Into the Dark: The Shadow Prince Part 14

I, however, am completely speechless.

"No way!" Iris practically shouts.

Lexie stands up, clapping, and some of her Sopranos have their hands pressed to their faces like they might just cry. Girls make that gesture a lot when my father is around. At least according to the pictures I've seen in Us Weekly.

Joe clasps his hands together and shakes them at the crowd of students. "Thank you, thank you for your warm welcome."

Tobin turns to me. "Why didn't you say something about this yesterday, you big fibber?"

"I had no idea."

"I know holding auditions before announcing the play was unconventional, but we had our reasons," Mr. Morgan says. "As Mr. Vince tells me, the play is a work in progress, and we will be helping him develop the songs over the next few months. In order to do this, he asked me to select the two best singers in our program, and he will then write the songs specific to their vocal range. The rest of the parts will be a.s.signed out over the next few weeks to those who impress Mr. Vince with their hard work and abilities."

"I am sure the decision will be very difficult," Joe says. "Which is why I left the decision of the lead parts to your instructor. I trust he has chosen the best and the brightest of your group." He looks right at me and gives a little wink.

A redheaded girl in front of me practically swoons, as if the wink were meant for her.

What on earth is going on? Since when did rock stars write high school musicals? Even for high schools their estranged daughters go to? A school she's starting because he just showed up out of the blue and insisted on taking her to for no apparent reason I could discern . . .

And then it hits me. I know exactly what Mr. Morgan is going to say next.

And all I want to do is run away.

Mr. Morgan holds out his hands to quiet the cla.s.s. Everyone is in a tizzy, speculating who will be chosen, or what it will mean to be the star of an original Joe Vince musical production. I can hear the Sopranos fluttering around Lexie, a.s.suring her she's a shoo-in for the lead-especially now that Pear is hospitalized. The cla.s.s finally falls silent at Mr. Morgan's and Joe's bidding.

"Without further ado," Mr. Morgan says, "I am pleased to announce the leads for the debut production of Joe Vince's rock opera version of the Orpheus and Eurydice myth: Into the Dark. . . ." How quickly could I cross the room and get out the cla.s.sroom door?

"In the role of Orpheus, we'll have Tobin Os.h.i.+ro-Winters!"

"Sweet!" Tobin smacks his hands together.

Iris cheers for him, but I'm still too panicked to react.

"And in the role of Eurydice, we have another special treat. . . ." I feel like my throat is about to close in.

"My very own daughter," Joe says, cutting Mr. Morgan off in his excitement, "will be playing the part." He claps his hands out toward me. "Stand up, Daphne, so the others can meet you!" All I want to do is hide under my chair but I'm pretty sure Joe isn't going to stop clapping until I stand up. I do so, pulling Tobin up with me so I won't be the only one in the spotlight. Tobin gives a salute to Joe and Mr. Morgan, and then a Frank Sinatraaesque bow to his fellow students, who call out their congratulations to him. There's not a single congrats thrown my way, but there are plenty of dagger stares coming from Lexie and her Sopranos.

"This is c.r.a.p," she says, not so quietly to her friends. "Isn't nepotism illegal?" Even Iris is staring at me, with her mouth looking like her jaw has come unhinged. "Why did you say you were a schollie?" she finally asks.

This is exactly what I was afraid of all along. I don't even want people to think I'd gotten into the program because I'm Joe Vince's daughter, and now they all believe I'd gotten the lead because my father is writing the play.

Joe gives me a big thumbs-up from the small stage at the front of the cla.s.sroom. So this is what he had meant the other night when he said he was going to make it up to me. If he thinks he is helping me win friends and influence people, he is as delusional as he is a drunk. I can tell from the murmurs and glares being exchanged that my social standing has just gone from New Girl to downright most hated.

Joe and Mr. Morgan go over some of the details of how the next few months are going to work with preparations, but honestly, I tune them out. When the bell rings, a few girls rush the stage. Joe signs autographs for them as he makes his way in my direction. The last thing I want to do is talk to him right now, so I grab my bag, ignore Tobin's offer to help me find my next cla.s.s, and head for the door, and escape out into the hall.

I b.u.mp into several people as I try to find my way through the unfamiliar halls of Olympus Hills High, fighting tears of frustration that sting the backs of my eyes. The last seventy-two hours had been anything but ideal. I'd been ignored by my father; accosted in the grove; I found the body of a girl who may or may not have been attacked because of me; was treated like I'm delusional by a couple of rent-a-cops; and now I earned the ire of almost every student in the music program, and the program was my only reason for being here.

