Juliet Dove, Queen of Love

by Bruce Coville

  “Byron told us that we should be here and ready to move,” said Gil. “It sounded like things might get nasty, so we decided some of the other guys ought to be here as well.” Then he paused and said, “Juliet, have you been, like, magically making us all goofy?”

  “Actually, that was my fault,” said Cupid, speaking from the amulet.

  Juliet hadn’t seen so many boys look that scared all at the same time since the day the principal walked into the room during the Great Fifth-Grade Spitball War.

  “This is what’s been causing all the problems,” she explained, lifting the amulet “And I’m really sorry, because I know you guys wouldn’t have done this without the love spell. I know—”

  She stopped, interrupted by their laughter.

  “What’s so funny?” she demanded.

  It was Tyrone’s turn to answer. “That spell was broken the minute you roared at the audience to shut up.”

  “Then why did you help me?” she asked, genuinely confused.

  The boys just rolled their eyes.

  Oh, Juliet, sighed Cupid. You still don’t understand how much goodwill you generate just by being yourself, do you? The boys helped you because you are you. The audience listened to your poem because it was good!

  We’ll talk about it later! she replied sharply, feeling a blush coming on.

  They talked for a bit longer, but finally there was nothing left to say, and the boys began to drift away—all except Arturo, who lingered after the others, then said softly, “I didn’t need a magic spell to think you’re wonderful, Juliet.”

  Then he blushed and ran off as if Eris herself were after him.

  Juliet stood for a while, looking where he had gone and thinking maybe it would not be such a bad thing if Arturo liked her that way after all.

  After a moment she went to join Byron and Clarice.

  Roxanne was in bad shape.

  “Jerome is more than just a friend, isn’t he?” asked Juliet gently.

  “Of course he is!” wailed Roxanne. “He’s an awful pain, but I love the big lug!”

  “I will not rest until we find him,” vowed Cupid. “He is a rat of uncommon valor!”

  “You’re not going to find anyone until we get you out of the amulet,” said Juliet. “But it shouldn’t take long. We’ve found the key, and . . .”

  When she hesitated, Byron said cheerfully, “And the mouse has roared. All that’s left is a mother’s touch. So let’s go get Mom!”

  “Not so fast,” said Cupid. “We’re not sure what’s going to happen when the spell is finally broken. Probably best not to do it in front of everyone. Though I long to be free, I think we should wait until we can get your mother alone.”

  Juliet sighed but agreed that this was probably true.

  The chance didn’t occur until the day was nearly over. As it was time to go home, Juliet asked Mrs. Dove if she would walk home with her, rather than drive.

  Her mother looked a little surprised, then said, “Why yes, dear, I guess so. Margaret can take the car for me.”

  Tingling with excitement Juliet waited until they were passing the park, which was deserted in the early evening darkness.

  “I wanted to show you this amulet,” she said, knowing from the very fact that she could say it that Eris’s power over her had been broken.

  “Where did you get it?” asked Mrs. Dove.

  Juliet shrugged. “At one of the little shops in town.”

  Mrs. Dove reached out and cupped the amulet in her hand.

  Nothing happened. Juliet felt her heart sink.

  “I don’t get it!” she cried later that evening, when she was sitting in her room with Byron, Clarice, and Roxanne. “We’ve done everything it said in Mr. Suss’s poem. Why didn’t it free you, Cupid?”

  “I only wish I knew,” he said glumly.

  “Maybe Ms. Priest will have some advice when I see her later tonight,” said Juliet.

  Roxanne merely sighed.

  Finally, Clarice was put to bed. Two hours later, Mrs. Dove insisted that Byron go to his own room and settle in for the night.

  The minutes seemed to crawl by. Roxanne huddled in Juliet’s lap. Every now and then, her tiny wings would tremble as she stifled a sob.

  At last the house was silent.

  “Let’s go,” said Cupid.

  With Roxanne fluttering just above her shoulder, Juliet made her way to the first floor. She was not entirely surprised to find Byron waiting by the door.

  “I want to come, too,” he said firmly.

  “I’m not sure Ms. Priest will approve,” said Juliet.

