“Don’t screw this up.”

“Dude”—Rick shook them off—“don’t put this all on me.”

“Mr. Dowlearn, who is the Crookshank God?”

“Poseidon,” Deangelis stage-whispered. “He carries a shank.”

“That’s a trident, you idiot,” McGhee corrected him.

Rick exhaled through his teeth in frustration. “It’s not Zeus or Ares, but it might be—”

“Sir!” It was Dan with his hand up in the back.

“Yes, Mr. Malone.”

“Permission to steal the question.”

“Excuse me?”

“Let Mr. Dowlearn pass to me.”

“Do you know the answer?”

“Yes.”

“Very well, Mr. Malone, who is the Crookshank God?”

“Hephaestus.”

“Correct.”

“Malone saved us.” Mike Torkel collapsed back into his seat.

“With one right answer, Mr. Torkel? I assure you I have many more questions.” Oglesby thumbed over pages annealed with years of annotation.

“All right, Mr. Coleman.” Cameron stretched—he was just waking up from a midperiod snooze interrupted by the smack of Keisaku on his desk. “In the hall of Alcinous, what is the name of the minstrel—the blind man many think is a stand-in for Homer himself?”

Cameron was out of it. “Is this before or after the Odyssey guy kills everyone?”

“Welcome back, Mr. Coleman, I hope you’re well rested. Okay, that’s strike—”

Dan’s hand went up again.

“Yes, Mr. Malone.”

“The minstrel is Demodocus.”

“Correct.” A barely perceptible grin ticked across Oglesby’s face.

“Mr. Oglesby, sir?”

“Yes, Flanagan.”

“I’d like to nominate Malone as our class representative for the remainder of this game.”

Several heads nodded and affirmed.

“Mr. Malone, do you want to demonstrate what close reading means to your classmates?”

“Uh, okay.”

“Your men are counting on you, do you want to be the hero—or the goat? Remember, class, tragos—tragedy—is Greek for ‘goat song.’”

“I’ll try.” Dan felt the pressure as everyone turned in their chairs. Aww crap, he thought. Stay calm, gotta focus. He had read the book, and years ago, his father had given him D’Aulaires’ Greek Myths, which he had devoured. He knew his mythology but had been lucky that Oglesby had hit on familiar trivia with the last two questions.

“Here we go then. The name of the Cyclops is . . .”

“Polyphemos.”

“The name of the swineherd?”

“Eumaios.”

“Who are the Spinners?”

“The Fates.”

“The seer who is half—”

“Tiresias.”

“The following questions involve Odysseus’s trip to the underworld. When he goes, name three queens he meets.”

“In order?”

Oglesby looked up from his book. “Of course . . .”

“Tyro, Antiope, Alcmene, Epicaste, Chloris, Leda . . .”

“Christ, Malone,” Sticky muttered.

Oglesby flipped pages rapidly. Dan’s classmates just stared at him with disbelief. Rob McGhee was silently pumping his fist.

“Our hero smiles twice in the course of The Odyssey. When and why?”

“Once when Telemachos tells him to spare his servant Medon, and the second time when Penelope still doubts it’s him.”

“What does Homer describe as ‘all-conquering’?”

Sleep or death, Dan thought, and then guessed: “Sleep.”