by David Slavin
“That’s a lot of water,” I say. “I’m surprised he made it through without—”
“He didn’t.” Mom sighs.
“Zeusy make pee-pee in his beddy-bye!” shouts Dad.
“I’m so tired—I don’t think I can handle another day alone with him,” says Mom. “Can one of you stay home? I’ll write you a note!”
“I’ve got a test,” Adonis says quickly.
“I—I—I’ve got a test, too,” I stammer.
“Oh, all right.” Mom sighs. “But get home as fast as you can!”
On our way to the school chariot, I say to Adonis, “I think today will be better than yesterday for Mom. Maybe she and Zeusy will have some fun!”
“‘Maybe she and Zeusy will have some fun!’” mimics Adonis. “Zeusy, Zeusy, Zeusy! Why don’t you just marry Zeusy?”
“That doesn’t even make sense!”
“Boy, I thought I’d seen it all when you lucked into being class co-president,” gripes Adonis. “But now this spell you cast has lucked you into being Dad’s pet!”
“Umm . . . actually, I won that election and asked you to be my co-president,” I reply.
“Wow, thanks for rubbing it in my face. Really nice, sore winner!”
“Wait, you’re the one who—”
“Next I suppose you’re going to say that Dad loves you more!”
“I never said—!”
“Unbelievable, backstabbro,” sneers Adonis. “I knew you were odd, but who knew you were cruel, too?”
Arrgghhh! Adonis has been Dad’s favorite for, like . . . FOREVER! I get ONE DAY of Dad liking me and now I’m the bad guy??? I shake my head nonstop at school, and I’m still shaking it on my way back home! (I’ve also got a terrible headache, for some reason.)
I try to put Adonis out of my mind and think happier thoughts—like how I’ll get to hang with my buddy Zeusy again! I missed the big/little guy! I’m crossing my fingers that he and Mom had a drama-free day together, but then I get home and see this . . .
Oh, no. I run upstairs, yelling, “Mom? Zeusy? Anybody???”
No answer. I run back down to take a look in the living room. I find Mom sprawled out on the couch, fast asleep!
“MOM!” I shout, startling her awake. “MOM!”
“Mom, where’s Zeusy?” I scream. “Where’s Zeusy???”
“He was right here a minute ago!” Mom replies.
“Well, he’s gone now!” I say.
“Oh nei oh nei!” Mom screams. “We have to find him!”
We bolt for the door and stop dead in our tracks. Why?
We notice Dad’s box of lightning bolts is open . . . and empty! And crumpled up on the floor, we see this!
Just then, Adonis enters and says, “What’s up?”
“I’ll tell you what’s up,” I reply. “Zeusy’s on the loose, and maybe . . . in the nude!”
The three of us head out in search of PNZ (Probably Naked Zeusy). We scour the whole neighborhood but can’t find him anywhere.
“We have to keep looking,” Mom says. “The Gods can never know what’s happened to your father!”
“Well, I’m going back to the house first,” says Adonis.
“Why?” I ask.
“Duh! To get an umbrella, dummy. It’s gonna pour.”
What is he talking about? It’s a gorgeous sunny day!
“Honning, have you had too much sun?” asks Mom. “It’s beautiful out!”
“Oh, yeah?” replies Adonis. “Look over there!”
Hmmm.
“Wow,” I say. “That’s some seriously bad weather.”
“That’s not weather!” shrieks Mom. “That’s your father! Let’s go!”
Together we hightail it up into the hills. “You already know about your father and his lightning bolts, but there’s so much more he can do,” Mom explains. “Because he’s God of the sky, he can make weather: floods, hurricanes, blizzards, all kinds of storms.”
“Can I do that?” asks Adonis.
“Nope. Sorry.”
“What a rip-off!” pouts Adonis.
(I’m certainly not going to ask if I can make weather. I can’t even make toast!)
As we get closer, it starts raining really hard! In the distance, we can hear Zeusy giggling and yelling, “BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!”
We hide behind a big rock for safety. I turn to Mom and Adonis and whisper, “What do we do?”
“Easy!” hisses Adonis. “We rush in and grab him!”
