Andie pulled her black hair back over her shoulder. “That’s good. But don’t sound so guilty when you say it. You’re saving their skins. When they come back they’ll thank you.”
“They’re not all coming back. Odysseus is dead. Remember?”
Andie paused less than a second before stacking boxes of cookies next to the microwave. Sometimes Hermes wondered if she had come to believe the Cabo story just as much as Henry and Cassandra’s parents.
“I want to go over for awhile and see how Henry’s doing,” she said. “You’ll be all right here, won’t you?”
“I’m a god,” Hermes said. “I think I can hold my own for an evening. It should be me following you around everywhere, making sure Ares or the Fates don’t pop up and squish you like mosquitoes.”
Andie gestured vaguely around the empty kitchen.
“I know. It’s just that—you’re all alone. Without her here. And—” Her eyes flickered over his emaciated body. “I don’t want you to get bored and skip town. It’s one more week until spring break. Then we can go find Demeter, and she’ll lead us to Cassandra and Athena. I don’t want anything to happen before then.”
“Like me falling dead to the floor in a pile of papery, sagging skin and bones?” He chuckled.
“That’s not funny.”
Except it was, a little. He was so thin that the whole mess would look like a pile of T-shirts and a basketball. That’s all that would remain. They could bury him in a knapsack. But it wouldn’t happen anytime soon. Strength still heated his fingers when he made a fist, even if that fist wasn’t much more than knuckles and tendon.
“Hermes? Where do you think they are?”
He took a deep breath. The last time he’d glimpsed Athena, she was clutching a bloodied Odysseus to her chest and throwing herself off of Olympus. He couldn’t feel her anywhere, didn’t know if she was still slogging through sorrow or if the rage had taken over. Because it would.
“Maybe she and Cassandra have already found each other,” he said. But they hadn’t. If they had, he’d have heard. They would trail a wake of god’s blood a mile wide. The Fates would be screaming.
“But what if Demeter’s wrong? What if they really are dead?”
Hermes shook his head. “She’s not wrong.”
“How do you know?”
“Because we need her to be right.”
* * *
Henry stood at the end of his driveway holding a white plastic bag of trash. On the way back up to the house he’d get the mail. He glanced up at the spring sky. There weren’t many clouds. After dinner there might be enough light to work on cleaning up the yard.
His new list of self-imposed chores made the days go by, he could say that at least. Picking up the slack that Cassandra used to tow, so his parents wouldn’t have to worry about one more thing. He’d been in overdrive since she’d been gone, taking on some of his dad’s tasks and his mom’s, too. It was easier than he thought to be two kids instead of one. It was easy to get lost in it.
Beside him, Lux shoved his black nose into Henry’s elbow, asking why they never played anymore.
He dropped the garbage into the can and closed the lid, and thought of how many chores he could get Cassandra to do when she got home. He’d never have to clean his room again. He’d make her drive up to State to clean his college dorm. That would really piss her off, if she got back.
When she gets back. Cassandra’s not lost.
A car horn sounded, and Lux ducked as from a gunshot. He hid behind Henry’s leg as the vehicle slowed, and he didn’t jump up to greet it, not even when the girl rolled the window down. Henry knelt and scratched him, treading lightly on his surgery scars.
“Hey.” The girl inside leaned across the seat and turned down her radio. “Cute dog. What’s his name?”
“Lux.”
“Here, Lux!” She held out her hand, and Lux retreated farther behind Henry’s pant leg. Since Ares’ wolves attacked that winter, Lux hadn’t been the same. All the bluster had gone out of him. It had taken Henry a while to get used to the fact that Lux was a new dog, one that shied away from corgis in the park and only barked for people he knew.
“He’s a little shy.” The girl in the car was Ariel Moreau. They’d been partners on a history project first term.
“What are you doing here?” He tried to smile so it wouldn’t sound so rude, but she didn’t seem to notice one way or the other.