  “Let him come,” said Roxanne, her voice subdued. “He’s earned it.”

  As Juliet opened the front door, she said softly, “I wonder if it makes any difference if we go widdershins.”

  “Probably not,” said Roxanne. “But why take a chance?”

  They turned right and headed for the backyard.

  Ms. Priest was waiting, just as she had promised. The storyteller was dressed in a white outfit—something between a dress and a robe—and wore a crown of flowers. In her hand she held another crown, which she placed on Juliet’s head. “For the Queen of Love,” she said, smiling. Turning to Byron, she added, “I’m sorry I don’t have at least a laurel wreath for you, young man. I wasn’t expecting you. Nevertheless, I’m glad you could join us. You did good work today.”

  “Hyacinth,” said Roxanne. “Do you know if Jerome is all right?”

  “I am hoping we will learn what happened to him in just a moment,” said the storyteller. Taking Juliet by the hand, she led them to the gap in the hedge. But when they stepped through, they were not in Arturo’s backyard.

  They were in the magic shop.

  “How did that happen?” whispered Juliet.

  “The side door is very useful,” replied Ms. Priest.

  “This is awesome!” said Byron, looking around the shop.

  “Greetings, Hyacinth!” cried a voice from beyond the beaded curtain that covered the door behind the counter. “I’ll be right there.”

  A moment later an old man stepped through—the same old man, Juliet realized, that she had seen in the picture Roxanne and Jerome had brought her.

  Perched on his shoulder, one wing drooping uselessly to the side, was Jerome.

  “There you are, you big galoot!” cried Roxanne. “Where have you been? You just about gave me palpitations!”

  “Sorry, Roxie,” said Jerome, his voice more gentle than usual. “I—”

  “I asked Jerome to stay here with me,” interrupted Mr. Elives, his voice more than gruff enough to make up for Jerome’s. Ms. Priest scowled at him, and at once his face softened. “I knew we would be seeing you this evening, Roxanne, and Jerome really was not in any shape to travel.” The old man paused, then added softly, “And to be truthful, after what I had been through, I was in need of his companionship.”

  “But what happened?” asked Roxanne.

  “You mean after me and Eris disappeared?” asked Jerome.

  “Yeah, I mean after you and Eris disappeared! I been worried silly. And don’t tell me I was silly already, or I’ll clout you one!”

  Jerome looked very serious. “We showed up back in the magic shop.”

  “Eris had taken it over,” said Mr. Elives, his voice grave. “And I was imprisoned in the back room. She was in a fury over what happened at the poetry jam, so angry she didn’t pay attention to little things—”

  “Like a rat,” said Jerome smugly.

  “Like Jerome,” acknowledged Mr. Elives. “And, as usual, ignoring little things was a big mistake. Jerome, masterful in his sneakiness, managed to slip into the back room and gnaw through the ropes that bound me.”

  “The darn things were thick with magic,” complained Jerome. “My teeth are still tingling!”

  “After that, surprise was on our side.”

  “Well, surprise and a couple of goddesses,” said Jerome.

  “Don’t get ahead of th
e story, Jerome,” said Mr. Elives sternly.

  “Okay, boss. But I wish Juliet and Roxanne could have seen the look on Eris’s face when you came charging out of the back room and stopped her in her tracks.”

  “It was amusing, wasn’t it?” said Mr. Elives. “Even so, we might have been hard-pressed to subdue her had Juliet not already made contact with Hera and Athena. Rousing them from their slumber was not the least of the useful things she has done over the last few days.”

  “Hera and Athena were here?” asked Ms. Priest, sounding surprised.

  Mr. Elives smiled, which did interesting things to the creases in his face. “Yes, and they had quite a bit to say to Eris.”

  “Man, was I glad not to be her,” said Jerome. “What a scorching she got!”

  “Where is she now?” asked Juliet.

  “Athena and Hera have taken her back to the realm of the gods, where she should have been all along,” said Mr. Elives. “I suspect it will be some time before we hear from her again.” He shook his head. “How lovely it would be if banishing the goddess of discord would end discord on Earth. But it’s not likely, alas. One reason Eris found it so hard to leave is that there is so much strife to feed on.” He paused for a moment, then said briskly, “But enough of that. We have business yet to do. Follow me.”

