Tonight Dad had made some kind of noodle dish with shredded chicken, sliced veggies, and chopped peanuts. It had way too much soy sauce, and I wasn’t hungry, but I forced myself to eat wet, messy forkfuls. I even had seconds.
Dad, of course, was thrilled. “Hey, this recipe seems to be a hit!”
“Yep, well, I’m starving,” I said. “Because of school, probably.”
Mom and Dad beamed. I could see they were both thinking: Our daughter has an appetite! Praise the gods!
“So school was good today?” Mom asked.
“Yeah, it feels great to be back!” I stuffed some drippy noodles into my mouth. “Although it would be so much better if I could do Afterschool, too.”
Mom and Dad exchanged a look.
“Norah—” Dad began.
So then I went for it. “Everybody goes except me, Dad! I feel like there’s this whole side of school I’m not getting.”
“Yes, and there’s a reason for that, honey,” Mom said patiently. “We explained to you that at first—”
“I know. You want me to go slow. But did the doctors say I couldn’t stay for Afterschool, or was that just your stupid rule?”
Mom put down her fork. “All right, Norah, that’s a little fresh.”
“Sorry! It’s just that everyone does it except me. It’s a very big social thing.”
“We know,” Dad said. “And we’ll be happy to have you participate in a month or so, once you’re used to being back.”
“Okay, but the sign-up period is now. In ‘a month or so,’ most of the activities will be closed.” I didn’t even know if this was true, but it sounded true.
Dad and Mom looked at each other. I could see Dad’s eyebrow rise just a millimeter, which I interpreted as an opening.
“All right,” I said. “What if I went just one day a week? Or two at the absolute most?”
“Norah.” Dad shook his head.
“For like an hour. Afterschool is ninety minutes, but I’d be fine with leaving after sixty.”
“Look, I honestly don’t think waiting a few more weeks is such a big—”
“Because really, if I’m going back to school, I should have the full experience.” I knew I sounded like I was quoting some parent magazine, and maybe I was. I’d read a lot of stuff in waiting rooms when I wasn’t doodling. “Plus, I really think you guys should be willing to compromise.”
“Norah,” Mom said, sighing. “You’ve made a very strong case for yourself, and Dad and I hear you, believe me. But right now, we’re going to stick with our plan. Go to school, come home and rest, build up your strength, and we’ll have this conversation again very soon, I promise.”
“We both promise,” Dad corrected her.
I groaned. “This is totally unfair!”
“Sorry, honey,” Mom said quietly, but in an end-of-conversation way.
So I pushed away my plate. Because no sense eating these awful noodles for nothing.
HYDRA
The next morning in math, Griffin noticed the drawing on my hand immediately. “Whoa, what’s that? Can I see?”
“It’s a Hydra,” I said shyly. But I held out my right hand for him so he could see my drawing.
He took my hand and brought it close to his face. “Norah, you’re amazing. You just designed this on your own?”
I blushed. “Well, I’ve been thinking about norahs, and I don’t know, I kept having this picture of a Hydra pop into my head. Not the water creature, the mythological one.”
I could have told him that after dinner the night before, I was so mad at my parents that I locked myself in my room and spent the evening reading the book Ayesha had given me as a good-bye present—D’Aulaires’ Book of Greek Myths. She and I had read a lot of myths together, and she knew how much I loved them, especially the one about Persephone in the underworld. Her own favorite was the story of Hercules, how he had to perform a bunch of crazy-difficult labors, including defeating a poisonous nine-headed Hydra monster. Once Ayesha told me that when she had her brain tumor, every time she had to go through another terrible ordeal, like surgery or chemo or radiation, she pretended she was Hercules, which she pronounced HERcules, emphasizing the “her.” Anyhow, thinking about Hercules battling the Hydra made me want to draw one, and before I knew I’d done it, I had one on the fleshy part of my right hand, between my thumb and pointer finger.
“Hey, can I ask you something?” Griffin let go of my hand. “Would you draw a griffin for me?”
“You mean . . . on paper?”
“No, on my electric bass, actually. I’ve decided to do rock band in Afterschool and I think it would look awesome.” He was blushing.
“But I can’t . . .” I bit my lip. “I mean, I’m not exactly sure what sort of griffin you want. They’re not all the same.”
“What if I print out a picture and give it to you in science? And then we could meet right before Afterschool, and you could do it then.”
“Today?”
“Yeah. We could meet in the music room.” He leaned closer to me, so I could smell his breath. A good smell, though, like toast. “The thing is, my bass is really old and in terrible shape, so it needs something to make it look cool. Could you do this for me? As a favor?”
“Sure,” I said, before I could think about it too long.
* * *
“All right, so here’s a question for you,” Ms. Farrell said at the start of English. “Why are there myths?”
“To explain things,” Aria said.
“What sorts of things?”
“Things that they couldn’t explain any other way, like lightning. So they said it was Zeus getting mad and throwing a thunderbolt at somebody.”
“Exactly, Aria,” Ms. Farrell said. “Can anyone think of another specific myth that explains some natural phenomenon, something we could explain today scientifically?”
Nobody answered.
So
