A Shrine to an Unknown God

THE MARBLE ALTAR

I STAND UP so abruptly I hit one of my brothers in the face. Apologizing, I scoot past my half-siblings into the aisle. The place is congested, people elbowing past each other to get up or down. I squeeze my way up the steps and over to the strange white boy.

"Mind if I sit here?"

"Oh, sure. Go ahead."

If I thought he was strange from so far away, he's even weirder up close. His eyes—which are the most vivid shade of green, like wine grapes—have some kind of kohl or something black rimming them. He has these round little beads attached to his ears, seemingly stuck in his skin. And his voice—his voice is the weirdest part of it all. He's got this accent so foreign it makes me feel like I am hearing the words spoken for the very first time. He's maybe a little older than I am, but not very much.

"Man, I love dicks." He bonks his clay penis against my own, then offers me a grape. "Want some?"

"Dick? No thank you. But I will have a grape." I take it from him. "You aren't from here, are you?"

He takes another grape and plops it in his mouth. "Oh, of course I am. Lived here my whole life."

"You can tell me if you aren't," I assure him. "I am not really from here, either. My grandparents on my mom's side were immigrants. And my dad's, well..." I gesture all around us. "You know."

"A dick."

I start to laugh, then slam my hand over my mouth. "You have got to be a heretic to say things like that."

"A heretic?" when he turns to look at me, he also turns to directly face the sun. He squints. "Um, what? My Greek isn't that great."

"You know. An outsider." We use that word for anyone from the outside world or of an outside religion. "Besides, if you really are from here, why do you not speak Greek very well?"

Apollonisi is technically a part of Greece, but only technically. Mostly, we are a sovereign state. We have almost no contact with the outside world and follow the rule of our own kings. The only thing we really have in common with Greece is the language.

"Oh, my God, Karen, you can't just ask people why they don't speak Greek!"

"What is a Karen?"

"It's a quote," he replies, giving me a duh gesture with his hands. "Have you never seen Mean Girls? I thought it was, like, a universal experience."

"Is it a play?"

"I mean, there's a musical based off it, but it's a movie. You've really never even heard of it?"

He makes mistakes as he speaks, simple grammatical errors, mispronouncing something, mixing up two related words. He sounds like someone just shy of being completely fluent speaking in his second language.

I take him saying there's a musical based off it as yet another mistake, and assume he told me that there is a piece of music based off of it.

"Yes, of course I have. I was joking. It's my favorite... movie. By the way, what is a movie?"

"It's—is that not the word?" He snaps his fingers and screws up his face. "Ahh, I'm drawing a blank. It's... it's TV, but longer. You know? That thing."

"What's TV?"

"Am I having a stroke?" He pulls at the cloak where he has it clasped around his throat. "I could have sworn that was the word for it." He makes an odd gesture, starting at his forehead then moving down to between his collarbones, then moving his finger from shoulder to shoulder. "God, it's hot. Are you hot? Here, have another grape. It'll keep you hydrated."