He'd awakened cold, shivering, his blanket kicked off the foot of the bed, feeling ... not frightened exactly, but ... disturbed. He'd felt depressed as well, filled with a strange sense of loss.
The feelings faded with breakfast, were washed away with his shower, and were forgotten when he saw the gorgeous fall day outside.
But now he was worried. He walked slowly down the sidewalk toward school. There was something about the dreams he'd had lately that didn't sit right with him. They didn't feel like ordinary nightmares, did not seem to come from the same subconscious pool as the dreams he usually had. He was not sure what about them made him feel this way, but whatever it was had him scared.
"Hey, dickmeat!"
Dion looked up to see Kevin hanging out the passenger window of Paul's Mustang.
"Need a ride?"
He shook his head, waved them on. "I need the exercise."
"I thought you got your exercise doing push-ups on Penelope!"
He pointed toward Kevin, then pointed toward his crotch. "Your breakfast, bud!"
Kevin laughed. "Later!"
The Mustang took off, tires squealing on the wet road, splashing water.
Black water, Dion thought, looking at the spray.
He shivered.
Kevin closed his locker. "She called it what? The commune?"
"The combine."
Kevin thought for a moment. "You know," he said, "there used to be a religious cult that ran a winery around Santa Rosa, back, I don't know, a long time ago. Fountaingrove, I think it was called. And it was run by a cult called the Brotherhood of the New Life. If I remember right, they used to use their wine in ceremonies. This sounds a little like that."
"Penelope's family is not a cult."
"It doesn't sound just a little spacey to you?"
Dion twisted his combination lock, pulled on it to make sure it had caught. "A little," he admitted.
"Just keep your eyes open." Kevin grinned. "You've got a rare opportunity here. You're seeing all possible permutations of the female Daneam. You're seeing Penelope's future. In twenty years she's going to look like one of them. Acorns don't fall far from the tree and all that good crap. So you've been given fair warning. If you don't like what you see, back out now. Save yourself some grief and heartache."
Dion tried to smile. "I like what I see," he said. "I hope so."
Dion tried not to think of Penelope's family as he and Kevin walked to class.
Bacchus, Mr. Holbrook wrote on the board. Dionysus. He underlined the words, wiped the chalk dust on his pants, and turned to face the class.
"Bacchus, or Dionysus," the teacher explained, "was probably the most important of the Olympian dieties. More important even than Zeus or Apollo. There are not as many stories about him, but the fact remains that he was, throughout this time, the most popular of the gods, and his followers were by far the most loyal. This can be attributed in large part to the fact that he was the only Olympian god who was both mortal and divine."
A student near the back of the room raised his hand.
"Yes?" the teacher said.
"Which name are we going to be tested on?" the student asked. "Bacchus or Dionysus?"
"We will be referring to him by his proper Greek name in this class:
Dionysus. You may be tested on both."
The class was filled with the sound of furious scribbling.
"As I said, Dionysus was both mortal and divine, the son of Zeus and Semele, the princess of Thebes. Zeus was in love with the princess, and after impregnating her while in one of his many guises he swore by the river Styx that he would grant any wish she desired. Zeus' wife, Hera, jealous as always, put the idea into Semele's mind that her wish was to see Zeus in all of his glory as the king of heaven, and this is what the princess asked for. Zeus knew that no mortal could behold him in his true form and live, but he had sworn by the Styx and could not break that oath. So he came to the princess as himself, and Semele died beholding his awesome splendor, but not before Zeus took the child that was about to be born."
Mr. Holbrook turned back to the chalkboard and wrote two more words:
Apollonian. Dionysian.
"Over the years, over the centuries, Dionysus has usually been misunderstood and misinterpreted. In general, these two words have come to mean 'good' and 'evil.' If something is described as "Apollonian,'
that means it is connected with light and goodness, order and lightness.
The word 'Dionysian,' on the other hand, applies to the dark and chaotic, and is often connected with evil. Although Dionysus was by no means a bad or evil god, this mistake is easily understood. As a god who was half human, half divine, Dionysus had a dual nature. This duality was further emphasized by the fact that he was the god of the vine, the god of wine. Wine can make men mellow, and it can make men mean.
Likewise, Dionysus could be likable and generous, warm, good and giving.
He could also be cruel and brutally savage. Just as the same wine that brings men together in camaraderie can also make them drunk and drive them to commit degrading acts and horrible crimes, Dionysus could bring to his worshipers joy or pain, happiness or suffering. He could be both man's benefactor and his destroyer. Unfortunately, over the years the dark side of Dionysus has tended to overshadow his good side, to the point where today most people's picture of him is highly distorted."
Mr. Holbrook turned back to the board. Dionysian Rites, he wrote.
Bacchanal.
"We will now look at the worship of Dionysus, which was done often through drunken orgies and festivals of debauchery."
Dion felt a pencil in his back. "Now we're getting to the good stuff,"
Kevin whispered.
Dion laughed.
Vella was absent, Kevin had a dentist's appointment, and for the first time Dion ate lunch alone with Penelope. He was glad Kevin wasn't there, but he felt guilty about it. He liked Kevin, enjoyed his friend's company, but at the same time he found that he preferred being alone with Penelope.
The two of them walked through the cafeteria line-- Dion picking up a hamburger and Coke, Penelope a salad and juice--and sat at a table near the low wall which separated the eating area from the softball field.
The conversation was easy, comfortable, free and wide ranging, shifting from music to school to plans for the future.
"What do you want to do with your life?" Penelope asked. "What do you want to be?"
He smiled. "When I grow up?"
She nodded, smiled back. "When you grow up."
"I don't know," he said. "I used to think I'd like being an archaeologist or paleontologist, dig for fossils and artifacts, travel to exotic locations. I thought it would be exciting."
"Exciting?" She laughed. "You've seen too many Indiana Jones movies."
"Probably," he admitted. "Then I thought I'd like to be a dentist. You know, have a big waiting room with lots of magazines and a saltwater aquarium, work five hours a day in a pleasant environment and rake in big bucks."
"Sounds good."
"I suppose. But I've changed my mind since then."
"What do you want to be now?"
"A teacher, I think."
"Why?"
"I could lie and say it's because I want to help open young minds and expose them to great truths, but actually it's because I'd get summers off. I'm spoiled. I like vacations. I like getting my two-month summer, two-week Christmas vacation, and one-week Easter vacation. I don't think I could survive getting two weeks a year, period." He took a bite of his hamburger. "What about you?"
She shrugged. 'The winery. What else?"
"What if you didn't want to work at the winery? What then?"
"But I do."
"What if you didn't? What if you wanted to be a computer programmer?
What would your ... your mothers dor "I don't know."