“Daphne, since you brought up the subject, I’d like to hear more of your thoughts.”

I can hear the frustration wafting off Lexie, but I go ahead and answer. “I think he is supposed to be a symbol for evil. The myth of Persephone clearly shows that.…”

“I beg to differ,” says someone from the back of the room. I’m certain I’ve heard his voice before—even if there’s no hint of his strange accent now.

“Ah, our other new student,” Ms. Leeds says, with a little clap of her hands. “I’m sorry, I should have started class with introductions. Haden Lord, stand up so everyone can see you.”

Haden stands. There’s one thing about him that isn’t different from the grove. He’s tall. At least six feet four. I’m not the only one who takes in a quick breath at the sight of him standing there.

“Sweet mother of hotness,” Lexie whispers from the desk in front of mine. This must be the first time she’s noticed him.

“I don’t believe Hades was evil at all,” Haden says. “He was purely a man—or god, actually—who was assigned a difficult destiny.” He looks at me for the first time since I entered the classroom. His eyebrows arch, but I can’t tell if it’s a look of recognition or not. His eyes are still jade green but not bright like before, and I can’t tell if his pupils are surrounded by amber fire rings from where I sit. “Being the keeper of the underworld doesn’t make him evil. Somebody has to do it.”

“No. But being a kidnapper and a rapist does.” I raise my eyebrows right back at him. “I mean, there Persephone was, minding her own business, picking flowers, when all of a sudden Hades bursts out of the ground in a flaming chariot and grabs her. I mean, you can’t just go around grabbing people. That’s not okay.” I narrow my eyes, challenging him. “What kind of person does that?”

Haden glowers right back at me. “Maybe he didn’t see any other options at the moment.”

“Hades is a tool. He obviously couldn’t find a girl to love him, so he just thought he’d steal himself one. There wouldn’t be a story about him being a rapist if people didn’t think he was evil.”

“Rape didn’t have anything to do with it,” Haden says in a tone that seems defensive to me. “Her father—Zeus himself—had already agreed to let Hades have her, and according to tradition, taking a woman by chariot from her home to yours is part of the ancient Greek wedding ceremony.” He sits down. He wears a long-sleeved, gray shirt with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows. It bothers me that I notice the muscles flexing as he crosses his arms in front of his chest.

I shake my head. “How can you say that? He took the girl by force and made her his bride. The book calls the myth the Rape of Persephone for a reason.”

“But there are earlier translations of the story than the one cited in the text.” Haden waves his muscular hand. “Maybe Persephone, a virgin”—he winks at me—“went willingly into the underworld in order to explore her own sexual desires.” He smirks and leans back in his chair with his arms crossed. I’m sure my face goes white before heat floods my cheeks, but I refuse to turn away from his gaze.

“Well. I’m glad to see at least two of my students have a passion for this subject,” Ms. Leeds says. I can see her pretending to fan herself out of the corner of my eye.

My cheeks burn hotter as Lexie and her friends snigger at us.

“Be careful or I’ll assign you two to write a term paper together. I am known for my matchmaking skills, after all.”

That statement makes me turn away from Haden quickly. I stare down at the text on my iPad. Not because I’m backing down from him, but because the last thing I want is to get stuck working alone with this Haden jerk—for any reason.

Ms. Leeds sits on the edge of the table in front of the class, crossing her long legs. “Haden brings up an interesting point that I hope none of you missed. There are many interpretations and versions of these myths other than the ones featured in our textbook. The so-called Rape of Persephone story actually contradicts many of the other myths in which the figure of Persephone appears. In myths such as Orpheus and Eurydice, and Psyche and Cupid, Persephone is portrayed as quite the formidable queen of the underworld, not as a lilting flower, easily taken and tricked by a man. When I was at Berkley, I wrote a paper on this subject. My research showed that there were very early versions of the Persephone myth that claimed that she was not ‘taken’ at all. One version suggested that Persephone, tired of being under the constant watch of an overbearing mother, left the mortal world of her own free will in order to fulfill a greater purpose. She recognized the underworld’s need for a queen and chose to fulfill it.”

“But why would someone change her story?” Lexie asks, not waiting for the teacher to call on her this time.

“As I wrote in my paper: to very patriarchal societies, a tale about a young maiden who takes her own future into her hands, leaves her home and family in search of her own destiny—and possibly a bit of forbidden love—is a very dangerous story indeed. So, therefore, they changed her story to fit their purposes. To make her a victim—a morality tale to warn girls from wandering too far from home, like Little Red Riding Hood. They changed her story to take away her power. That is the true rape of Persephone, if you ask me.”

I nod in agreement and notice that Lexie does, too.

For the first time, I feel connected to Persephone’s story. Well, Ms. Leeds’s version of it anyway. We’d both left our homes in search of a bigger purpose.

Ms. Leeds launches into the rest of her lecture on other underworld myths, and I can tell she’s trying to spark another lively debate. But I keep quiet after that, and so does Haden. As Bridgette enlightens the class with her perspective on the plight of beautiful women in Greek mythology, I risk a glance back at Haden. He looks up as if he senses my movement, and for the briefest of moments, his eyes seem to flash a fiery mix of amber and jade green.

I run into Tobin on my way from humanities to geometry.

“Hey, superstar,” he says. “You doing okay after your dad’s big announcement?”

“Fine,” I say, “except for pretty much being nominated for class leper.”

I look behind my shoulder, feeling like I am once again being followed. I must look as shaken as I feel when I look back at Tobin, because he puts a hand on my shoulder and asks, “Are you okay? Lexie and her little mafia aren’t getting to you already, are they?”