Descending Olympus: The Stygian Chalice

By Velvia Wylie Keithley

Zach Nikolas isn't a typical high school boy--no acne, no awkwardness for this high school god among boys. Gorgeous, charming, and athletic, every girl in school throws herself at him. Zach's parents, friends, and teachers worship the ground he walks on. He has never known want or sacrifice in his charmed life. He is on top of the world.

Things in Zach's perfect life begin to go horribly wrong. A murder attempt and a miraculous escape from certain death leads Zach to unheard-of powers, as an angry god seeks vengeance.

The one girl Zach can't have--the beautiful, intelligent Allie Connor, who hates his guts--is the key to everything.

When myths become reality, Zach must decide to sacrifice the girl he loves or let the world come to a fiery end.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Jul 14, 2011
• ISBN: 9781456764852

Velvia Wylie Keithley

Velvia Keithley was born and raised in Mexia, Texas, where she began writing stories as early as elementary school. She attended Sam Houston State University, and wrote for her college newspaper, "The Houstonian." She majored in English, and minored in Journalism, reveling in her creative writing classes. As a public school English and Theatre teacher, she enjoys seeing the impact that literature can have on the lives of children. “I have literally seen the impossible become possible, through children who were inspired by stories,” said Keithley. While she has many unpublished short stories, Descending Olympus is her first novel. She plans on the story progressing to a trilogy. The next book is titled, “The Apple of Discord.” Velvia Keithley currently lives in Huntsville, Texas, and is married to David Keithley, a school psychologist. She has two amazing daughters, Ashlea Nicole, who recently began serving her country in the United States Navy, and Johanna Grace, as precocious a 4th grader as they come.

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© 2011 Velvia Wylie Keithley. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

First published by AuthorHouse 9/6/2011

ISBN: 978-1-4567-6485-2 (e)

ISBN: 978-1-4567-6486-9 (dj)

ISBN: 978-1-4567-6487-6 (sc)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2011907919

Printed in the United States of America

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

This book is printed on acid-free paper.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

This novel is dedicated to my father, Bennie Wylie, Sr., who always believed in me, and my mother, Velvia Ann Wylie, who loves and supports me to this day.

I would like to thank my husband, David, for his edits and his constant encouragement. Without his support, Zach and Allie might have lived forever in my imagination.

I thank my daughters Ashlea Nicole and Johanna Grace for giving me their love and being constant joys in my life.

I thank my students for their daily inspiration, and special thanks to Kellie Spears for my author photograph.

I thank the wonderful city of Huntsville, Texas for being the wonderful backdrop for my characters.

Contents

CHAPTER ONE: THAT’S A DREAM FOR YOU…

CHAPTER TWO: I WISH THAT I HAD JESSIE’S GIRL…

CHAPTER THREE: MEMORIES

CHAPTER FOUR: I’VE GOT A BAD FEELING ABOUT THIS…

CHAPTER FIVE: FIRE IN THE BLOOD

CHAPTER SIX: WHEN ALL YOUR DREAMS COME TRUE

CHAPTER SEVEN: CAN’T A MAN GET SOME NORMAL SLEEP, ALREADY?

CHAPTER EIGHT: OPEN MOUTH, INSERT FOOT

CHAPTER NINE: SAVIOR

CHAPTER TEN: DEATH APPROACHES ON SILENT WINGS

CHAPTER ELEVEN: AND I’M FREE…FREE-FALLIN’…

CHAPTER TWELVE: MEDICAL MIRACLES

CHAPTER THIRTEEN: BACK TO NORMAL, ALMOST

CHAPTER FOURTEEN: ALLIE IN PRISON

CHAPTER FIFTEEN: PSYCHO IN THE BRAIN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN: IF YOU DON’T GET HELP HERE…

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: THE CONFRONTATION

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: THE PAST, REVISITED

CHAPTER NINETEEN: SEEDED IN TIME

CHAPTER TWENTY: PROOF

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE: NEED FOR SPEED

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO: LOVE IS A BATTLEFIELD

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE: KINK IN THE PLANS

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR: SPILLING THE BEANS

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE: REFUSAL

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX: MOTHER’S TRUTH

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN: ALLIE

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT: PREPARATIONS

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE: LET’S GET IT ON…

CHAPTER THIRTY: THE BABY

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE: THE BATTLE

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO: THE BATTLE RAGES ON!

