Hestia the Invisible

by Joan Holub

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  CONTENTS

  PROLOGUE

  1 SYMBOLS

  2 KITCHEN FUN

  3 CAFETERIA BLUES

  4 A CHANGE OF PLANS

  5 PREPARATIONS

  6 THE JOURNEY NORTH

  7 ARMOR

  8 PIZZAZZ

  9 HALF-TRUTHS

  10 THE MURAL

  11 CLEANING UP

  12 THE BANQUET

  GODDESS GIRLS Coming Soon!

  ABOUT JOAN HOLUB & SUZANNE WILLIAMS

  We appreciate our mega-incredible readers!

  Emma L., Caterina H., Jaden B., Taelyne C., Kaylee B., Ryanna L., Paris O., Madison W. & Kaicey E., Nevaeh H., Ava D., Danica P., Aubrey K., Ava C., Trena J., Elna B., Patrona C., Keny Y., Koko Y., Grecia V., Yasmin V., McKay O. & Reese O., Danielle H., Ryen R., Kaitlyn G., Megan D., Aleese B., Riverson M., Cian B., Endreya B., Reanna C., Rachael C., Julia K., Gavin F., Ariel S., Jasmine R., Sophia O., Harper M., Caitlin R., Hannah R., Kylie S., Anh H., the Andrade Family & Alba C., Micci S. & Brianna I., Shelby Lynn J. & Virginia Anna J., Lily-Ann S. & Marnie S., Trinity N., Valerie B. & Donna B., Kaitlyn W., Maryam Y. & Noor Y., Ava K., Subira J., Lisa A. & Peyton A., Kasidy Y., Jamie E.S., Corey H., Emily G., Niki K., Anna K., Keira J., Amanda W., Christine D.-H. & Khanya S., Sharry G., Sophie G. & Jessica G., Lillia L., Paola F. & Andrea F., Lorelai M., Cassie G., Sam R., Aspasia K., Kara F., Tess S., Lana W., Jenny G., Emma J., Sofia W., Samantha S., Camille C., Vivian Z., Mackenzie S., Rachel B., Sabrina C., Keyra M., Lori F., Rohan T., and you!

  —J.H. & S.W.

  Prologue

  Four years before our story begins

  CAN WE BORROW SOME FIRE?” A woman asked Hestia’s mother. “Your family always seems to have it. But our fire has gone out, and I need to cook a stew for lunch.”

  Eight-year-old Hestia and her mom had been crossing the central square of their village in Greece, where outdoor public gatherings were often held. It was food shopping day, and vendors from surrounding farms had all come to the square to sell their goods.

  Hestia’s shoulders drooped as her mom now turned back toward home after assuring the woman she could certainly have some of the fire from their hearth. It wasn’t fair! Her mom had promised to show her how to make an apple pie if they could find fresh fruit today. But now they’d have to trudge back home and set a piece of kindling wood ablaze from the fire Hestia had lit in their family’s hearth an hour before.

  Creating fire was Hestia’s special skill. However, her parents had told her to keep this ability a secret. They’d feared their neighbors might not understand it. Hestia wasn’t thinking of her parents’ warning right now, though. She only knew that by the time they got back to this square, the food vendors would be sold out of apples.

  “Wait!” Hestia called. Her mom and the other woman stared after her in surprise as she ran to the center of the village square. Bending, Hestia gathered a few sticks lying nearby and piled them together. Cupping her hands, she murmured secret words in a low voice. Instantly, a small flame flared between her palms. She touched it to the kindling, setting it alight.

  “There,” Hestia said, smiling in satisfaction. She stood back from the blazing fire to look at the two women who had followed her. Then she had a little brainstorm. “Why not keep feeding this fire so it will burn here in the public square all the time?” she suggested. “That way, everyone can borrow fire from it whenever they want.” And they wouldn’t have to interrupt her family all the time to borrow fire from their hearth! “She made fire!” someone shouted nearby.

  Hestia turned then, and was astonished to see that a crowd of villagers had gathered around her. There were murmurs and gasps. And what seemed like hundreds of curious eyes, all aimed her way. The villagers said things like:

  “Her idea for a public hearth is great!”

