He waited for her to turn to the whiteboard, then leaned over to me. “You coming to Afterschool today?”
I nodded.
“Can you meet me in the band room?”
“Griffin? First you show up late, and now you’re talking?” Ms. Perillo was definitely annoyed. “Do I need to change your seat?”
“No. Sorry,” he said. But as soon as she turned away, he raised his eyebrows at me. Same question, I guessed.
Yes, I mouthed.
He grinned, and I willed myself not to blush.
Before English started, I told Harper I’d be staying for Afterschool on Tuesdays, and was doing Art Club. She seemed thrilled—she even gave me a hug—so I knew the weirdness between us wasn’t permanent. Which was a huge relief.
But then she said: “Only one thing. The girl who runs Art Club is horrible.”
“You mean Astrid? Yeah, I know her from math class.”
Harper made a barf face. “She hates me. We’re doing sketches for these murals we’re supposed to put up in the halls. I’m supposed to do one for the Overcoming Challenges thing, but everything I draw, she says it’s not ‘public art,’ or she doesn’t think it ‘communicates,’ or something.”
“I’m sure your drawings are great, Harper.”
“She’s all like, ‘This is my club, and I’m in charge, so you have to do what I say.’ ”
“Well, if I do Art Club, I’ll stick up for you,” I said.
“If? If ?”
“When I do Art Club.”
“Yay!” Harper clapped her hands and did a crazy little jig.
For a second, it felt like everything was back to normal between the two of us. It wasn’t more Harper taking care of poor Norah; this was Norah taking care of Harper. First time in two years! Woo!
But then Kylie and Aria spoiled it all by walking over. Over to Harper, to be exact.
“Wanna go out for lunch?” Kylie asked in a pretend-evil sort of voice. Her dark eyes were sparkling, making her even prettier.
Harper gave her a crooked grin. “What do you mean by ‘out’?”
“You know. Out of the building.”
“What? You mean leave the school?”
“Don’t be such a baby. It’s just crossing the street for a slice of pizza, then coming straight back.”
“Yeah, but—”
“Come on, Harper. Lunchroom pizza tastes like microwaved dog poop.”
“Harper, you’ll get in trouble,” I murmured. “And for a stupid slice of pizza? It’s totally not worth it.”
Aria nodded at me. “I told Kylie the same thing, but she’s not listening to me, either.”
Kylie snorted. “That’s because you’re boring, Aria. So is Norah. Harper’s not boring. Are you, Harper?”
Harper did a combination laugh/sigh. “Can I please just think about it, Kylie?”
“Only if you think fast. Addison’s coming, and we’ll be in the first-floor girls’ room at the start of lunch. And we’re not waiting.”
She and Aria went into English.
“You’re not actually thinking of going with her, are you?” I demanded.
Harper shrugged. “I told you, Norah, we’re friends.”
“That doesn’t mean you need to follow her around like a little lamb!”
“Who says I do? Besides, I didn’t say I’d definitely go.”
“You didn’t say you wouldn’t.”
“Norah, just stop, okay? Kylie’s fun. And I really hate it that you’re jealous.”
“I’m not jealous! I just don’t get what’s so great about her.”
Harper looked right into my eyes. “You want to know? She tells me things, okay? I know her feelings. And I don’t have to beg her for information.”
* * *
In English, Ms. Farrell was talking about how the ancient Greek gods and goddesses were constantly falling in love, cheating on spouses, being jealous, having babies, breaking up, getting revenge, then doing it all over again with someone else. On the whiteboard, she’d even made a giant multicolored chart about all their love affairs, with Zeus almost always in the middle, cheating on Hera with some random female.
“It’s like a bad soap opera,” Harrison complained.
“I think it’s cool,” Kylie protested. “More interesting than some things we could be studying.”
“But you have to admit it’s kind of trashy. I mean, for a religion.”
Ms. Farrell laughed. She was wearing Harry Potter glasses and a maroon scarf that wasn’t Hogwarts, but close enough. “Yes, Harrison, I suppose that’s fair. Why do you think so many of these stories are about love and passion, especially the messy kind?”
“So people want to hear them?” Aria guessed.
“But not everyone,” Addison insisted. “My parents have been married for like twenty years, and they don’t cheat. So like, if theywere ancient Greeks, why would they want to hear about gods who cheated?”
“Fair point,” Ms. Farrell said. “Why would they? Any ideas?”
Malik raised his hand. “Maybe it’s not about the gods acting better or worse than regular people. Just bigger.”
“Bigger how?”
“Just in every way. Like that guy who was in love with himself, what’s-his-name?”
“You mean Narcissus?” I asked.
“Yeah, him,” Malik said. “It’s not like he’s a little conceited; he’s so in love with himself that all he does is stare at his own reflection in the water. And then that nymph, what’s-her-name?”
“Echo?” I said.
“Right. She’s so in love with him that all she does is follow him around, repeating his voice. Until she’s nothing but a voice.” Malik made his hand fall over and smack the desk. “It’s regular emotions, but bigger.”
“Interesting,” Ms. Farrell said. She waited. “Any other ideas?”
I couldn’t stay quiet. “I think we’re supposed to feel that the gods are like movie stars. And you know how when you see a movie you identify with the hero, even though the hero is a beautiful, famous actor? I think we’re supposed to think the gods are bigger and stronger and more emotional than us, and we’re also supposed to identify with them.”
Addison laughed in a nasty way. “Yeah, Norah, so who do you identify with? Wait, I know—how about that Spider-Girl?”
“What Spider-Girl?” Malik demanded.
“You know, Arachne, the braggy girl who made everyone pay attention to her weaving all the time. Until finally Athena got sick of it and turned her into a spider.”
Harper frowned. “I don’t get what that has to do with Norah.”
Addison swished her braids. “I just meant because Norah