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE: TIME HEALS ALL WOUNDS

PROLOGUE:

BRING IT ON!

Give me the chalice, you ignorant boy!

Ares’ voice bellowed through the dense forest. The god of War sounded close enough to grab the back of my neck. For all I knew, he might have been. I couldn’t spare a look behind. I could only run.

Give it back! It’s mine! He whined like a spoiled child ready to throw a tantrum, as if I’d stolen his favorite toy. But I would be insane to think he was anything but an enraged Greek god who wanted to flay me alive.

I ran faster, trying not to think of the horror I’d left behind. Blood, death and chaos. I sobbed, unable to contain my fear. Was Marco dead? The rest of my friends? How did everything go so horribly wrong?

Don’t think. Just run.

I tucked the golden cup under my arm, like a football player, and ran with all my might, dodging trees and bushes, jumping over roots and underbrush, desperate to keep my footing. My breath whistled loudly in my ears, but I had no problems hearing Ares.

Now I am going to kill you, little Father!

Oh. I was under the impression that he had already been trying to kill me. My bad.

Crazed laughter caught up to me and sent shivers down my spine.

What do you children of this time say? The bastard didn’t sound even slightly winded. "Oh yes. It’s on."

I ducked my head and dove through branches that scratched and scraped my face. Frantically, I considered flashing—jumping automatically from this forest of death to somewhere else, anywhere else in the world—but I didn’t know where to go. I didn’t want to lead Ares to my house, or worse, to the hero sanctuary. Besides, he could flash and follow me, so what was the point? I’d just get innocent people killed if I flashed somewhere without thinking.

Where are you going? You can’t escape me. I’ll find you! I will cut your entrails from your body and feed them to my birds!

Think, think, think.

A stitch in my side made me grimace in pain. I was wasting precious energy running through this wild forest. Trees blocked my vision in every direction and I wasn’t sure where I was headed.

I took several wobbly leaps into the air and suddenly I was aloft, flying. The ground fell quickly away and relief washed over me.

Yes! I shrieked. I would get away, I would live and—

Arrh!

A spear pierced my lower thigh and I began to fall wildly to the ground below. Before I fell into the tree line, I saw Ares striding in my direction, several hundred yards away. I tried to slow my descent but I crashed heavily into the ground.

I cursed violently! The pain felt like claws tearing into my skin. Gritting my teeth, I broke the spear and yanked it from my leg. The pain nearly caused me to black out, but the bleeding stopped almost immediately.

There was no choice. I had to flash, or Ares would find me and kill me. Permanently.

I made a quick decision and the Hall of Heroes appeared before my eyes. It was too bright after the darkness of the forest, but the white rock cavern was as silent as death, empty. The heroes were back at the lake, fighting Ares’ minions.

I collapsed on the stone floor, chest heaving. Tears flowed down my face, but I didn’t bother to wipe them away. I had deserted my friends. They couldn’t protect themselves like I could, and I had gotten my butt handed to me. What chance did they have?

There was no choice. I had stolen the cup from Ares, but I had misjudged how strong I was, and how psychotically determined he was. I hesitated one second too long and Ares showed no mercy, attacking me with all of his might. Weakened and afraid, I ran.

Now I needed a plan.

Hide the cup! Hide the cup! Hide the cup!

I was so tired. My body and brain wanted to rest, wanted to go back to six weeks ago, to before this nightmare all began. But I didn’t have time to rest. I didn’t have time to reminisce about the good ole days. Ares was coming.

Think!

A plan began to form in my mind, but doubt filled me. Surely it wouldn’t work. But maybe it would. Otherwise, there was no hope at all.

