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Calypso rocked awkwardly back and forth outside the classroom, listening to a few overly enthusiastic students through the slightly ajarred door, Lityerses standing beside her with his arms crossed. She knew this was the right place, she’d checked and double checked countless times, but human interaction was still not her strong suit. Goes to show what four thousand years of isolation can do on a girl.
Normally, Leo would be there to barge into a room with his bright smile and tacky outfits, but Leo had a Robotics competition across Indianapolis which he’d gotten out of last period for, which left just her and Lityerses in their normal after school trio.
It also didn’t help that Lityerses was more a smash over the head than the talking type of guy, and the two of them deciding that going to a club meeting they’d never been to after school was probably not that good of an idea without Leo’s modern day encyclopedic knowledge.
“Are you guys here for GSA?”
Calypso jumped nearly a foot in the air as she looked towards the door. In the doorway was a kid about hers and Lit’s physical ages—a junior or senior—with a dark mullet that matched their skirt and fishnets. On their tee was a little pin that said “They/Them”.
“Oh, um, yeah,” Calypso stumbled out. “We are.”
Lit swung his arm in a way that made it evident to everyone who knew him that he was missing his blade. “This the right place then?”
“Yeah!” The kid grinned. “We’re just about to start, come on in!”
Lit went in first, and found a seat as far away from everyone else as possible. Calypso followed slowly, unsure of her steps.
“You don’t have to sit all the way back there,” the kid said. “You can sit up here with us.”
Lit had found a pencil and was twirling it through his fingers. “I’m fine here.”
The kid frowned, but turned to Calypso, “You can sit with me.”
Not one to say no to simple requests, Calypso sat beside them.
A teacher sat at the large desk in the front of the room; a little pride flag in his cup holder, and a girl was doodling and writing on the board behind him. A few other kids, who Calypso had heard before, were still talking loudly about this or that.
A few more people trickled in; most avoiding Lit like the plague, and sitting in their crude circle they made with desks and chairs.
“Alright, let’s start!” The kid beside Calypso raised her hand. “I’m—”
An older man sitting at the teacher’s desk interrupted her. “Marilyn, sit down please.”
Marilyn, who Calypso figured was the girl drawing squiggles around her declaration of Be Gay, Do Crime, put her chalk down and sat on the other side of Calypso’s neighbor with a huff.
“So, as some of you know, my name’s Rylen, and I help run the GSA with Mr Whitaker.”
Mr Whitaker raised his hand in acknowledgement.
“I’d assume most of you know this, but the GSA stands for Gender and Sexuality Alliance, and is a way to celebrate the LGBTQ+ students we have here at Indianapolis High. And also LQBTQ+ families, and also allies, and, well, everyone. So, I’m really glad everyone could join us today!
“We’ll go around in a circle and introduce our name, grade, and pronouns, if you’re not comfortably disclosing, that’s okay! But remember that this is a safe space.
“So, like I said, I’m Rylen, I’m a junior, and my pronouns are they/them.” Rylen turned to Mr Whitaker, “You wanna go next, and then we’ll go around the circle starting with Marilyn?”
Mr Whitaker nodded. “Hello, students, I’m Mr Whitaker, as most of you know, and I teach 9th and 10th grade history, and my pronouns are he/him.”
Marilyn huffed again, as she slunk into her seat. “I’m Marilyn, 9th grade, she/they.”
“You could be more enthusiastic, Mari,” Mr Whitaker grumbled.
“Marilyn! 9th Grade! She/they!” Marilyn emphasized. “That better, dad?”
Mr Whitaker shook his head, but didn’t push them forward.
A few more kids introduced themselves; a large variety of names, grades, and pronouns present.
After the boy on Calypso’s other side introduced himself, Calypso realized all the eyes in the room were on her.
“Oh, um, I’m Calypso.”
“Like in the Odyssey?” Marilyn interrupted.
That was something that Calypso still hadn’t quite gotten used to about modern times; people knew her, or at least the dramatized version of her Homer had written. “Yeah, like that.”
“Cool.”
“I’m a junior, and she/her.” Calypso was still getting used to English pronouns, as she was still getting used to speaking English. She understood it for a while—she had a lot of time to learn languages, including English, while stuck on Ogygia—but she rarely spoke it out loud.
Rylen turned towards where Lit was still fiddling with the pencil he found. “Do you want to introduce yourself?”
Lit shrugged. “Lit, senior, he/him.”
“Alright,” Rylen grabbed a notepad, “So, next week is Asexual Awareness Week, so we’re going to be putting up fliers talking about what asexuality is, as well as some ace flags. Does anyone not know what asexuality or ace means?”
While Calypso wasn’t the most well versed in terminology—again, being secluded for four thousand years did that to a girl—that was actually a term she knew. After all, it was the reason she and Leo broke up.
“Okay, so it looks like we all know what being ace means, so let’s split up and post these fliers!”
Calypso paired up with Lit, and the two were handed fliers with the heading Aromantic =/= Asexual in bold italics.
As she and Lit walked around the hallways, Calypso read one of the fliers herself, and she must’ve been frowning because Lit said, “Why’re you so glum?”
“I’m not glum,” Calypso insisted. “Say, did you know there is a difference between being aromantic, or having little to no romantic attraction, and asexual, which is having little to no sexual attraction?”
Lit shrugged. “Can’t say I did.”
“I thought you had to be both,” Calypso murmured. “When Leo told me he was aro/ace, it sounded like it was one term. I never heard them separated before.”
“So, some people like people romantically and not sexually?” Lit questioned.
“Yeah,” Calypso marveled. “That’s so cool.”
Lit started to put up another flier beside the last one. “I guess so.”
They kept walking, but Calypso’s mind was still spinning. “Y’know,” she said after they hung a few more fliers, her voice quiet just in case someone were eavesdropping. “When Leo came out to me as aro/ace, I thought that sounded kinda like me, especially since all the men I’ve ever loved, I was forced to love them because of my curse. But I thought that couldn’t be right, because I’ve still found people attractive since leaving the island—girls are really pretty, actually, and I didn’t know that before—and there’s plenty of people I’d date, but it feels different from the curse.”
Lit glanced over the flier he was in the process of hanging, “So you think that you're asexual, but not aromantic?”
Calypso shrugged, “Maybe, I don’t know. These definitions don’t say anything about if you’ve been cursed into feeling attraction towards anyone for millenia.”
“Most mortals don’t believe in curses,” Lit said.
"Can I still be ace if I were cursed?”
“I don’t see why not,” Lit took a flier from Calypso to hang it up. “Jo and Emmie told me that labels are to explain ourselves to ourselves, and that if we relate to a label, then we sure can use it, because only we know us.”
“That was oddly wise.”
“I have my moments, so you’re ace, but you still like boys romantically?”
“And girls,” Calypso said, “I think I’d date a girl too.”
“Then you might be—” Lit’s eyes went down the paper to the bottom, where it explained different romantic orientations one could be while still being ace, “Biromantic, or panromantic.”
“Maybe panromantic?” Calypso mumbled.
Lit shrugged, “Only you know.”
Calypso smiled softly, “How about we go and put up the rest of these before I have a huge existential crisis because everything I thought I’d known about me might be a lie?”
Lit chuckled, and the two continued their adventure of putting up Asexual Awareness fliers.