The Aftermyth

Coin Me If You Can

I take off running with everyone else, determined to stay with the group so I don’t get lost. Plus, if I have to fend off any more snakes or sparkly things, I’d much rather have other people around so we can do it together.

Teamwork makes the dream work and all that.

Although right now this seems more like a riot han it does any cohesive, school sanctioned event. I’m sure if Athena Hall was in charge of this activity instead of Zeus, it would be a lot more organized.

Still, I have to admit, it’s kind of fun to run up the stairs with all the others, feet slapping on the ancient white marble as those in the front of the pack burst through the large sliding glass doors that lead to the Hall of Legends . A place I’ve only dreamed about before this very moment.

It’s where all the legends—from Ancient Greece and the very first Anaximander’sAcademy all the way through today’s most important graduates of Anaximander’s—are depicted with statues and other works of art. It’s always been a secret dream of mine to one day be represented here.

But that day is a long way off. Right now I have to concentrate on finding my coin and getting into Athena Hall or all of my dreams—secret or otherwise—will be crushed before they even start.

“Come on!” Paris shouts to be heard over the excited yells and squeals of the others, who are all trying to get into the hall at the exact same time.

I follow him as he winds—and by winds, I mean elbows—his way through a microscopic opening in the crowd until people part enough to let us through and we finally, finally, get to the doors.

I take a deep breath, trying to prepare myself for the momentous occasion that is seeing the Hall of Legends for the first time, but before I can so much as breathe out, someone behind me gives me a powerful shove.

I fly over the threshold and then I’m inside, really inside.

I have one moment to register high, ornately painted ceilings and huge, floor to ceiling windows before I’m struck in the head by a flying gold coin.

I gasp as it bounces off my forehead, then try to catch it. But a green haired kid dressed all in black snatches it out of the air right in front of me with a crow of triumph.

“Hey, that was—” I start, but he ignores me as his triumph quickly turns to defeat.

“It’s not mine,” he interrupts with a groan, and then instead of handing it back to me—the person it literally just crashed into—he pulls his arm back and throws it all the way to the other end of the hall.

“Are you kidding me?” I demand as annoyance floods through me. “That was my coin before you ever grabbed it.”

“Sounds like a personal problem to me,” he shoots back before melting into the milling, churning crowd.

“Fantastic,” I mutter.

But there are one hundred and fifty-two more coins to grab, many of which are currently flying through the air above my head, totally out of reach. I just have to figure out how to get one of them and I’ll be set.

Except, all around me people are jumping and climbing onto benches or each other’s shoulders trying to snag a coin. Some of them scream in delight the second they grab one, but others moan in dismay and toss the coins away.

Anxiety fills me as I realize I must have missed more than I thought. I thought we just had to get any coin, that Dr. Britomartis was just being dramatic when he said we had to get the one that was right for us. But a lot of these people are acting like we really do have to get a specific coin. Just like that green-haired boy.

I turn to ask Paris, but he’s already gone. I scan the room and it only takes a few seconds for me to find his red hair in this sea of blondes and brunettes. He’s all the way across the room, leaping for a coin hovering just out of reach.

Of course he is. I’m sure he figures helping me get through the crowds was the end of his brotherly duties. And normally it would be. But it would have been nice if he’d filled me in on the most important rule before we got here.

Although I’m still not exactly sure what that rule is.

But just standing here is only putting me further behind, something I absolutely can’t let happen again. So I dive in, looking all over for a coin that might be within my reach. I start by trying to get to the one the boy threw across the room. If it literally hit me in the head, I feel like the odds are pretty good that it might actually be my coin … whatever that means!

But by the time I manage to slide, wiggle, and at one point crawl my way to the far corner, that coin is long gone. And so are any others that might possibly be within my reach.

On the plus side, the hall has thinned out even more, so I’ve finally got room to breathe a little—and to actually look around and see if there are any coins not hovering near the rafters.

Turns out, there’s one. But it’s currently floating right next to a giant statue of Perseus holding up Medusa’s chopped off head.

Unlike a lot of the sculptures in this building, it definitely didn’t come from Ancient Greece. Instead, it’s in full color—Perseus is wearing jeans and a white t-shirt–and hyper realistic. Which means Medusa’s decapitated head is battered and bloody anda little too vivid looking, if you ask me. . There’s even an artistic pool of blood on the ground beneath it.

