The Olympians At School

By Me the Awesome


Chapter Six

Daphne's POV (Point Of View)

Recipe for The Weirdest Class Ever:

Ingredients:

One wacko, twenty-year-old teacher - check.

One handsome, creepy stalker - check.

One shy pie-, art- and greek mythology-obsessed dog-conspiracy theorist - check.

One knife-wielding nerd - check.

One caffeine-loving, pickpocketing salesman - check.

One bloodthirsty neat freak - check.

One over-eating supermodel - check.

One super-ugly super-genius - check.

One underage drinker - check.

One cheating boyfriend - check.

One jealous girlfriend - check.

One arrow-shooting boy-hater - check.

One death-loving zombie - check.

One water-loving beach boy - check.

One vegetarian who eats cereal for breakfast, lunch, and dinner - check.

One safety-obsessed, technology geek - check.

One fiction fanatic - check.

One junkfood-loving over-enthusiast - check.

One old-fashioned, mild-mannered, and totally clueless but good friend - check.

One mean, 'popular' cheerleader - check.

One delusional eco-nut diagnosed with paranoid schizophrenia - check.

Add a dollop of greek mythology movies (to start riots).

Instructions:

Wait for stuff to happen (doesn't take very long).

Let me explain.


Wacko, twenty-year-old teacher, A.K.A. Ms. Pearl Newman:

The most irresponsible teacher in the history of teaching. Not that any of us mind. She's actually a totally cool person. I mean, anyone who eats with chopsticks, can hang six spoons on her face at once, and has violet hair is cool. Not to mention she just turned 20. From what my parents and psychiatrists (more on that later) have told me, HBS is some high-class, state-of-the-art private-ish school who only hires good, 'experienced' teachers. But I guess Ms. Newman is an exception - after all, who can beat a twenty-year-old prodigy with degrees in English and History? Yup, she's super smart. On certain levels, that is. She can recite exactly 300 digits of pi without hesitation, but doesn't know how to cook Campbell's canned chicken soup. She can sing the alphabet backwards - in perfect backward time and tune - yet takes an hour to wash a plate. Oh, and how do I know all this? She showed us - some purposely and others unwittingly. Such as the plate thing. I volunteered to wash her dishes after that. (Why? Because I'm just that nice. And I'm an environmental freak. More on that later as well.) See what I mean? She completely lacks what my mother would call 'housekeeping skills' - sweeping, cooking, etc. - but she makes up for it with her high IQ. Plus the bonus fact that she's one of the most sociable, outgoing people I've ever met. But teachers are teachers, and even Ms. Newman forces us to play icebreaker games.

Her favourite is the way-too-overused 2 Truths & A Lie. Her's: (Truth) She has a photographic memory. (Truth) She has a freezer full of cheese. (Lie) She has successfully scrambled an egg.

Handsome, creepy stalker, A.K.A. Delius Archer:

"This is Daphne Laura," Mikey introduced me.

Delius let out a great gasp, and shook me by the shoulders excitedly.

"It's you!" He shouted. "IT'S REALLY YOU!'

The others rolled their eyes like this was a common annoyance.

I was kinda creeped out. "Um, do I know you?"

He giggled. "Of course, my love!"

This was getting a tad weird. "I, uh, think you've got the wrong person."

"No, no, you're the one, I'm sure of it!" He grinned. "You're Daphne! The Daphne!"

"How many Daphnes do you know?"

"Lost count a few hundred years ago. But you, YOU'RE THE ONE!"

"Why do you keep on saying that?" I asked, slightly annoyed by his antics. "I'm the what?"

"You're Daphne! My Daphne!" He continued yelling. "It's been long enough! We are finally together at last!"

One of the other dudes, Marcus, stepped over and separated us roughly, and held Delius back, despite his bites, threats, and curses.

I quickly took a few steps back. "Um, is he, mental or something?"

Another guy wearing an aviator cap, Tripper, smiled apologetically. "Sorry 'bout that. He – ah – had a crush on a – um – girl called Daphne a long time back. He goes crazy every time he meets someone called Daphne. Really, it's nothing personal."

I wasn't so sure, but nodded.

That was before Delius Archer started stalking me. I don't know if it should be called stalking, though, because he makes sure to let me know he's there. He follows me around everywhere, and by that I mean everywhere. He even waits outside when I go to the washroom, and, to say the least, it's a bit unsettling. Then, at every possible opportunity, he springs on me and tries to kiss me or some equally disturbing action. I hope this is just a phase.


