The Weight of the World

Olympia
Heights:

Book
2

The
Weight of the World

by
Amy Leigh Strickland

Copyright
© 2012 by Amy Leigh Strickland

All
rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in
any manner whatsoever without written permission except in cases of
brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

For
information address Matter Deep Publishing

http://matterdeeppublishing.com

To
my family, born and acquired. I love you all.

“
The
young have exalted notions, because they have not been humbled by
life or learned its necessary limitations; moreover, their hopeful
disposition makes them think themselves equal to great things—and
that means having exalted notions. They would always rather do noble
deeds than useful ones: Their lives are regulated more by moral
feeling than by reasoning.... All their mistakes are in the direction
of doing things excessively and vehemently. They overdo everything;
they love too much, hate too much, and the same with everything
else.”

-Aristotle

THE
PANTHEON

Zach
Jacobs (Zeus)

June
Herald (Hera)

Nick
Morrisey (Poseidon)

Valerie
Hess (Hestia)

Dr.
Celene Davis (Demeter)

Frank
Guerrero (Ares)

Peter
Hadley (Hades)

Devon
Valentine (Aphrodite)

Miranda
“Minnie” Rutherford (Athena)

Evan
Fuller (Hephaestus)

Teddy
Wexler Jr. (Dionysus)

Penelope
Davis (Persephone)

Astin
Hill (Apollo)

Diana
Hill (Artemis)

Lewis
Mercer (Hermes)

Dr.
Jason Livingstone (Mortal)

“
We
are twice armed if we fight with faith.
”

-Plato

i.

The
stranger awoke as the moon took its place

and
stole her hosts' infant from his bassinet.

She
took off her cloak, rested it by the fire,

and
then set to work.

She
fed the infant three drops of ambrosia.

She
stripped off the swaddling cloth around him.

And
then, to cure him of his mortality,

she
held him in fire.

The
baby cooed and giggled as he was cured,

but
when a curious servant rose from bed

she
saw the stranger cooking the child and screamed,

waking
the whole house.

The
mother ran in and snatched the child away,

but
in her haste the boy fell upon the ground.

So
Demeter cast off her mortal disguise

and
stood before them.

“
I
would have given your son immortal life

and
made him a hero as strong as Ares,

but
your faith was cut short by a servant's screams.

He
will stay mortal.”

And,
thus, Demeter left from the mortal's home

and
went out into the cold, blue moonlit night.

She
continued her search for her own daughter,

the
one Hades took.

“
How
easily some light report is set about, but how difficult to bear.”

-Hesiod

I.

Dr.
Celene Davis’ seventh period junior chemistry class had one minute
left to stress over their finals before freedom was theirs. Summer
was about to start in the Miami suburb.

Since
their showdown with the brothers, Epimetheus and Prometheus, a lot
had changed for Celene. A lot had changed for everyone. Celene and
Penny got a hefty insurance check from the fire and had purchased
anew all of the physical things in their lives. Celene's friends from
grad school had even started a Facebook event to collect prints of
old photos-- specifically her wedding photos. Other heirlooms and
mementos could never be replaced. Still, Celene knew that quilts and
photo albums and old sweaters were only things. The memories were
still with her. Celene and Penny were able to appreciate what they
were left with-- each other-- and move on. They were now renting a
small home a few blocks away from their old apartment. It was too far
for Penny to walk to school anymore.

There
were new challenges for the reborn gods. They all had secrets to
keep. Meetings happened once a week under the guise of a support
group for the victims of the “Alvarez Brothers”. The Pantheon had
become a close-knit social group that worked together to test the
limits of their powers and share their more vivid memories. Friends
and rivals, they flipped between cracking jokes and arguing from one
moment to the next. Celene had the responsibility of acting as the
mother of the group.

This
burden was eased by the tone of things around her. The world, in
general, seemed brighter than before. The Pantheon had come to the
conclusion that Hope had been let out of Pandora's pithos when Zach
had broken it and freed his comrades. The news media had come to the
consensus that the upturn of good will and positive mental health was
linked to signs of recovery for the American economy.

