Troy High (17 page)

THE NEXT WEEK PASSED IN A FOG. I GOT UP, went to school, came home, did my homework, went to bed, and started the routine over again the next day. I barely noticed that the mood around school seemed to be pretty somber. The gym had been roped off and no one was allowed near it, so it sat empty and blackened. Most people tried not to look at it as they walked around campus. No one even sat in the courtyard anymore, so the headless Trojan and his horse stood alone. At least now the spray paint had been cleaned off.

I could get through most days without speaking more than five words to anyone. Elena filled the silence with her constant chatter.

But still, no one seemed to notice that I had fallen
into a sort of depression. Nothing made me happy. It was like the entire world meant nothing to me anymore. I felt more alone and invisible than I ever had before Elena came to Troy.

On Saturday afternoon, I was lying on my stomach on my bed, one arm dangling off the side of the mattress, when there was a knock on my door.

I didn’t answer, but the door opened after a moment anyway.

Hunter leaned against the door frame, looking in at me. “Hey, Cassie.”

I turned my head so that I faced the wall. I didn’t have the energy to talk to anyone, especially Hunter.

The sound of footsteps moved across the room to my bed. I could feel him standing there, looking down at me. It had been more than a week since we’d said even one word to each other.

“What do you want?” I finally asked, unable to stand his silence any longer.

“I came to give you something,” Hunter said.

“I don’t want anything from you,” I mumbled.

“Tough,” Hunter said. “Just humor me for five minutes. If you still hate me after that, I won’t ever bother you again.”

I sighed, but I sat up and looked at my brother. His right arm was still in a sling, strapped tightly to his body.
I had overheard Mom and Dad saying one night how worried they were about whether his separated shoulder would fully heal. Hunter would very likely need surgery soon and his future football career depended on how successfully his shoulder could be repaired.

“I’m really sorry, Cassie,” Hunter began.

I crossed my arms and turned my head to the side. I wasn’t going to forgive him with just one little apology.

“I’ve been so stupid lately,” he continued. “I don’t blame you for not wanting to talk. I wish I could go back and change everything I’ve done over the last couple of months.”

I turned to look at him, but still didn’t say anything.

Hunter paced back and forth across my room, running his good hand through his hair. “I got so caught up in football and this rivalry. I wanted to leave my mark on Troy by making a big difference in my senior year. You know? I wanted to be this person who kids would talk about for years. The guy who finally put an end to the rivalry by rallying everyone behind him and destroying Lacede on the field. I mean, what else have I done to be remembered for?”

“You’re a great football player,” I said. “People will remember you for that.”

“No, they won’t,” Hunter said. “I wanted to become a
big football star who everyone would remember went to Troy High. But it’s more than just football. I wanted to be remembered as the guy who finally ended this fifty-year rivalry. I wanted everyone to know my name.”

“There are other things more important in life than being remembered by a bunch of high school kids,” I said.

“I know,” Hunter said, laughing a little. “I’ve been really, really stupid these last couple of months. I’m just as much to blame for what’s happened as Perry and Elena, or the Spartans. Maybe even more so.” He sat on the edge of my bed and looked over his shoulder at me. “But I never meant for you to get hurt, Cassie. I swear.”

“I know.” I leaned forward, wrapping my arms carefully around his shoulders.

Hunter smiled sadly. “Good. Because I just might be stuck here next year if my shoulder doesn’t heal and I can’t play football.”

“You’ll play again,” I said, although I wasn’t exactly sure that was true.

Hunter stood and held out his left hand toward me. “Come on. There’s something for you downstairs.”

I followed my brother down the stairs, wondering what it was he wanted to give me.

Hunter led me into the den and then stepped back, grinning wide.

Greg was sitting on our couch. Martial Battle 2 was paused on the TV screen in front of him.

He stood when he saw us enter, but he didn’t make a move toward me. Instead, he shoved his hands into his pockets and looked down at the floor, as if he were nervous.

I looked at Hunter, but I couldn’t speak because of the huge lump in my throat that felt as if I’d swallowed a sock.

“I’m sorry for everything I’ve put you through, Cassie,” Hunter said. “I’ve finally figured out that there are more important things in life than football.” He smiled at me, squeezed my hand, and then left the room.

Greg and I stood facing each other silently for a long time.

Finally, I said the first thing that came to mind.

“I’m sorry about that embarrassing picture of you at Lacede.”

Greg looked startled, then he laughed. “Well, I can always get you back for that, you know. I have plenty of embarrassing pictures of you. Remember when you dressed up like Michael Jackson for Halloween?”

A laugh escaped before I could force it back down. I wanted to be mad at him, but I couldn’t. I had missed him so much, and the sight of him there in my house thrilled me.

“I’m sorry this all got out of hand,” Greg said. “I never meant for it to come between us.”

“I’m sorry too,” I said. “I was a part of it just like you were.”

“Seriously, Cassie,” Greg said, taking a few steps toward me. “I didn’t know the Spartans were going to set the gym on fire. The explosion was supposed to be small and harmless. But someone else convinced them to change things behind my back.”

“Ackley?” I asked.

Greg nodded. “I think so. I have no proof and the guys aren’t saying anything, but I bet it was him.”

“Okay,” I said, “then tell me about the laxatives in the spaghetti sauce. I have to know how you pulled that off.”

Greg gave me a mischievous grin. “Cassie, think about it. Fifty former Lacede students now walk the halls of Troy High. And not all of them switched their allegiances as quickly as Elena.”

I laughed. “Okay, fair enough.” I was quiet for a moment, then said, “I’m sorry I messed up our friendship.”

Greg blinked, looking confused. “How did you mess it up?”