One shy pie-, art- and Greek mythology-obsessed dog-conspiracy theorist, A.K.A. Fellix Felicis:

Felix Felicis. Yes, she's named after a potion in Harry Potter And The Half-Blood Prince. Yes, her nickname is Lucky. Yes, she loves pie. Yes, she's the best writer in the school. Yes, she's obsessed with Greek mythology. And yes, she thinks dogs are involved in an evil scheme to kill her.

Lucky is not the screaming type. Kat, her friend, my distant cousin, and our classmate, said so. She didn't scream when they went on California Screamin', not when they watched The Hills Have Eyes, not when she heard Justin Bieber sing for the first time, not when she got thrown off a horse and cracked a rib. Lucky is just not the sort of person to make any kind of noise. When I was talking to Kat about her, she turned out to be standing behind us the whole time, not making a sound. Naturally it was very awkward afterward. I should try to learn a thing or two about sneaking up on people from her. Who knows how much secretive information she's obtained this way.


One knife-wielding nerd - check.

Sophia Alwin is not what you would call a typical nerd. She's athletic, she's fierce, she carries penknives in her pocket. But she spends her free time debating with Ms. Newman.

"Well, I have some very strong beliefs on the Theory Of Relativity myself, and must contradict you there…"

She doesn't read very much, because she already knows it all.

It's not a great idea to get on her bad side though.

"Hey, Sophi!" Tripper called. "Is it true you have a crush on Plato's Republic?"

"WHAT?" She spun around. "Errand boy, when I'm done with you…"

"RUN!"


One caffeine-loving, pickpocketing salesman, A.K.A. Tripper Velox:

Out of all the people in my homeroom, Tripper was actually sort of normal.

That was a lie.

For one thing, although he denies it, he is most certainly both ADHD and kleptomaniac. What I mean by that is, yeah, he has a weird talent at stealing things, but it seems to be for enjoyment, not purpose.

I had gotten a brand new iPhone for my birthday, and had checked it just this morning. By breakfast, it was gone. I thought I was going to drive myself even more insane if I didn't find the phone. Not to mention my parents would kill me. Then, at noon, it was on my dormitory desk, with a note:

Sorry.
-Tripper

I had stomped down stairs to get mad at him, but he was busy having a fight with Eric.

"Why?" he cried. "Since when?"

"Since the last time you had some and blew up my room."

Tripper had 'accidentally' blown up a room?

"I told you, that was an accident!"

"That's what you said when you put sawdust down Athena's shirt."

Athena? As in the Greek goddess of wisdom and mother of Annabeth?

"I thought it was itching powder!"

Eric raised an eyebrow, as if to say, My point exactly.

"Oh, come on! At least let me have some coffee, then." A maniacal gleam glinted in his eyes. "I like coffee."

Something immediately told me that if this guy were to ever even get close to the stuff - or any caffeinated drink for that matter – bad things would happen.

"I'll give you candy," Tripper promised.

Eric scowled. "Don't try bribing me."

"Well, come on. Let's look at this logically. Starting with coffee. Ingredients: Caffeine, water, and coffee beans. No harm, right?" His tone was so convincing, for some reason, that I started to believe him. But Eric just shook his head.

"Studies have shown that coffee may be good for your health." My instincts told me it wasn't true. But when he put it that way...

"Really..." Eric murmured.

"And seriously, coffee doesn't do anything to me!" He went on. "Blowing up your bedroom was totally accidental! It was just a coincidence I had had coffee before..."

"Mm..." Eric mused, "You have a point. I guess just one small cup wouldn't do any harm... Here." he handed Tripper a few coins. "That's my last few dollars of cash."

"Thank you!" Tripper grinned wickedly, like he'd just gotten away with something, and zipped out the door.

As soon as he was gone, Eric smacked himself. "How could I? Again!"

"How could you what?" I asked.

He looked at me despairingly. "He bent me to his evil will. Again. Who knows what he'll do this time?"

Tripper Velox has the makings of a perfect salesman.

It turns out these arguments between Eric and Tripper are very frequent. The coffee episode was only the first. And the only one that made sense.

"DO YOU ENJOY ANNOYING ME?" Eric was shouting.

Tripper's voice was passive. "I do it by force of habit."

Eric's face was turning red. "I TOLD YOU SPECIFICALLY NOT TO BRING ANY OF YOUR STUPID MAGIC WINGS OFF OLYMPUS!"

Magic Wings? Olympus?

"Oh, come on!" Tripper protested. "You know I never leave without 'em!"

"And not just one pair! THIRTY! OVERKILL MUCH?"

