family that others have.
Exit the gossip about Brendon and me on Halloween night. That was so last month.
It’s taking Brendon longer to recover than all the others. He’s still pale and thin. I see him in class, in the cafeteria, and on the bus, but we both pretend that the other doesn’t exist. Of course, I notice things. He’s not hanging out with the same friends so much anymore; he doesn’t hang out with any particular group. I’m almost sure he doesn’t have a girlfriend, either. He’s back surfing, and I’m happy about that. I feel relieved when I spot him paddling hard into a wave. He’s definitely quieter—not unhappy, I think, just more thoughtful.
One afternoon after fifth period, I round a hallway corner and we practically bump into each other.
“Oh!” he says. I recognize the surprise, but not surprise, in his voice. We both knew that this was inevitable. Hunter High is too small a world to avoid someone forever. I wonder if, like me, he both dreaded this meeting and wanted it to happen.
With my head tucked, I step aside quickly but he steps in the same direction and then back again. Trapped. Neither of us is going to make that lame “care for a dance?” joke.
“Hey,” I say, hesitant.
His eyes lift, and I meet them with mine. The curtain rises for just a second, long enough for me to see so much in them. Hurt and confusion, sorrow and, yes, definitely some anger. I can’t blame him for that. I don’t think he remembers all the details, but what we did to him—what I did—cut deep and terribly, and he won’t be free of it for a long time.
“See ya,” he says quickly and takes off down the hall.
Brendon and I are not going to fall into each other’s arms anytime soon. We both remember too much. There are too many questions left unanswered, too much broken trust.
But I can’t help wondering: Does Brendon ever think about that afternoon in the cave? And that other time, the amazing way that our bodies spooned together right before the light snapped on?
Maybe one day in the future we’ll talk about everything. He’ll tell me again what I now know to be true—that he had no part in the plot and that when he whispered about love, he meant it. Who knows? We might even have a future. But before that can happen, I must say things to him that I’m not yet ready to say. Things like “I’m so, so sorry for what I did to you. I was wrong. Can you forgive me?”
Exit any hope of an easy reconciliation between us.
Exit Ambrosia. Word goes around that her wealthy and politically connected family decided to move to Greece, where Ambrosia is practically royalty. A couple of her former minions claim that she e-mailed them all the details, but I know better. What a pack of social-climbing liars.
One afternoon the four of us drive to her house, and we’re all expecting to see an ultra-dramatic 180-degree turnaround of the place. I imagine everything reverted to the old haunted-house days with peeling paint and broken windows. I picture gardens that have shriveled and turned brown overnight, the Secret Garden before the floral makeover.
But as soon as we pull into the long driveway, it’s clear that things are more or less the same. There are still flowers blossoming in the shape of tiny, silvery fairy bells, and a line of cactuses as big as men. The all-white garden is still stunning with its tulips, roses, and albino cabbage plants.
The only difference is the sharp, silvery spear from the strange red plant. It’s wilted, dying. But that’s to be expected, isn’t it? Things bloom and then go dormant. Who knows when this plant will blossom again. Two years? Two hundred years?
Inside the house everything’s the same, and we walk on the antique red carpets through rooms with rouge-red walls. We don’t spend much time downstairs because we have a destination in mind. It’s our mission.
When we get to the top of the stairs, I notice each of our reflections passing by the filigreed hall mirror.
Exit the tattoo of kelp that Ambrosia burned around Alix’s midriff.
Exit Stephanie’s fangs.
Exit Raymond’s strained expression when he was so worried about me.
My complexion is still a little sallow. But exit the sunken eyes and cracked lips. I’ll never have the shiny, stick-straight hair that I’ve always admired, but what’s wrong with thick, wild waves? I’m more like me, not anywhere near perfect, but I notice I’ve kept some of my Fury curves.
