Valhalla High (A Magnus Chase Fanfic)

We Discuss a Serial Killer in English Class

August 25

I sat between Samirah and Halfborn again for my second AP English class. Odin greeted us with a long tirade on how he used to pull all-nighters as a student while he collected our syllabi. "Pain," he said, "is the path to wisdom."

I was pretty sure pain was supposed to be a warning sign. I was wondering what kind of trauma Odin had gone through when Halfborn slapped me on the back. "Magnus, we're about to discuss the book."

"Right," I said, sitting there like the idiot I was while everyone was rummaging through their backpacks.

I took out my copy of Grettir's Saga and thumbed it open. We had been assigned to read the first twenty portions on Monday and I had been surprised on how many portions detailed people before Grettir was even born.

Odin has his own copy of the book out and laid it out on his lecture podium. His one eye gleamed with excitement once he saw that everyone had taken out their books. "In my class, I like to hold intellectual discussions," he said. "We're not going to fill out worksheets and watch bad movie versions of books. No, instead, I shall have you students speak your thoughts freely on this subject. I will guide the discussion, but I hope to make it as close to a Socratic Seminar as possible. Everyday will be like this unless we're doing test prep, an exam, or reading a play."

   "The only homework I assign in this class is the readings," he continued. "I know some of you like using SparkNotes, but you'll never truly understand the text unless you look at the source material itself and give it a good examination. Any questions?"

     "No?" he asked. "Good. Let us begin."

     For a few moments, nobody said anything. Then, I raised my hand. "Grettir is a very forceful character," I said. "He always wants things to go his way and he's not above using violence to get what he wants."

    Samirah nodded in agreement. "He's not the most likable character."

    "Maybe that has to do with our cultural norms," Halfborn argued. "I personally like Grettir. He's a fighter. He sticks up for what he believes in and he's strong."

     "Yeah, but he's really violent," Samirah said.

    So basically Halfborn's type, I thought. Halfborn grinned with good humor, though. "Yes, but he does help people. He saved that household from the berserkers."

     "Plus, he's a good poet," Gunilla chimed in.

      "Good poetry doesn't excuse everything," I argued. "Grettir is essentially a serial killer. Why is he being celebrated?"

      "Icelandic culture was very different from our own," Halfborn said. "Some of the people in this saga admire Grettir for his strength and bravery, while others dislike him for his anger and violence. I think that says something about a sort of ambivalence towards violence in their culture. Remember, not all Norsemen were Vikings."

     "That is true," Samirah said, "but I also don't think many of them were hippies either."

    "No," Halfborn agreed. "They lived in a different era with different values."

    "But does that excuse their actions?" Odin asked us.

   No one immediately gave an answer. Finally, Halfborn said. "Perhaps Grettir is a morally complex character who does great good and great harm."

"Good," Odin said, nodding. "That will be your essay topic. It's due next Monday."

I exchanged glances with Halfborn and he shrugged as if to say, I can't help it. The bell rang and class was dismissed.

***

My next class was much more enjoyable. Sif kept on background music from Swan Lake and demonstrated to use how to make a pinch pot. "You will make two of them this week and work on glazing them next week."

We all stood in a line and she gave us a ball of clay one by one. Once I had mine, I sat down and tried to imitate what I had seen Alex do two days ago. I was sitting between Mallory and a guy I didn't know. Mallory and Halfborn were talking about wanting to make Viking style pottery for their final project, while I continued to struggle with even making this round ball look like a pot. My first attempt ended up with a hole in the bottom and my second attempt led to a misshapen gargoyle.

Mallory looked up from her own pinch pot, which wasn't the best, but much better then anything I was making. "Perhaps you're an abstract art sort of guy," she said.

I shrugged and looked at the guy beside me. His hair was dyed a dark silver and he wore all grey clothes. Blitzen would tell him to add a pop of color, but he also would've approved of his stylish silhouettes. "Hey, what's your name?" he asked me, pulling out one of his earbuds.

"Magnus," I said. "And you?"

"Jack," he said.

He put his earbud back in and went back to working on his pot. I could hear him whispering lyrics underneath his breath though; he seemed to be an avid Taylor Swift fan.

I tried to make the pinch pot again. At this point, I had ten minutes left of class and I was getting pretty desperate, so I asked Sof for help. I was afraid she'd wrinkle her nose and tell me to do it myself. To my surprise, she guided my hands so that my own fingers shaping the pot. When I saw the final result, I was gaping like an idiot. "Go carve your initials at the bottom of the pot," Sif instructed.

I nodded and went back to my seat, carving "MC" with a deconstructed paperclip on the underside of the pot. I was pretty proud of it; it looked like an actual pot now. Once I had done some glazing, I was sure it would end up being quite beautiful.

The bell rang and I quickly put my pinch pot on the storage rack for our class. Perhaps I wasn't good at ceramics, but with a kind teacher and Alex, maybe it wouldn't be so bad.