Thirty what? I'm not a very curious person. Or a very patient one. I decided to stop eavesdropping. Their conversation was getting too confusing to follow.


One bloodthirsty neat freak, A.K.A. Marcus Gunner:

Basically, he makes Arnold Schwarzenegger look like a wimp. And his appearance is just horrible. He's loud and messy from the bloody skull tattoo on his back right down to his red and black motorcycle boots. But there's these file cabinets in his Dormitory Room (I saw them as I was delivering the Gym Strips to everyone) that are polished - not a scratch on them! - and so clean I could use it as a mirror. He was bending over one of them and muttering to himself, "Killing bin Laden was the obvious choice, of course, but that's apparently not doing enough. We need a country with some more firepower. Russia? The US certainly doesn't seem too eager to use them - incentives maybe? But what, though...?"

I cleared my throat, and he spun around and had me in a headlock before I even had chance to take a breath. "Was that really necessary?"

He let go. "Phew, it's only you."

Feeling slightly insulted, I snapped, "Were you expecting someone?"

"Never mind. What are you doing here? Didn't you see the sign on the door?"

I checked, and sure enough, on the Dormitory B door was an ominous-looking black sign with red writing that read, "Leave while you can." Typical. Still, I didn't feel quite safe, especially with a brute like Marcus around. I felt bad for the other boys that lived here.

"What's in those cabinets?"

"Oh, these?" A look of badly feigned modesty spread across Marcus' cut-up face. "Say hello to Bill and Melinda."

"You name your cabinets?" It just didn't seem like a very Marcus-like thing to do.

He looked at me, offended. "Don't insult the Holy Cabinets Of Doom And Destruction! These babies store all the current information about every single war happening right now. You should be worshipping them."

Even though Marcus was acting demented, I had to admit those files were pretty dang organized. First the wars were arranged by location, then each specific battle was arranged by time, the people involved were organized according to rank, then name, and finally the weapons were listed in alphabetical order.

I touched an old-looking piece of paper gingerly.

Ares screamed and threw me to the ground.

"Ow!" I picked myself off the floor. "What was that for?"

"Don't. Touch." He commanded. "Only I'm allowed to touch them, see?" He carefully put on a pair of latex gloves.

Talk about over-reacting.

Still... "Um, why would you want to collect information on war?"

"Because I'm the -" He quickly clamped his hand over his mouth. I had a feeling he'd been about to reveal something important.

"You're the..." I prompted.

"I'm the... the... war-enthusiast."

"Sure..." I wasn't convinced, but dropped the subject.

"Now, get outta here, PUNK!" He shoved me out into the landing. "Rude much?" I muttered to myself.


One over-eating supermodel, A.K.A. Calysta Amor:

Calysta was perfect. She wasn't like those 'popular' girls, who covered themselves with makeup, obsessed over what to wear, and spent most of their lives (if they had any, that is) either in front of a mirror, or in a bath. Sure, she wore makeup and used perfume, but that just brought out her natural beauty. I'm not ugly, but compared to her - oh wow. Do I really need to say anything else? Being supernaturally beautiful is one of her two strange qualities. The other is over-eating. As I said, she looks, and acts just wonderful, and she's probably at the perfect weight, but oh man, that girl eats A LOT. I mean, Tripper, who fills his plate with six pancakes and a few sausages, and comes back for seconds, eats less than her. But her waist stays the same size, her jeans never tighten, even after three bowls of ice cream in one sitting (and that' just for dessert!)... I'm jealous.


One super-ugly super-genius, A.K.A. Claude Olympia:

It's what it sounds like - a super ugly super genius. Not intellectually, like Ms. Newman and Sophia, but mechanically gifted. Give him a pile of scrap metal, a few simple tools (but of course you don't need to give it to him; he keeps that stuff in his pockets), and five minutes, and he'll be make just about anything. Apparently, he has a girlfriend - Calysta of all people. Calysta cheats on him on a daily basis (she flirts with any hot boy she sees), but he seems to know this. Maybe he thinks she's too beautiful to part with. Any boyfriend would think that way if they had a girlfriend like Calysta. Still, I am puzzled how they ever even got together. I mean, Claude isn't exactly handsome. His face looks mutilated, and he has to wear these weird braces on his legs for him to be able to stand properly. Maybe opposites attract.


