehow he got it as a remark flying at me at the same time. People pointed fingers and laughed at me, daring me to not bite all their fingers off their hands. He was flicking me in the ear, which must have been why everyone was laughing.
"Would you just STOP IT?" I asked him, annoyed. The last bit came out louder than I wanted. Loud enough for Mrs. Rufy to think I was asking her to stop the lesson.
"Now Sweetie--" she starts, but I beat her to it by saying, "Yeah, yeah. A month of ISS."
But the next thing surprises me so much, that I would have been afraid of having powers. "You just reminded me that we were supposed to be going on the Field Trip about Greek and Roman Mythology."
"Wait... how is that related to Science, exactly?" One of the nerdy girls asked. Her name was Selene, and sometimes she drove me nuts trying to make sure that everyone's information was "accurate" or something like that.
"Well, the Greeks and Romans contributed very much to our society, and Western Civilization, as you may call it. They helped us get as far as we are today."
"But ma'am, what does Myth--"
"That's enough, Miss Davidson. We are going there now, no if's, and's, or but's!" Mrs. Rufy says. "Now if you will follow me, we will go to the Museum."
* * * * *
My friend Harlea' Richardson and I walked together near the back of the group the whole way through the exhibits. My favorite teacher, Mr. Rinoch, was at the very back, but he wouldn't notice us talking and not paying attention. He had told us he'd lead this trip, and Mrs. Rufy was just a chaperon or something like that. Do you want to know why Mr. Rinoch is my favorite? Not only does he rather us call him Darren, kinda like an equal, but he also teaches the greatest class in the world! Okay, actually he teaches a boring class, but on Fridays when he's supposed to give us a quiz, he hands us a sword and we battle each other. He claims that they are plastic, but by looking at the sharp point of his, I'm not willing to risk it. Fact about Mr. Rinoch (Darren) : it's as if he only sees the bad kids doing things, and all the innocent ones (like me and Harlea') are like angels sent from above to excel in his class.
So Darren was going all, "There are twelve Olympian Gods and Goddesses," and then more quietly, "according to Greek and Roman mythology." We were standing in a hall, now, surrounded by marble statues detailed enough to be the next Michelangelo's David. Or as it could now be called, Some-Greek-Guy's Poseidon/Zeus/Hades/Apollo/Hephaestus/Artemis/etc.. "The greatest of these Gods can be referred to as the Big Three, and they are Zeus, Poseidon, and Hades. They are the Big Three because they hold the greatest realms of all: the sky, the sea, and the Underworld, or as people like you who don't believe in this junk, Hell," he continued.
"Oh my gosh, they are all dudes? How sexist is that for the Greeks and Romans?" I whispered to Harlea'. She giggled a little in response. Mrs. Rufy eyed us menacingly, but before she could say anything, Darren said, "Oh look at the time! Let's break for lunch." He winked at me. I definitely owe him one.
Just as we were heading out the door, Selene just had to ask, "So you believe in this, Mr. Rinoch?" You see, Selene just won't listen to a teacher when they say they do not want to be called things like 'Mr. Rinoch' because it sounds like Rhino, or 'Mrs. Fatse' because the way it is spelled isn't exactly how it's pronounced. Mrs. Fatse claims her name is "Faht-say" but behind her back we all say "Fats". She is a little old, so we can't help taking advantage of her hearing difficulty. And now that I think about it, she really is... fat.
So everybody had just laughed a little at Darren's statement, calling our beliefs junk. Harlea didn't, and of course I had no clue why. She took this thing way too serious. Next thing I know, she'll be taking notes like Nerdy Selene Davidson.
Darren turns around, halting everyone behind him as he answers Selene. "Why, yes I do. My parents did, and so did their parents, all the way through the line. My family is Greek, after all. It's a little bit like how some of you believe in Christianity because your parents did and they baptized you. You will have the choice to pick your religion later in life, but Greek Mythology was what I grew up with, and so that is my belief. If you have any more questions Miss Davidson," he says, pausing for a moment, "keep that stuff in your a--"
"I think that is enough, Mr. Rinoch. Our students are going to starve if you keep holding them up," Mrs. Rufy says, talking over the words Darren was about to say.
"Finally," Tony groaned behind me. "Now I get to pick on who I choose and Mrs. Rufy won't care. Darren rarely looks up from his damn book. Free time to make fun of losers." A smile stretched itself upon his face as he imagined giving someone a Patriotic Wedgie.
