Icon of the Indecisive #3 of 3 (COMPLETE)

Chapter 11

5:56 am.

Tuesday was an early school day this semester. But I set the alarm clock a little earlier still because I wanted to have the conversation.

As I lay there in bed, waiting the next four minutes out, I checked how I was feeling. Still a little queasy, but at least I felt well enough to go to school.

Robbie was very concerned. At least five messages, two missed calls. As I slept last night I got a glimpse of his mild paranoia—we kiss and then I don't see her at all in school and then she's sick and doesn't answer my calls—and I tried to reassure him via goddess telepathy, but maybe I didn't do a good enough job of it. So I sent him a message the old-fashioned way, through the phone: Am better. Let's have breakfast. I miss you.

* * *

The rooftop of the Ford River's North building was a mess.

There were fake trees all over the place. Cardboard cutouts, really, resembling giant broccoli. They must have been part of the set from a recent play, brought up for segregation and recycling.

There was a shadow on the ground. It showed up clearly against the bright green of the cardboard tree. The shadow was shaped like a spiral, and as I watched it, it seemed to move slightly in a counter-clockwise direction.

Quin, the Sun God, wrote on the world using shadows. This was his art, his doodles, his Post-It notes to himself, hidden in plain sight, because people didn't notice. Of course I wished I knew how to read them.

"Are you okay?" Quin asked.

I didn't even bother to act surprised. Whenever I needed him, he would show up. Sometimes I'd call, other times I would just think it.

Maybe I was getting better at this.

He had morning basketball practice on Tuesdays, which was why I wanted to be around earlier than usual. He was dressed for it. Not sure if he had already started though, because he always looked fresh from a shower. Every single time.

Focus, Hannah.

"Yeah, I'm sorry I missed training yesterday, Quin. I needed to rest."

"But you're better?"

"Yes I am."

Deep breath. Just do it.

"Quin, um, how exactly can a god and human have a child together?" The question seemed unexpected, even to me, and I said it.

"Excuse me?"

"Human-god babies. I'm supposed to be a descendant of one, right? How does that happen?"

See, the question totally had a precedent. When Quin first approached me about being Interim Goddess, he did say that it was because I had a demigod as an ancestor. Which I didn't really ask him about, because I knew from myths and movies that it was possible.

But how exactly?

"It's complicated," Quin said.

"You don't have to draw diagrams of god sperm," I joked, all casual. "Is there a simple way to explain it?"

"No," he said, then he cocked his head, motioning me to come closer. "There's no easy way."

I opened my mouth, ready to complain, ready with that standard whine I had about being kept in the dark all the freaking time, but then Quin took my hand. He raised it up, our fingers interlaced, and then gently touched the middle of my forehead.

And then I saw it, heard it, felt it.

It's about power,

And love.