by David Slavin
Dedication
For Sophie and Stella.
–D.S.
For Nemo.
–A.J.B.L.
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Back Ad
Copyright
About the Publisher
In case you haven’t figured it out, it’s my dad’s birthday . . . and I haven’t gotten him anything yet. You’ve been there, too, right? But you can’t really blame me—I’ve got a lot of stuff going on!
Okay, maybe I don’t have that much stuff going on. The truth is, my dad is harder to please than most dads. He’s Zeus, the King of the Greek Gods.
Hey, I wonder if he’d like a drawing!
Hmmm.
And yes, you read that right: I’m Oddonis. Not Adonis. I’m the ODD version of a Greek God. Adonis is my twin brother. He’s amazing and definitely NOT ODD. Also, unlike me, he’s probably got something way over-the-top planned for my dad’s birthday. This was his gift to Dad last year:
Yeah, I’m pretty sure I won’t be able to slay a dragon in the next fifteen minutes. That’s when my dad’s party is supposed to start. Dad likes things HUGE—especially parties FOR HIM. But my mom, Freya, does not. She’s Norwegian, and she thinks all you should get on your birthday is some fruitcake and someone to sing “Hurra for deg som fyller ditt år,” this weird Norwegian birthday song that she loves.
Problem number one: Dad HATES Mom’s fruitcake. Then again, does anybody actually like fruitcake? Worst. Cake. Ever! Oh, and here’s an added bonus: my mom can’t cook!
Problem number two: Dad’s not big on the “Hurra for deg” song. And he really doesn’t like doing the little dance Mom makes us all do when we sing it.
So that means Dad’s got one birthday thing left that he actually likes: PRESENTS. Which I DON’T HAVE. I rifle through my closet, looking for something I can regift to him, but all I find is this so-called “sculpture” I did in art class years ago. It’s made out of pasta, and even I can’t tell what it’s supposed to be!
But then a bolt of artistic inspiration hits me! I wrap a white handkerchief around the pasta and draw an inscription on the base!
BRILLIANT!
Okay, “brilliant” might be a little strong. But beggars can’t be choosers, and the party’s about to start! I put Ziti Zeus in the pocket of my toga and scoot downstairs.
Aunt Demeter and Aunt Hestia are in the kitchen with my mom, helping her with the fruitcake. They’re my dad’s sisters. Aunt Demeter is the Goddess of grains. She always brings the flour for the cake.
Aunt Hestia is the Goddess of the hearth. She’s keeping the fire going in the oven.
Too bad there’s no Goddess of stuff that tastes good—because that’s what my mom’s fruitcake really needs!
“Hello, snuppa!” Mom says to me. “I’m about to take the fruitcake out, but I’m warning you: no sneaking a bite!”
“Oh, you don’t have to worry about that, Mom,” I say.
Aunt Hestia smiles at me, and Aunt Demeter gives me a wink.
“Couldn’t he have just one little taste, Freya?” asks Aunt Demeter. “You know how Oddonis loves your fruitcake!”
“NO! It’s Zeus’s special day, and he gets the first piece! I’m sorry, Oddy.”
I shoot my aunts a dirty look and try to keep from laughing. They’re pretty cool, as aunts go. They’re sweet and fun and easygoing—not at all like their brother (aka MY DAD). The relative who’s most like my dad is my uncle Hades. Mom says that’s why they don’t get along! Dad and Uncle Hades have been in a feud for a long time. They used to be really close.
But over the years, they’ve grown apart. Dad kind of looks down on Hades. Then again, everyone looks down on Hades—because he’s God of the Underworld! BA-DUMP-BUMP! Get it? Down? Underworld? Anyway, I have a lot of nice memories of my uncle.
Everyone says Hades is a little odd, and maybe that’s why I’ve always liked him. I’m a little odd, too!
“Ta-da!” yells my mom. “FRUKTKAKE!” She pulls the fruitcake out of the oven, and it is . . .
“Beautiful!” says Aunt Hestia.
