A Shrine to an Unknown God

PINKY PROMISE

AMERICA. I'm going to America. The words mean next-to-nothing to me. Now that I've left Apollonisi, all these places are just as foreign to me. Mainland Greece and America might as well be the same place, for all that I know.

"You guys," I ask, "how do we get to America from here?" I imagine it must be a very long boat ride.

Marisol and Dahlia look at each other. Then Marisol grabs Dahlia's shoulder and roughly pulls her away from me.

"How the fuck are we gonna get her to America?" Marisol whispers. "I don't suppose she has a passport or even any euros to buy the tickets?"

"We'll get her a fake passport," Dahlia suggests.

"A fake passport? You're out of your mind. I'm not breaking the law."

Ezra finally reaches us and stands, his arms crossed over his chest, next to me. "Okay, ladies. What are we talkin' about?"

"Antigone's options," Marisol explains. "Which she has three of. I think. We can either smuggle her illegally into America, send her back to that island and pray Apollo doesn't kill her, or we can leave her here on the mainland."

Ezra nods seriously, though his eyes are impish as always.

"Why can't we get me to America legally?" I ask.

"Because our country hates immigrants, especially brown ones," Dahlia explains. "We're so damn scared of history repeating itself and them doing to us what we did to the natives. You'd have a better shot at swimming to America. Even if you applied as a refugee or something. It's a slow and difficult and, often times, unrewarding process."

All this talk of rule-breaking is spinning my stomach into knots. I am not a rule-breaker. But, I remind myself, I'm doing this for our gods, and our gods are more powerful than any mortal law.

(Besides. My mother will be killed if I don't succeed.)

"What happens if we get caught?" I venture.

"Prison time," Dahlia replies. "And you'll probably get deported."

"Do you actually want us to illegally smuggle you into our country?" Marisol asks.

It sounds like it's my only option. "I think so."

She shakes her head and walks away from us, rubbing her temple.

Ezra leans in to Dahlia and whispers: "I can get her a fake passport."

Dahlia tilts her head. "Really? How?"

"I know a guy. He's based out of Athens."

"Ezra, how the fuck do you know a guy that makes fake passports?"

"I have... connections."

"Okay. Whatever. I don't think I even want to know. As long as you can get it, like, ASAP."

"I just need a phone or, like, a computer that I can use to message him."

"My phone was destroyed in the crash. I think Marisol's still works. She had a LifeProof case on it."

"What's a phone?" I ask.

The two of them look at me.

"Oh, my God." Ezra says. "Poor baby doesn't even know what a phone is."

"It's... it's like this communication device, but it's got a lot of other things you can do, too," Dahlia explains. "Like you can play games and take selfies and rock out to some sick beats." Then she turns and yells over her shoulder: "MARISOL! WE NEED YOU!"

"What's a—?"

Marisol's arrival cuts me off mid-question. "Please tell me you don't need my help breaking the law."

"I just need it so I can communicate with the guy that's going to break the law for us," Ezra says.

"Also we need to get plane tickets," Dahlia adds. "And call our families to let them know that we're okay."

"I bet the airline will be willing to pay for our tickets," Marisol says. "Given what happened to us. But I doubt they'd pay for Antigone's. So we should all chip in. It'll probably be around a thousand. So about three-hundred each."

"I don't have that kind of money," Ezra says.

"Then how did you afford to get to Greece?" Marisol asks.

Ezra blushes a deep uncomfortable red. "None of your beeswax."

Marisol just sort of gapes at him. "Excuse me?"

"I said none of your beeswax."

"So you really can't afford the three hundred dollars it would cost you to get Antigone to America? Fine. Whatever. Then Dahlia and I will just split the price," Marisol decides, pursing her lips. "I just need to find somewhere with free wifi... okay, let's kill two birds with one stone. We need to get you two"—she points at Ezra and I—"into some modern-looking clothing. And me and Dahlia need to get out of these crusty-ass clothes. So we're gonna go on a shopping trip, yeah? And while we're looking, I'll check my phone for wifi. And we'll have to wait for a store that has wifi to buy anything, since I'll have to use my phone to pay. Ezra, Dahls, did any of your money survive the crash?"

They both shake their heads.

"Okay. I'll pay for whatever you buy and you can just Venmo me when we get home."

"There's no need," Ezra says. "I'll just steal it."

Marisol screws her face up at him.

"Ezra, you can't just steal stuff!" I say. I know that much. This world might be entirely different than my own, but certain morals are universal. Or so I would assume.

"Yeah, that'll hurt the working class," Dahlia adds. "Oink, oink, you capitalist pig."

He throws his hands up in a gesture of innocence. "Fine, fine, I'll just pay Marisol back."

Marisol holds her pinky out to him. "Pinky promise you'll pay me back."

"Pinky promise."

He locks his pinky in her's, and they shake their interlocked hands.

"All right, guys, come on!" Marisol breaks out in a grin and grabs hold of my wrist, dragging me into the street. "Shopping spree!"