  “Where are we going?” asked Juliet.

  “You’ll see,” said the old man.

  He turned and disappeared through the beaded curtain.

  Juliet glanced at Hyacinth Priest.

  “It’s all right. I will be at your side.”

  Nervously Juliet made her way around the counter. Parting the strands of beads, she gasped in wonder. What lay beyond the curtain was not a storeroom, as she had imagined.

  It was another world.

  They were standing about a hundred yards from a moonlit shore. Oddly, it looked exactly like the bay of Venus Harbor. Yet it was utterly different, too, for the houses and stores had vanished and there were flowers everywhere, more flowers than Juliet had ever seen in one place.

  “Where are we?” whispered Byron.

  “Nowhere,” replied Ms. Priest. “Everywhere.”

  “You always did like that mysterious stuff, didn’t you, Hyacinth?” asked Jerome. He had left Mr. Elives’ shoulder and was standing at Juliet’s feet. She bent and extended an arm. Jerome scrambled up to her shoulder, making her glad she was wearing a sweatshirt

  A strange wind began to blow, warm and sweet smelling, with hints of spice and perfume. The surface of the sea was disturbed now, frothy. She saw dolphins leaping, silvery in the moonlight, and then heard singing.

  “Ah,” said Ms. Priest. “I was hoping there would be mermaids.”

  And then she arrived.

  Out of the waves, riding on a huge shell, propelled by the winds, came Aphrodite, sometimes known as Venus.

  “Wowza,” murmured Jerome. “What a dish!”

  “Oh, hush!” whispered Roxanne.

  It is nearly over, said Cupid, speaking directly into Juliet’s mind. But I do not know the ending.

  Like Athena and Hera, Aphrodite had a high, pale brow. Her waist-length hair was coppery gold and curled around her, seeming to have a life of its own. Though Juliet had seen pictures of Aphrodite rising on a shell from the sea in her mother’s art books, in those paintings the goddess had always been naked. Now she wore a gauzy white shift. It was dry, despite her trip across the water.

  As Aphrodite stepped from shell to shore, Ms. Priest and Mr. Elives bowed their heads. Juliet followed their example.

  The goddess looked around. “It is long since I have stood on these sands,” she said. In her voice Juliet heard a thousand bells and other things, too, darker tones, delicious but disturbing.

  “Your return is welcomed, lady,” said Ms. Priest.

  Aphrodite smiled. “Thank you, Hyacinth. This is a strange place, isn’t it? Neither on Earth nor in the realm of the gods. A nicely neutral spot.” She turned her gaze to Juliet. “I must thank you, child.”

  Juliet felt a familiar blush creep up her cheeks. “For what?” she whispered.

  “I left a story unfinished, and it has troubled my rest ever since. Now, through your efforts, we can bring the tale to its conclusion. Whether it be happy or sad, every love story needs an ending.”

  She beckoned to Juliet, who did not move at first.

  “Better do what she wants,” hissed Roxanne, her head close to Juliet’s ear. Juliet glanced up at Ms. Priest, who nodded to her.

  Juliet stepped forward.

  “I know that you have met Athena and Hera,” said Aphrodite. “I am sorry I was the last of us to come through. But there are rules that even goddesses must obey, and since it was my curse that held my son in the amulet, I could not tamper with it. But you have set everything in motion for me to free him. The key has been found. The mouse has roared. Now it is time for a mother’s touch to complete the pattern.”

  “You’re the mother in the verse!” cried Juliet, finally understanding the last piece of the puzzle.

  “Who else?” asked the goddess. “As it was I who placed my son in this prison, it is I who must free him. But I can only do so because you completed the first steps of the spell, for which I will forever be in your debt.”

  Aphrodite placed her hand in front of Juliet’s chest.

  Instantly the chain dissolved and the amulet dropped into the goddess’s waiting palm. She kissed it, then flung it into the air, crying, “Open! Open and set my son free!”

