5
Turns out Stymphalian birds s**t. A lot.
I get back to my dorm room to find my roommate, Tina, sitting on her bed, staring down the bird who is perched on the footboard. Just as I walk in the door, the bird lets loose another stream of gluey gray s**t.
“Oh my gods,” I say, covering my nose. “That’s awful!”
Tina doesn’t even respond; she’s giving the bird the stink eye. But he’s definitely winning any competition involving stink.
True to its mission, it doesn’t even look at me. He’s honed in on Tina, his eyes locked onto her for the rest of her time at the Academy. The only living thing in the room that even acknowledges my presence is Vee—Tina’s self-aware Venus Fly Trap plant. She turns her head towards me, then back to Tina, clearly alarmed at her owner’s predicament.
“It’ll be o
