Artemis the Brave

by Williams, Suzanne; Holub, Joan

  “Stage left!” Zeus ordered as Pandora retrieved it. Frowning slightly, the herald leaned over and whispered to him. “Oh, yeah, I get those confused,” Zeus replied. “I meant stage right!” he called to the actors.

  “So how’s it going?” Artemis asked Aphrodite.

  “Three have tried out. I’ll go last, after Pandora. She wants to play Psyche too. there are five of us trying out for the lead.”

  “What about the part of Eros?” asked Artemis, hoping she hadn’t missed Orion’s turn to try out for the boy lead.

  “Five are trying out for that, too.” Suddenly her eyes swept over Artemis, taking in her styled hair and fancy chiton. “Hey! You look nice.”

  “Thanks.” Artemis wanted to ask about Orion, but she didn’t want to arouse Aphrodite’s suspicion. Aphrodite was an expert at sniffing out any hint of romance, and it would be just like her to make Artemis’s interest in Orion into some big deal. Which it wasn’t. Not really.

  Somewhere in the distance, she heard the sound of chanting voices and music. Hidden from sight behind the stage backdrop, students had begun practicing for the Greek Chorus that was part of every theatrical play. Their job was to narrate the story as it took place, to help the audience figure out what was going on. And, according to her Music-ology teacher back in fourth grade, to explain the themes and deeper meanings of certain events. As the chorus chanted their lines to gentle music, the beautiful notes from Athena’s flute were unmistakable.

  At the back of the stage, students wielded paintbrushes or hammers, creating backdrops and scenery. Persephone was painting asphodel, daisies, and daffodils on a green hillside, and Hades was painting great curls of fire spewing from a dragon’s mouth.

  “All right, cue the nymph!” Zeus boomed.

  Situated at the right side of the stage now, Pandora jumped again at the crack of his deep voice. “Who? Me?” She nervously patted the bangs on her fore-head, which were shaped in the form of a question mark.

  “Yes, you. When I say ‘cue,’ it means you are to begin,” Zeus explained, tapping his sandaled foot with impatience.

  Nodding nervously, Pandora turned to Dionysus. Holding her script in one hand, she laid her other hand over her heart. “Oh, Eros, god of love, do not wound me with your arrows?”

  “The wound will only make you fall in love, nothing more,” Dionysus assured her. Though he’d spoken quietly, his voice seemed to fill the room with its power and beauty. Even Artemis, who had never been to a play in her life, could tell he was a good actor.

  “I trust you not?” Pandora said, fluttering her eyelashes at him. “For I am but a nymph and therefore not immortal?”

  “Very nice, you two,” Zeus interrupted. “But, Pandora, please try not to turn every line you read into a question.”

  Pandora glanced at him in surprise. “Oh, sorry, Principal Zeus, was I doing that? I wonder why I didn’t notice?”

  Zeus’s broad shoulders went up and down slightly and Artemis had a feeling he was sighing. She knew how he felt. Pandora was sweet, but her nonstop questions and curiosity got on Artemis’s nerves sometimes too. Poor Athena actually had to live with Pandora, though, since the two of them were roommates.

  Before long Pandora and Dionysus’s audition was over. As they left the stage, Zeus nodded in the herald’s direction. In response, the herald struck his lyre bell again. Ping! “Aphrodite and Orion, please report to the stage for your audition!” he called out.

  “Wish me luck,” said Aphrodite, smoothing her seafoam-colored chiton as she stood.

  “Knock ’em dead,” said Artemis. A dozen other godboys and goddessgirls called to wish Aphrodite luck too as she made her way to the stairs at the left side of the stage. She was the most popular girl in school. Especially with the godboys, who practically fell over themselves to catch her attention. In Artemis’s opinion, she was a cinch for the part.

  But that would mean that if Orion got the part of Eros, he and Aphrodite would spend a lot of time together. Hmm. Artemis couldn’t help noticing that Aphrodite’s chiton wasn’t wrinkled and didn’t have stains. She looked glamorous, something Artemis could never hope to be. What if Orion decided he liked Aphrodite? Artemis didn’t like that idea one bit.

