“I just thought—” Hip began, but Calder interrupted him.
“Run along, Mr. Clark.”
There was a push in my uncle’s words, power that forced Hip out of the chair and quickly walking out the door, his muscles tensed.
I glanced over at Margo, who looked a little confused but otherwise wasn’t saying anything about the tense aura that was hanging in the air. Atalanta’s body was locked up as she sat in her seat, watching my uncle.
Calder didn’t say anything else as the rest of the students shuffled in. On the board he had written in big letters:
MR. MONROE
I had to stop myself from rolling my eyes. I wondered what Calder was getting at, taking on the human name of my father. Was it to laugh at me? I would have thought it would have disgusted him to do such a thing.
Margo leaned over and whispered. "Is that the uncle that your family has you go visit every summer?”
I nodded.
Every summer since I had been born, the elders and council deemed it necessary that I left behind the human world to visit the Mer city of Anthans. The city that my mother was from. As it was only right to cleanse me of the filth of the humans and teach me the ways of the Mer. It was only the right of maternal progeny that allowed my mother to keep me up on the surface while human school was in session.
I wasn’t the only kid who’d been forced to visit the city, and because of…reasons…my parents weren’t allowed to come with. As the next of kin, Calder had been the one to watch over me in those months.
I felt a hand slide into mine, the warmth and tingles comforting. I looked away from Calder towards Atalanta, who looked just as nervous as I felt.
What was Calder doing here, and what had he done with my cousin?
As soon as the bell rang to begin class, Calder introduced himself as the substitute and then without letting in any room for question, immediately began a lesson on Memento Mori by Jonathan Nolan.
“A fascinating story about a man named Earl, who’s hunting down the person who killed his wife. You might think this would be a standard detective story, however, Earl has a very interesting form of amnesia that was caused by the attack. Earl can’t remember more than a few minutes of information at a time. He remembers all of his life up until the attack, but from there, he must leave notes for himself. Like things he had done that day or people he had met.”
“Like the guy from that Adam Sandler movie. Ten Second Tom.” One of the students commented.
“Exactly,” Calder puts the book down and looks at the class. “Now, like with all literature, there is hidden meaning, but before we speculate, what does the story show us? As it is told all from the perspective of a person who must write down notes to remember if he had even brushed his teeth that morning.”
As per usual in any classroom, there was a deadening silence before someone slowly rose their hand, that someone being Atalanta.
“Yes, Ms…” He prompted for her name.
“…North.”
“Yes, Ms. North.”
“The story brings into question the reliability of the narrator.” She answered.
“Exactly, please explain for the class.”
“Um, well the narrator is our gateway into a story, be it in first, second or third person, we trust the narrator to navigate the story for us, show us what happens, but when you have a story where the narrator is proven to have some sort of condition, like perhaps mental illness or…” She hesitated and I could see her skin pale. “Memory loss. How can we, the readers, trust that we are seeing the story as a whole, with the real events? While it might be true from the narrator’s perspective, there could be parts of the story that are distorted or missing.”
Calder nodded. “That is correct. In this instance, if Earl leaves notes for himself, who’s to say that someone can’t slip in and write whatever they wished? How can we trust anything that Earl tells us about his story? A lesson to keep in mind for more than just literature, dear students. Believe what you will when people tell you things, but always look at things from multiple angles so you can gain your own truth.”
He locked eyes with me. “Because you never know if the person telling you things is as reliable as they seem.”
I clenched my fist.
Chapter Seventeen
Atalanta
There was something, something nagging at the back of my mind. The stupid fog was so heavy, but I had a vague memory. Something Percy had said. Had he said that Calder had come to see us that night on the beach?
No.
I think he had said he…interrupted us.
I couldn’t fucking remember, though. So frustrating.
And it only became worse at Calder’s question on the story. Was I no different from Earl? Did Calder know about what was going on?
Too many questions with no answers. I hated when I couldn’t get answers.
I did know one thing, at least. I couldn’t trust Calder. He reminded me of a snake who was just waiting for the right opportunity to strike. His eyes on me made my skin crawl, and it was clear by Jason’s reaction that Calder wasn’t the world’s best uncle.
This class couldn’t end soon enough.
Calder has us go down the line and read a passage from the story before we opened up into a discussion about what we thought. I kept silent, watching Calder as he charmed the students. By the end of the lesson, the students—especially the girls—were putty in his hands, happily accepting the homework he assigned. Nothing like the disrespect that students so often showed substitutes.
When the bell rang, I snagged my bag and stood to file out with the rest of the students.
“Jason, I would like a word.” Calder said.
I froze and looked back at Jason, who was still in his seat and sitting so still that he could have been a statue. When I moved to sit back down to wait for him, he shot me a look and then nodded towards the door.
He didn’t want me to wait, but I didn’t want to leave him behind.
Sitting back down in my chair, I gave Jason a defiant glare and crossed my arms over my chest. He sighed in response, his head drooping down before standing and facing his uncle.
“How can I help you, Uncle Calder?”
“I simply wanted to speak to my nephew. Catch up and all that.” Calder approached Jason and gave him a hug so awkward that it could have rivaled Lord Voldemort’s.
Jason gave him a tight smile and hugged him back. “I have to get to my next class. Perhaps we can do this another time?”
Calder rolled his eyes and stepped back. “I’ve never understood your desire for this, human education. It’s not as if you learn anything of value. So I must wonder why it is more important than catching up with your family.”
To my surprise, Jason didn't respond to this. He simply gave a small bow. “Forgive me, Uncle. I would be happy to spend time with you.”
Calder’s eyes slid to me. “Will you be staying, child?”
“She will not.” Jason said before I could respond.
“You should let her answer. As royalty, she is above you.” Calder said.
Royalty?! The fuck did he mean by royalty? There wasn’t a royal bone in my body, though Cal would have thought herself a queen. Did this have something to do with us telling Calder I was Theseus’s cousin?
I looked over to Jason, who met my gaze, giving such a minimal shake of his head that I could have imagined it. He didn’t want me to reveal anything, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t try to take advantage of what I just learned.
I took a deep breath and straightened my shoulders.