I can't imagine how things could possibly get any worse, I think as I round the corner and find room 108, my humanities cla.s.s. I push open the door and almost drop my backpack. Because sitting right there in the back row is the boy from the grove.

I can't believe it. There he is, looking through a textbook and tapping his pencil against the top of a desk. Just like any other student waiting for cla.s.s to start. Except he's scanning the pages of his book so quickly, he can't possibly be reading anything.

"What is he doing here?" I say under my breath.

"You know Haden Lord?" The question comes from behind me.

I glance back and see Bridgette standing there.

"Yes," I say quietly. But do I know him? Is this even the same boy? He looks so different under the fluorescent school bulbs- so normal. If the contours of his face hadn't been etched into my thoughts for the last day and a half, I might not have recognized him. His hair is still dark, but more the color of rich coffee than the midnight black it seemed in the grove. It's shorter, too, and waves and curls slightly around his ears, rather than hanging to his shoulders like before. "No. I mean . . . do you know him?"

Bridgette shrugs. "I heard they were here."

"They?"

"The Lords are some hoity-toity extended family from the East Coast or something. They send a few of their kids here every few years. These new guys must be younger cousins to the ones who came last time. I guess there was some kind of mix-up because n.o.body knew they were coming to school until yesterday. There wouldn't have been room for them if it hadn't been for the big ole donations checks they showed up with."

I raise my eyebrows at this flood of coherent information from Bridgette, who had seemed a little vacant up until this moment. "What?" she asks. "My dad is on the school board. You didn't think I got into this school because of my smarts, did you? My mom's movies aren't that good." She smiles. "Dad was in a tizzy over the Lord boys at breakfast this morning."

"What else do you know about them?"

"There are two of them going to school. One is a freshman, named Garrick, and the other is a junior. Since this is junior humanities, I'm a.s.suming that means this one is Haden. Oh, and they're staying at that really big house on Athena Way."

I nod, even though I don't know which house she's talking about.

All of the houses in Olympus Hills seem big enough to hold half of Ellis Fields in their main floors.

Before I can ask any more questions, someone pushes between me and Bridgette, knocking my shoulder into the doorjamb. "Bridgette," Lexie snaps at her friend.

"Oh yeah. I'm not supposed to talk to you anymore," Bridgette says, and hurries after Lexie. They sit with a group of Sopranos in the first row. Each one deliberately not looking at me.

The bell rings and the only seat left is in the second row. It's directly behind Lexie. Great. But the worst thing about it is that it means I can't see this Haden guy unless I deliberately turn back to look at him. I pause before sitting, to watch him. I wish he'd look up. I want to see his eyes again. I want to know if they're bright and fiery like I remember. I need to know if he's the same person I met in the grove.

"If everyone will sit, we will get started," a tall, thin woman with red, curly hair says. I a.s.sume she must be Ms. Leeds, despite the leopard-print miniskirt she's wearing.

I turn my back to Haden and slip into my seat.

"I trust last night's events did not prevent anyone from finis.h.i.+ng the reading."

I pull out the iPad Marta had presented me with yesterday afternoon-she said it was preloaded with all of the books I might possibly need at OHH-as a collective groan echoes through the cla.s.sroom. I would have joined in if I hadn't turned to studying in an attempt to lull myself to sleep at 3 a.m. last night. I ended up reading a third of the book before my morning alarm went off.

It was either that or call Jonathan again, and I didn't think he'd appreciate that.

Ms. Leeds makes a tsking noise. "I was hoping now that Mr.

Morgan has announced the subject of the school musical, your interest in our Greek mythology unit would have heightened. Mr.

Morgan tells me you will be focusing on the story of Orpheus, the tale of the great musician who traveled to the underworld to bring back his wife, Eurydice, from the dead. It's an interesting story, but I thought we might back things up a bit and study some of the earlier myths of the underworld for the little while before revisiting Orpheus. Mr. Morgan will be very pleased if those of you in the music and theatre tracks actually have a clue of what it is you're singing about." Lexie sits at greater attention as Ms. Leeds opens her notes and sets them on a podium. She's dedicated, I'll give her that. "Now, who here knows who Persephone is?"

Lexie and I both raise our hands at the same time.

