One

Another Bad Trip

I didn't want more problems. Really, I didn't! They just seem to find me. Maybe I should have gone looking for trouble, use reverse psychology on the universe. Who knows, it might work. To bad I didn't think of it back then.

Anyways, my name is Andromeda Jackson. A little bit about me: I have long black hair, dark blue-green eyes, a pale complexion and a healthy appetite despite my small frame. Yes, I said small. Even for my age I am small, both in height and weight. But don't let me hear you commenting on it or you'll find yourself in deep trouble.

I guess I should start my story at the beginning, or at least the beginning of when my world was turned upside down. See, everything was fine until my class at Yancy Academy went to the Metropolitan Museum of Art for a field trip.

Yancy academy is a school for troubled kids and misfits. It's also one of the only places that would even accept me as a student. They'll take anyone. Although you wouldn't be able to tell at first glance. Most of the students belong to rich families, myself included. But now I'm getting off topic. Back to Yancy.

Am I a troubled kid?

I don't know, why don't you ask the boy I put in the hospital for picking on me last year. Or you can ask the teacher I threw a desk at the year before. And the year before that...Well you get the picture.

This trip I was determined to be good, but that isn't easy when you're ADHD and Dyslexic. And don't get me started on my anger issues.

But again, I'm determined to keep calm and be good. So the whole bus ride there I put up with my worst enemy, Nancy Bobofit, the freckly, redheaded kleptomaniac girl, hitting my only friend Grover in the back of the head with chunks of peanut butter-and-jelly sandwich.

Grover was just too easy of a target. He was almost as scrawny as me. He cried when he got frustrated. He must've been held back several grades, because he already had acne and a wispy little beard starting in on his chin.

On top of all that, he was crippled with some sort of muscular disease in his legs. He walks like he's stepping barefoot on broken glass and has an exemption from P.E. for the rest of his life. Though, on enchilada day in the cafeteria you can't even tell. That's the only day the bullies leave him alone. His crutches can hurt.

Anyway, Nancy Bobofit was throwing sandwich chunks at him, trying to annoy me since I hadn't had an episode at this school yet. I was working hard to keep it that way. If she saw me angry, she'd never pick on us again.

"I'm. Going. To. Kill. Her." I mumbled.

Grover tried to calm me down. "It's okay. I like peanut butter."

He dodged another piece of Nancy's lunch.

"That's it." I started to get up, but Grover—who also has never seen me angry—pulled me back to my seat.

"Don't. She's not worth it Meda." He gave me a sad smile.

I sat back down...

We arrived at the museum and our Latin teacher, Mr. Brunner, was leading us inside. Now, Mr. Brunner was this middle-aged guy in a motorized wheelchair. He had thinning hair and a scruffy beard and a frayed tweed jacket, which always smelled like coffee. I can't stand that stuff. You wouldn't think he'd be cool, but he told stories and jokes and even let us play games in class. He had a huge collection of Roman armor and weapons that he brought in every once in a while.

Anyway, he rode up front in his wheelchair, guided us through the big galleries, past marble statues and glass cases of old Greek pottery. This stuff has survived for thousands upon thousands of years. It was incredible, to me anyways.

He gathered us around a thirteen-foot-tall stone column with a big sphinx on top and started telling us about it.

"This is a grave marker, or a stele, for a girl about your age. It is dated to have been made around 530 B.C."

After that I couldn't really focus because everyone around me was talking, and every time I told them to shut up, the other teacher chaperon, Mrs. Dodds, would glare at the lot of us.

Mrs. Dodds was this little math teacher from Georgia who always wore a black leather jacket, even though she was like fifty years old. She looked mean enough to ride a Harley right into your locker. She came to Yancy halfway through the year, when our last math teacher had a nervous breakdown.

From her first day, Mrs. Dodds loved me and acted like everyone else was a devil spawn. I don't really understand why. Needless to say, she was my second favorite. You see, she would point her crooked finger at anyone who got in trouble and say, "Now, honey," real sweet, and you knew your were going to get after-school detention for a month. Though, she never did that to me.