One underage drinker, A.K.A. Benjamin Bliss:

Benjamin looks kind of like a large, colourful ball. Pudgy body, gaudy clothing, and curly, black hair that looked almost purple. See, at first I thought his sour expression and bloodshot eyes just meant he was tired. But Delius later told me that he has a stash of beer cans under his bed. He also apparently makes grape wine. While I found it slightly disturbing a fifteen-year-old knew how to make wine, Delius just continued rambling on casually, like it was no big deal his friend was doing something illegal.


One cheating boyfriend, A.K.A. Eric Arnold:

I have no idea why Eric and Queenie are still dating. He cheats on her all the time. So why don't they just break up?

New Yorkers are weird.


One jealous girlfriend, A.K.A. Queenie Donna:

Eric and Queenie have the rockiest relationship ever. As far as I know, Queenie doesn't even like Eric, so why are they dating?


One arrow-shooting boy-hater, A.K.A. Delia Archer:

Delia and Delius. Twins, and total opposites. Delius is a player, and Delia hates all guys. Delius wants to be a musician, and Delia wants to be a hunter.

Delia is actually really awesome, though. Sure, she avoids boys like the plague, but once you get past the sexist part, she's a great friend.


One death-loving zombie, A.K.A. Darcy Donahue

Darcy looks… dead. Seriously. Sure, he's good-looking and all that (I think Lucky likes him), but his pale eyes are blank, like a drowned person's. And he's so lanky he might as well have been living off only water. And his narrow shoulders are always slumped, and he looks so deflated all the time, like he just lost something.

Not to mention he kills anything he owns. By accident or on purpose, I don't know. On the day before school, Ms. Newman gave all of us little cacti as a Welcome Back! Gift. His was dead within a few hours. I admire his skill at unwittingly killing something so easily.

"How did you do that?" I asked, horrified and amazed at the same time.

He smiled apologetically. "I… let's just say I don't have a great relationship with Demeter."

Who?


One water-loving beach boy, A.K.A. Trenton Phillips:

I think this is self-explanatory.


One vegetarian who eats cereal for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, A.K.A. Theresa Dmitri:

Theresa and I knew we were going to be friends from the time we set eyes on each other. See, we have a lot in common. We're both environmentally conscious, we both love nature, and we both love cereal. She goes a little overboard with it though. And by overboard, I mean, that's all she eats. Cereal, cereal, and more cereal. I don't know how long she's been doing this, but it sure doesn't seem very healthy to me. Apparently, in this class, there are a lot of obsessive people: Lucky is obsessed with Greek mythology; Ms. Newman is obsessed with Pi, Delius is obsessed with me, Darcy is obsessed with all things dead. But cereal? That's just weird.


One safety-obsessed, technology geek, A.K.A. Katerina Blanche:

Kat Blanche, technology genius. And the most paranoid person I'll ever know.

She's so scared of everything, I'm not sure how she's able to live.

"EEE! A roller-coaster? People get killed on those things!" "GAH! You're going fishing? You could get pricked by the fishing hook, or worse, get BITTEN BY THE FISH! It could get infected! And what if the fish you catch is poisoned? Or has a disease? You might get salmonella!" "ACK! Don't go on that ladder! You never know if it's going to crumble as soon as you take a few steps!" "OH NO! Going jogging? What if you get hit by a car? Then, it'll be a visit to the emergency ward, then the hospital, then an ICU…" "GOSH! You're eating that thing? Who knows how long that's been sitting there? Sure, the store says they're fresh, but how do you know? Huh? Huh?"

But she's the best technician in the entire school, and that's including our school technician. When she's not obsessing over safety concerns, she's giving lectures about programming languages. "The problem with, C Sharp, however, is that it's one of the more difficult coding languages. Of course, I have it mastered, but to amateurs, I'd recommend HTML as a beginner one…"


One fiction fanatic, A.K.A. Jeffrey Neilsson:

Otherwise known as 'That Kid With The Awesome Video Games'.

Jeff loves all things fake and unreal. Which means he loves every fictional movie, TV show, and game in the universe.

"OH MY GODS! CAN YOU BELIEVE CLASS OF THE TITANS HAS ENDED? NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" "Save… me…! "SHUT UP! CAN'T YOU SEE I'M TRYING TO WATCH INVADER ZIM?" "Oh, that was just so sad… J.K. ROWLING! HOW DARE YOU KILL FRED!"

His obsession goes to the extent of acting like characters from the shows he watches.

"Jeff!" Ms. Newman called. "Here's your cactus plant!"

He bowed. "I am deeply honoured, My Tallest. Invader Jeff will not fail you!"


One junk food-loving over-enthusiast, A.K.A. Michael Allyson.