“It’s your best one yet, Freya,” echoes Aunt Demeter.
“Jippi!!!” Mom squeals. (That’s Norwegian for “Yippee!!!”) “Let the party begin! Oddy, you take your aunts into the living room and join your father.”
Aunt Hestia and Aunt Demeter put their arms around me, and we walk out of the kitchen.
“You don’t really think that cake is beautiful, do you?” I whisper.
“Oh my Gods, no,” replies Aunt Hestia. “I tried to burn it!”
“I’d rather eat a bale of hay,” mutters Aunt Demeter. “But it makes your mom happy, so that makes us happy!”
“Plus, your dad has to act like he loves it!” chuckles Aunt Hestia.
“That’s the best part!” says Aunt Demeter. “I mean, other than watching him do that silly birthday dance!”
“What are you two cackling about?” Dad asks as we sit down.
“Oh, nothing, birthday boy,” giggles Aunt Demeter. “Just waiting for your special cake!”
“Ugh,” groans my dad. “Fruitcake again?”
“We can’t spoil the surprise!” says Aunt Hestia. “But it’s your favorite!”
“Great,” Dad grumbles. “Speaking of favorites—Oddonis, where’s your brother?”
“Beats me,” I reply grumpily. “He left early this morning.”
“Well, I certainly hope he hasn’t forgotten my birthday!”
“Not much chance of that, Dad,” I say.
I wanted to say, “Oh, please, Dad, Adonis never misses a chance to show off,” but I thought I’d be nice.
Then I hear a loud BANG! The front door crashes open, and in walks—make that, in rides—my brother, Adonis . . . on top of a giant bull!
“HAPPY BIRTHDAY, O GREAT AND POWERFUL FATHER!” thunders Adonis. “I bring to you the Cretan Bull! Pretty cool, huh?”
“Well, well!” roars Dad. “Adonis, you’ve done it again!”
(My Ziti Zeus is looking even sadder now.)
“He put up a good fight,” says Adonis. “But he was no match for me. Oh, and Heracles helped a little, too.”
Heracles helped a little? If I know my brother, this is how it all went down:
“Very impressive, Adonis!” says Dad. “Freya, come see what Adonis got me for my birthday!”
Mom walks in, takes one look at the bull, and shrieks, “UFF DA! OKSE!!! GET THAT THING OUT OF MY HOUSE!”
“But it’s the Cretan Bull!” grouses Dad. “And it’s my birthday!”
“Oh, all right,” says Mom. “But only because it’s your birthday. Heracles, put the cow in the corner.”
“Okay
, Mrs. Z,” says Heracles.
“Time for fruktkake and ‘Hurra for deg!’” Mom chirps.
“Time for MORE PRESENTS!” Dad responds. “Bestow thy gifts unto me!”
Aunt Hestia gives Dad a fire stick. And I mean . . . an actual stick of fire!
“A fire stick!” yells Adonis. “Can I play with it, Dad?”
“Let me think about that,” says Dad. “Umm . . . NO!”
Then Aunt Demeter gives him a bushel of wheat. (That’s what she always gives.)
“You can play with this, Adonis,” says Dad, handing him the bushel.
Hmmm. Maybe Dad won’t mind Ziti Zeus after all! It can’t be any worse than getting wheat!
“Well, I’d like to thank my sisters for being here,” says Dad, “and for giving me these gifts. Of course, my BROTHER didn’t show . . . again.”
“I think he’s still hurt that you didn’t go to his birthday party,” says Aunt Demeter.
“Me? Go to his party? Hello! I am ZEUS, King of the Gods! I’ve got a lot of stuff going on!”
“Oh, really?” says Mom.
“Besides, I hate the Underworld,” Dad sneers. “It’s dark and depressing and scary. Who cares if my brother lives there? I’m king of the whole world, and if I don’t want to go somewhere, I don’t have to go! So there!!!”
I really wish I didn’t wait to go last to give my dad his gift. I should’ve given him Ziti Zeus during the five seconds when he was actually in a good mood! But I can’t put this off any longer. I reach into my pocket and pull out . . . a letter. A letter? How’d that get in there???
