May 18

The student art gallery was hosted in the cafeteria. Everyone not involved had been forced to leave the building fifteen minutes after school ended while we got the place set up. It was a whirlwind of activity. There was so much cleaning to do. Alex and I swept together and if at times we played dust bunny hockey or rode around on them as if they were flying broomsticks, we at least got it done.

         We helped Sif and the other teachers fold up the tables and chairs. Lugging them to the janitor's closet (which was bigger than Jormungandr's large inte stones) wasn't easy. By the end I was sweating bullets and pondering how to cool down when a water balloon hit my face. My head snapped to the perpetrator: Magni and Mothi were carrying a bucket filled with blue water balloons. "What was that for?" I demanded.

"It's art," Magni explained.

"Since when is it art to attack your fellow students?" I asked.

        "We've only attacked one fellow student so far," Mothi replied.

       "I hate your logic," I said, "and next time you choose to bombard me with water balloons, please make sure they're not blue."

      Now I'm normally not a huge stickler on clothes (as long as it's comfy and not blue), but I'd worn my best (and only) button-up today and it was white. "Your shirt is now see-through," Alex informed me.

      "Just great," I said. "My day gets better and better."

    Alex patted me on the shoulder. "The look suits you, but we'll get it resolved. I'm sure Blitzen can help."

    I blushed, thanking any force that might have power in the universe that Blitzen was here tonight. He was going to be showcasing a collection of clothes he'd been working on the entire semester. Whenever we asked him how his project was going, he'd shush us and say, "I can't spoil it yet, but it's going to be great."

     We found Blitzen outfitting mannequins in what looked like high-end suits and cravats. "Blitzen, we got an emergency," Alex said.

    Blitzen turned around and his eyes bulged. "Magnus, this cannot be."

      "We were hoping you'd—" Alex started.

     I didn't hear the rest of what she had to say because Blitzen had yanked me out of earshot. He half-led, half-dragged me to his locker. "Blitzen, what's going on?" I asked, rubbing my sore arm as he rummaged through his locker.

      "It'll take me some time," Blitzen said, shoving a bowtie decorated with expanding ducks back into his locker.

    Honestly, it was impressive how many different bowties he had. I couldn't even tie a regular cravat and Blitzen knew half a dozen ways to, as well as when to wear each style. Blitzen threw some things into his stylish carry-on bag that he'd brought for tonight and then bustled me to the bathroom.

My shirt was drying now and since it was water, there wouldn't be a stain. "I can probably just use one of the hand dryers," I told Blitzen.

"Sir, you are not doing that," Blitzen replied. "White shirts are a recipe for disaster at an art show. I'm going to make you look immaculate. Change into these."

He threw some clothes at me and I went into one of the stalls to change. "This fits better than my button-down," I said as I looked at myself in the mirror.

Blitzen had given me a long-sleeves grey shirt that was both cozy and elegant. The black pants he'd picked out for me flared slightly at the ankles. I found that I did not even need to wear a belt; they fit that well. "Here kid," Blitzen said, coming next to me. "Tuck in your shirt; it will elevate your look."

Since he was the fashion genius, I did so. "How did you learn all this?" I asked as Blitzen folded up the clothes I'd worn to school that day.

"Classes, my mother, and lots of Project Runway," Blitzen said.

"Thanks again," I said, "but how did you have the clothes on hand?"

Blitzen smiled. "I'm always here to help my friends through fashion woes."

"You're a genius," I said, clapping him on the back.

***

The art exhibit itself turned out to be less hectic than the set-up. Around 7:00 parents, teachers, and other students began filing into the cafeteria. Some of the artists, like Blitzen, stayed near their pieces and handled any questions thrown at them by curious onlookers. Others (read me) congregated near Alex's art piece.

If the Alex bowl was successful, Alex's piece rivaled Van Gogh. It was a ten-foot tall humanoid figurine. Everyone of us had been required to make an artist statement and in hers, Alex discussed her Mesoamerican heritage and her love of pottery. "Pottery Barn?" Thor asked, coming up. "Why'd you name him that."

"Pottery Barn's pronouns are they and them," Alex replied, "and their name signifies both human manipulation of the earth and our dependence on it."

"It's taller than me," Thor noted.

Alex nodded. She'd worked on it before and after school for two weeks, rolling out the coils that made up her clay creation's body, helping Sif move it to the kiln, and glazing it. "It's a marvelous work of art," Odin said as he came over. "You could include photos of it in your art portfolio."

Alex nodded. "I intend to do so."

More people came to praise Pottery Barn. By the end of the night, I guessed that Alex and Blitzen had received the most attention, though Jack wasn't too far behind with his rendition of Taylor Swift's "Blank Space" (complete with a dance number). Thankfully , Magni and Mothi's water balloons had been confiscated by Hunding before they attacked another innocent student (or parent or teacher).

The exhibit ended at 9:00, but we stayed to help clean up. "What are you going to do with Pottery Barn?" I asked Alex as we helped sweep up.

"Sif is submitting it to an art museum for me," Alex replied. "If it's rejected, she said she'll display it in her classroom."

"Sounds like someone is the teacher's pet," I teased.

Alex's face turned as pink as her tank top. "Who would have thought you hated her at first?" I asked.

Alex rolled her eyes, but as we put our brooms away, I saw her secretly smile. Good, I thought; she had much to be proud of.