“Maybe we can talk to him,” I say. “You know—reason with him!”
“No,” declares Mom. “There’s only one thing that stops a tempestuous toddler. Stand back, boys. It’s Thunder Mother time.”
Mom shakes out her arms and cracks her neck like a boxer getting ready for a big fight. She closes her eyes, clears her throat, and this . . . sound . . . emerges from the deepest part of her being. It starts in her toes, rises up through her belly, and ROARS from her mouth. OMGs! Adonis and I know that sound all too well. Our eyes bug out, and the hairs on our necks stand straight up. We grab each other and hold on for dear life. We’re scared to death—and she’s not even thundering at us!
Zeusy freezes. He drops the lightning bolt and tornado he was playing with, and tries to locate where that horrible noise just came from. Mom steps out from behind the rock and starts walking toward him, very slowly and deliberately.
“Who’s been a bad God?” Mom mutters in her lowest, quietest, most disapproving voice.
“Zeusy?” asks Zeusy, like he hopes he’s wrong.
“That’s right,” she continues. “Zeusy’s been a bad God. And what happens to bad Gods?”
“Dey . . . dey . . . dey,” stammers Zeusy. “Dey—”
“THEY GET PUNISHED, THAT’S WHAT!” screams Adonis.
Zeusy’s eyes open wider—and POOF!—the next thing you know, he’s . . . GONE!
“Oops,” says Adonis. “My bad.”
“You’re darn right, your bad!” snaps Mom. “He could be anywhere now. Or . . . anything!”
“What do you mean—anything?” I ask.
“Your father has another power that I didn’t tell you about.” Mom sighs. “He can shape-shift!”
“Shape-shift?” I ask. “What’s that?”
“That means he can turn himself into whatever he wants by just thinking it!”
“Can I do that?” asks Adonis.
“No!” barks Mom.
“Double rip-off!” pouts Adonis.
“That’s crazy!” I say. “He can transform himself into anything?”
“Bingo,” replies Mom. (That’s “bingo” in Norwegian. Oh, wait . . .)
“So what are we supposed to do?” asks Adonis.
“Keep looking,” says Mom. “And ask yourselves, ‘If Zeusy could go anywhere and be anything, where would Zeusy go and what would Zeusy be?’”
“I’m beat,” says Adonis.
“And I’m stumped,” says Mom. “He could be anywhere. I hate to say it, but I think we’re licked.”
“We’re not licked yet,” I say. “But Zeusy will be! Follow me!”
Why didn’t I think of it before? We race to every kid’s dream destination: Mount Olycious Ice Cream! IT’S AMAZING! Eighty-five flavors! All the toppings you could ever want! And the world’s biggest sundae: the Gigantes! That’s thirty-six pints of ice cream, five quarts of toppings, whipped cream, nuts, and cherries, all served in a golden chariot!
“Can I help you?” asks the girl behind the counter.
“One Gigantes, please,” I say.
“A Gigantes???” groans Mom. “Oh, Oddy, no!”
“Trust me, Mom,” I reply. “Now, what flavors do we want? I like vanilla.”
“Eighty-five flavors and you want VANILLA?” mocks Adonis. “You’re even odd when it comes to ice cream!”
I ask Mom what she wants, and she says to the guy, “Let’s see. Do you have sjokoladekuler?”
“No.”
“Kransekakestenger?”
“No.”
“Ingefærnøtter? Tilslørte bondepiker? Havreflarn?”
“No. No. And . . . seriously, yuck.”
“What kind of ice cream parlor is this???” she cries.
“Mom, the question is . . . what kind of ice cream does Zeusy like?” I ask.
“Oh, that’s easy,” she says. “He only likes Neapolitan Greek frozen yogurt.”
“That’s like, the worst old-dude dessert ever!” moans Adonis.
For once I agree with my brother. But desperate times call for desperate flavors!
“I don’t get it,” says Adonis as we lift the Gigantes onto our shoulders and carry it over to the nearest table. “Does this mean we’re giving up trying to find Zeusy?”
“Not at all,” I reply. “Just wait and see.”
Zeusy wins the battle against the Gigantes . . .