Whaaaaaat? Howwwww?
“Oddonis?” says Dad. “Are you okay?”
I am definitely NOT okay. I am TOTALLY freaking out! Ziti Zeus is GONE and now I have NOTHING and I’m DESPERATE, so I say, “Uhh . . . yeah! I’m . . . just . . . getting your present.”
“Oooh! Really? What is it?”
“It’s . . . a poem?”
“A poem!” says Dad. “I love poems! Especially when they’re about ME!”
“Greaaaat,” I say, handing the letter to my dad. “Here you go.”
Dad clears his throat and reads out loud.
All of a sudden, there’s a bolt of lightning and a clap of thunder . . . inside our house! Smoke fills the room, the Cretan Bull snorts, and my aunts (and Adonis) scream. What the heck is going on here??? It’s TOTAL CHAOS!
My mom yells, “Is everyone okay?”
“Yes!” reply my aunts.
“Yeah!” add Adonis and Heracles and me.
“Zeus?” asks Mom.
Nothing.
“Zeus?” she asks again. “Are you all right?”
As the smoke starts to clear, I see my dad sitting right where he was before. The only difference is that his toga is now wrapped around his waist like a diaper. He looks up at everyone, pounds his fists on his thighs, and cries, “WAAAHHH! ZEUSY WANT MORE PRESENTS! ZEUSY WANT MORE PRESENTS!!!! WAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!”
“What did you do now, Oddy?” sneers my brother.
“I didn’t do anything!” I say. (Did I???)
“Well, you must’ve done something,” replies Adonis. “Look at Dad!”
“That was some poem you wrote, Oddonis,” says Aunt Hestia.
“But I didn’t write it! I swear!”
“Oddonis, you know how I feel about lying,” Mom says, her voice rising with anger. “You said it was your poem. He read your poem. And now your poem has turned your father into A TODDLER!!!”
“Ooooh! Mommy mad!” says Dad.
“I’m not your mommy!” yells Mom.
“NOT MY MOMMMMMMY???” cries Dad. “WAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!!!”
“I think he needs his mommy, Freya,” says Aunt Demeter.
“I think he needs a nap,” says Aunt Hestia.
That gets Dad’s attention.
“Zeusy have nappy wappy! Zeusy go sleepy poopy!”
“Oh, all right.” Mom sighs. “I’ll take ‘Zeusy’ upstairs. And when I come down, you better have a good explanation for this, Oddonis.”
“Oooooh! Oddy Woddy in twoooubllllle!”
Zeusy’s right. Oddy Woddy is definitely in twouble wouble!!!
Waiting for Mom to come downstairs feels like . . .
And Adonis staring at me and doing THIS sure isn’t helping!
Finally Mom walks in and announces, “Zeus, son of Cronus and Rhea, King of the Gods and ruler of all Olympus, is taking a nappy wappy.” Then she turns to me and says, “All right, Oddonis, out with it.”
I take a big gulp and confess. (Warning: there’s some crying involved.)
“Okay, I didn’t get Dad a present because I put it off to the last minute and then I couldn’t think of anything so I made Ziti Zeus and then Adonis came in with that bull and Aunt Hestia had the fire stick and then Aunt Demeter gave Dad that lame-o wheat and I thought whoa this is my chance so I went to get Ziti Zeus but he wasn’t there and that’s when I found Uncle Hades’s poem and I didn’t have anything so I pretended it was my poem and I don’t know what happened after that but now Dad’s a baby and it’s all my fault and I’m so so sorry! Waaaaaahhhhhhhh!!!!!”
“Maybe Oddy needs a nappy wappy, too,” grumbles Adonis.
Thankfully, Mom gives me a big hug and says, “I don’t understand half of what you just said, kjære, but I believe you.” She looks at Uncle Hades’s letter and passes it to my aunts.
“It’s Hades’s writing, all right,” says Aunt Demeter.