Magic
or money, Celene didn't question it. The school board had voted a
week ago to lift freezes on teacher salaries. Celene was due for a
raise and a fair amount of retro-pay. The last few weeks of class had
been relatively peaceful. Celene had gotten her room ready for break
by making anyone who chatted during the review sort and scrub the
chemical cabinets. She was excited to begin her summer vacation. She
was certain that she wasn't alone in this sentiment.

Celene
put down her magazine, finishing an article about last week's quake
in Morocco that cracked the top of Mount Toubkal. It was far less
depressing than reading nihilistic predictions about the economy. She
watched the minute hand as it slid to the four.

Celene
heard a steady thumping, like the tattoo of a drum, deep within her
head. It was soft and distant and faster than a heartbeat. At first
she had thought the noise was coming from somewhere in the room, but
when she pressed her middle fingers against her ears, she still heard
it. Maybe a migraine was coming on.

“Bell
rings in sixty seconds,” she warned. “Put your blue books in the
pile on the left. Exams go to your right.”

Chairs
frantically scraped as students rushed to ditch their exams at the
front and flee the room. Zach Jacobs was already talking about summer
football camp with Frank Guerrero as they left the class. Devon
Valentine’s bracelets jangled as she casually tossed her test on
the desk.

Celene
reached out and touched her hand. Something seemed different. The
drum beat was louder. It was coming from Devon, and the teenage girl
looked different, like her skin was subtly glowing.

“
Miss
Valentine,” she said, “can I talk to you after class?”

The
bell rang. Devon stared back at Celene for a moment before nodding.
Private conversations these days usually meant Pantheon secrets.
Minnie Rutherford and June Herald looked back at Devon and Celene,
expectantly, but Celene waved for them to go on.

Celene
fixed her eyes on the teenage girl, wondering. She knew something
that she had no way of knowing; she felt certain of it.

Devon
stared back with sea-foam green eyes. She knew nothing.

“
You’re
seventeen, Devon?”

She
nodded, “Eighteen next February,” she added. Kids were ever
rushing to grow up.

“
Fourteenth?”
Celene took a wild guess.

“
Thirteenth.”

“
And
Frank?”

“
He
was eighteen in March.”

“
And
what was the date for the start of your last period?”

Devon
blinked. “Excuse me?”

“
Your
period.” Celene kept her tone soft and maternal.

“
Um...”
Devon paused to think about it. It was hard to worry about things
like menstrual cycles when you were a teenage reincarnation of
Aphrodite. Budding superpowers and lucid dreams had taken priority in
her thoughts. She tried to think of the last time she had been
inconvenienced by Eve’s curse. Her stomach twisted. Easter. “Six
weeks.”

“
You’re
pregnant,” Celene was sure of it.

They
stared at each other for a long minute. Devon kept praying that her
teacher and fellow goddess would suddenly laugh and scream “gotcha!”
but she knew that wasn’t Dr. Davis’ style. She was serious and
Devon knew she was right.

“
Do
you want to talk about it?” Celene asked.

“
How
would you even know that?”

Celene
pondered this. She just knew. “I don’t know. Is it that strange,
considering...?”

“
I
have to go,” Devon blurted in a voice that was high and oddly
tight. She was out the door in a flash. She strolled down the hall,
overcome with a sudden numbness. The excited chatter in the halls
muffled to an inaudible murmur in her mind.

What
would her parents say?

She
would have liked to blame her next reaction on hormones, but that was
only part of it. She coolly walked into the bathroom, locked the
stall door behind her, and pressed her forehead to the vandalized
wall.

“
Fuck!”
she shouted, bursting into a fit of sobs. She was seventeen, minutes
away from being a senior. She was passing her classes. She was
popular. Her mother was running for Mayor. Everything was ruined. The
worst had happened, and now Devon Valentine was going to be fat.

Celene
Davis didn’t follow Devon to the bathroom. She knew the girl needed
space. Devon knew who to call when she was ready to talk.