No duh I was curious who is first victim was. Luckily it wasn't me. Unfortunately, it was my best friend, Harlea'. What was he doing? Thankfully not the wedgie because she's a girl, but the worse he could think of: taking his grilled-cheese-with-ketchup-and-mustard-and-lettuce-and-ham-and-mayonnaise sandwich and crumbling it into pieces all over Harlea''s head. It was not a pleasant sight. And boy was he right about Darren and Mrs. Rufy. Mrs. Rufy of course wouldn't bat an eye, and Darren was lost (once again) in what I suppose was like a bible for Greek-God believers.
I was so outraged. He laughed in her face, and some of the ketchup dribbled to the tip of her nose so she looked like a clown. Everyone laughed at pointed fingers at her like they had in Science class to me. I just couldn't stand it. Sure, they could make fun of me, but when it came down to my best friend in the whole universe and beyond, there is no way I would sit on the sidelines.
I did the only thing my stupid brain could think of. I confronted Tony. A growl came through my throat as I said, "Leave. Harlea'. Alone. You'd better get all of that off of my friend."
He stood up to me, the smile disappearing. I thought guilt would go in its place, and he'd actually listen. I was so dang wrong, that if I had said 'May lightning hit me if I'm lying' not even thunder would rumble. No. He stood up to me like I had done to him, and said, "And what if I don't want to, huh? Are you going to whine like a baby because you didn't get your way?"
Wait a minute. On second thought, the forecast was supposed to be rainy and stormy, so lightning could have possibly hit me... but not because of the whole lying thing.
I wanted to be all tough yet under control by saying, "I don't whine and I think the only baby around here is you," and then give him a Patriotic Wedgie. But no. I just had to lose control of myself so badly that I pushed him into a water fountain, there was a flash of light as if the sun came out for half a second, and next thing I know he's screaming "OUCH!" and his scream of pain lasts for two minutes before breathing.
After a moment of him going to the boy's restroom to see what had happened to his butt, he came out saying, "I. Was. Sunburned... somehow." It came out kind of slow, and he was in awe of it. On a cloudy day when not a speck of sunlight could be seen, and his butt was five-hundred percent covered, everyone was shocked. Like, out of nowhere he has a sunburn on his butt when it's rainy and cloudy and stormy and thundering and raining and... you get the point. Meanwhile, I'm ignoring all the glares and stares from both teachers and students as they register what happened to "their precious Tony Jenkins". I'm picking cheese, and ketchup, and mustard, and lettuce, and mayonnaise, and ham out of my friend's hair. She doesn't really seem to mind. The only point where she was upset was when he was doing it. Now, Harlea''s just taking the bits I take out and eating them. She claims that she forgot her lunch at home.
I get all I can out of her hair, and the next thing she does surprises me. She shakes the rest of the food out of her hair; the part that's left in her lap, she eats. "I was hungry," she said with a shrug. She pulled a few strands out of her hair, then says in a whisper, "I know what happened between you and Tony. You're--"
"Quite the act you gave us, sweetie."
Oh my god.
It's Mrs. Rufy.
"Now sweetie, can I see you for a moment, privately?" she asks. The look in her eyes are pure evil -- like always -- but I go with her. She probably just going to say something stupid like, "And what do you plan for your next magic trick?" I blink, and next thing I know, she's miles away from me (okay maybe not miles since we are inside a building...) standing outside the door of the exhibit with marble statues of Greek Mythological creatures and things like that. I hear the small click! as she locks the door behind us. I turn all around the room, to find her leaning on an interpretation of a Fury. She taps her fingers on the leathery-looking wings of the statue, her elbow propped against the neck.
"How did you get over there so fast?" I ask, since the statues were on the far side of the room from the door.
"Now, sweetie, we can do this the easy way, or the hard way. Which do you prefer?" she asks, looking more menacing than ever. Her eyes are coal black, instead of the usual... no, wait, her eyes have always been black.
"Umm..."
"Time's up! The hard way it is." Her ivory sweater and shirt rip, and I turned my head. When I look back, it was nowhere near what I had expected. Instead of the old woman I was used to, there stood some kind of creature that shared the same appearance as the horrible Fury.
"Mrs. Rufy...?"
"You do know how to rearrange letters, don't you Peck?" she says, but her voice now sounds rough, as if it were duplicated, though it only came from one... whatever she was. "Well, why don't you try to scramble the letters of 'Rufy'?" she continued. I had a feeling this was more of the easy way than the hard way.
"Ufry?" I said. She did say to rearrange the letters. She never said how I was supposed to.
"Wrong answer. Does my appearance give a hint? Or what about the fangs you're about to see?" She says, and then she lunges at me, fangs bared. All I could think of at the moment was 'she has bad breath'. I ducked when she was about to send my head straight off my body.
