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Chapter 3- Myths of Love

"It's nice to finally see you, Iris," says Ms. Herbert. I swear to God William's is like a wolf in sheep's clothing: public and accepting on the outside, preppy on the inside. Everyone sweeps me up and down with their eyes, from my glinting silver highlights to my Doc Martens.

I slide into my seat in the front row. Every quarter she gives us a new "randomized" seating chart. Somehow I always end up in the front row. I assume this is because she suspects I'm going to set something on fire if I'm in the back, but I'm open to other theories, as always.

"As you know, tomorrow night the periodic comet, Wild, will be visible from our very homes!"

Yes. We all know that. Because we all subscribe to Comets Weekly. Because we're totally not in Beginning Astronomy just because it counts as a science credit and is way easier than subjects such as Chemistry. Way ahead of you, Herbert.

"Does anyone know who the comet was named after?" she asks, clasping her hands together like a child trying to restrain herself. "Pace," she says, relieved when after a beat we all look at her with glazed expressions.

Latin for "Peace". Well, Pace is better. How would you survive like a Mother Earth name like "Peace"? Kids would just call you "Peas", which would later be followed by "Peace Pees", and you'd be in therapy for the rest of your life.

"Paul Wild. He was a Swiss astronomer. He discovered about forty supernovae," says Pace. I turn my head to see who the Mystery Answer Boy is, and freeze when I discover Pace = Starbucks Thespian. He grins at me and points to his hair. I blush. Ava said it didn't make me look like an old lady, that it looked glamorous and shiny and not at all "gray". She said it looked like the title on the box, "Moonlit". Maybe she was wrong…though it is sparkly…and grandmas rarely have SPARKLY silver hair…

"Yes, that's right," she says, beaming. "In light of this, we will be doing a presentation dedicated to an astronomer. It doesn't have to necessarily be Wild, though that would, of course, be perfectly acceptable. It could also cover a culture and how they were influenced by astronomy. Okay?"

OKAY, MS.HERBERT! WE ARE SO, SO, SO PSYCHED WE'RE NOT EVEN RESPONDING!

"Good! Now, how we'll do this is I'll assign you into pairs…"

The class groans, but I'm relieved. I don't have this class with Ava, and even if I had it with Natalie or Sarah, their at-school friends are, well, not me. Having to find a partner or a group and having no one pick you and getting rejected when you ask is the worst feeling in the world; totally excruciating. I swear the teachers that do it used to be popular in school or something, and were always annoyed with getting stuck with the dweeby kid.

"And when you've brainstormed a bit, you can write your names and your subject on this clipboard."

She starts to call out names. No one makes a secret of their displeasure or their relief.

"Pace Llewellyn and…Iris Rowan."

I'm never the one to come over to my partner. It's a weird competition thing with me, I just refuse to accommodate them. If they want to talk with me, which they should, since it's part of their grade, they should come to me. Also, I find it awkward to stand around someone's desk and wait for the other people around them to move so you can sit by them.

So I'm just sitting here. La de dah. Waiting. Sitting. He has to. He doesn't skip, which means he cares about his grades. Maybe not at an ambitious Ivy League level, but more than me, anyway. And we grade our partners. And if I sit here and don't do anything and he stays sitting there not doing anything then, well…I mean, we're both supposed to give a grade to how much our partner contributed, to keep it "fair", so I would give him an F.

Will. Not. Crack. Will. Not-

"Hey, Passion Girl," he says, swinging into the seat next to me with ease.

"Hi, Carmel Boy," I reply.

"So here's the thing…I don't think I'll be able to do this."

"But…you have to."

"Yeah, but I can't. I'm taking AP Lit and AP History, I have this huge play I'm in, it's Community Theater but I still have a big part, and I'm in French Club, and I have to make my girlfriend happy, which means going on dates with her. So I don't really have a lot of free time."

"Well, that's not really MY fault…"

"Yeah, but you're smart, and I'm sure we'll do fine," he says with an infuriating lopsided grin. "And obviously you have plenty of free time."

"How exactly would you know that? Are you spying on me?"

"Do you have any after school clubs?"

"No, but-"

"Any AP classes?"

"No, but I still have homework, and I have-"

"A boyfriend?"

"No." I color, thinking of Helen's comment on Christmas Eve.

"Fine," I say, my voice shaking, "I'll just sign up for Greek myths then, before anyone else takes it."

I come up to the front of the room. Luckily most people are talking to their partners, so no one's signed up yet.

I come back and start writing down the myths I know for constellations in my notebook. I refuse to look at Pace. There's Calliope, Hercules, Pericles, Jason and the Golden Fleece. We can link it to the planets, too. There's Venus, goddess of love, Mars, god of war, Jupiter, god of thunder, Pluto, god of the Underworld…

"What're you writing?" he asks, taking the notebook from my desk.