  Orion entered the stage from the stairs at the opposite side. At the sight of him, Artemis sat up straighter. Her pulse raced a little faster. Her stomach did an unfamiliar little flip.

  “Artemis,” said Apollo, nudging her shoulder from behind. “How about if we go get in some archery practice before—”

  “Shhh!” she said, batting him away. Her eyes were glued to Orion as he sauntered onto the stage. His golden skin shimmered, his blue eyes twinkled, his broad shoulders looked even broader than she remembered in the turquoise toga he wore. Suddenly she wished she’d sat closer to the action.

  “Artemis?” It was Apollo again. Why was he being so annoying all of a sudden?

  “Later,” she said, fluttering her hand to brush him off. “I want to stay to hear Ori—um, I mean, Aphrodite audition. And I thought you wanted to support Dionysus,” she reminded him. “He doesn’t have the part yet, you know.”

  Apollo sighed and sat back, obviously bored. “Okay, but I doubt they need us. They always get the leads.”

  “You’ll both begin reading on page ten,” Zeus said, holding out scripts to the two new actors. Aphrodite took hers and thumbed through it to the correct page, but Orion held up the flat of his hand, refusing to take his.

  Zeus frowned. “Go on, take it. You’ll need the script to read your lines.”

  “Not necessary, Principal Zeus,” Orion assured him. “I’ve already memorized the part of Eros.” At the sound of Orion’s voice, Sirius sat up, ears pricked forward. His tail began thumping. But he must have been accustomed to sitting in a theater audience, because he didn’t lunge for the stage to greet his master.

  “Well, that’s very professional of you,” said Zeus, looking surprised. “You can begin, then.”

  Pandora slid onto the bench beside Artemis, just as Orion opened his mouth to speak. Before he could utter a word, a banging sound came from the back of the stage. Hades had begun hammering green scales onto the dragon’s tail.

  Orion turned to glare at him. “Do you mind?”

  “Sorry, artist at work,” replied Hades, grinning to display the nails gripped between his teeth.

  “Artists are at work here, too,” said Orion. “Thespians. Show some respect.”

  Hades looked a little embarrassed, but he stopped hammering. “Okay. No problem.”

  “Wow, who’s that?” Pandora whispered to Artemis, nodding toward Orion.

  “The new foreign exchange mortal from Earth,” said Artemis.

  “He’s mortal?” A mortal herself, Pandora looked at him with even more interest. “Then why does he shimmer?”

  “Fake shimmer spray,” Apollo muttered from behind them.

  Artemis ignored him. All around her, she heard other goddessgirls oohing and aahing over the new boy. Unfortunately, she wasn’t the only one who found him intriguing.

  Suddenly Aphrodite’s voice filled the room. “Oh, Eros, god of love, do not wound me with your arrows.” Her voice was as beautiful as she was, and Artemis could almost feel everyone’s interest perk up when they heard her.

  Orion took a deep breath, his muscular chest expanding. Then, in a smooth, emotion-filled voice, he replied, “The wound will only make you fall in love, nothing more.” He reached out a hand and touched her cheek, as if he was trying to comfort her.

  For a second Aphrodite just stood there, looking at him in surprise. He’d amazed even her with his talent. He was that good. No wonder Zeus had invited him to MOA to join the theater!

  “Aphrodite?” Zeus prompted.

  She started, turning pink. “Oh, sorry, Principal Zeus.”

  “I trust you not,” she went on, slipping back into the part of Psyche again. “For I am but a nymph and therefore not immortal.”

  “Wow! Aren’t
they great?” Pandora whispered.

  Nodding, Artemis leaned forward to hear better. Planting her elbows on her knees, she rested her chin on her fists and listened to Aphrodite and Orion continue their lines. Their voices were almost like music, hers high, his low, both intertwining. For the first time, she understood, at least a little, why people liked plays.

  After the two of them stopped speaking their lines a few minutes later, there was a small silence. Then the audience erupted in applause. Artemis blinked, straightening in her seat and glancing around. She’d been so caught up in their acting that she’d almost forgotten it was an audition, not the actual play. Zeus had allowed them to read far more than the other actors who’d tried out.