“I didn’t know he was that mad at Zeus,” says Aunt Hestia.
“Can you reverse the spell?” asks Mom.
“We can’t,” replies Aunt Hestia. “Only Hades can.”
“Well, somebody needs to talk to him,” says Mom. “And soon! I hate to say this about my own husband, but baby Zeusy is a brat!”
“I don’t know how much good it’ll do, but we can try,” says Aunt Demeter.
“You better go now,” orders Mom. “Zeusy’s nap won’t last forever!”
We hug Hestia and Demeter goodbye and wish them luck. And lucky for us, Mom gives them the fruitcake, too!
“Listen up, you two,” Mom says to Adonis and me. “Gather all the baby stuff from the basement and think of ways to entertain your father when he wakes up. I’ll start preparing his lunch. Go!”
“You’re making way too big a deal out of this, Mom,” I protest. “So Dad’s a little kid now. How hard can it be to take care of him?”
Just then, we hear a voice wailing from upstairs.
“UH-OH! ZEUSY JUST WENT BIG POTTY!!!”
“I’ll let you take care of that,” Mom says to me.
Okay, I’m not going to talk about the potty thing—EVER—but after that, Zeusy was actually a lot of fun!
See, my dad’s never been much of a player . . . not with me, at least. Full disclosure, though: I’ve always had trouble playing games, too.
But now that Dad’s a junior Zeus, he seems to really like hanging out with me!
Zeusy is still asleep the next morning when Adonis and I leave for school. Mom’s worried about having to take care of Dad the whole day, but she’s super-worried that word will get out about Dad’s “situation.” She even makes us pinkie swear that we won’t tell anybody!
“I’m serious as a hjerteinfarkt,” Mom says. (That’s “heart attack” in Norwegian.) “No one can find out about your father. And I mean NO ONE.”
“Okay, okay,” says Adonis. “But why?”
“If the other Gods discover their king is now an infant, they’ll be all over Olympus faster than a loppe on a hund!” (That’s “a flea on a dog.”)
Full disclosure: I’m terrible at keeping secrets, so I’m a nervous wreck at school. It’s weird not being able to talk to my friends about my dad, but pinkie swearing is serious business! I try to stay cool, but it’s possible I seem a little on edge. First, on the school chariot . . .
Then, in the lunchroom . . .
“What is with you?” asks my friend Mathena.
“I DON’T KNOW WHAT YOU’RE TALKING ABOUT!” I say, realizing that I’m actually screaming. “I’M FINE!”
“If you say so,” replies Gaseous. “So, how was your dad’s birthday?”
“WHY DO YOU ASK THAT?????”
“Umm . . . because it was your dad’s birthday yesterday?”
“WAS NOT!”
“But you told us you were having a birthday party for him,” says Mathena.
“NO! NO! NO BIRTHDAY! NO PARTY! NO NOTHING!!!”
Just then, Adonis and Heracles pass by our table.
Hmmm.
This is going to be harder than I thought!
I’m so afraid of spilling the beans that I purposely skip taking the bus after school. I run all the way home, and as soon as I open the door and see my mom, I can tell what kind of day it’s been.
“Can’t . . . take it . . . anymore . . . ,” she mumbles.
“Where’s Dad?” I ask.
“In your room,” she replies. “That’s the only way I could calm him down.”
“Okay, I’ll go up and see him.”
“I’m sorry, Oddy.”
“What are you sorry for?” I ask.
“You’ll see.”
Uh-oh.
“NOOOOOO!!! STOP, ZEUSY! BAD ZEUSY!”
I’m so mad at Zeusy that I actually do this!
But he looks so sad, so ashamed . . . and so cute! I just can’t stay mad at him!
OMGs! What is happening to me? Am I becoming . . . a parent?
The next morning, Mom looks even worse than the day before. Meanwhile, Dad is sitting happily in his high chair, rubbing oatmeal in his hair.
“I had to get up five different times in the night,” Mom whispers. “Your father kept wanting a drink of water!”