"Rufy is the same thing as, but not limited to, FURY!" Mrs. Rufy (or I guess now Fury) screamed at me, while making another lunge.
I could hear the doorknob turning, trying to open. So now I need an audience? That's just stupid. But then again, maybe someone could save me. So I continued debating to myself, and eventually unlocked the door as the Fury made another dive. On the other side was Darren and Harlea'. Harlea' holding a pen, Darren with a sword.
"Oh my! This definitely is not my fight. I shall stay here in case you need me," Darren said. I get why he'd do that. Darren says that he has trouble walking around. Oh I'm sorry. I forgot to mention he uses crutches to get around.
"I'll help you, Emilia," Harlea' said, about to click the ballpoint pen. She clicks it and I see a brief flash of a bronze sword in her hand, replacing the pen. She puts on her Yankee's hat. Yes I've seen her with it before. I befriended her even though she cheered for the Yankees. She put it on her head, and abruptly vanished from sight. Within about a minute, the hat falls off of Harlea's head, and I only see her slashing the Fury and watch it dissolve into the shadows.
"How.... how did you...?" I stammer, unable to register what I just saw.
But all my friend does it click her sword to where it turns back into a pen, slap on her Yankee's hat, and then make the loudest clap I've ever heard in my lifetime. A thick mist swirls as she vanishes, and when it reaches me, my mind goes blank and I black out.
So Darren was going all, "There are twelve Olympian Gods and Goddesses," and then more quietly, "according to Greek and Roman mythology." We were standing in a hall, now, surrounded by marble statues detailed enough to be the next Michelangelo's David. Or as it could now be called, Some-Greek-Guy's Poseidon/Zeus/Hades/Apollo/Hephaestus/Artemis/etc.. "The greatest of these Gods can be referred to as the Big Three, and they are Zeus, Poseidon, and Hades. They are the Big Three because they hold the greatest realms of all: the sky, the sea, and the Underworld, or as people like you who don't believe in this junk, Hell," he continued.
"Oh my gosh, they are all dudes? How sexist is that for the Greeks and Romans?" I whispered to Harlea'. She giggled a little in response. Mrs. Rufy eyed us menacingly, but before she could say anything, Darren said, "Oh look at the time! Let's break for lunch." He winked at me. I definitely owe him one.
Just as we were heading out the door, Selene just had to ask, "So you believe in this, Mr. Rinoch?" You see, Selene just won't listen to a teacher when they say they do not want to be called things like 'Mr. Rinoch' because it sounds like Rhino, or 'Mrs. Fatse' because the way it is spelled isn't exactly how it's pronounced. Mrs. Fatse claims her name is "Faht-say" but behind her back we all say "Fats". She is a little old, so we can't help taking advantage of her hearing difficulty. And now that I think about it, she really is... fat.
So everybody had just laughed a little at Darren's statement, calling our beliefs junk. Harlea didn't, and of course I had no clue why. She took this thing way too serious. Next thing I know, she'll be taking notes like Nerdy Selene Davidson.
Darren turns around, halting everyone behind him as he answers Selene. "Why, yes I do. My parents did, and so did their parents, all the way through the line. My family is Greek, after all. It's a little bit like how some of you believe in Christianity because your parents did and they baptized you. You will have the choice to pick your religion later in life, but Greek Mythology was what I grew up with, and so that is my belief. If you have any more questions Miss Davidson," he says, pausing for a moment, "keep that stuff in your a--"
"I think that is enough, Mr. Rinoch. Our students are going to starve if you keep holding them up," Mrs. Rufy says, talking over the words Darren was about to say.
"Finally," Tony groaned behind me. "Now I get to pick on who I choose and Mrs. Rufy won't care. Darren rarely looks up from his damn book. Free time to make fun of losers." A smile stretched itself upon his face as he imagined giving someone a Patriotic Wedgie.
No duh I was curious who is first victim was. Luckily it wasn't me. Unfortunately, it was my best friend, Harlea'. What was he doing? Thankfully not the wedgie because she's a girl, but the worse he could think of: taking his grilled-cheese-with-ketchup-and-mustard-and-lettuce-and-ham-and-mayonnaise sandwich and crumbling it into pieces all over Harlea''s head. It was not a pleasant sight. And boy was he right about Darren and Mrs. Rufy. Mrs. Rufy of course wouldn't bat an eye, and Darren was lost (once again) in what I suppose was like a bible for Greek-God believers.
