The longer I was at Mythos, the more I wanted to be like them. Yeah, part of it was about fitting in and being something other than Gwen Frost, that freaky Gypsy girl.
Part of it was also about being able to take care of myself, to defend myself against Reapers and monsters. But mostly I wanted to be the warrior that Nike thought I could be, the Champion that the goddess had chosen. I wanted to make my mom and my grandma and al the other Frost women who'd come before me proud.
"Gwen?" Metis asked again. "Are you okay?" In that moment I made my decision. Yeah, maybe it was a little stupid, but I was going to keep my mouth shut about yesterday. I couldn't run to Metis for help every single time I had a problem. If there was a Reaper after me, then I was going to figure out who it was and take care of him myself. I had a talking sword, I had some fighting skil s, and most important, I had my Gypsy gift.
I'd figure the rest of it out as I went along, just like I always did.
I gave her my very best I'm-not-up-to-anything smile. "I'm fine. I just wanted to tel you how excited I am about the Winter Carnival."
Metis frowned, like she didn't real y believe that was al I wanted to say. I gave the professor another bright smile and hurried out of the room before she could ask me any more questions.
Chapter 7
Early the next morning, Friday, I stood out on the main upper quad, shivering in the cold along with the other students. Classes had been canceled for the day, and the professors were busy herding everyone toward the buses, which had been pul ed into the parking lot behind the gym.
The buses would haul us a few mountains over to Powder, the ski resort where the Winter Carnival was being held.
Then the weekend fun would begin. Yippee-skippee.
I pul ed my purple plaid coat tighter around me and shifted on my feet, trying to stay warm. Next to me, Daphne talked to Carson about the slopes they should hit once they got to the resort.
The Valkyrie had on a pink designer snowsuit and a matching toboggan with a poofy white bal dangling off the end of it. That hat would have looked ridiculous on me, but it made Daphne seem quirky and cute. And of course everything from her outfit to her purse to her lip gloss went perfectly with the expensive luggage at her feet. Sometimes I thought Daphne took the matchy-match look a little too far.
I'd stuffed my clothes for the weekend into an old gray duffel bag I'd dug out from the back of my closet. Jeans, hoodies, graphic T-shirts, sweaters. My wardrobe was way more downscale than Daphne's designer duds. I'd also brought along some of my favorite comic books, a stash of sugary snacks, and Vic-just in case the mystery Reaper tried to kil me again and I needed a sword before the weekend was through.
I wasn't the only kid with a weapon. Most everyone had a sword or a dagger or two stuffed into their luggage. I could tel by the way the metal clink-clink-clink ed together as the bags were loaded onto the bus. At Mythos, weapons were just another kind of accessory-a status symbol that let everyone else know what kind of warrior you were, what kind of magic you had, and how powerful you were.
Final y, we shuffled to the front of the line and boarded the bus. It wasn't your ordinary school bus. Oh, no. Nothing but the best would do for the rich kids at the academy. The bus was something a rock star would have, with plush, reclining seats and a flat-screen TV mounted above every third row. There was even a minibar in the very back, next to the restroom, although the profs onboard were making sure nobody was drinking anything stronger than soda-for now. I doubted the alcohol ban would last long, though, since I'd heard so many kids in the library talk about al the wild parties they planned to have before the weekend was over.
Daphne and Carson snagged two spots about halfway back on the bus, in one of the sections where four seats faced one another. They shared a quick kiss before Daphne pul ed a map of the ski resort out of her oversize purse. The two of them bent their heads together and continued their previous discussion about which slopes they wanted to try out first.
I dropped into one of the seats facing them. We hadn't even left yet and I already felt like a third wheel. I sighed. I liked Daphne and Carson together-I real y did. They made a cute couple, and they were good for each other. Daphne brought Carson out of his shel , while the band geek calmed the Valkyrie's quick temper. But seeing them together just reminded me of the fact that I didn't have a boyfriend-just a mad, mad crush on a guy who didn't like me back.
As if to prove my theory, Logan stepped onto the bus.
The Spartan looked as scrumptious as ever in his black leather jacket, blue sweater, and faded jeans. For a moment I sat up straighter, hoping that maybe, just maybe, he'd see me, walk to the back, and take the seat next to mine. Yeah, I was real y that pathetic.
Savannah boarded the bus right behind him, dashing my smal
, sil y hope. Logan stuffed the Amazon's bag into one of the overhead compartments, and then the two of them sat down together. I had a perfect view of them from my seat. Great. Just great.
I got up, opened the bin where I'd stashed my own stuff, and pul ed a stack of comic books and the tin with the last of Grandma Frost's chocolate-strawberry cookies out of my duffel bag. Then I plopped back down into my seat and resigned myself to reading about Wonder Woman, Batman, and other superheroes for the next two hours. Too bad the cookies wouldn't last nearly that long.
The first hour of the trip passed quietly, since everyone was stil trying to wake up and recover from being dragged out of bed so early. By the start of the second hour, the conversation picked up, the noise level got louder, and more and more people started going to the bar in the back of the bus to get a drink or a snack. I moved over to the seat by the window, so my fingers wouldn't accidental y brush up against someone else's. I didn't want to flash on a guy walking by and see just how total y wasted he planned on getting this weekend.
I'd read about half of my comic books when Oliver dropped into the empty seat beside me.
"Hey, there, Gypsy girl," Oliver said, grinning.
I eyed him, wondering what he could possibly want. The Spartan and I had never talked outside of weapons training
-not even once. I didn't know a lot about Oliver, just the things I'd overheard him talking to Logan and Kenzie about during our fighting sessions, but I doubted we had much in common. He loved gym class, and I did not. He knew how to use weapons, and I did not. He was a real bad-ass warrior, and I was not.
"Oliver," I said, then stuck my nose back into my comic book.
I expected him to get up and head over to his seat next to Kenzie, but instead, Oliver leaned over and peered at the colorful pages.
"Whatcha reading?" Oliver said, stretching out his fingers, like he was going to pluck the book out of my hands.