But loses the war.
After Zeusy finally falls asleep, we hear voices downstairs. Mom and Adonis and I run down to see who’s there. It’s Aunt Hestia and Aunt Demeter!
“How’d it go?” I ask.
“Umm . . . ,” says Aunt Demeter. “Can we talk in the den? It’s been a hard couple of days.”
I guess it’s been a hard couple of days for everyone! We head into the den and sit down together.
“So? What’s the news?” asks Mom worriedly.
“Not good, I’m afraid.” Hestia sighs.
“Hades wouldn’t listen to us,” adds Demeter. “He says Zeus has always been a baby and that he should stay a baby.”
“That’s it???” says Mom. “I’m supposed to just accept this? What about my marriage? What about my children? What about Olympus?”
“There might be a way,” Hestia says. “But—”
“Why bring that up, Hestia?” interrupts Demeter. “It’s impossible!”
“What is?” asks Mom. “What are you not telling me?”
“Hades said that he might reverse the spell if someone else visited the Underworld,” says Hestia.
“Who?” Mom demands. “Me?”
“Not you,” says Demeter. “Oddonis.”
She hands me a postcard.
Me? Go to the Underworld??? I just started taking the school chariot by myself last year!
“Oddy looks like he’s gonna throw up!” says Adonis.
“I’m okay,” I say, trying not to throw up. “I’m just thinking, why does everyone have to be mad at each other all the time?”
“Hey, we’re Gods,” states Adonis. “We fight. That’s what we do. And like it or not, that’s what we’ll always do.”
Well, I don’t like it, I think to myself. I’ve NEVER liked it. I only wish I could DO something about it—I mean, other than going to the Underworld!
Then, all of a sudden, out of nowhere, my legs start standing up!
What the—? It’s like there’s a war going on inside me!
“Uhh . . . I guess . . . umm . . . since I’m the one who helped put the spell on Dad, then I’m the one who should go to the . . . Un . . . Un . . . Un . . .”
“. . . Underworld.”
“No, no, no, kjære,” says Mom. “I won’t let you. It’s too dangerous.”
“You heard Aunt Hestia and Aunt Demeter, Mom. We don’t have a choice. Besides, I love having a little brother, but not when he’s also my dad!”
“Are you sure, Oddy?” asks Aunt Hestia.
“OF COURSE I’M NOT SURE!” I say, much louder than I’d intended. “But you guys all have to stay and watch Zeusy. This is the only way, right?”
“I’m afraid so,” says Aunt Demeter.
“Well, you’re certainly not going alone,” proclaims Mom.
“NO WAY!” crows a voice from behind me. Wait—who crowed that?
“Oddy’s not going to the Underworld without me!” Adonis declares.
Wow. Could it be that my brother actually cares?
“He’s not getting all the glory,” says Adonis. “If anybody’s going to save the day, it’s me! I’m the hero here—not him!”
Hmmm. Guess not.
Mom gives Adonis and me our marching orders: find a crew and bring them back to our house for a top secret meeting. We can each take two friends with us on our journey. It’s pretty easy to guess who Adonis is going to ask: his two best buds.
I have to admit, they’re not the worst choices in the world. We’re traveling by boat, and Poseidon is God of the oceans. And we’re going to need someone to row, row, row the boat, and Heracles is strong as an ox!
Make that stronger than an ox!
As for me, picking a crew is a bit more . . . complicated. I’ve got four choices.
Make that three choices! We can’t afford to get sick on our journey, and Germes is walking, talking pneumonia!
I’ve gotta take Gaseous because he’s my BFF.
And I think it would be really smart to ask Mathena. See, we’ve got a lot of brawn on the boat, but we’re a little shy on brains.
So, I know what I need to do: NOT TELL PUNEOUS. (And yes, I also know I’m a TOTAL COWARD for doing that.)
I find Gaseous and Mathena and invite them to the meeting. They’re confused but intrigued. They agree to follow me back home, and as we’re walking, a part of me is actually getting a little excited about this odyssey. It’s a kids-only road trip! I mean, except for the “adult supervisor” Mom insists that we have. And even that should be okay! Adonis and I each told Mom who we’d like our supervisor to be. Here’s Adonis’s choice:
And here’s my choice:
When we walk into the house, though, we see Mom made her own choice.