"Does it matter? I thought you weren't helping."

"I can participate a little during class hours. Don't get your hopes up, though. You're lucky today I don't have homework to finish before next period."

"I FEEL lucky."

"I'm sure you do."

***

"We're geniuses," Ava states, licking her tiny Baskin Robbins spoon clean of cookie dough ice cream.

"Obviously," I reply, highlighting sections of printouts about the constellation of Calliope. Last winter we passed an absolutely empty ice cream place. We decided to get hot cocoa from somewhere else and alternate between hot and cold, but it ended up not being necessary. Strangely, even with the frozen display of flavors, they still managed to blast the heat.

"I mean, the cashier went to the back room, probably texting or something because if she does it in front of us she thinks we'll tell the manager or something. She doesn't have to, because we wouldn't, but the point is no one's here but us. We can talk about anything!" she enthuses.

"My So-Called Life, annoying teachers, inappropriate memories, various profanities…"

"We can gossip, because no one will know the person we're gossiping about. I can read Cosmo and not have nosy, judgmental morons reading the headline things, or look over my shoulder and stare at the pictures."

"No one will look at me doing homework and think I don't have a life," I point out.

"No, see, that's where you're wrong, because I think you don't have a life," she says.

"Thanks."

"I mean, how can you even work on this project alone when your partner is gorgeous?"

"Excuse me?"

"And totally into you, if the conversations you've told me are true."

"You couldn't be more wrong, Avie! He doesn't even tolerate me. He won't even help with this stupid thing, says I'm 'smart enough', and that he's so BUSY and he has this PLAY and his life is just so terribly IMPORTANT. You should've heard him."

"Iris, Iris, Iris…no guy bothers with getting you riled up if he doesn't care. YOU should get a subscription to Cosmo."

"Yeah, I could really read that in public in a town full of literate bibliophiles."

"One, you don't have to read it in public. Two, you care too much about what other people think. That's your problem."

"No I don't!"

"Yes you do. That's why you threw away your grades. That's why you're so mad at this Pace guy. That's why you made that resolution. You care what people think."

"I…" I do. I totally do. I hate how she does that! I hate how she can sum me up so quickly and be so right. I guess I do the same to her sometimes. That's what happens when you've known someone for a while.

"Anyway," I say briskly, pushing my papers away for my pistachio ice cream, "he doesn't like me because he has a girlfriend."

For some reason, Ava stiffens.

"You're sure?"

"Positive. Even if he didn't tell me outright, he has that sort of satisfied vibe."

"Don't get involved with him," she says quickly. Too quickly.

"Why would I?"

She starts scraping the table with her manicured nails. The cheap, flexible paint comes off quickly on the edge, leaving a cardboard color behind.

"Did I ever tell you about my first time?"

"No." It's weird that she hasn't, since we've told each other almost everything else. But it's a question that's awkward to ask; it's better if it's offered to you.

"It happened before I knew you. I was fourteen. It was with a taken guy. I didn't really expect it to happen. We were all hanging out at Michelle's house. She is-was- a friend of mine. You don't know him. Anyway, everyone there was in a couple except for me and Alex. I guess his girlfriend was busy or something. I knew him from our group, and we got to talking, because it was sort of boring. Everyone was either making out or watching this really dumb TV show. It got really late, but my parents thought I was sleeping over at a girl's house, so that didn't really matter. He asked me to come to his house, and I said yes. We had to sneak in because his parents were home and asleep. He told me to lie down."

I choke on my ice cream, and she hurriedly reassures me, "No, no! It wasn't like that. I wanted to. I knew what he meant when he asked me over. I just didn't really expect him to ask me like that. Anyway…we did it. I said 'ow' a few times, but he didn't stop. I'm sure he would've if I asked, but it didn't hurt that much, so I was okay. He said 'I think you should go now' Before we did it, he told me he would text Michelle to leave the window open for me. I put my clothes back on, and asked if he would walk me, because it was dark and I didn't really know my way around their neighborhood too well…it was at a development, but like a forest-y development, and Michelle usually came over to my house. He came up to the window and opened it. He said, 'Normally I would, but…it's cold, it's raining, it's 2 AM, and I'm tired.' So I walked in the pouring rain to her house, somehow remembering my way. Turns out he didn't remember to text her, so I stood on the back porch in the pouring rain for about an hour, crying, without a jacket, until by some miracle Michelle woke up and saw me."

I just stare at her. There are no words of consolation. There is nothing that can take it away.

"So…yeah. That was pretty much the most depressing night of my life. And I don't want it to happen to you." She reaches out and holds my hand.

"It shouldn't have happened to you, either."

"No, it shouldn't have. But it did. And there's nothing I can do about it now."