In Ambrosia’s bedroom there are only two things missing: The Book of Furious and the object that we specifically came to claim. We’re not surprised. The snow globe with its tortured figures—all those captured princes from the past, the prison where Brendon was almost lost—is gone from its place on the bookshelf. That sends a chill through us. There’s a ring of dust where it once sat.
Next, Alix picks up Simon and drives us all to the ocean. After being in that house, we want fresh air and the sun on our backs. With the Prince of the Waves statue behind us and Simon running happy circles around it, we look out to the sea. It’s a classic surf day with waves rolling in strong and steady. I can tell the others feel as grateful, hopeful, and alive as I do.
Exit Stephanie’s passion for protecting Mother Earth?
Exit Alix’s determination to defend her brother and herself?
Exit my ability to finally stand up for myself after a lifetime of being powerless?
Exit memories of Athena and Ambrosia and all the suffering souls?
Exit our anger, our outrage, our fury? Exit our ambition and confidence?
Enter a sweet, passive trio eager to please? Enter the Kindly Ones?
No! Never!
“There’s a line somewhere,” Raymond says. “I don’t know where it is yet. Neither do you. You have to find it.”
Alix, Stephanie, and I rest our bellies on the iron railing and, holding on, we bend forward until our feet leave the ground. We tilt gradually until we’re balanced on our hip bones, our legs and bodies parallel to the treacherous rocks below. Any farther and we’d tip over.
That’s when I hear music coming from nowhere and everywhere. Alix and Stephanie hear it, too. They tilt their heads to try to tune it in. It’s a faint sound. We can’t even hum along yet.
But still. A tune is a tune, and we recognize that it comes from us and belongs to us.
Carefully, we let go of the railing and join hands. We feel so light, almost as if we’re levitating.
Simon claps at our trick. Raymond snaps a photo with his cell phone.
Our feet settle back onto the earth.
That picture, it’s a keeper, evidence of one moment of perfect balance.
EXODOS
Acknowledgments
The Furies would not have risen without the support of—
My daughter, Gwen, who inspired and read every word;
My son, Alex, who offered great philosophy and counsel;
Kate Farrell and Rebecca Hahn, best editors ever;
Kendra Marcus and Minju Chang, best agents ever;
Aeschylus;
Micah, Lisa, Karen, and Melissa, my wonderful Santa Cruz writing group;
Readers and champions Carol Muller, Wendy McGarry, Sara Solovitch, Katherine Ellison, and Peggy Townsend of the Madame Ovary writing retreat;
And, of course, all the righteously pissed-off teens I’ve ever met.
About the Author
Jill Wolfson has worked as a journalist for newspapers and magazines around the country. Her award-winning novels for young people include What I Call Life; Home, and Other Big, Fat Lies; and Cold Hands, Warm Heart. Jill has taught writing at several universities and is a longtime volunteer in a writing program for incarcerated teenagers. She lives by the ocean in Santa Cruz, California.
jillwolfson.com
Text copyright © 2013 by Jill Wolfson
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The Library of Congress has cataloged the print edition as follows:
Wolfson, Jill.
Furious / Jill Wolfson.—First edition.
pages cm
Summary: After becoming the Furies of Greek mythology, three angry high school girls take revenge on everyone who deserves it.
ISBN 978-0-8050-8283-8 (hardcover) — ISBN 978-0-8050-9756-6 (e-book)
1. Erinyes (Greek mythology)—Juvenile fiction. [1. Erinyes (Greek mythology)—Fiction. 2. Mythology, Greek—Fiction. 3. Revenge—Fiction. 4. High schools—Fiction. 5. Schools—Fiction.] I. Title.
PZ7.W8332Fu 2013 [Fic]—dc23 2012027653
eISBN 9780805097566
First hardcover edition 2013
eBook edition April 2013
Table of Contents
Title page
Copyright Notice
Dedication
Epigraph
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Copyright
Table of Contents
Title page
Copyright Notice
Dedication
Epigraph
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Copyright