  “That was a mighty powerful performance,” he said, sounding impressed. He looked at Orion. “Haven’t seen you around before. Are you a new student?”

  Orion appeared a little confused. “Um, yes, you invited me to come here, remember?”

  “Huh?” Now it was Zeus’s turn to look confused. “I remember inviting a mortal boy named Orio Snar—”

  “I prefer to go by Orion Starr,” Orion interrupted hurriedly. Seeming flustered, he added, “That’s my stage name. Didn’t you get the copy of my résumé from the Thespian Guild of Earth? I gave it to the nine-headed lady in your office yesterday.”

  Zeus shrugged. “Maybe. My desk’s piled with stuff. I’m pretty busy, what with being King of the Gods, Ruler of the Heavens, and principal of MOA and all.”

  Artemis smiled. She liked knowing that Zeus was messy, just like her. It gave her hope. After all, messiness hadn’t held Zeus back from becoming the most important god on Mount Olympus!

  “I just happen to have another copy of my résumé.” Orion jumped down from the stage and grabbed a scroll from one of the chairs. Going over to Zeus, he unrolled the papyrus, pointing to various items. “As you see, I was the lead in Sophocles’ tragedy Electra and in Euripides’ Medea. . . .” As he went on, the other students began to shift and grow restless.

  “What a show-off,” muttered Apollo.

  “He’s just trying to let Zeus know he has experience,” Artemis said, frowning at him over her shoulder. Couldn’t Apollo give him the benefit of the doubt? Orion really wanted this part and probably had no idea he was coming across badly, reciting his long list of credits. Later, maybe she could find a tactful way to tell him that he didn’t need to convince anyone how great he was. It was obvious!

  “Can you shoot?” Principal Zeus butted in.

  “Shoot?” Orion echoed.

  “In the play, Eros shoots magic arrows,” Zeus reminded him. “How are you at archery?”

  “Oh, um, well, naturally I’m an expert marksman. Unfortunately, I don’t have my bow with me,” said Orion.

  Apollo stood up. “You can borrow mine,” he offered, picking it up from the bench beside him and holding it out.

  From somewhere in a far row, Artemis heard Ares, a godboy who could sometimes be a bully, snicker. “Great idea!” he called out. “You should take him up on it, Orion.”

  Artemis twisted to glare at him and her brother. Apollo never let anyone touch his bow. He was obviously trying to embarrass Orion, hoping he was a poor shot. And Ares was egging him on. Sometimes godboys could be so annoying.

  Orion froze like a deer in torchlights, but then he quickly replied, “I’m not comfortable using someone else’s bow. But thanks for the offer.”

  “I didn’t mean now, anyway,” Zeus explained. “Come by my office sometime this week, and you can give me a demonstration.”

  “Sure. No problem,” Orion said, confident once more.

  Zeus gestured to the MOA herald, who announced, “Auditions for supporting roles will now begin!” Ping!

  As another group of actors came onstage to read for supporting roles, Orion headed off. Artemis jumped up. “I have to give Orion his dog,” she told Apollo. “Back in a minute, and then we can go practice.” Before he could object, she smoothed her short, dark hair and straightened her chiton, then slung her quiver and bow over one shoulder. “Come on, boys,” she said, shooing the dogs from their seats. Urging them down the aisle ahead of her, she kept an eye on Orion as she headed in his direction.

  Sirius scampered ahead. When Artemis was still a few yards away, Orion’s dog leaped into his arms and began happily nuzzling his face.

  “I came to return your dog,” Artemis said, once Sirius had calmed down.

  “Huh?” Orion blinked, looking at her like he’d never seen her before.

  “I’m Artemis, goddess of the hunt? Two lockers over from yours? You asked me to watch Sirius yesterday? I showed you to drama class?” Godness, with all those question marks in her voice she sounded like Pandora!

  Suddenly he seemed to notice the bow and quiver of arrows slung over her shoulder. His blue eyes gleamed with interest. “Oh yeah. I remember now. Hey, are you any good with that?”

