August 23
I knew I should've stayed home the minute my mom's car pulled up in front of the high school. "Their mascot is an eight-legged horse?" I said. "What kind of a place is this?"
My mother looked back at me. This was my third high school. I had been bullied pretty badly at the last two and my mother had driven thirty minutes to bring me here. That made me shut up. "Thanks mother," I said. "At least the school colors aren't blue and white."
She laughed and I got out of the car. I shouldered my backpack, lifted my chin, and strode forward. I had been to enough schools to know the rules: don't call attention to yourself, know which classes you can watch Doctor Who in before you stream episodes on your laptop, and don't ever trust the school cafeteria to cook decent falafels.
My long-sleeved Nirvana t-shirt and grey slacks were perfect for the weather, but I found myself wheezing slightly as I approached the entrance. I wasn't sure if it was my acting up asthma or anxiety. I pulled out my schedule from my pocket. I unfolded it, looking at the drawing of a one-eyed man sitting on a throne before the names of my classes and teachers.
I'd been having these crazy dreams lately. In them, I wasn't Magnus Chase the loser, but Magnus Chase the dead loser. Sounds weird, right? In my sleep, I fought giants, ran from wolves (I hate wolves), and kept on dying in repeatedly unheroic ways (falling off a bridge, having my head cut off, etc). Thankfully, those were just dreams.
I had to stop by the front office to get my name tag. The person who took my picture, a guy named Hunding, looked like he needed an early retirement and better health insurance. I could give him neither, so I gave him the chocolate bar I had been planning to eat later.
Hunding started tearing up. "You're the kindest one I've seen all year."
I blinked. "It's the first day of school."
He waved off my words. "Take the compliment, kid."
I did, ducking out the office as a stern-looking man strolled in. "Why are you behind on paperwork again, Hunding?" he asked.
"I'm sorry, Helgi," Hunding said meekly.
Helgi sounded like the kind of man who would criticize anything a student did, so I hurriedly made my way to my locker. Once I opened it, I took one look at it and then closed it again and decided to go to my first block. I checked my class schedule again.
Block Class Teacher
1 AP English Odin Poe
2 Physical Education Thor Gunderson
3 Ceramics Sif Gunderson
4 AP World History Odin Poe
5 AP Biology Mimir Well
6 AP Mathematics Loki Lovelace
7 Learning Lab Njörd Vanir
8 American Sign Language Vidar Valli
The school had an alternate block schedule, so tomorrow would be like the first day of school — again. I went to my first block, which I found on the fifth floor; apparently, the school had 540 classrooms — not to mention the cafeteria, library, auditorium, and bathrooms.
I arrived a minute before class was about to start. I looked around, quickly appraising my situation. I ended up sitting in the back between a guy who looked like a giant and a girl wearing a green hijab. The guy was knitting; the girl was sketching planes in her notebook.
The teacher came into the room five minutes after class started. He was a tall man with long black hair that covered one of his eyes. "Sorry about that students," he said. "I was busy translating some Runes. My name is Odin Poe and, I am not only your English teacher this year, but also your principal."
I blinked and turned to the girl beside me. "He's the principal?"
"Hush," she said. "He's very well respected. His vice principals — Thought and Memory — do most of the administrative work. His true joy comes from teaching."
I blinked, surprised by her tone. I turned to Odin and he began roll call. I was fourth on the list. "Mango Cheese," He said.
"It's Magnus, Mr. Poe," I said.
He blinked at me. "Rhymes with swagness."
A few people giggled. "Well, I'll have to tell Helgi to fix this. Your name on the roll call says Mango Cheese."
There were more snickers. "I assure you, my name is not Mango Cheese," I said.
He shrugged. "I'll call you wherever you prefer, Magnus. I'd like it if each of you calls me Odin or the Allfather."
The roll call finished without another hiccup. The guy beside me regarded me while Mr. Poe — sorry, Odin — was getting something up on the projector. "You must be a newbie."
"Uhh," I said.
I was wondering if I screamed "new kid." See, I'd been the new kid too many times and it was never fun. You have to introduce and integrate yourself with a whole new set of people. The last two groups had bullied me; I didn't have high hopes for this one.
To my surprise, the man gave me a small smile. "I know what it's like," he said. "I was new last year. The name's Halfborn."
He reached out one large hand and I shook it. "Stay away from the mean crowd and you'll be alright," he advised.
At this point, Odin stood up. A PowerPoint took up most of the screen and I realized it was . . . Jeopardy! The teacher chuckled st our surprise. "You thought I'd give you an old-fashioned syllabus?" he asked. "No, I'd rather test your limits with a game of Jeopardy! I expect you to know the answers to all of these questions by the end of the year."
Some of the questions were fairly easy. He had thrown in some pop culture references and I knew Doctor Who better than I knew my own father (which wasn't saying much). Still, some of the questions stumped me. They were from books I hadn't read and plays I hadn't seen. The girl beside me, though, seemed to know them all.
Odin expected us to know the Norse equivalent of a rap battle and how many hairs on the average human head (neither of which seemed to pertain to English class). By the end, I decided this was going to be the craziest class of the year. Boy was I wrong.