  “Yeah, instead of each trying to light our own fires every day, it would mean we could come borrow fire here anytime we need it.”

  “So we’ll never run out of fire!”

  Hestia moved to her mom’s side and slipped her small fingers into her mothers’ hand, hiding shyly behind her mom’s skirts. She wasn’t used to such attention. “Can we go get the apples now, Mom?” she whispered.

  She had no idea that what had seemed like a simple act to her was about to change her whole life.

  The very next day Hestia was called to attend third grade at Mount Olympus Academy. She was an immortal it seemed, and was officially given the title “goddessgirl of the hearth.” She was on her way to meet Zeus himself, the King of the Gods and Ruler of the Heavens!

  1

  Symbols

  Four years later

  TODAY WE WILL TAKE A break from pottery design and painting,” announced Mr. Phintias on Friday at the start of second-period Crafts-ology. He was standing in front of a wall of shelves lined with vases, urns, and pots. Many were decorated with reddish-orange silhouette figures on glazed black backgrounds. The amazing feats of the gods and goddesses of Mount Olympus were the main subjects of these painted scenes. And this teacher had created much of the stunningly beautiful clay pottery himself!

  At his announcement most of the class groaned with disappointment. Reluctantly they started putting away the clay they’d begun unwrapping, as well as their sculpting tools and paintbrushes.

  However, twelve-year-old Hestia breathed a sigh of relief as she plunked her half-finished clay pot back onto its shelf. While other students had unique, fantastical, or elegant pots, bowls, and urns in progress, her pot was plain old boring in her opinion. The kind you could buy anywhere down on Earth.

  Hearing the groans, Mr. Phintias ran a hand over his short brown ponytail. “Hey, no worries. We’ll return to pottery soon enough. But today we’re going to investigate a new artistic skill.”

  He was one of Mount Olympus Academy’s most mega-cool teachers, far younger and hipper than some teachers, such as Mr. Cyclops, who taught Hero-ology. However, making painted pottery was Mr. Phintias’s life. And he didn’t always understand that not everyone was necessarily as excited about it. At least Hestia wasn’t. The craft of pottery-making was just not her thing.

  As she sat back down at her table, her fingers reached into the pocket of the tomato-red chiton she wore. They touched the edges of the blank cards she always carried, just in case she had a recipe brainstorm and wanted to jot down ideas and ingredients. She’d much rather use her creativity to come up with tasty concoctions to fill those pretty pots, bowls, and urns they made in this class. In other words, her favorite art was cooking!

  What the teacher said next brought curious stares. “Today we will dip our feather pens into the exciting world of graphic design. As you know, mortals down on Earth will be voting one week from today to honor the MOA student they feel most deserves recognition for his or her service to humankind.”

  He paused as a murmur of voices indicated that students were indeed aware of the Service to Humankind contest. As they quieted, his dark brown eyes swept the room, flicking from student to student. Hestia quickly repositioned herself behind a mortal girl named Pandora at her table. Fingers crossed Hestia wouldn’t be called on for anything.

  “Are you deserving of such recognition?” Mr. Phintias asked the class. “Have you done something to help make the
world a better, happier place for humankind? I hope so, since it’s the right thing to do. However, this is something you must judge for yourself. And if you believe the answer to this question is yes, then I strongly suggest you sign up to enter. The award will be well worth winning—”

  “What is the award, exactly?” Pandora interrupted.

  “That will be revealed at a banquet in honor of the eleven finalists, when one of them is announced the winner,” the teacher replied with a small smile in Pandora’s direction.

  The violet-eyed godboy Dionysus shook a lock of curly brown hair from his forehead and gave the muscular boy sitting next to him a friendly fist thump on the shoulder. “If ridding the world of man-eating lions, arrow-shooting birds, and other dastardly creatures counts as service, then this guy is a shoo-in for the award.”

  The student he’d thumped was Heracles, a superstrong mortal who wore a lion-skin cape with jaws that fit over his head like a helmet. That monstrous lion had once terrorized an entire village till Heracles had fought it and won.