One day I overheard some other students saying they didn't think Mrs. Dodds was human. My friend Grover looked at them, real serious, and said, "You're absolutely right." Funny, huh?

Mr. Brunner kept talking about Greek funeral art and the field trip went on.

We stopped in front of a stele and we Nancy snickered something about the naked guy on it, and I turned around and said, "Will you shut up?"

It came out pretty loud. Louder than I meant it to.

The whole group laughed. Mr. Brunner stopped his story.

"Miss Jackson, did you have a comment?" Mr. Brunner gave me an understanding look.

"I was just trying to tell Nancy here to be quite so I could listen. It came out louder than I meant it to. Sorry sir." I looked down, trying to show sincerity.

Mr. Brunner nodded then pointed to one of the pictures on the stele. "Perhaps you'll tell us what this picture represents then?"

I looked at the carving, recognizing it instantly. "That's Kronos eating his kids."

"Yes Miss Jackson," Mr. Brunner said, obviously not satisfied. "And he did this because..."

"Kronos was the Titan Lord who ruled over the heavens at the time. He was afraid his children would over throw him the same way he usurped his own father because of his father's Ouranos' dying words. In his fear, Kronos ate them to prevent this from happening. Eventually, his wife Rhea was fed up with it and tricked him into eating a rock instead of baby Zeus. Later, Zeus returned and tricked his father into throwing up his brothers and sisters—"

"Eeew!" said one of the girls behind me.

"—and so the gods fled to regroup until they had a force strong enough to wage war on Kronos, thus fulfilling Ouranos' prophetic final words," I finished.

Behind me, Nancy hadn't learned her lesson and mumbled to a friend, "Like we're going to use this in real life. Like it's going to say on our job applications, 'Please explain why Kronos ate his kids.'"

"And why, Miss Jackson," Brunner said, "to paraphrase Miss Bobofit's excellent question, does this matter in real life?"

"Busted," Grover muttered.

"Shut up," Nancy hissed, her face even brighter red than her hair.

"Well," I said, thinking on it. "It can be used a lessons on morality and behavior. For example, the story of this stele could be used as a lesson on not being ruled by your own fear."

"I see." Mr. Brunner looked pleased. "Very good, Miss Jackson. Zeus did indeed feed Kronos a mixture of mustard and wine, which made him disgorge his other five children, who, of course, being immortal gods, had been living and growing up completely undigested in the Titan's stomach. The gods defeated their father, sliced him to pieces with his own scythe, and scattered his remains in Tartarus, the darkest part of the Underworld. On that happy note, it's time for lunch. Mrs. Dodds, would you lead us back outside?"

The class drifted off, the girls holding their stomachs, the guys pushing each other around and acting like doofuses.

Grover and I were about to follow when Mr Brunner said, "Miss Jackson."

See, Mr. Brunner had this look that wouldn't let you go—intense brown eyes that could've been thousands of years old and had seen everything.

As I walked up to him I asked, "Sir?"

"There is more to my question," Mr. Brunner told me. "You had a very admirable and truthful answer, but there is more. You must learn the rest of the answer to my question. What you learn from me is vitally important. I will only accept the best from you Miss Jackson."

This guy. He pushes me so hard in his class. I mean, sure, it was kind of cool on tournament days, when he dressed up in a suit of Roman armor and shouted: "What ho!" and challenged us, sword-point against chalk, to run to the board and name every Greek and Roman person who had ever lived, and their mother, and what god they worshiped. But Mr. Brunner expected me to be as good—if not better—as everybody else despite my dyslexia and ADHD. Most of the time I couldn't meet his expectations, but when I did I could really see his pride in what I had accomplished.

He turned away and took one long sad look at the stele, like he'd been at this girl's funeral. He dismissed me and I returned outside to eat my lunch with Grover.

The class gathered on the front steps of the museum, where we could watch the foot traffic along Fifth Avenue.

Overhead, a huge storm was brewing, with clouds blacker than I'd ever seen over the city. I figured maybe it was global warming or something, because the weather all across the state had been out of wack since Christmas. I wouldn't be surprised if a hurricane blew in.