Mikey and Calysta would be very evenly matched in a junk food-eating competition. According to Ms. Newman, who has been his homeroom teacher for the last two years, his record for eating MARS bars (his favourite type of candy), was 28 in one minute. I felt sick just thinking about it.

Mikey is also a terrifically enthusiastic kid. A bit too enthusiastic, in my opinion. He's so optimistic about everything, sometimes I wonder if he's been brainwashed.

Ms. Newman: "So, unless you want to spend the rest of this awesome afternoon in detention, I advise you to clean up this giant mess right now!"

Mikey: "HOORAY!"


Old-fashioned, mild-mannered, and totally clueless friend, A.K.A. Jilliana Williams:

Jill used to be home-schooled by her old-fashioned parents, which explains the clean, ironed sweater-dresses, the polished black flats, the neatly combed and braided hair that always smells of lavender, and the incredible manners.

Plus the fact that she`s totally clueless when it comes to even slightly modern stuff. She doesn`t know the meaning of words like `dude`, and thinks `yo` is an abbreviation of `yo-yo`. In fact, she was amazed that I had a laptop, because she`d only seen them in movies.


Mean, 'popular' cheerleader, A.K.A Vanity Fair:

Not all cheerleaders are mean. Two of my friends at a previous school were cheerleaders. One of them was my best friend.

But Vanity... she's a whole different matter. If you know those stereotypical cheerleaders; the ones who bully unpopular kids, wear a ton of makeup, has a wardrobe the size of a train compartment, and always dates football players for some reason; you know Vanity. Her name says it all.


Delusional eco-nut diagnosed with paranoid schizophrenia.

That's me.

See, paranoid schizophrenia is this mental disorder that makes you sense things that aren't actually there. But that's not my real problem. My real problem is that I see real things. But no one else sees them. It's so weird and frustrating. It's like everyone's totally ignoring something just to tick me off. My psychiatrist says this is normal for people with my so-called disorder: thinking they're reality. But what does he know? The images are too real to be just visions.

Then, two years ago, I found out about Percy Jackson And The Olympians. At first I thought Rick Riordan was psychic or something, because the descriptions of the mythological monsters in the books were exactly how I saw them. I thought that, at last, I could prove to everyone my visions weren't totally made up. But my parents didn't take this so well. They decided it was high time to send me to a 'special school'. Translation: mental institution. So that's where I went. But after one year, I decided it just wasn't the right place for me. There wasn't anything wrong with me - well, compared to the other patients there, anyway. So after much nagging, complaining, and begging, I found myself at Hawkland Boarding School, Dartmouth Division. We live in Dartmouth, and apparently HBS has a great counseling program, so my parents thought it was the perfect choice. Enough about my apparent 'disorder.' More about the 'eco-nut' part. That's a much happier topic. I just love the environment. I mean, who doesn't? We need it to survive, it's great scenery. Every time a tree dies, a little part of me dies. I'd go to any length to protect 's why I'm the student president of the Eco-Club. I deserve it.


Apollo's POV (Point Of View)

I was inputting information I had gathered so far on Daphne into my giant Potential Daphnes database, and matching it with the description of original Daphne, so I could see if this Daphne was really the Daphne.

Hades was beside me, watching as I typed everything in. "Brown hair... green eyes... lots of green clothing... middle name: Kayla..."

"Stalker," Hades muttered.

Just then, Hermes burst in, followed by a stricken looking Ares. If Ares looked panicked, something must be pretty wrong. Soon the rest of the gods were pouring into the dorm room.

"Gee," I exclaimed, "Am I really this popular?"

My sister scowled. "Not on your life, pretty boy. But your girlfriend is."

"Uh - who?"

"Daphne, you idiot!" Ares said harshly.

"You were right about one thing, 'Pollo," Hermes shoved me out of my seat in front of my laptop. "She's the one."

"You think so too?" I felt like jumping up and down in joy.

"Yes. She can see through the Mist."


Notes:

1) Sorry! I know, I said I'd update before Thursday. But I was really busy (as usual).

2) If any of you didn't catch what Zeus/Eric and Hermes/Tripper were talking about when they said 'Magic Wings', they mean Hermes' winged shoes and helmet.

3) If you didn't know what the Hades Jeff was talking about when he said "My Tallest", it's a reference to the TV show Invader ZIM.

4) Yay! School started! School is awesome. I know, I'm weird.

5) Note, to readers of both my stories: These two stories are in parallel unvierses or something, so some events (first dates, conversations, etc.) MAY BE REPEATED! But not like exactly the same, if you know what I mean.