Awww—come on, Mom! But there’s no time to complain. As soon as everyone’s settled, Mom calls the top secret meeting to order.
“You are all here on a matter of utmost urgency,” she says. “Recently, a spell was cast on my husband, and our dear leader, Zeus—”
“By Oddonis,” Adonis interrupts.
“Mom!” I protest.
“The spell was cast by Hades, Zeus’s brother—”
“And was delivered by Oddonis,” Adonis says.
“MO-OM!” I whine.
“By mistake,” Mom continues. “And we need your help to break the spell.”
“I’m in,” says Gaseous. “As long as I don’t have to go to the Underworld.”
“You have to go to the Underworld,” Mom replies.
Mom turns to Deadipus. “Principal Deadipus, I have chosen you to watch over these children. And I need you to convince the school that this is an educational field trip. We cannot reveal the true reason for this journey.”
Then Mom turns to our friends. “You are my sons’ closest allies—the ones Adonis and Oddonis trust most to join them on this quest. I thank you.”
“Forgive me, Freya,” says Principal Deadipus. “But you still haven’t told us why we are going. What was the spell? What is the matter with our beloved Zeus?”
“I’ll show you,” says Mom. “But you are all sworn to secrecy. Even if you choose not to go, you must swear to tell no one what you are about to see.”
“We swear,” everyone swears.
“Hestia? Demeter?” Mom calls. “Bring Zeusy in, please.”
Aunt Hestia and Aunt Demeter enter the den, holding Dad’s hands.
“Zeusy, say hello to our guests,” says Mom.
Zeusy waves and screams, “HI!!!” to everyone . . . except Principal Deadipus.
“It’s okay!” I whisper to Dad. Then I try my best to think like a three-year-old. “That’s . . . Zeusy’s friend . . . Mister Boneypoo!”
“HAHAHAHAHAHA! BONEYPOO!” screams Dad with delight.
Mom says, “Does that answer your question, Principal Boneypoo?”
“It does indeed, madam,” replies Principal Deadipus.
Zeusy spots Clucky and Ducky sitting next to Mathena, claps his hands together and yells, “Play Duck, Duck, Goose! Play Duck, Duck, Goose now!!!!”
As the rest of us join the almighty ruler of Mount Olympus in
a game of Duck, Duck, Goose, the grown-ups make plans.
We’re all set to go. As Heracles single-handedly loads supplies onto the boat, Principal Deadipus calls the roll.
“Adonis?”
“Here!”
“Oddonis?”
“Umm . . . I guess so?”
“Poseidon?”
“Ahoy!”
“Heracles?”
“There! Me mean, here!”
“Gaseous?”
Pffffffffffffffffftttttttttt!!!!
“A simple ‘here’ would have sufficed, Gaseous,” scolds Deadipus. “Mathena?”
“Present and accounted for, sir!”
“Clucky and Ducky?”
“Buck buck buck!”
“Quack quack quack!”
“Trianus?”
“Woof!”
“Good! Am I missing anyone?” asks Deadipus.
“Puneous! Here!”
I turn, look down, and sure enough, there’s Puneous!
“We’re going, and you can’t stop us!” says Puneous.
“I’m sorry, Puneous,” says Principal Deadipus. “You obviously didn’t read the sign.”
“Rats!!!” wails Puneous.
Mom is there to say goodbye to us. Dad’s at home with Aunt Hestia and Aunt Demeter because Mom’s sure Zeusy would have made a scene if he’d come. And speaking of making a scene, I hope Mom doesn’t start to cry, because whenever she cries, I cry, too—and I don’t want to bawl in front of everybody!
“Give these acorns to the entire crew,” Mom instructs Adonis and me. “They’ll keep you safe. And the two of you, take these trolls for good luck!”
“Be good to each other, for once, my elsklings,” Mom says. “Adonis, watch out for your brother, and Oddonis, you do the same. Take care of each other, and . . . and . . . sniff sniff . . .”