CHAPTER ONE:

THAT’S A DREAM FOR YOU…

Before the chaos, six weeks earlier, it never occurred to me that my dream—which I will describe momentarily—was anything other than an ordinary dream. My dreams have always been very vivid, so you can’t blame me for not realizing the dream for what it truly was.

It was one of those dreams where you can look down and see yourself—usually sleeping. In this dream, though, I watched myself play Rock Band with my three best friends. We were upstairs in my lair—really just a reinforced attic living space with all of my junk in it, where my friends and I hung out. I could see me and my friends laughing and insulting each other. You know, having a great time.

Slowly, in the way of most dreams, I drifted along, down the stairs that led from the attic into our kitchen. I could still hear my own laughter and loud rock music drift down out of the attic, as I watched my mom search through recipes in the kitchen. She sighed, and said, Oh, Zach, and walked towards me.

At first, I thought she was talking to me, but she passed right through me and firmly closed the door that led to the attic.

I was invisible! And immaterial. At that moment I began to believe it was a dream.

I realized something else. My mom hadn’t spoken aloud. I was hearing her thoughts. Weird. But that’s a dream for you.

At that moment, my mom, Rae, was thinking that our fairly upscale, well-to-do neighborhood, Elkins Lake, was not so uptight that the neighbors would complain about my rock music, but she wanted to get control before things got too out of hand.

Before she could head up to yell at me and my friends, the doorbell chimed.

Good! Pizza’s here, she said to herself. That was quick.

At the door, a young blonde woman stood stiffly, holding a large pizza warmer. My mom could smell the sauce and cheese. Nikolas? Four large pizza, two 2-liter cola, two 2-liter root beer?

Yes, that’s us. I’ve got four hungry boys upstairs, my mom said, smiling.

That will be $48.50, Madam. The young woman spoke in a soft voice and shyly kept her head down. Mom could barely see her face, especially with the bill of the Joe’s Pizza cap pulled down low. Golden blonde curls escaped the cap, and my mom could tell the girl was prettier than the awkwardly fitting pizza delivery uniform showed.

My invisible self tried to see the girl’s face, but I couldn’t make my body move. I was stuck, invisible, on the ceiling. I hate dreams like that.

Please come inside while I get my purse. My mother invited the girl into the large open foyer. You can sit the pizza right there on the foyer table.

The girl, maybe 19 or 20-years-old, stepped warily inside. She craned her neck, eyeballing as much of the house as she could—into the dining room to the right of the doorway, and the library to the left, up the stairs, and down the foyer to the kitchen. My mom thought that perhaps delivering pizzas wasn’t as safe as it used to be, especially for young women. But the girl appeared strong, with lean muscles in her arms and strong leg muscles apparent through the cheap polyester pants. Still, one couldn’t be too careful.

You haf’ four sons? Her voice was a soft hum. My mom and I both noticed the girl’s stilted speech and slight accent.

She must be foreign, Mom thought.

Definitely European, I added.

Oh, no. Just the one. Three of his friends are here.

This is he? The girl reached out a slim, white hand and touched a picture frame sitting on the foyer table, which held a recent photo of me. Another framed photograph showed me in my soccer jersey, balancing a soccer ball on my head. She caressed the photo slowly, thoughtfully.

Yes, he’s my pride and joy, Mom beamed. Invisible or not, I blushed. My mom loved me crazily and didn’t mind sharing it with everyone she ran across, including perfect strangers.

He is handsome boy. The girl studied my photo intently.

Thank you. Everyone says so.

Mom attempted to get a better look at the girl. She realized a long time ago that young girls and not-so-young girls were very taken by her extremely attractive son. At six feet tall, I was nearly as big as my father. With my dark blond hair and blue eyes, square jaw line and full lips, the girls couldn’t seem to stay away. I wasn’t egotistical. I just knew that girls really liked me, and I didn’t mind in the slightest.

Here you are, said Mom, giving the delivery girl five $10 dollar bills, plus a generous tip. You must be from the university. I haven’t seen you around before.

Yes. I have just begun working here, delivering pizza to area homes, the young woman said.

