Can't Fix Cupid

Okay, not really. But she does annoy me. Like right now, she’s sitting front and center in Professor Sokolov’s class of Comparative World Mythology 340. But is she paying attention? No. Is she ever paying attention? Double no.

She’s not even pretending to pay attention to the lecture, which, by the way, is very interesting. Instead, she’s either scrolling lazily on her phone, looking at pictures of beautiful people, or holding primp sessions with her compact mirror.

“Katie, pay attention!” I snap at her, while Professor Sokolov continues talking about Athena, the Greek goddess of wisdom. Katie has no hope of following in her footsteps if she treats all her learning opportunities this way.

Sure enough, she just keeps on zooming by pretty people pictures while I hover in the seat beside her. Unlike her, I’m front-row material. It’s common knowledge that the slackers are supposed to sit in the back row. Apparently, Katie Asspants Welsh didn’t get that memo. Or maybe she’s just so much of a slacker that she can’t be bothered to slack in the back like a respectable slacker.

“What you should be doing is taking notes,” I inform her. She reaches into her purse and pulls out a stick of gum instead. I sigh. “I wish I could take notes. I’d ace the hell out of this class.”

It’s true, I’m not even being arrogant. My partner and I stumbled into this class by accident one day. We figured college students would be easy pickings to spread around some Lust. One Hundred Sixteen made about fifty Matches that day. But me? I flew into this class and heard the professor talking about Eros, the god of love and desire, and I got hooked.

Maybe it’s vain, but he’s basically teaching about how all of cupidity got started, and it interests me. Eros doesn’t actually do the grunt work anymore. That’s what he made us for. I figure learning about him is the least I can do, since I’m kind of sucking at my job in every other aspect of my afterlife. I even thought it might help me become one with my powers or some shit, but no such luck.

“Your paper on the classic art depiction of a Greek god or goddess of your choice is due first thing Monday. If you don’t turn it in, the gods will punish you,” Professor Sokolov jokes as the class comes to an end. He makes that same joke for every assignment. Nobody laughs except me. Too bad he can’t hear me giving him the appreciation he deserves.

Katie Asspants Welsh leaps to her feet, already talking on the phone before her jiggly butt even makes it out the door. She’ll probably get some other student to write her paper for her, while I’m dying to be able to hold a pen. So unfair.

“See ya around, Professor,” I tell him before flying out of the classroom and making my way off the campus.

“Hey, anything?”

I turn around in the quad as my partner comes flying up to me. Her brown eyes are all sparkly like they always get when she’s just Lusted the shit out of a bunch of people.

“Oh...umm…” I look around guiltily.

She sighs. “Did you sit in that classroom again instead of trying to give people Flirt Touches?”

“Kinda.”

“Thirty! You have to keep trying.”

“I know,” I reply, more frustrated than ever. A group of college dudes walk through us, but we’re so used to it that it doesn’t even phase us anymore. “Really, I know. I do try. But it never fricken works! I’m a failure.”

Her face softens. “You’re not a failure. You just need to keep trying. You’ll get there.”

She’s sweet for saying so, but we both know it’s probably not true. Still, I’m no quitter.

“Come on. I heard about a high school dance going on tonight downtown. Let’s go try there, yeah?”

I give her a strained smile and stretch out my wings. “Sure.”

She smiles at me with confidence. “What could be better than horny teenagers, inappropriate dancing, and awkward adult chaperones?” she asks, pretending to smooth back some of my pink hair. “You’re gonna be great!”

Update: I’m not great.

I try to unleash Lust on some teenagers, but after an hour of trying, I’m pretty sure I make every single wallflower decidedly not horny. Which is almost impressive, considering a teenager’s settings seem to always be at least fifty percent ready to go.

I finally give up once I start hacking on my own puny power, my Lust Breath congealing in my throat. I have to hock a sickly orange loogie out into the ethereal in-between. It’s not something a goddess of love should ever have to do.

My cupid partner gets really hyped up behind the bleachers where some of the students are playing spin the bottle. She giggles with excitement every time she gets another couple to sneak off for a makeout sesh in the hallway.

She’s totally in her element, high off of young, bumbling desire. So I decide to leave her to it, because I’m just making things worse. That’s the thing I love and hate about One Hundred Sixteen. I love that she’s into her job just as much as I am. But I hate her a little because, unlike me, she can actually do it.

It makes it hard to be friends with her, to be honest. The green-eyed monster in me sees her twirling around, happily passing out Flirt Touches like they’re orgasms on V-day, but when I try to do it? Either nothing happens, or I cause the opposite effect.

I’m an embarrassment to all of cupidity. And I hate it.

So instead of trying to Love Arrow some poor hormonal acne-ridden schlubs by the punch bowl, I sneak out of there.