The Fate of Olympus | Reynabeth [✓]

16. Sappho, Master of Rhyme and Rhythm

Flag created by Sean Campbell. Digitized version contributed to WikiMedia Commons by Thomas Linard and Ensix. Licensed with CC BY-SA 4.0.

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displaced abjection (social critical feminism): a process by which a marginalized group within society turns either their figurative or actual power, not against those in authority (the dominant group), but rather against those who are parallel or slightly lower on the social scale than they are.

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Reyna and Annabeth found the squat stone building on the edge of Wellesley College's campus. The number on the door was 94, which disturbed Annabeth a bit because the other buildings had no numbers. It was a gray stone building with wood doors and didn't seem too interesting, as far as bars go.

Annabeth peeked inside the bar. There were three girls sitting at the counter, talking to each other. The barista was making a beer. The whole place was cast in pink mood lighting. In the corner, Annabeth spotted a poster advertising Lesbos Olive Oil.

There were pink-and-red striped flags hanging above the door. At the center was a flag of a labrys, a double-edged axe.

"That's a Roman symbol for the Amazons," whispered Reyna.

"It's also a Greek symbol," whispered Annabeth back. "I think it implies it's a girls' only club."

Reyna and Annabeth giggled.

"Who's Sappho?" asked Reyna. "I feel like I learned this but can't quite place her."

A woman with curled brown hair opened the door. She wore a black turtleneck and long mahogany skirt. "Are you ladies going to come in or are you going to gawk at the flags all day?"

Annabeth and Reyna looked at each other.

"Thank you for opening the door," said Reyna, nimbly finding her way inside. She headed for the barstools.

"Yeah," said Annabeth. "Thanks."

The woman followed them to the counter. "Hello, Annabeth and Reyna." She smiled and poured them ginger ale. Annabeth did not like ginger ale. "You make a lovely couple."

"We are not a couple," snapped Reyna.

The woman's laugh sounded like fairy lights. "My name is Sappho. You might have heard of me because the gods granted me immortality when other poets started calling me the Tenth Muse. Most likely you've heard of me because I am head of the school's poetry department."

"We're not students here."

Sappho seemed surprised. "How did you find this building? It's pretty tucked away. Although the bar does seem to attract certain kinds of passersby."

"We were just passing through," Annabeth said vaguely. "You're called the Tenth Muse?"

"According to Wikipedia, I was widely regarded as the greatest poet of my day. I also wrote romantic poems directed at other women. I'm from Lesbos. Guess what modern word that led to."

Annabeth wondered what Percy would have said. She could imagine him saying something numbskulled, like Uh, I dunno. Olive oil?