My mom smiled at the girl’s odd phrasing. Thank you very much.

It was my pleasure, madam. The girl left with a quick bow.

Mom smiled again at the girl’s retreating back. It is always nice to meet people from different cultures, she thought.

After the door closed, I floated easily through the thick wooden door, which was a trip and a half. I could see the minute particles of the grains of wood and even the paint pass before my eyes. Outside, I saw the girl standing and looking back at our home. Her eyes narrowed in obvious concentration.

What was she thinking? While I could hear my mom’s thoughts in this crazy dream, the girl’s thoughts were a mystery to me.

The girl turned on her heel and hurried to a dark sedan waiting two houses down the street.

Even more weird. I expected a car with a pizza sign on the top. Where’s her pizza car?

Lifting the lid of a garbage can sitting on the curb, she quickly dumped the pizza warmer and replaced the lid. She swiftly entered the back seat of the car and addressed a man sitting in the shadows. I tried to get a look his face, but I couldn’t make out any details. The shadows seemed to purposely obscure his face.

But suddenly I didn’t want to see him. Ever. My bladder was unexpectedly heavy with an urgent need to pee, and I wanted to be a thousand miles away from this man. Even though I was invisible, I was certain that if he looked up, he would see me. I held my breath and willed myself to wake up. It didn’t work.

This is the home. The girl’s voice was no longer soft, but strong and certain. Unmistakably European. Maybe Russian or Turkish. I’m not great with languages, so I couldn’t pin it down. My best friend Darius would have known.

Are you certain? The man’s voice was somehow warm and cold at the same time.

Wake up, Zach! I pleaded with myself silently

"Yes, Bashta. I am certain the boy lives here. I spoke with the woman and saw photographs."

Good. Very good, he replied with slow, obvious satisfaction.

He was pleased. Displeasing him would have been…unpleasant. That much I knew without having to hear either of their thoughts. They were talking about me. What did they want with me?

Will he know what he is? Has he gotten his memories? she asked.

Memories?

No. If he had discovered his pasts, he would have come looking for me by now. But he is still just a boy. We have time.

How will we discover if this boy is the one you are looking for?

Time will tell, Adrestia. Time will tell.

"If he is the one, she will try to stop you. She has been protecting him. Because of her interference, he has remained hidden all this time." A snarl escaped her lips.

Mom? Someone else? I hated not understanding. I wanted to scream, Give me some exposition, please! But my fear vastly overwhelmed my curiosity.

She can only do so much. She is bound by that ridiculous pact. She won’t risk interfering too much. If this boy is the one, I will destroy him.

My head was spinning. No, my whole body was spinning and I found myself floating back towards my house.

Did he say that he was going to destroy me?

An uncomfortable bubbling began in the pit of my stomach, and suddenly I was really tired of this weird dream. When the blackness overcame me, I went to it willingly. Later, I didn’t remember anything about this weird episode.

Gods, I wish that I had.

CHAPTER TWO:

I WISH THAT I HAD JESSIE’S GIRL…

When I heard angry footsteps stamping up the staircase to the attic, I knew I was in for a tongue-lashing. My mom appeared with her palms smashed into her ears.

Really, Mom, I can understand you don’t want to hear Darius screeching—, I began.

Ah, come on, man… Darius interrupted, with a pout.…

—but surely classic Bon Jovi makes you feel rejuvenated?

My mom tried not to smile, but I was her only child and most of what I did made her happy. And I knew she loved Living on a Prayer.

Heya, Mrs. Nikolas, said Darius, my best friend since kindergarten, still frowning from my remark about his poor singing ability. The two other boys called greetings. Red-haired, freckle-faced Austin Silcox currently manned the drum set. Marco Thomas, another friend from back in the days of grade school, waved frantically. He played the bass guitar.

I wondered how long Mom had put up with the loud music, laughter, and the grunts that accompanied making rock music, even on a video game, before coming upstairs. Despite her smile, I noticed tell-tale signs of eye strain, a look she got when I was being particularly worrisome.

Zach, can you guys get a grip on the noise levels? I was trying to work downstairs and my teeth are rattling.

