PhD Candidate Faustus

10: had not sweet pleasure conquer'd deep despair

Mephistopheles

It's the end of my fourth week of school. Nobody is the wiser. I'm only failing half my classes. My roommate still thinks I'm the devil. Things are good.
But back to the failing half the classes.
"Jay, could I see you for a minute?"
"Mr. Sly?" I ask, coming into his office. I'm going to be late for fencing at this rate, which is like, okay, but still. Fausty doesn't do great with fencing. Also, this is my literature teacher and I'm currently failing his class.
"I didn't get your paper this morning," he says, beckoning me into his office.
"No. Um. That's because I didn't write it," I say, stepping in and closing the door.
"Why not?" He asks.
"I um—I tried. I couldn't, I didn't know what to say," I say, I'm stupid. I'm suck at all of this that's why I should leave.
"You did quite well in our in class discussions of the Iliad," he says, frowning, as he sits back down behind a messy desk.
"Not really," I shrug, "I didn't know how to write a full essay on that."
"On Achilles? Why not? He's the main character of the poem and I know you have a good grasp on it."
"Because—just give me the F okay? I'm not writing a whole paper on that dude," I sigh, moving to put a hand through my hair but finding only stubble. It's starting to grow out, but even so. It's nothing to grab onto.
"Why not?" He frowns.
"Because—I don't have anything to say. I read the whole, old, boring poem, it was really old and I expected it to be really boring and in parts it super was, but I can't write a whole entire paper on it when it was just as stupid as I thought it was going to be from the outset, okay?" I ask, shrugging.
"Well, tell me, what was stupid about it?" Mr. Sly asks.
"The whole, freaking thing, it's about Achilles, right? He's the hero he's the one we're supposed to write about and—I can't. Because he's stupid. He's—he's just a bully," I sigh, "Every single time something bad happens to him, in the whole thing, he just goes and turns around and takes it out on somebody else. When his girlfriend, slave really still a sex slave sorry I know I'm not supposed to say that aloud in Catholic school, but she is, she's his sex slave, when she gets taken he acts like he's all upset and she says she was like his wife, right? Well, he doesn't actually do anything, to stop creepy shithead what's his face I can't ever pronounce it—,"
"Agememnon?" He confirms.
"Yeah him, Achilles lets him take the girl and doesn't do anything to stop Age-me-non from raping her. I get the poem later says he didn't rape her, but Achilles didn't know that. He like, hangs out in his tent playing music while the person he claims to care about is off getting raped—for all he knows. You don't do that if you care about someone. He just throws a fit and he hurts all his men in the process, it's all about him, always. Then later when his boyfriend, sorry I can't pronounce his name right ever—,"
"Patroclus, but since it's Catholic school you're not supposed to say boyfriend, but continue."
"Right, right, but when his boyfriend dies, doing the right thing by the way, I thought this was Achilles' chance to like, redeem himself. But no. He takes it out on everyone around him, again, he kills people in cold blood all in the name of grief, he destroys and completely dishonor's Hectors body, I like that guy, not just because I can pronounce his fucking name, other reasons—anyway Achilles kills him, and that's kind of revenge, okay, but he takes the body, everything is a complete show about Achilles and how upset he is, well if he'd cared about the girl, or Patroclus, then he wouldn't have let them get raped or murdered to begin with, but instead no he lets that happen, then makes a big show about it after. He's just a bully, I hate bullies, he acts like he cares about these people but all he cares about is himself and how he looks, and I hate him, literally anyone else in the poem, except maybe like Zeus or Paris, are better than him, I hate him," I say.
"Write all that down next time. With less profanity and mention of boyfriends, but write it down. Your opinion is perfectly valid," Mr. Sly grunts.
"What? But he's supposed to be the hero you said—the poem said—,"
"Yet, it's art. It's meant to mean something completely different to you than anyone else. Tell me, Jay, why do you like Hector? He's hardly in the poem," he says.
"Because—he's just nice, he's in the war 'cause it's his job or whatever. And he likes his wife, and kid. He kills Patroclus on the battle field honorably I mean they were the opposite side no harm no foul. And in the few scenes we get of him at home, he's nice to his wife, and he plays with his kid like he lets the kid sit in his lap and eat off his plate, and when his helmet scares the little boy he takes it off 'cause at the end of the day Hector doesn't want to be a soldier, he wants to be his son's dad, and not scare him. He's like ten times the person Achilles is," I say, shrugging a little.
"Good," he nods, "Do you remember Odysseus?"
"One of the guys whose name I can somewhat pronounce yeah—he ah—he's the one who breaks into the enemy camp, steals a chariot, he tries to parent Achilles with like no success, yeah he's all right," I say.
"Would you like to make your grade up for this Iliad portion of the semester? You have several missing assignments, but now I see you weren't connecting with Achilles' character," he says, nodding.
"Sure, what do you want me to do?" If it's not too hard. I am trying to make good grades.
"Read this for me, and then we'll talk about it," he says, handing me another book, "It's Odysseus' story, after the Iliad."
"Odyssey, is that where we get the phrase —oh I'm dumb of course it is, this is a thing, yeah," I've never read it, but it feels familiar. I bet that helpful website summarizes this too.
"Read it, tell me what you think, and we'll discuss. I think you'll connect with Odysseus better than Achilles," he says.
"Sure, I can do that," if the nice youtube channel explains it to me first, which I'm sure it will; it was helpful youtube channel.
"Good, now go ahead, I don't want to keep you from your next period," he says.
"Thank you, sir," I say, nodding before I leave. I jog most of the way to the sports complex, only pausing to check my phone. Helen reminding me of the party tonight. And a text from Ember. Against my better judgement I've been texting her back. She's sweet, and nice, and super smart like everyone in the world but me. And I should ghost her so she goes and finds someone normal to date, someone not on the run from law, not pretending to be the devil's servant, who didn't used to be a hooker.
So anyway I text her back, and against my better judgement say: you want to come to a party tonight?
Her: really?
Me: rose and swan, dorm party, 730, I'll let you in the front gate
Her: sure!
Damn it, I was hoping she wouldn't accept. Oh well. Not that I didn't want her to come, but I do NOT need a steady girlfriend with my fake identity. I'm already lying to her I lie to everyone but that feels like a bad basis for a relationship.
I am spared more thoughts or texts because when I get into the fencing studio the usual amount of chaos is going on.
"I will pay you to come out of there right now, fuck what does this one like—I'll give you chemicals? A book on Satanism? Just come out with the swords unharmed," Coach is leaning against the door to the weapons room, reasoning with it, while all the other fencers cluster around. All except mine. Fuck me.
"NO! No one is poking me ever again!" Faustus calls from the other side of the door, resolutely.
"He's locked in there," Helen says, tiredly.
"I didn't mean to hurt him! You should be pleased! You fought bravely," an overly enthusiastic ball of trouble named Ned says, bouncing and holding two swords as is his custom. I like that kid if only 'cause he's trouble. Coach is usually parenting him, he's one of the middle schoolers.
"I'm staying in here until the hour of poking is over."
"I'll get him, I'll be right back," I sigh.
"What are you gonna do?" Coach asks, like tired but not like surprised.
"There's a window," I shrug, taking off my jacket.
"Fucking knew we got you for a reason, go for it."