Free Heaven Sent by Clea Hantman Page B

even sometimes felt like a beautiful only child.
    So what was I doing? Marrying him? Not marrying him? Lying to him! Giving myself a disease! It was too much. I felt like I was falling down some crazy spiral cloud; I felt dizzy; I felt out of control. Apollo made me feel so special and smart, and he was fun. Fun! I felt so confused. I was lying to my best friend, and for what?
    Suddenly everything went black. I must’ve fainted because the next thing I knew I was flat on the cold, hard ground, dirty and sore. Apollo was kneeling over me, stroking my hair. “Thalia, are you okay? Thalia, Thalia!”
    I looked up at those deep green eyes, eyes that looked right back at me. Eyes that were filled with worry and panic and love. I nodded to let him know I was okay and thought, I cannot do this. This couldn’t be more wrong. I cannot lie to him. He’s themost wonderful and beautiful person in the whole universe.
    But as I lay there on the floor, my heart and head racing with confusion, Apollo continued to speak.
    “Thalia, from now on you will never lift a finger again. I will take care of you forever and ever. You can live your life as a lady, as you deserve, with no cares in the world. You will live your life like a queen.”
    And he went on and on with this ludicrous talk. What was making him say such things? Was he just worried about me? Did he think this drivel was what I wanted to hear? Or could this be the real Apollo? I felt truly, genuinely ill. I felt nauseous. I felt angry. He knew me better than this, didn’t he? Or did he? Was his love blinding him so badly that he actually thought I wanted to live like some stuffy old queen on a hill?
    Perhaps, I thought, I hit my head when I fell. This has got to be some horrible, horrendous bad dream. I shook my head hard, but Apollo was still droning on, “And you will only wear the finest lace and corsets and jewels. And you will have ladies to wait on you for everything, everything—”
    “Enough!” I almost yelled. “Shush. Fine, I will marry you,” I said with not so much as a smile.

TEN
    I t’s really quite scary how you can get caught up in TV. Era, Polly, and I sat in front of it mesmerized all weekend. We watched stories about snakes in the wild, romances gone wrong, and even cooking shows. Polly liked those best. And we barely left the house. I didn’t even shower. We wore our sleeping gowns all day long. It was heaven!
    Still, it was nice to be back at school on Monday.
    “Hey, Thalia, what are you doing tonight?” asked Claire. We had just gotten out of our last class, and the school day was officially over.
    “Watching TV and eating cereal,” I answered. “The usual.” Isn’t that sad—I’d been here only a little over a week, and already I had a “usual.” Forget Polly; I needed a life. It didn’t help that most people at school seemed to be steering clear of me, and I was sure it was thanks to the Backroom Betties.
    “Wanna come with me and the boys to the Grit tonight? Pocky’s gonna get up and do his one-man punk-rock-rap show. It’s a riot.”
    “Oh, wow, I would love to, but I dunno. My sisters will probably never go for it.”
    “They don’t have to come. Don’t get me wrong, they’re welcome, but you can go out without them, can’t you?”
    “Yeah, well, our host dad likes us to stick together.
    He’s sort of a freak about it.”
    No one would understand three girls, even three exchange students, living parentally free. So, I’d learned quickly to go along with the whole exchange-host-parent thing. Even though it made me feel bad lying to Claire.
    “That’s cool. Well, we’re going down around seven or so; it’s down on Prince Street. Give me a jingle jangle if you wanna join us or just show, sweetie. We’d love to see ya. ’Specially Pocky.” And then she gave me a sly smile.
    “Okay,” I called after her halfheartedly. “If I change my mind, I’ll give you a, uh, jingle jangle.”
    Yikes. Please do not let that