On the plus side, there’s a bench right next to the statue which means I can climb up and get the coin as long as I don’t mind getting up close and personal with Perseus’s “trophy.”

Just thinking about Medusa that way—her head a trophy for some rich, old dead guy—makes me really sad. From what I know about Perseus, he was actually a major player in a lot of myths. So why is he always shown in this one, terrible, violent pose? I didn’t expect much more from the Ancient Greeks or Renaissance times, but I kind of thought Anaximander’s would have a little more originality.

Standing around thinking about stuff like that isn’t going to get that coin for me, though. So I force myself to swallow down the disgusting bile creeping up my throat and climb onto the bench to grab it.

But the coin is still a few inches out of my reach—even on my tippy-toes—which leaves me with two options: climb Prometheus or climb onto the back of the bench.

Since I’m pretty sure climbing a very expensive piece of art will get me in trouble if not actually expelled on my very first day, it looks like the back of the bench is going to have to do. Even if the top of it is less than two inches wide.

But no guts, no glory is a phrase for a reason. Besides, I don’t want another coin. I want that coin. Maybe this is what that guy meant when he said the first coin wasn’t his. He didn’t feel anything, just like I didn’t.

But with this coin, there’s something inside me telling me that I have to get it. That it belongs to me. Of course, that could be just the fear—and by fear, I mean terror—of going back to the amphitheater empty handed.

There’s no way I’m doing that. Absolutely, positively no way.

Athena girls do not fail. I’m not going to be the first to mess with that motto.

The back of the bench is made of slats of evenly spaced wood, each one about an inch from the next. An inch doesn’t exactly give me a great foothold, but I manage to get the edge of my big toe between the middle two pieces of wood and use it to boost myself up.

I flail a little bit, but a quick grab of Perseus’s arm steadies me as I get my other foot on the top of the bench I push up again and then I’m standing on the top of it, one foot directly in front of the other so I don’t lose my balance.

I take a second to make sure I’m steady, then scoot forward carefully, using everything I learned in gymnastics to keep from falling into a giant heap on the floor. But I’m doing it, and that’s what matters. Now I just have to get that coin before one of the other first years bumps into me while trying to get their own.

A few inches more and then I’m finally close enough to make a grab for it with my free hand. But the second I do, the coin moves from hovering next to Perseus’s ear to floating above his head.

Seriously? Doing my best not to move too quickly, I slide my hand from Perseus’s biceps to his shoulder, and scoot forward a little more. Then I hold my breath as I push up to my tiptoes, and reach, reach, reach …

The coin jumps again, this time to a spot directly in front of his eye. And not the eye closest to me because that would be too easy. Nothing else about this day has gone as planned. Why should this?

For the first time, a seed of doubt creeps into my mind. Maybe this isn’t my coin, after all. If it was, wouldn’t it want to be caught by me? The other students don’t seem to be having this same problem. Even the boy who said the coin wasn’t his had no trouble grabbing it.

So what is going on with this one? Why won’t it let me grab it?

A quick glance around tells me I really am running out of time. The Hall of Legends is half empty now. And more people are grabbing their coins with every minute that passes.

I think about getting down, about trying for a different coin. But the moment I try to step away, I feel something inside of me pressing me forward, demanding that I go for it one more time.

And so I do, pushing up just a little bit higher on my toes and straining every muscle in my body as I lean forward, forward, forward.

Finally, somehow, my fingers brush against the cold metal of the coin. I squeeze it between the fingertips of my middle and ring finger and then curl them down into a fist as triumph roars through me.

I did it! I really did it!

The coin jumps along my palm, battering the inside of my fingers like it’s dying to get away from me. But I hold on tight as I start to step back down to the bench seat.

As I do, someone makes a grab for their own coin—apparently it’s under the bench I’m currently standing on—and as they do, they bump into the bench hard enough to send me tumbling off the edge I’m so precariously balanced on.

I close my eyes, bracing myself for the pain of slamming into cold, hard marble. But it never happens.

Instead, I fall straight into someone’s arms. Or, to be more accurate, someone catches me in order to keep me from hitting the ground.

And that someone isn’t just anyone. It’s a boy.

Because of course it is.