Description
Chapter 3- Myths of Love

"It's nice to finally see you, Iris," says Ms. Herbert. I swear to God William's is like a wolf in sheep's clothing: public and accepting on the outside, preppy on the inside. Everyone sweeps me up and down with their eyes, from my glinting silver highlights to my Doc Martens.

I slide into my seat in the front row. Every quarter she gives us a new "randomized" seating chart. Somehow I always end up in the front row. I assume this is because she suspects I'm going to set something on fire if I'm in the back, but I'm open to other theories, as always.

"As you know, tomorrow night the periodic comet, Wild, will be visible from our very homes!"

Yes. We all know that. Because we all subscribe to Comets Weekly. Because we're totally not in Beginning Astronomy just because it counts as a science credit and is way easier than subjects such as Chemistry. Way ahead of you, Herbert.

"Does anyone know who the comet was named after?" she asks, clasping her hands together like a child trying to restrain herself. "Pace," she says, relieved when after a beat we all look at her with glazed expressions.

Latin for "Peace". Well, Pace is better. How would you survive like a Mother Earth name like "Peace"? Kids would just call you "Peas", which would later be followed by "Peace Pees", and you'd be in therapy for the rest of your life.

"Paul Wild. He was a Swiss astronomer. He discovered about forty supernovae," says Pace. I turn my head to see who the Mystery Answer Boy is, and freeze when I discover Pace = Starbucks Thespian. He grins at me and points to his hair. I blush. Ava said it didn't make me look like an old lady, that it looked glamorous and shiny and not at all "gray". She said it looked like the title on the box, "Moonlit". Maybe she was wrong…though it is sparkly…and grandmas rarely have SPARKLY silver hair…

"Yes, that's right," she says, beaming. "In light of this, we will be doing a presentation dedicated to an astronomer. It doesn't have to necessarily be Wild, though that would, of course, be perfectly acceptable. It could also cover a culture and how they were influenced by astronomy. Okay?"

OKAY, MS.HERBERT! WE ARE SO, SO, SO PSYCHED WE'RE NOT EVEN RESPONDING!

"Good! Now, how we'll do this is I'll assign you into pairs…"

The class groans, but I'm relieved. I don't have this class with Ava, and even if I had it with Natalie or Sarah, their at-school friends are, well, not me. Having to find a partner or a group and having no one pick you and getting rejected when you ask is the worst feeling in the world; totally excruciating. I swear the teachers that do it used to be popular in school or something, and were always annoyed with getting stuck with the dweeby kid.

"And when you've brainstormed a bit, you can write your names and your subject on this clipboard."

She starts to call out names. No one makes a secret of their displeasure or their relief.

"Pace Llewellyn and…Iris Rowan."

I'm never the one to come over to my partner. It's a weird competition thing with me, I just refuse to accommodate them. If they want to talk with me, which they should, since it's part of their grade, they should come to me. Also, I find it awkward to stand around someone's desk and wait for the other people around them to move so you can sit by them.

So I'm just sitting here. La de dah. Waiting. Sitting. He has to. He doesn't skip, which means he cares about his grades. Maybe not at an ambitious Ivy League level, but more than me, anyway. And we grade our partners. And if I sit here and don't do anything and he stays sitting there not doing anything then, well…I mean, we're both supposed to give a grade to how much our partner contributed, to keep it "fair", so I would give him an F.

Will. Not. Crack. Will. Not-

"Hey, Passion Girl," he says, swinging into the seat next to me with ease.

"Hi, Carmel Boy," I reply.

"So here's the thing…I don't think I'll be able to do this."

"But…you have to."

"Yeah, but I can't. I'm taking AP Lit and AP History, I have this huge play I'm in, it's Community Theater but I still have a big part, and I'm in French Club, and I have to make my girlfriend happy, which means going on dates with her. So I don't really have a lot of free time."

"Well, that's not really MY fault…"

"Yeah, but you're smart, and I'm sure we'll do fine," he says with an infuriating lopsided grin. "And obviously you have plenty of free time."

"How exactly would you know that? Are you spying on me?"

"Do you have any after school clubs?"

"No, but-"

"Any AP classes?"

"No, but I still have homework, and I have-"

"A boyfriend?"

"No." I color, thinking of Helen's comment on Christmas Eve.

"Fine," I say, my voice shaking, "I'll just sign up for Greek myths then, before anyone else takes it."

I come up to the front of the room. Luckily most people are talking to their partners, so no one's signed up yet.

I come back and start writing down the myths I know for constellations in my notebook. I refuse to look at Pace. There's Calliope, Hercules, Pericles, Jason and the Golden Fleece. We can link it to the planets, too. There's Venus, goddess of love, Mars, god of war, Jupiter, god of thunder, Pluto, god of the Underworld…

"What're you writing?" he asks, taking the notebook from my desk.

