cassiopeia ☆ percy jackson

ch.1

CHAPTER 1: NO DOODLING INFRONT OF NANCY
Cassia

My favorate constellation to draw was Cassiopiea.

In the Greek stories my dad told me about, he said it’s supposed to resemble a woman on a throne. “I named you after her because you’d be a great Queen”, he said to me.

Sure, I could go and marry someone and be treated like one, but that seemed too easy.

“She’s drawing,” I heard a friend of Nancys’ whisper, catching the attention of the devil herself. I could see her grin from my left, but was reminded why I’m never allowed on the outer seat on the buses.

Because I’d rip her hair out.

So Grover or Percy was placed beside me, and today, it was Percy.

“You think your hair will be that long?” he asked, looking down at my sketch. My current draft was me wearing a crown made of stars, and my hair all the way down to my ankles.

“If my dad stops chopping it off,” I replied, my voice monotone as I concentrated on the finer details - like how my throne would have spikes on the edges.

“That much hair will weigh you down when you shower. I’ve seen videos.”

“You watch videos of people with specifically long hair showering? Might need to look at your search history.”

He rolled his eyes, “haha, very funny.”

“I am. Thank you for acknowledging that,” my smug smile made him scoff. He grabbed my pencil just as we arrived, something we did to make sure I actually got off the bus this time.

Last field trip, I was so caught up in my drawing that I was on the bus for an hour. The only reason anyone noticed I was gone was because Mr. Brunner noticed that Percys’ shadow wasn’t with him.

“What you see here, they are not fictions,” Mr. Brunner began. I never knew where I fell when it came to religion, but the stories of the Gods and their great battles and warriors made me want to believe it was real.

“They are not fantasies. What you see here are the truest and deepest parts of yourselves. Friends. . .the gods. . .the monsters, the heroes you see here in this room are reminders of what we are capable of,” my eyes began to wander, “now, on your worksheets, I want you to choose one of the subjects you see here and describe it. Not just how it looks, but how it makes you feel. Hm? Okay, come on.”

“I don’t see Selene, Mr. Brunner,” I told him, and he came up to me, “yes, they always tend to leave out the women. Men did write history in Ancient Greece.”

“Why Selene? Why not Nyx, or Hera? Or even Athena?” He asked as we began to take a stroll.

“Well, I like all of them, but I like the moon the most. There’s not a lot of information about her, and she was shadowed once the newcomers came along. Zeus, Hera, Hercules, Ares - they all stole the spotlight,” I explained.

“Actually, one museum does shed more light on one particular goddess,” He pulled out his phone, typing in the Pergamon Museum and one of the first images was a woman reaching out, a vase in one hand.

“Many depict this as Nyx. I’d argue she’s the most important figure in Greek Mythology.”

“Why? Because she was the first?”

He looked at me, and for a second I could swear I heard thunder during this sunny day, “because Zeus fears her.”

“Zeus? Why?” I asked.