“You know,” I said, unable to meet his gaze. “By kissing you that day.”

I snuck a glance at Greg and saw that his face had
reddened. “I know you hated it,” I said, “and it’s made things weird between us and I’m sorry—”

“Cassie,” Greg said. “First of all, I didn’t hate it. And the only reason it’s made things weird is because I wanted to kiss you again, but when I finally did, you pushed me away!”

I blinked at him, unable to say anything.

“I’ve liked you ever since I first saw you at band camp,” Greg said, moving toward me. “Why else would I have sat down in that closet after you attacked me with ice cream? But you’ve always seemed interested in only being my friend. I didn’t want to do anything to mess things up between us either. Then you kissed me and I couldn’t figure out what was going on.” He scowled. “Have I ever mentioned how annoying you girls are? How are guys supposed to figure out anything when you’re always giving us mixed signals?”

The room felt as if it were spinning around me. I was so busy trying to make sense of everything Greg had just said that I didn’t notice him moving closer until he stood just inches away from me.

“So why did you kiss me?” he asked in a low voice.

“I—I don’t know,” I stammered. My legs shook and my palms were wet with sweat. I didn’t want to mess things up again.

But then I realized some risks were worth taking.

“Cassie,” Greg said, “will you just kiss me again?”

I smiled. “The last time we kissed, we started a war.”

“That wasn’t our war,” Greg said. “And now it’s over. It’s just you and me. The only war I’m interested in is our ongoing video-game battles. And by the way, I am totally going to kick your butt.”

“That’s what you think,” I told him.

I pulled Greg to me before he could say anything else. And kissed my best friend once again.

Troy High
was inspired by the story of the Trojan War and Helen of Troy. I hope that readers familiar with Homer’s
Iliad
will be able to pick out the similarities in the storylines, but you don’t have to be an expert in Greek mythology to enjoy the story itself!

There are many more characters in
The Iliad
than I included in
Troy High
, but I had to drastically condense the main characters to keep from turning this story into an epic of its own. Here’s a list of the characters in
Troy High
and their Trojan War counterparts:

Cassie Prince—Cassandra the Seer, princess of Troy

Greg Mennon—Agamemnon, brother of Menelaus, commander in chief of the Greeks

Perry Prince—Paris, prince of Troy

Hunter Prince—Hector, the finest warrior and prince of Troy

Elena Argos—Helen of Troy, the greatest beauty and wife of Menelaus

Lucas Mennon—Menelaus, brother of Agamemnon, first husband of Helen, and king of Sparta

Owen—Odysseus

Ackley—Achilles

Patrick—Patrocles

This was the hardest and most enjoyable book I’ve written. A
lot
of research went into it, not only on the Trojan War itself, but also on individual characters in the story, American high school football, and high school rivalries. But I had a lot of fun learning more about mythology and thinking of the pranks that the schools could play on each other.

I decided to write a modern-day retelling of the Trojan War because I’ve loved Greek mythology since I first began learning about it in the seventh grade. I love reading about the gods and goddesses and the ancient heroes that appear in the stories. The Helen of Troy story in particular has interested me. I always wondered how Helen felt, being taken from her home and family and then having so many people die while trying to win her back. How did all the other people who found themselves sucked into the battle feel? I always knew I wanted to tell my own story about Helen of Troy, but it wasn’t until I started plotting out
Troy High
that I figured out how I wanted to
tell it. The story of the war between these two groups of people seemed ideal to twist into a story involving high school rivalry, popularity, and romance. The football field was the perfect modern-day battlefield. And who hasn’t thought about the many Helens who roamed the hallways of her own high school?

I decided to tell the story from Cassie’s point of view instead of Elena’s because Cassie was close enough to the action to be a part of everything, yet removed enough to see the disaster that’s looming ahead when Elena arrives at Troy. Cassandra the Seer was cursed—she could see the future, but no one would ever believe her. In
Troy High
, Cassie has a bit of a premonition that things won’t end well, but of course, her brothers and friends brush her warnings aside because they’re so focused on what they think is right.

I did take a few liberties with the story in my retelling to suit a modern high school setting. One of the biggest differences is the relationship between Cassie and Greg. After the fall of Troy, when the Greeks ransacked the city, they took Trojan women as concubines to take back home with them. Agamemnon chose Cassandra. It was not a match made of romance, but the relationship was the basis for Cassie’s friendship and romance with Greg. Of course, their story has a much happier ending than the one about Agamemnon and Cassandra!

I couldn’t have done
Troy High
alone. Many, many thanks to my editor, Tamar Brazis, for believing in this story and helping me turn the idea into the final product. I don’t think I could ever say thank you enough to my agent, Stephen Barbara, for everything he’s done and the support he’s given me.

Huge thanks to the best critique partners—Marlene Perez, Emily Marshall, and Sandra Delisle!

Thanks to my seventh-grade English teacher, Ms. Spence, who made us study Greek mythology and sparked my love for
The Iliad
.

And of course, thanks to Homer—the poet, not the cartoon character—who told the story of the Trojan War and inspired me to tell it my own way.

Always, a thousand thanks to my family and friends for their support.

Shana Norris is the author of
Something to Blog About
. She knew from a young age that she wanted to be a writer. Well, actually, she wanted to be a ballerina, an archaeologist, a teacher,
and
a writer. But after she realized that she’d never taken a ballet lesson in her life, she didn’t like to get dirty, and she hated being in a classroom all day, she decided to be a writer. She lives in Kinston, North Carolina, with her husband and their dogs, Chloe and Daisy, as well as three lazy cats named Elmo, Callie, and Bandit. This is her second novel. Please visit
www.shananorris.com
.