Nobody else seemed to notice the freak weather. Some guys were acting stupid. Nancy was trying to pickpocket something, and, of course, there weren't any chaperon's around to catch her.

Grover and I sat on the edge of the fountain. We tried to keep our distance from everyone, but it didn't work out that way. Nancy walked up right in front of me with her ugly friends—I guess she'd gotten tired of stealing from the tourists—and dumped her lunch in Grover's lap.

"Oops." She grinned at me with her crooked teeth and I finally lost it. A wave of anger roared through me and—next thing I know—Nancy ends up in the fountain.

I'm wasn't sure what had happened, but Nancy started screaming, "Andy pushed me!"

Mrs. Dodds materialized next to us.

Some of the kids were whispering: "Did you see—"

"—the water—"

"—like it grabbed her—"

I had no clue what was going on. All I knew was that it was 50/50 on if Mrs. Dodds believed me or Nancy.

As soon as Mrs. Dodds was sure Nancy was okay, she sent her off to get a new shirt at the museum gift shop. Mrs. Dodds turned to me. Her eyes had an almost sad look, as if she was at a friend's funeral. "Now, honey—"

"I honestly don't know what happened Mrs. Dodds." I looked at the fountain confused then back to her. "One minute she's yell—"

Mrs. Dodds cut me off. "Come with me, we'll talk it over inside."

"Wait!" Grover yelped. "It was me. I pushed her."

I stared at him, stunned. I couldn't believe he was trying to cover for me, despite me not knowing what had happened in the first place. Mrs. Dodds scared Grover to death. Just like she did most of the other kids.

"I don't think so, Mr. Underwood," she said. "Do not fear, she isn't in trouble."

Grover's jaw was moving up and down like he was trying to form words—or even a coherent thought—but couldn't come up with anything.

Grover looked at me desperately.

"It's okay," I told him. "I'm just gonna go talk to Mrs. Dodds."

Nancy smirked at me, thinking I was in trouble.

I smirked back. Then I turned to face Mrs. Dodds, but she wasn't there. She was already standing at the museum entrance, waiting for me at the top of the steps.

I went after Mrs. Dodds and followed her through the entrance hall. I was pretty confused, not knowing what to expect.

I followed her deeper into the museum. When we finally stopped, we were back in the Greek and Roman section.

Except for us, the gallery was empty.

Mrs. Dodds stood there with her arms crossed in front of a big marble frieze of the Greek gods. She was making this weird noise in her throat, like a sort of irritated growl.

Even without the noise, I was nervous. It's kinda weird being alone with a teacher, no matter how much the teacher likes you. Something about the way she looked at the frieze, as if she wanted to destroy it...

"You've had a troubled past, honey," she said.

I wasn't sure how she knew, so I did the safe thing. I said, "Yes, ma'am."

"You must be more careful or you'll be found out," she said.

The look in her eyes was beyond sad. It was downright depressed. I didn't understand at all.

"Um," I said. "I'll—I'll try harder to be careful, ma'am."

Thunder shook the building.

"When we get to school, you need to call your father. Tell him in these exact words: 'My kindly teacher said it's time,' and they'll explain what's going on. For now, you must stay out of trouble." Mrs. Dodds looked me in the eyes, waiting for my response as I tried to make sense of what she said.

"Ma'am, I don't..."

"I know, you don't understand. You will when you get—"

Mrs. Dodds was cut off when Mr. Brunner wheeled in, looking at us suspiciously. "What's going on in here?" he asked gently.

Mrs. Dodds looked to Mr. Brunner. "Just letting young Miss Jackson here know to talk to her parents this summer," she said stiffly. "Nothing to be concerned about Chi- Mr. Brunner."

A look of understanding and confusion crossed his face at once. An odd combination, let me tell you. He nodded and we all walked back outside.

It had started to rain.

Grover was sitting by the fountain, a museum map tented over his head. Nancy was still standing there, soaked from her swim in the fountain, grumbling to her ugly friends. When she saw me, she said, "I hope Mrs. Dodds whipped your butt."

I said nothing as I passed her and got on the bus with Grover.