I was so outraged. He laughed in her face, and some of the ketchup dribbled to the tip of her nose so she looked like a clown. Everyone laughed at pointed fingers at her like they had in Science class to me. I just couldn't stand it. Sure, they could make fun of me, but when it came down to my best friend in the whole universe and beyond, there is no way I would sit on the sidelines.
I did the only thing my stupid brain could think of. I confronted Tony. A growl came through my throat as I said, "Leave. Harlea'. Alone. You'd better get all of that off of my friend."
He stood up to me, the smile disappearing. I thought guilt would go in its place, and he'd actually listen. I was so dang wrong, that if I had said 'May lightning hit me if I'm lying' not even thunder would rumble. No. He stood up to me like I had done to him, and said, "And what if I don't want to, huh? Are you going to whine like a baby because you didn't get your way?"
Wait a minute. On second thought, the forecast was supposed to be rainy and stormy, so lightning could have possibly hit me... but not because of the whole lying thing.
I wanted to be all tough yet under control by saying, "I don't whine and I think the only baby around here is you," and then give him a Patriotic Wedgie. But no. I just had to lose control of myself so badly that I pushed him into a water fountain, there was a flash of light as if the sun came out for half a second, and next thing I know he's screaming "OUCH!" and his scream of pain lasts for two minutes before breathing.
After a moment of him going to the boy's restroom to see what had happened to his butt, he came out saying, "I. Was. Sunburned... somehow." It came out kind of slow, and he was in awe of it. On a cloudy day when not a speck of sunlight could be seen, and his butt was five-hundred percent covered, everyone was shocked. Like, out of nowhere he has a sunburn on his butt when it's rainy and cloudy and stormy and thundering and raining and... you get the point. Meanwhile, I'm ignoring all the glares and stares from both teachers and students as they register what happened to "their precious Tony Jenkins". I'm picking cheese, and ketchup, and mustard, and lettuce, and mayonnaise, and ham out of my friend's hair. She doesn't really seem to mind. The only point where she was upset was when he was doing it. Now, Harlea''s just taking the bits I take out and eating them. She claims that she forgot her lunch at home.
I get all I can out of her hair, and the next thing she does surprises me. She shakes the rest of the food out of her hair; the part that's left in her lap, she eats. "I was hungry," she said with a shrug. She pulled a few strands out of her hair, then says in a whisper, "I know what happened between you and Tony. You're--"
"Quite the act you gave us, sweetie."
Oh my god.
It's Mrs. Rufy.
"Now sweetie, can I see you for a moment, privately?" she asks. The look in her eyes are pure evil -- like always -- but I go with her. She probably just going to say something stupid like, "And what do you plan for your next magic trick?" I blink, and next thing I know, she's miles away from me (okay maybe not miles since we are inside a building...) standing outside the door of the exhibit with marble statues of Greek Mythological creatures and things like that. I hear the small click! as she locks the door behind us. I turn all around the room, to find her leaning on an interpretation of a Fury. She taps her fingers on the leathery-looking wings of the statue, her elbow propped against the neck.
"How did you get over there so fast?" I ask, since the statues were on the far side of the room from the door.
"Now, sweetie, we can do this the easy way, or the hard way. Which do you prefer?" she asks, looking more menacing than ever. Her eyes are coal black, instead of the usual... no, wait, her eyes have always been black.
"Umm..."
"Time's up! The hard way it is." Her ivory sweater and shirt rip, and I turned my head. When I look back, it was nowhere near what I had expected. Instead of the old woman I was used to, there stood some kind of creature that shared the same appearance as the horrible Fury.
"Mrs. Rufy...?"
"You do know how to rearrange letters, don't you Peck?" she says, but her voice now sounds rough, as if it were duplicated, though it only came from one... whatever she was. "Well, why don't you try to scramble the letters of 'Rufy'?" she continued. I had a feeling this was more of the easy way than the hard way.
"Ufry?" I said. She did say to rearrange the letters. She never said how I was supposed to.
"Wrong answer. Does my appearance give a hint? Or what about the fangs you're about to see?" She says, and then she lunges at me, fangs bared. All I could think of at the moment was 'she has bad breath'. I ducked when she was about to send my head straight off my body.
"Rufy is the same thing as, but not limited to, FURY!" Mrs. Rufy (or I guess now Fury) screamed at me, while making another lunge.
I could hear the doorknob turning, trying to open. So now I need an audience? That's just stupid. But then again, maybe someone could save me. So I continued debating to myself, and eventually unlocked the door as the Fury made another dive. On the other side was Darren and Harlea'. Harlea' holding a pen, Darren with a sword.