"Ah, we get to hear from one of our new students. Daphne, yes?" Ms. Leeds says to me.

I nod.

"Enlighten us with your knowledge, Daphne."

Lexie lowers her hand.

"Persephone was the G.o.ddess of springtime. She lived on earth with her mother, Demeter, until she was kidnapped by Hades and forced to go to the underworld to live with him. Her mother, who happened to be the G.o.ddess of the harvest, wanted her back, and caused a big famine until Zeus told his brother Hades that he had to send Persephone home. Hades, being an evil jerk, tricked Persephone into eating six pomegranate seeds, which meant she was now tied to the underworld for six months out of the year. That is supposedly where the seasons of the year come from. Spring and summer are beautiful and lush because Demeter was happy that her daughter was with her, and fall and winter are c.r.a.ppy because that's when Demeter was sad, because Persephone was forced to be in the underworld with Hades during those months."

"Colorful interpretation of the story," Ms. Leeds says. "Though I find it interesting that you refer to Hades as being an 'evil jerk.' Why do you say this?"

"He's the devil, isn't he? Keeper of h.e.l.l and all that." "No," Ms. Leeds says. "While most scholars agree that the idea of Hades may have been the precursor to the medieval Christian concept of the devil, they were actually quite different." "But they both like dead people!" Bridgette says enthusiastically. I can hear the eye roll coming off Lexie.

"Yes. True . . . somewhat," Ms. Leeds says. "They are both the keepers of the souls of the dead. However, the Christian devil is traditionally known to only claim the souls of sinners, while Hades was believed to oversee all of the dead, whether they were good or bad."

Bridgette nods as if that's what she'd meant to say all along. "It is also interesting to note that Hades was not only the G.o.d of the underworld, but he was also believed to be the G.o.d of wealth.

As gold, jewels, and other precious metals come from beneath the Earth-which was believed to be the location of Hades's realm. Many people would pray to Hades and make bargains with him in exchange for hopes of wealth and power. Some scholars think this may have been where the concept of 'selling your soul to the devil' may have arisen in Christian beliefs. But what about the symbolism of these two figures?" Ms. Leeds asks, looking at Bridgette. "The Christian devil is widely accepted as the embodiment of evil-a fallen angel. But what about Hades? Is he a figure of evil in the Greek mythos?" Bridgette shrugs.

"Anyone else?" the teacher asks.

Lexie and I raise our hands at the same time again.

"Daphne, since you brought up the subject, I'd like to hear more of your thoughts."

I can hear the frustration wafting off Lexie, but I go ahead and answer. "I think he is supposed to be a symbol for evil. The myth of Persephone clearly shows that. . . ."

"I beg to differ," says someone from the back of the room. I'm certain I've heard his voice before-even if there's no hint of his strange accent now.

"Ah, our other new student," Ms. Leeds says, with a little clap of her hands. "I'm sorry, I should have started cla.s.s with introductions.

Haden Lord, stand up so everyone can see you."

Haden stands. There's still one thing about him that isn't different since the grove. He's tall. At least six feet four. I'm not the only one who takes in a quick breath at the sight of him standing there. "Sweet mother of hotness," Lexie whispers from the desk in front of mine. This must be the first time she's noticed him. "I don't believe Hades was evil at all," Haden says. "He was purely a man-or G.o.d, actually-who was a.s.signed a difficult destiny." He looks at me for the first time since I entered the cla.s.sroom.

His eyebrows arch, but I can't tell if it's a look of recognition or not.

His eyes are still jade green but not bright like before, and I can't tell if his pupils are surrounded by amber fire rings from where I sit.

"Being the keeper of the underworld doesn't make him evil. Somebody has to do it."

"No. But being a kidnapper and a rapist does." I raise my eyebrows right back at him. "I mean, there Persephone was, minding her own business, picking flowers, when all of a sudden Hades bursts out of the ground in a flaming chariot and grabs her. I mean, you can't just go around grabbing people. That's not okay." I narrow my eyes, challenging him. "What kind of person does that?" Haden glowers right back at me. "Maybe he didn't see any other options at the moment."

"Hades is a tool. He obviously couldn't find a girl to love him, so he just thought he'd steal himself one. There wouldn't be a story about him being a rapist if people didn't think he was evil." "Rape didn't have anything to do with it," Haden says in a tone that seems defensive to me. "Her father-Zeus himself-had already agreed to let Hades have her, and according to tradition, taking a woman by chariot from her home to yours is part of the ancient Greek wedding ceremony." He sits down. He wears a long-sleeved, gray s.h.i.+rt with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows. It bothers me that I notice the muscles flexing as he crosses his arms in front of his chest.