Sorry, Mom. We can totally keep it down. I flashed my 1000-watt mega-smile at her, all innocent eyes and pleading forgiveness. Some of the strain left her eyes, as I knew it would.

We didn’t know you were home. We didn’t mean to be so loud, I apologized.

You are trying to charm me, mister. But that’s okay. And, she said, smiling with love in her eyes, "you were loud the day you were born. All fury and defiance, and pink baby butt.

My faced turned bright red.

Darius, Austin and Marco’s guffaws were deafening.

Mom asked, "So I guess the Rock Band was a great Christmas present?"

Four days into the New Year, my friends and I had played the video game just about every day since Christmas.

Oh definitely, Mrs. Nikolas, said Marco, flashing a winning smile at her.

Ugh.

Marco was in love with my mom. Not in a weird, gross way. But I was pretty sure he’d kill me and take my place as her son if he could. Mom, traitor that she was, smiled at Marco and reached out to give him a hug. He practically dove into her arms.

Listen, Halfie, back up off my mom.

Zach!

It’s alright, Mrs. Nikolas—I’d rather be a halfie than an Italian sausage.

Boys! My mom was horrified.

At least Italian sausage goes great on pizza. Coffee with cream is for chicks and little kids!

My mom stared openmouthed. So did Marco. He couldn’t think of anything to say.

I made a shooting basketball motion and said, Two points.

Whatever, dude, Marco said. I’m still up 15 points anyway.

Only 13 points now! Remember yesterday when I asked if you got your pants at GapKids?

Yeah, Marco snorted, that was funny!

Pat yourselves on the back all you want. I’m the reigning champ! Darius crowed. Remember when I said you guys looked like rejects from Animal Planet.

We all laughed.

I glanced over at my mom and my laughter dried up like a desert stream. Thunderclouds were rolling on her face. I knew we were all in trouble.

Come on, Mom. We don’t mean anything by it. It’s just a game. We try to one up each other, I began.

Cutting me off, Mom forced the words through her teeth. I don’t care what you call it. It is not a game. It is not ‘cool’ to poke fun at each other in that way, especially about someone’s racial or ethnic heritage.

The four of us stared at the floor, slightly ashamed. I glanced over at Darius and saw his lips twitch, and he winked at me. Some of us, obviously, were more ashamed than others.

I, for one, am completely proud of my Greek heritage, and your father’s Italian heritage, Zach. Marco, there is nothing wrong —she shot me a dark look—with being biracial African-American and White. Nothing!

Well, I’m totally cool with my rich, dark blackness, Darius offered.

The Irish are still considered an underclass in some parts of the world, you know, Austin stated, his red hair glinting in the sunlight.

Ignoring them, Mom insisted, You could be hurting his feelings—even if he says that you aren’t. Her eyes were getting decidedly red.

Marco put himself into her arms again, and hugged her tight.

It doesn’t hurt my feelings, Mama Nikolas, but we’ll stop the insults. Don’t worry.

Marco, several inches shorter than my mother, rested his head on her chest. She placed her cheek on the top of his curly head, and squeezed him.

Time for a subject change.

Mom, best mom in the world, oh most gorgeous of moms…

Heard that! Marco exclaimed, still in my mother’s arms.

…Could you order some pizza for us? We are starving! I pleaded, my blue eyes staring into hers.

It’s already downstairs, you heathen child. Four— she began

Larges, I interrupted. Out of nowhere, I felt weird. Dizzy.

Déjà vue, I stated.

My mom looked at me, concerned.

Honey?

I just had a weird feeling of déjà vue, I said, looking around the room at my friends, at my mom. This has happened before.

And it will all happen again? Darius intoned sarcastically, and then rattled off something in Italian. "Tu sei davvero strano, il mio fratello di un’altra madre!"

I shook my head slightly to clear the cobwebs clinging to my mind.

Darius, my dad is not here to translate, so, first, speak English. And second, Mom, for real, I knew you bought four large pizzas. And there was a girl… My head hurt from trying to remember.