"Oh my! This definitely is not my fight. I shall stay here in case you need me," Darren said. I get why he'd do that. Darren says that he has trouble walking around. Oh I'm sorry. I forgot to mention he uses crutches to get around.
"I'll help you, Emilia," Harlea' said, about to click the ballpoint pen. She clicks it and I see a brief flash of a bronze sword in her hand, replacing the pen. She puts on her Yankee's hat. Yes I've seen her with it before. I befriended her even though she cheered for the Yankees. She put it on her head, and abruptly vanished from sight. Within about a minute, the hat falls off of Harlea's head, and I only see her slashing the Fury and watch it dissolve into the shadows.
"How.... how did you...?" I stammer, unable to register what I just saw.
But all my friend does it click her sword to where it turns back into a pen, slap on her Yankee's hat, and then make the loudest clap I've ever heard in my lifetime. A thick mist swirls as she vanishes, and when it reaches me, my mind goes blank and I black out.
* * * * *
When I wake up, I am nowhere near the museum. There are trees all around, like there’s a forest near. The ground is… well, it’s just plain earth. I sit up, and Harlea’ is at the end of whatever I’m on. But now she looks… different. She must have changed her clothes, because now she is wearing denim shorts and a pale green shirt. I look more closely and wait for my vision to be less blurry. Her shirt says… Camp Demigod? I thought demigods didn’t exist!
“Harlea'? What’s going on? What’s Camp Demigod?” I ask her.
“I might not be the best to tell you all of this, especially when you just woke up… but you gotta know what you gotta know.” She pulled me up and we walked outside of the tent we were in. “Okay, let’s start with the basics: I’m a demigod, you’re a demigod. Please don’t pass out.” I think she said the last bit because I was starting to get dizzy. "The thing is, I'm pretty sure you gave us all a pretty good idea who you're parent is."
"That's easy. Merilyn Greene-Peck. And let me guess, she isn't a demigod. Oh yeah, and my other parent is Joshua Peck," I said, remembering the names of my two parents.
Harlea' just slaps her forehead. "No, Emilia. Weren't you listening at all to Darren- I mean, Chiron? You see, he is a very intelligent horse-dude." I swear she smiled a little bit saying what I used to call centaurs, before I knew how it was pronounced. Hey, I was in, like, third grade at the time. "He manipulated something called Blurs. Blurs hides mythological things from the mortals and demigods who have no clue they are one. I think.... Well, imagine you see a centaur. Then start to blur the part that looks like a horse. And finally put a small little costume on it to hide anything that looks even slightly like it belongs to a horse. Do you see what I mean? Chiron had to manipulate a lot of it to fool your entire school."
"So if he used the thingamajig called Blurs... what did you do to me before I" -gulp- "passed out?"
She actually smiled. That little mischievous glare that I'd gotten used to when she did something "bad" when we were little kids. Like stealing someone's crayons."Oh that? That was something I love called Hupnos, but since that is Ancient Greek and confusing, I simply call it 'black out'."
"So wait... you weren't kidding when you said mythology was real? I thought it was all a myth, a legend made to explain the unexplainable."
Harlea' put her hands on her hips, a position she often held when she thought I was being difficult. "How would you like being called a myth? Something to explain the unexplainable. Face it. If you just called us all myths-" She said 'myths' as if it were a dirty word. "that would be calling yourself a myth. Your a demigod. Your mother had you with a Greek God. Demigods are supposed to be myths. If you call this all a myth, then you are one too."
"So everyone here is the son or daughter of a Greek God?" i asked to be sure.
"Yes. No doubt about it."
I pinched myself. Hard.
"What in Hades are you doing?"
"I'm... trying... to see... if this... is all... a dream..." I said between pinches. I definitely was getting a bruise. I should just give up the dream test.
Harlea looked over a little worriedly. "You probably shouldn't do that. Anyway, I think we may be half-sisters. Especially after your little performance with the sunburned butt."
"Huh?" I asked. I never had a half-sister before, because (well i suppose he's my step-dad now) my dad didn't really stray far from our house and his job.
"My dad's Apollo, the sun god," Harlea said slowly, as if I was dumb.
"I thought the sun god was Helios," I muttered.
"According to the Romans. This is Greek, not Roman. At all."
Then a horse-dude that slightly resembled my teacher, Darren, burst in. Could it count as bursting in? He calmly walked in. I'll take it as storming into the room.
"So, how are you doing, Emilia?" he asked me.
I gulped a little and croaked out, "Fine. Perfectly fine."
I highly doubt he noticed.
