Anne Ursu: The Shadow Thieves

The last class of the day was English. Charlotte and Zee walked down the hallway together, and everyone had a smile for Zee. Charlotte was surprised he still bothered talking to her.

Zee leaned over to her and muttered, "People are very friendly in America."

Charlotte raised her eyebrows. "Sure," she said.

"It's nice. When you meet people here, they don't introduce themselves as, like, the eighth earl of Asherton."

"Sure," said Charlotte.

"And the teachers are so relaxed."

"Sure," said Charlotte.

"So… " Zee said, "next is literature, isn't it?"

"English. Yeah. At the end of the hall."

"Do you like it?"

Charlotte shrugged. "Well, we used to have a wonderful teacher, but Mr. Metos…"

Zee stopped suddenly. He stared at Charlotte. "Metos?"

"Yeah," said Charlotte, looking at him. "Why?"

Zee turned his head. "Oh, nothing," he said. "Unusual name, that's all."

But the way Zee said "Oh, nothing" was the way people talked when there was Definitely Something. Charlotte peered at her cousin and said slowly, "Well, he's an unusual guy."

Every time Charlotte walked into Mr. Metos' classroom, she felt as if she were walking into a crypt. The room had an air of dusty, dark things, things you would be advised not to touch. She kept one eye on Zee when they entered the room, but when he saw Mr. Metos, his face only looked puzzled.

Mr. Metos sat at his desk in the front of the room while the students filed in, writing in his attendance book. Probably deciding whose blood he wants to drink first, thought Charlotte. She took a deep breath.

"Mr. Metos?" she said quietly. "Um, this is my cousin Zee-Zachary Miller. He's new"

Slowly Mr. Metos lifted his head from his desk. His eyes went right to Zee's face. He looked at Zee for what seemed like ages, long enough to make Charlotte want to squirm. Bet Zee won't think everything's so relaxed here now, she thought. Indeed, he was eyeing Mr. Metos strangely, almost suspiciously.

"Well, Zachary," Mr. Metos said. "You're coming in at the end of our unit. How are you on your Greek mythology?"

"I have some schooling in that subject," Zee said.

"Good, good," said Mr. Metos, rubbing his hands together. "Why don't you see me after class and we can discuss how we can catch you up."

"Yes, sir," Zee said. Charlotte had not yet told him you weren't supposed to call teachers "sir." She would. Someday.

Today's class was on Prometheus. Again Charlotte knew the story well. Prometheus was a Titan who had fought for Zeus in his wars against Cronus. So Zeus gave him the task of repopulating Earth, and Prometheus made humans, molding them out of river clay in the shape of the gods. Prometheus loved his creations and wanted humans to be better than animals. But Zeus was content to let people stay primitive, another beast on the earth. And humans were not faring well in the world. So Prometheus stole fire from the gods and gave it to the humans so they could keep warm and cook food. The fire also taught them to look upward, to the heavens – to think and to dream.

Zeus was not happy. Gods never want people to have knowledge. So, as punishment for defying him, Zeus chained Prometheus to a mountain, and every day an eagle came to gnaw on his liver. Every night Prometheus's liver would regenerate so it could be gnawed on again the next day. This last part always seemed especially excessive to Charlotte.

Mr. Metos seemed to think it was excessive too. "Prometheus did not understand why Zeus would make man and then leave him in the dark. He wanted Zeus to bless man, and when he didn't, Prometheus took it upon himself to do so. Prometheus was known as the Friend of Man but was tormented for generations because of that friendship. But there was more to it than that. Prometheus was essentially telling Zeus that in his treatment of man Zeus was proving himself unworthy to be a god, and Prometheus decided he would have to nurture and protect man himself. So" -he turned to the class -"can anyone think of another situation where the gods abused mankind?"

Humankind, Charlotte thought, doodling. Charlotte spent the class making a picture in her notebook of a man chained to a cliff with a big eagle heading right toward him. She was not a very good drawer, and her eagle looked more like a weird-looking giant bat. She wondered if Mr. Metos turned into a bat at night or if that was just a myth.

Next to her Zee was paying careful attention to Mr. Metos like a good boy. He had probably never doodled in class in his life. British boys probably didn't do that; they were too busy making friends and being polite and stealing people's kittens.

After class Charlotte put her books together slowly and stood in the doorway. She was torn between wanting to run out of the classroom and wanting to see what Mr. Metos would say to Zee. Anyway, she was supposed to watch over her cousin, and Uncle John might not want him to get his blood drained on his first day.

Zee looked at her. "Um, I'll catch up with you," he said. "I've got to talk to Mr. Metos for a minute."

"I know," said Charlotte. "I can wait."

"No, no," said Zee. "Don't trouble yourself. I'll meet you on the steps." And then he closed the door.

Charlotte sat on the front steps of the school, watching as all of the kids filed out around her. It was still oddly warm; no one was wearing a coat. By Halloween everything might be covered in snow, and Zee would have to hurry up any mysterious postclass meetings if he didn't want Charlotte to freeze to death. Of course, she thought, looking at her watch, she might still be here then. Once upon a time there was a girl named Charlotte who sat in the same place for six years, and no one noticed her.

"Charlotte?"

Charlotte looked up. Her history teacher was standing above her, shielding her eyes from the sun and smiling kindly.

"Hi, Ms. Bristol-Lee," Charlotte said.

"Charlotte…"- she crouched down and put her hand on Charlotte's shoulder-"I wanted to talk to you for a second."

Uh-oh, Charlotte thought. She braced herself to hear more about her potential.

"Listen," the teacher leaned in. "I just want to say, what you're going through, with your family… I understand."

Not potential? It took Charlotte a couple seconds. Oh, yeah. Pop quiz in history. Didn't do reading. Parents fighting. World War I. Right.

"Thanks, Ms. Bristol-Lee," she said, nodding slowly. "That really means a lot."

"My parents were divorced when I was your age. I know it's hard. Now, I just want to let you know that I'm here for you." She patted Charlotte. "Sometimes parents forget that what they're doing affects their kids. If you want someone to talk to your family about what you're going through-"

"Oh!" Charlotte said. "Wow, that's really nice. But you know… it's gotten much better. They got a new counselor, and she's done wonders. I really think they're going to be able to work it out! Plus Mom's on a new medication and, uh… she's really much less moody." Charlotte grinned like the happy, well-adjusted thirteen-year-old she was, then added pointedly, "They're really trying to put all their troubles in the past."

Ms. Bristol-Lee broke out in a huge smile that almost made Charlotte feel guilty. Almost. "Oh, Charlotte, I'm so glad! Keep me posted, okay? And take care of yourself.."

"I will," Charlotte nodded, eyes big. "Thanks."

Ms. Bristol-Lee squeezed Charlotte's shoulder, then went on her way. Charlotte exhaled heavily.

She sighed and put her chin in her hands. The stream of students coming out of the doors was wearing thin now, and still no Zee. She stretched her legs out and thought of all the things her weird cousin and her creepy English teacher might be saying to each other.

"Hey!" Another voice interrupted Charlotte's reverie. She looked up to see the cat-eyed glasses of Maddy staring down at her.