Zach, sweetheart, my ordering four large pizzas isn’t déjà vue; it is the reality of every weekend, Mom laughed easily. But I could see some of her eyestrain return.

Dude, with you, there’s always a girl, Darius said.

Never mind. The feeling is gone now. Did you say there were four hot, delicious pizzas already downstairs in the kitchen?

Mom smiled and nodded.

Alright! I darted over to kiss her, but Marco straight-armed me, and planted his lips on her cheek. Ripping him from her arms, I pushed him onto the couch.

I hugged Mom tight. "Thanks for the grub, thanks for the Rock Band, thanks for being my mom. You rock!"

I heard Austin and Darius race down the stairs to the kitchen to grab the pizzas.

Yes I do, Mom said. I’ll leave you guys to it, then. I’m off to work. I’ve got a group counseling session this afternoon.

My mother worked as a private Licensed Professional Counselor. Her job allowed her to work as she needed and be at home for me when I was younger. I was older now, though, and she took more cases.

Oh, by the way, Dad came home really late last night. There was some trouble at the prison, so he’s napping. He’s so tired I don’t think you’d wake him even if you played your music in our bedroom. But still, keep a small lid on the noise, okay fellas? She directed a firm stare at Darius and Austin as they entered with the pizza.

We’ll keep it down, Mrs. Nikolas, said Darius, and then in flawless SKU-000450388_TEXT.pdf

You do that, replied Mom, and keep yourself out of trouble, too.

Turning to me, she winked. I’ll see you tonight, Zachary.

She left to a chorus of Thanks, Mrs. Nikolas!

Your mom is so cool, said Austin, diving into a pizza box.

And she’s hot! Marco stared longingly at the door Mom had just exited.

Dude, she’s like a mother to you! I slapped Marco smartly on the back of the head.

My mom is not that fine, said Marco, absently rubbing his head. He grabbed for a third slice of pepperoni and pineapple from the second box of pizza. Your mom is fi-iine!

I held up the first empty pizza box and gave a questioning glance.

Austin shrugged. Dude, you snooze, you lose.

Just then my cell phone beeped. I fished the phone out of my pocket, slid it open, and viewed the new text message, which just read,

CALL ME!!!!!!

—Stacee—

Let me guess. Stacy? asked Austin.

I nodded. The emphatic text was from my girlfriend. She had recently started spelling her name with two E’s.

Ooo Weee! Darius exclaimed. With her blonde hair, blue eyes, and long legs, that girl is a knockout in twelve languages.

The problem is, she’s annoying in fourteen languages, including American Sign Language and Braille, said Austin.

I shrugged. It was not as if I could argue. Stacy put on an irritating, breathy, baby voice she thought sounded sexy. And sometimes it did. But mostly her voice was nails-on-a-chalkboard aggravating. Viewing the text message again, I softly groaned. She’d been riding me hard about not spending enough time with her.

Speaking of ‘fine’ and not about somebody’s mom, Darius said, directing a hard look at Marco, or not somebody who sounds like she’s a cartoon prostitute—two points—what about you and Allie, Zach? When you gonna stop making goo goo love eyes at her and ask her out?

That’s harsh. And I don’t make goo goo eyes at Allie. I just look at her.

Allie. Allie Connor. Beautiful Allie.

She is seriously high on the Darius Evans Hot-A-Meter," Darius said.

Higher than Zoe Saldana? I asked, attempting to joke about Darius’s crush on the Hollywood A-list actress.

No one can be higher than my future wife, Darius scoffed. "She’s gonna make a million more movies, and I’m gonna carry her purse around and fight dudes who try to get with her.

But back to Allie—nice attempt at a subject change, by the way—she is on anybody’s hot-a-meter that is working properly, Darius said.

Austin and Marco joined the verbal coercion. I’m sure they honestly wanted to help me. I honestly wanted to punch each of them in the throat.

You know she’s co-captain of the dance team, Marco said appreciatively.

"…And she is in Who’s Who of Young American Scientists," Austin added.

She is a total package, Marco concluded.