"Does it matter? I thought you weren't helping."

"I can participate a little during class hours. Don't get your hopes up, though. You're lucky today I don't have homework to finish before next period."

"I FEEL lucky."

"I'm sure you do."

***

"We're geniuses," Ava states, licking her tiny Baskin Robbins spoon clean of cookie dough ice cream.

"Obviously," I reply, highlighting sections of printouts about the constellation of Calliope. Last winter we passed an absolutely empty ice cream place. We decided to get hot cocoa from somewhere else and alternate between hot and cold, but it ended up not being necessary. Strangely, even with the frozen display of flavors, they still managed to blast the heat.

"I mean, the cashier went to the back room, probably texting or something because if she does it in front of us she thinks we'll tell the manager or something. She doesn't have to, because we wouldn't, but the point is no one's here but us. We can talk about anything!" she enthuses.

"My So-Called Life, annoying teachers, inappropriate memories, various profanities…"

"We can gossip, because no one will know the person we're gossiping about. I can read Cosmo and not have nosy, judgmental morons reading the headline things, or look over my shoulder and stare at the pictures."

"No one will look at me doing homework and think I don't have a life," I point out.

"No, see, that's where you're wrong, because I think you don't have a life," she says.

"Thanks."

"I mean, how can you even work on this project alone when your partner is gorgeous?"

"Excuse me?"

"And totally into you, if the conversations you've told me are true."

"You couldn't be more wrong, Avie! He doesn't even tolerate me. He won't even help with this stupid thing, says I'm 'smart enough', and that he's so BUSY and he has this PLAY and his life is just so terribly IMPORTANT. You should've heard him."

"Iris, Iris, Iris…no guy bothers with getting you riled up if he doesn't care. YOU should get a subscription to Cosmo."

"Yeah, I could really read that in public in a town full of literate bibliophiles."

"One, you don't have to read it in public. Two, you care too much about what other people think. That's your problem."

"No I don't!"

"Yes you do. That's why you threw away your grades. That's why you're so mad at this Pace guy. That's why you made that resolution. You care what people think."

"I…" I do. I totally do. I hate how she does that! I hate how she can sum me up so quickly and be so right. I guess I do the same to her sometimes. That's what happens when you've known someone for a while.

"Anyway," I say briskly, pushing my papers away for my pistachio ice cream, "he doesn't like me because he has a girlfriend."

For some reason, Ava stiffens.

"You're sure?"

"Positive. Even if he didn't tell me outright, he has that sort of satisfied vibe."

"Don't get involved with him," she says quickly. Too quickly.

"Why would I?"

She starts scraping the table with her manicured nails. The cheap, flexible paint comes off quickly on the edge, leaving a cardboard color behind.

"Did I ever tell you about my first time?"

"No." It's weird that she hasn't, since we've told each other almost everything else. But it's a question that's awkward to ask; it's better if it's offered to you.

"It happened before I knew you. I was fourteen. It was with a taken guy. I didn't really expect it to happen. We were all hanging out at Michelle's house. She is-was- a friend of mine. You don't know him. Anyway, everyone there was in a couple except for me and Alex. I guess his girlfriend was busy or something. I knew him from our group, and we got to talking, because it was sort of boring. Everyone was either making out or watching this really dumb TV show. It got really late, but my parents thought I was sleeping over at a girl's house, so that didn't really matter. He asked me to come to his house, and I said yes. We had to sneak in because his parents were home and asleep. He told me to lie down."

I choke on my ice cream, and she hurriedly reassures me, "No, no! It wasn't like that. I wanted to. I knew what he meant when he asked me over. I just didn't really expect him to ask me like that. Anyway…we did it. I said 'ow' a few times, but he didn't stop. I'm sure he would've if I asked, but it didn't hurt that much, so I was okay. He said 'I think you should go now' Before we did it, he told me he would text Michelle to leave the window open for me. I put my clothes back on, and asked if he would walk me, because it was dark and I didn't really know my way around their neighborhood too well…it was at a development, but like a forest-y development, and Michelle usually came over to my house. He came up to the window and opened it. He said, 'Normally I would, but…it's cold, it's raining, it's 2 AM, and I'm tired.' So I walked in the pouring rain to her house, somehow remembering my way. Turns out he didn't remember to text her, so I stood on the back porch in the pouring rain for about an hour, crying, without a jacket, until by some miracle Michelle woke up and saw me."

I just stare at her. There are no words of consolation. There is nothing that can take it away.

"So…yeah. That was pretty much the most depressing night of my life. And I don't want it to happen to you." She reaches out and holds my hand.

"It shouldn't have happened to you, either."

"No, it shouldn't have. But it did. And there's nothing I can do about it now."