  “Aw, thanks, god-dude,” Heracles replied humbly. He gave his enormous knobby club, which was leaning up against the table beside him, a spin. “Though, I gotta say,” he added, “ridding King Augeas’s stable of poop was way worse than any of those other labors!”

  “Eew,” squealed a couple of girls, making ick faces. But Hestia and the rest of the class laughed. Heracles had done all those things (and more) as part of twelve labors he’d performed in order to win a permanent place as a student at the Academy.

  Their illustrious school was perched at the very top of Mount Olympus, the highest mountain in Greece. Mostly godboys and goddessgirls went here, but Principal Zeus had also invited a handful of mortals, like Heracles, to attend.

  With a tolerant smile Mr. Phintias went on, his tone taking on a proud note. “I and three other artists have been accorded the honor of painting a large mural in Principal Zeus’s temple at Olympia, where voting for the award will take place. This mural will take up most of one wall. It will be painted in a jeweled palette of terra-cottas, ceruleans, and . . .”

  For a few minutes, he happily described in way more detail than was necessary the art techniques and materials he and the other artists would use. As his dark eyes twinkled and he gestured broadly, Hestia realized that the prospect of painting the mural was as exciting to him as creating a new recipe and trying it out in the school’s kitchen was to her. In a way, they were both artists! Clay and paint were his raw materials. Hers were spices, flour, and other foodstuffs.

  After a while the teacher seemed to come back down to Earth—or to MOA, anyway. “Ahem, returning to the subject at hand,” he went on. “The subject of the mural in Olympia will be images of the eleven finalists selected by the awards committee. The images will remind mortals who visit the temple of their choices for voting.”

  As he began walking around the room and through the spaces between the tables where students sat, heads turned to follow the teacher. “So, you are likely wondering what all this has to do with today’s Crafts-ology assignment. Well, graphic design is a fascinating, specialized skill that can encompass the design of scrollazines, books, shields, product packaging, logos, and much more. And what I would like each of you to do this morning is to come up with your own logo—a symbol, that is—to represent your highest, most exalted self.” He grinned and winked at them.

  “You mean like my symbol might be a lion?” Heracles piped up.

  “You got it,” said Mr. Phintias, nodding. Then to the class he added, “Your choices should reflect how you want worshipful mortals on Earth to think of you. You’ll want to pick a symbol that best represents how you’ve helped humankind, as Heracles has done. If you’re a finalist for the award, your image will hold this symbol in the mural we’ll paint. Even if you’re not yet sure you’ll enter the contest, this assignment is still part of your grade for this class, so let’s get cracking, shall we?”

  Now the teacher passed around blank sheets of papyrus for them to sketch ideas on. “I’ll give you fifteen minutes to come up with possible logos, and then we’ll share them in class. Try to choose something with power and pizzazz. Your aim with this symbol is to impress mortals. For example, if Principal Zeus were to do this assignment, he might choose a ferocious and crackling thunderbolt of the kind he uses against enemies in battle.”

  “Oh, I get it,” Pandora said. “This symbol-logo thing is like our brand? I mean, Zeus is known for hurling thunderbolts, right? Like, how there’s a thunderbolt on the wax seal he stamps on letters? And how he puts thunderbolts on the sides of the school chariots, too? And—”

  “Exactly,” Mr. Phintias said, gently cutting her off. Because if he hadn’t, her questions would likely have multiplied so fast, they’d have taken up the rest of class time!

  Famed for her curiosity, Pandora often spoke in questions even when making statements. Her symbol or logo should definitely be a question mark, thought Hestia. But wait. Pandora was already using that logo, come to think of it. She wore her bangs in the shape of question marks. Hestia had even seen her in the hallway of MOA’s fourth-floor girls’ dorm wearing pj’s decorated with question marks. So this assignment should be an easy-peasy one for her!

  Must be nice, thought Hestia as she stared down at the fresh sheet of papyrus Mr. Phintias had placed before her. Because suddenly her mind had gone as blank as the papyrus was.

  What should my symbol be? she wondered. What should I choose? She brushed the fluffy end of her self-inking feather pen against her cheek. Knowing she only had minutes to come up with a logo, familiar feelings of panic welled up inside. She’d never been good at in-class assignments. She didn’t like being put on the spot like this. Why couldn’t the task of coming up with a logo have been homework, so she could’ve had more time to think?