Exasperated with the trio, I argued, I do have a girlfriend, you know. Remember Stacy?

I threw my cell phone with the text message visible to Darius. Darius viewed the message and laughed.

Oh man, it begins! And you know what that means? Austin? Tell us what that means.

Austin chortled, then in his best British announcer voice, he said, What that means, gentlemen, is that there is no point, no point whatsoever, in remembering…what’s-her-name…because Zachary will be broken up with her in less than a fortnight.

Marco laughed until cola shot through his nose.

Dude, that’s gross. Clean that up! I griped, chucking a roll of paper towels at Marco’s head as hard as I could.

Which leaves you free for Allie Connor. Smoking hot, sexy school librarian hot, hot-hot, extra-hot Allie Connor, Darius sighed in regret. If only I wasn’t dating Zahara…

It’ll be like James Franco meets Megan Fox, Marco theorized, while wiping his nose with paper towels. You guys are too good-looking to deny the world your children. Beautify the Earth, man!

I don’t think that’s what they were talking about when they came up with that slogan, I said. And James Franco wishes he could look like me. I laughed at my own ego.

Yeah, that’s my brutha! Self-aware and recognizing his gifts, said Darius.

My friends teased me, but the truth was evident to anyone with eyeballs. I was tall, with male model good looks. I was always being compared to Hollywood stars like James Franco, or a young Brad Pitt, and one girl in the Galleria Mall in Houston would not be convinced I wasn’t Chris Evans, i.e., the Human Torch from the Fantastic Four movies. She demanded an autograph and took a picture with me.

According to Krishawna, you are ‘somethin’ fine on a stick.’ Whatever that means. And don’t think I’m not suspicious about last homecoming. You two were a little too close for my liking. Darius glared at me.

Dude, she’s your sister. And she’s twelve. She tripped and bloodied her knee and I carried her back to your mom’s car.

Yeah, and her looking like the cat that ate the cheese, said Darius.

Cream. I think the saying is ‘The cat that ate the cream,’ Austin corrected Darius. It means when you look self-satisfied, or pleased with yourself.

Darius scowled at Austin. Shut up, dude.

Austin just laughed.

The point is, Darius went on, you could have Allie if you’d just talk to her. Tell her you guys are goin’ out.

So I should just tell her, I said wryly, and not give her a choice or anything.

Women’s Lib called, Darius. They want to kick your head in, Austin joked.

Darius shrugged, Hey, that’s how I got my girlfriend. I strutted up to Zahara and said, ‘Hey, when are you gonna break up with your boyfriend and go out with me?’ We started dating the next day. But, then, I am he said, blowing on his knuckles and air polishing them on his shirt, Da Man.

I laughed and said, You are Da Jerk. Listen, if I break up with Stacy—

When, Darius, Marco, and Austin said in unison.

—If. If I break up with her, I’m planning to hook-up with Jessica. Or maybe Rachel. They’ve both wanted a shot at me since last year.

The guys nodded in agreement. Rachel, in particular, a buxom, ditzy brunette, had become sort of stalker-ish.

And, uh, if you haven’t noticed, Allie can’t stand the sight of me. I tried very hard not to sigh.

Talking around a mouthful of pizza, Austin said, Well, your behavior towards the fairer sex leaves a lot to be desired.

‘Fairer sex?’ Austin, stop reading poetry. You ain’t impressin’ anybody, Darius griped. "But as to your sentiments, A-bomb, I must agree and say ‘true dat!’ Z-Man, your record with the ladies is legendary."

Don’t call me A-bomb.

Dude, I’ve been calling you A-bomb for three years. I’m not likely to stop any time soon.

You two stop arguing so much, I scolded. And I don’t treat girls badly, Darius.

Oh, man, Marco jumped in excitedly. Don’t forget the panty raid you pulled on Allie’s birthday sleepover two years ago. Classic! With tears in his eyes, he chortled, Dude, Allie HATES you! You are NEVER gonna get that!

I launched a slice of pizza at Marco’s head. He snagged it out of the air and began to eat