  The amulet hung for a moment, spinning, spinning, sparkling in the moonlight. Then it began to grow. The singing of the mermaids came more clear across the waves. Soon the carved front of the amulet was taller than Juliet, and for the first time she saw it for what it truly was: a door.

  The amulet, which had to be at least nine feet high now, settled to the sand.

  Juliet held her breath, waiting.

  The carved door opened. Out stepped Cupid, passing easily through the space that once could barely accommodate his finger. He was as Roxanne had first described him, incredibly handsome with large eyes, thick curly hair, and high-arching white wings.

  “I didn’t know you would be so beautiful,” whispered Juliet, finding it hard to breathe.

  “It’s not necessarily a gift,” replied Cupid. He pulled a hood over his head.

  Somehow having his face hidden took some of the pressure off Juliet’s heart, which had been feeling as if it were being squeezed.

  “Oh, drat!” said Jerome.

  Juliet turned her head and saw that his wings had vanished. She looked toward Roxanne, who was on her other shoulder. She, too, was wingless. Clearly, Cupid’s power was flowing back to him.

  “Oh, well,” said Roxanne. “Easy come, easy go.” Then, dropping her voice to a whisper, she said, “Look.”

  Juliet turned where Roxanne was pointing. To her amazement Aphrodite had dropped to her knees in front of Cupid. Taking his hand, she whispered, “My dearest son, can you ever forgive me?”

  Cupid raised his mother to her feet. But rather than answer her question, he posed another: “Where is Psyche?”

  Aphrodite smiled and waved her hand to the right. They all looked in the direction she was pointing. There, perhaps a hundred yards away, a familiar figure trudged along the beach.

  “Psyche,” whispered Cupid. Then, in a voice that rang like bronze across the water, he cried the name again. “Psyche! Psyche!”

  The woman raised her head at the sound, cried out in joy, and began to run toward them. And as she ran, her rags vanished and were replaced by a shimmering white robe. Her tattered shoes became golden slippers. A crown of flowers appeared atop her head.

  “A nice touch, my lady,” said Hyacinth Priest softly.

  Aphrodite smiled and murmured, “I may not have been the kindest of goddesses, but I was always good at the details.”

  Cupid was racing toward Psyche now, and he swept her up in his arms. And there, while the dolphins lea
ped and the mermaids sang, the reunited lovers stood on the moonlit beach, wrapped in each other’s arms.

  For a time no one spoke, but waited for Cupid and Psyche to stop kissing.

  “Gosh,” said Byron. “Don’t they need to take a breath?”

  Eventually the lovers broke apart. Hand in hand they approached the others. As they drew closer, Juliet saw that Psyche was laughing and weeping at the same time. The woman cried out in recognition when she saw Juliet, Roxanne, and Jerome.

  “I knew your tale had become entangled with mine!” she said.

  Then, on the beach that was neither on Earth nor in the realm of the gods, there was a time of stories, as first Aphrodite, then Cupid, then Psyche told what had happened to them over these last many, many years. And again and again each turned to Juliet, to thank her.

  They stayed long into the night, and Juliet thought it would be fine if the night went on forever. Byron leaned against her, dozing. She struggled to stay awake herself, but the day had been exhausting. Soothed by the waves, lulled by the songs of the mermaids, safe in the company of friends, she fell at last into a deep and dreamless slumber.

  When she awoke she was in her own bed.

  She looked beside her, but Roxanne and Jerome were gone.

  To her surprise she realized that she was going to miss them.

  She had grown used to their company.

  In fact, she sort of loved them.

  Epilogue

  On Saturday night the week after Juliet had been crowned Queen of Love, she sat in the attic, rocking. Downstairs her mother and father were hosting a dinner for the people who had helped with the poetry jam. She knew her mother wanted her to be part of it, but right now she needed to be alone for a little while.

  As she rocked she stared at “The Field of Gold,” which was how she now thought of the painting with the goatboy and his goats. Looking at it made her think of Roxanne and Jerome—which made her acutely aware of how much she missed the two rats, if not the chaos that had come with them.