  She glanced around the room. The others all seemed to be busily sketching. Gulp.

  Of course, the student who probably had the best shot at winning this Service to Humankind Award wasn’t even in this class: Principal Zeus’s daughter, Athena. That brainy girl’s numerous inventions had helped mortals a lot.

  She had invented sailing ships, musical instruments like the flute and the trumpet, weaving and other needle arts, and the plow (which made it easier for farmers to plant rows in their fields). Then there was the olive, which had many uses. Its oil burned brightly in lamps. It was a popular food, too, and olive wood was good for building homes. Athena had already helped humans so much that they’d named the city of Athens after her!

  Hestia pushed the tip of her feather pen across the paper, trying to look as busy as everyone else seemed to be. Really, she was only making doodles. She drew a little owl—one of Athena’s symbols—that turned out to accidentally resemble a cat.

  If that goddessgirl entered the contest, her only problem with this assignment would be the hard time she’d have choosing between many possible symbols. One of her titles was the goddess of wisdom. Sometimes she wore owl earrings or other jewelry with wise owl designs. Hestia really admired the girl. Along with her BFFs—Aphrodite, Persephone, and Artemis—Athena was one of the most popular goddessgirls at MOA.

  “What do you think of this?” she overheard another girl say from the table right next to her own. It was Aphrodite, the goddessgirl of love and beauty. She was holding up a sketch of a bouquet of red and pink hearts to show Pandora.

  “Nice,” Pandora replied. “Your Lonely Hearts Club has helped tons of mortals find love. Is that why you chose that logo? I bet you’ll get their votes for sure!”

  “Think so?” said the beautiful Aphrodite, sounding pleased.

  Hestia watched the goddessgirl push her long golden hair, which was threaded with pink satin ribbons, behind her perfectly shaped ears. Then Aphrodite reached for a glittery pink handbag that was hanging on the back of her chair and took out a tube of lip gloss.

  The color of the bag perfectly matched the chiton she wore. Her handbag and the chiton were proba
bly new, since Hestia had never seen them before. How many purses and chitons did that goddessgirl have, anyway? A mega-zillion? And she looked fabulous with all of them!

  Hestia admired Aphrodite almost as much as she did Athena, despite the fact that Hestia and the goddessgirl of love and beauty were practically total opposites. Aphrodite was as outgoing and fashionable as Hestia was shy and clueless about fashion.

  The beautiful goddessgirl’s Lonely Hearts Club really had helped many mortals find happiness. Why, she’d even helped Principal Zeus find true love with the goddess Hera, who was now his wife! Hmm. Pandora could be right. Mortals did like finding love. Maybe Aphrodite would win this award.

  Looking around the room, Hestia noticed that almost everyone had already sketched at least one idea for a symbol. And all the ones she could see seemed more awesome than anything she could come up with for herself. Heracles had drawn a lion’s head. Dionysus had drawn masks of comedy and tragedy. As the male lead in almost all the school plays, his acting had inspired hundreds of mortal playwrights, poets, and actors.

  And Iris, the goddessgirl of rainbows, had helped save the world from the rampages of a terrible Titan monster named Typhon. So she had drawn—what else?—a colorful and sparkly rainbow such as the one she’d traveled across during her adventures. Talk about pizzazz!

  When Hestia saw Mr. Phintias glance at the sundial outside the classroom window, she knew time was running out. “One more minute,” he announced.

  A new bolt of panic shot through her like one of Zeus’s thunderbolts. In the nick of time she scribbled the first thing that came to mind.

  “All right,” the teacher said just as she finally sketched an idea. “Who would like to share first?”

  Hands instantly waved in the air. But Hestia, true to her shy nature, did her best to become invisible. Ducking her head, she let her light-brown curls fall across her cheeks. She closed herself up like a turtle, pulling the red hood she wore forward to shadow her face. She’d added hoods to the pattern she used to make all of her home-sewn chitons. They were perfect for hiding out in. And cute, too!