can‘t see, begging, ―Please god, let me see him again.‖
Chapter 17
I can‘t explain it, but when I wake up and will the dirt walls to fall down and I see the sun blazing through the trees, I know that I‘ve made it through the night, that I‘ll make it to the Oracle, that I‘ll be home soon.
I stretch and yawn and let the last-day-of-school feeling wash over me. I survived. I had a date! And now it‘s time to face facts and put Blondie in the past and focus on getting home.
Home.
It‘s weird knowing that I‘m really going to be home soon. I‘m going to be back at the dig site, slapping on sunscreen and daydreaming about my date with Blondie. Will I have to mention him to the Oracle? Probably. I mean, I‘m sure I have to tell the Oracle all about my time here.
That‘s got to be part of the deal for getting home, right? Like when you go on a field trip to the museum when you‘re a little kid and your teacher gives you a quiz the next day.
I‘d be an idiot if I didn‘t prepare. I look around to make sure that I‘m alone, and then start to practice my speech to the Oracle. ―Hi, Oracle...‖ I clear my throat. Lame start. ―Oracle, I have learned a great deal in my time here. I understand now that my, um, thoughts are powerful. And I promise that when I get home, I‘m gonna be a more glass-is-half-full kind of girl that way, you know?‖
In my imagination, the Oracle nods.
―Because I get it, you know, that life is what you make of it. Like last night, I tossed and turned and practically had a panic attack because I thought ‗they‘ were coming for me. Only it wasn‘t about ‗them.‘ It was about me letting my fears get the best of me. It‘s a total waste of time to obsess over stuff that‘s not even, you know, real.‖ In my imagination, the Oracle smiles broadly.
The Oracle looks like one of those giant metallic suns that hippie chicks hang over their beds, a big, moony-yellow, soft round face. The Oracle is very impressed with me, so I go on.
―And mainly, what I‘ve learned is that the world is not out to get me. I, Zoe Calder, will stop seeing everything as so horrible—never seeing Blondie again, assuming a nasty waitress is telling the truth—and will start to see the light. I mean, even though I‘ll never see Blondie again, I‘m grateful that I got to meet him. So thank you, Oracle. I‘m ready now.‖ And in my imagination, the Oracle extends a hand, a hand composed of stardust and fireflies, and when I touch it, everything zooms out. Then I‘m back in the temple and Columbia Darren is telling me what big trouble I‘m in, but I‘m not freaking out, because I‘ve learned that freaking out is a waste of time.
Or is it? I gasp. I‘ve been so caught up in my imaginary meeting with the Oracle that I‘ve lost track of my own two feet, my very real feet that now stand at the edge of a very real chasm.
Relax, Zoe. You caught yourself just in time. You didn‘t step into the void. Across the chasm, I see the base of a mountain, ringed by a stone temple. It‘s Mount Olympus.
And it‘s also the definition of ―so close but so far away,‖ because if I take one step toward it, I will die immediately.
Why didn‘t Creusa tell me there were random Grand Canyons in the forest? Maybe she‘s never been this far. Maybe I‘ve been daydreaming so much that I‘ve gone the wrong way. I walk along the edge and confirm my worst suspicion. There is no quaint thatched bridge in the vicinity.
No sign that reads mount olympus this way. turn left for the tram (arrivals every fifteen minutes on the hour).
I hear rustling in the distance and glance around nervously, remembering what Blondie said yesterday about there being creatures infinitely scarier than the prankster satyr. It seems he wasn‘t just saying that to get me to join him, because from out of the bushes stalks a pack of huge two-headed wild dogs. All at once, they sniff the air and turn toward me. Even from far
Chapter 17
I can‘t explain it, but when I wake up and will the dirt walls to fall down and I see the sun blazing through the trees, I know that I‘ve made it through the night, that I‘ll make it to the Oracle, that I‘ll be home soon.
I stretch and yawn and let the last-day-of-school feeling wash over me. I survived. I had a date! And now it‘s time to face facts and put Blondie in the past and focus on getting home.
Home.
It‘s weird knowing that I‘m really going to be home soon. I‘m going to be back at the dig site, slapping on sunscreen and daydreaming about my date with Blondie. Will I have to mention him to the Oracle? Probably. I mean, I‘m sure I have to tell the Oracle all about my time here.
That‘s got to be part of the deal for getting home, right? Like when you go on a field trip to the museum when you‘re a little kid and your teacher gives you a quiz the next day.
I‘d be an idiot if I didn‘t prepare. I look around to make sure that I‘m alone, and then start to practice my speech to the Oracle. ―Hi, Oracle...‖ I clear my throat. Lame start. ―Oracle, I have learned a great deal in my time here. I understand now that my, um, thoughts are powerful. And I promise that when I get home, I‘m gonna be a more glass-is-half-full kind of girl that way, you know?‖
In my imagination, the Oracle nods.
―Because I get it, you know, that life is what you make of it. Like last night, I tossed and turned and practically had a panic attack because I thought ‗they‘ were coming for me. Only it wasn‘t about ‗them.‘ It was about me letting my fears get the best of me. It‘s a total waste of time to obsess over stuff that‘s not even, you know, real.‖ In my imagination, the Oracle smiles broadly.
The Oracle looks like one of those giant metallic suns that hippie chicks hang over their beds, a big, moony-yellow, soft round face. The Oracle is very impressed with me, so I go on.
―And mainly, what I‘ve learned is that the world is not out to get me. I, Zoe Calder, will stop seeing everything as so horrible—never seeing Blondie again, assuming a nasty waitress is telling the truth—and will start to see the light. I mean, even though I‘ll never see Blondie again, I‘m grateful that I got to meet him. So thank you, Oracle. I‘m ready now.‖ And in my imagination, the Oracle extends a hand, a hand composed of stardust and fireflies, and when I touch it, everything zooms out. Then I‘m back in the temple and Columbia Darren is telling me what big trouble I‘m in, but I‘m not freaking out, because I‘ve learned that freaking out is a waste of time.
Or is it? I gasp. I‘ve been so caught up in my imaginary meeting with the Oracle that I‘ve lost track of my own two feet, my very real feet that now stand at the edge of a very real chasm.
Relax, Zoe. You caught yourself just in time. You didn‘t step into the void. Across the chasm, I see the base of a mountain, ringed by a stone temple. It‘s Mount Olympus.
And it‘s also the definition of ―so close but so far away,‖ because if I take one step toward it, I will die immediately.
Why didn‘t Creusa tell me there were random Grand Canyons in the forest? Maybe she‘s never been this far. Maybe I‘ve been daydreaming so much that I‘ve gone the wrong way. I walk along the edge and confirm my worst suspicion. There is no quaint thatched bridge in the vicinity.
No sign that reads mount olympus this way. turn left for the tram (arrivals every fifteen minutes on the hour).
I hear rustling in the distance and glance around nervously, remembering what Blondie said yesterday about there being creatures infinitely scarier than the prankster satyr. It seems he wasn‘t just saying that to get me to join him, because from out of the bushes stalks a pack of huge two-headed wild dogs. All at once, they sniff the air and turn toward me. Even from far
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