I shake my head. "How can you say that? He took the girl by force and made her his bride. The book calls the myth the Rape of Persephone for a reason."

"But there are earlier translations of the story than the one cited in the text." Haden waves his muscular hand. "Maybe Persephone, a virgin"-he winks at me-"went willingly into the underworld in order to explore her own s.e.xual desires." He smirks and leans back in his chair with his arms crossed. I'm sure my face goes white before heat floods my cheeks, but I refuse to turn away from his gaze. "Well. I'm glad to see at least two of my students have a pa.s.sion for this subject," Ms. Leeds says. I can see her pretending to fan herself out of the corner of my eye.

My cheeks burn hotter as Lexie and her friends sn.i.g.g.e.r at us. "Be careful or I'll a.s.sign you two to write a term paper together.

I am known for my matchmaking skills, after all."

That statement makes me turn away from Haden quickly. I stare down at the text on my iPad. Not because I'm backing down from him, but because the last thing I want is to get stuck working alone with this Haden jerk-for any reason.

Ms. Leeds sits on the edge of the table in front of the cla.s.s, crossing her long legs. "Haden brings up an interesting point that I hope none of you missed. There are many interpretations and versions of these myths other than the ones featured in our textbook. The so-called Rape of Persephone story actually contradicts many of the other myths in which the figure of Persephone appears. In myths such as Orpheus and Eurydice, and 'Psyche and Cupid, Persephone is portrayed as quite the formidable queen of the underworld, not as a lilting flower, easily taken and tricked by a man. When I was at Berkley, I wrote a paper on this subject. My research showed that there were very early versions of the Persephone myth that claimed that she was not 'taken' at all, as Haden suggested. One version suggested that Persephone, tired of being under the constant watch of an overbearing mother, left the mortal world of her own free will in order to fulfill a greater purpose. She recognized the underworld's need for a queen and chose to fulfill it."

"But why would someone change her story?" Lexie asks, not waiting for the teacher to call on her this time.

"As I wrote in my paper: to very patriarchal societies, a tale about a young maiden who takes her own future into her hands, leaves her home and family in search of her own destiny-and possibly a bit of forbidden love-is a very dangerous story indeed. So, therefore, they changed her story to fit their purposes. To make her a victim- a morality tale to warn girls from wandering too far from home, like Little Red Riding Hood. They changed her story to take away her power. That is the true rape of Persephone, if you ask me." I nod in agreement and notice that Lexie does, too.

For the first time, I feel connected to Persephone's story. Well, Ms. Leeds's version of it anyway. We'd both left our homes in search of a bigger purpose.

Ms. Leeds launches into the rest of her lecture on other underworld myths, and I can tell she's trying to spark another lively debate. But I keep quiet after that, and so does Haden. As Bridgette enlightens the cla.s.s with her perspective on the plight of beautiful women in Greek mythology, I risk a glance back at Haden. He looks up as if he senses my movement, and for the briefest of moments, his eyes seem to flash a fiery mix of amber and jade green.

I run into Tobin on my way from humanities to geometry. "Hey, superstar," he says. "You doing okay after your dad's big announcement?"

"Fine," I say, "except for pretty much being nominated for cla.s.s leper."

I look behind my shoulder, feeling like I am once again being followed. I must look as shaken as I feel when I look back at Tobin, because he puts a hand on my shoulder and asks, "Are you okay?

Lexie and her little mafia aren't getting to you already, are they?" "No," I say. "It's that . . . I saw him again. The guy from the grove.

At least, I think it was him-he looks different somehow. But still the same."

"What?" Tobin says, dropping his hand from my shoulder. "Did you see him somewhere outside? You didn't go back there again, did you?"

"No, he was here. He was in my humanities cla.s.s. He's a student." The tone coming off Tobin is even darker than it was after we found Pear. "What's his name?" he asks. "Do you know his name?" "Haden," I say. "I think it was Haden Lord."

Tobin takes in a sharp breath.

I look down at my iPad. "Like I said, I'm not a hundred percent positive it's the same. . . ."

But Tobin storms off before I finish my sentence.

chapter twenty-three.

haden