  “My bow?” she asked, seeing the direction of his gaze. “Yep, I’m the best. Except maybe for my brother Apollo.” She glanced toward the bleachers and saw that her brother was talking to some of his friends.

  “Want to practice together sometime?”

  Artemis’s head whipped around to Orion again. He favored her with a dazzling smile. Was he asking her out? Her heart thumped. But she refused to let him think she was some fainthearted, weak-kneed goddessgirl he could win over with one blink of his lovely, long-lashed blue eyes. So she said casually, “Practice? With you? Yeah, I guess I could do that.”

  “How about now?”

  “Sure,” she blurted without thinking. Then she remembered Apollo. “Wait. I almost forgot. I promised to practice with my brother. He’s the one who offered to lend you his bow. See, there’s this archery contest coming up and—”

  “Perfect. I’ll learn twice as fast with you and Apollo helping me.”

  “O-okay. But I thought you told Principal Zeus you already know how to shoot.”

  He shrugged and smiled. “Truth is, I need to brush up on my skills. It’s been awhile.”

  Artemis nodded, hoping Apollo wouldn’t mind. They practiced almost every day, and he enjoyed it when others took an interest in his favorite sport. Maybe if he got to know Orion better, he wouldn’t be so hard on him.

  “I’ll meet you on the field in a few, okay?” Orion looked beyond her. “First I need to meet with my fans.”

  “Fans?” Artemis turned to see that a half-dozen girls—mortal and immortal—had gathered behind her and were waiting to meet him.

  He nodded. “There’s talk of forming an official Orion Fan Club.” He grinned and shrugged again as if to say, Not my idea, but what can you do? He took a step away from her and toward the waiting girls, who clustered around him like fireflies to a torch. A collective sigh rose from the group. Sirius plopped down to wait patiently as if he was used to Orion being the center of attention and grateful for whatever small scraps of time his master chose to bestow on him.

  Artemis glanced around for her brother and spied him still talking to Ares, Poseidon, and Dionysus. They were all watching Orion and his budding fan club, shooting disdainful glances his way. Were they jealous? One thing for sure, they had no plans to join in the adoration. And if she had any sense left at all, she’d make herself quit this crazy crush. But she’d had no experience with matters of the heart until now. She didn’t know how to change how she felt about Orion. Or if it was even possible. Or if she even wanted to.

  “Ready for practice?” she called to Apollo.

  Target Practice

  SCORE!” SHOUTED APOLLO, PUNCHING A FIST in the air as his arrow pierced the center of the target. “First time I’ve hit the bull’s-eye from two hundred feet. We’re going to ace that archery contest this year.”

  “Yeah . . . great one . . . bull’s-eye,” Artemis mumbled in return. They’d been at it an hour now, each training their new arrows. Eyes angled toward the school building now, she paced back and forth on the archery field behind the Mou
nt Olympus gym. Nearby, her three hounds were napping in the shade of an olive tree.

  “Are you looking for something?” asked Apollo, following her gaze.

  “Well, yes, actually,” she admitted. “I’m watching for Orion. I told him we’d help him practice his shooting.”

  Apollo frowned. “Why?”

  Artemis stopped pacing to stare at him. “He’s new here. I thought it would be nice to include him.”

  “But the contest is coming up. Every practice counts. These new arrows of ours need training if we expect them to shoot true.” It was up to each archer to teach his or her own arrows how to best navigate distance and wind currents in order to reach an intended target.

  “I know.” Stepping up to the shooting line, Artemis aimed her silver arrow at the target. Zzzing! Her arrow split Apollo’s, and the two of them grinned at each other. “You know we’re already the best archers in school,” she said matter-of-factly. “And we’ve practiced with every student here at MOA at some point. Why not Orion?”

  Apollo wrinkled his nose, looking annoyed again. “I just don’t like him.”

  “Because he’s mortal?”

  “No!” Apollo exploded, hands on his hips. “Because he’s in love with himself!”

  “No, he’s not,” Artemis protested. “Can’t you give him a chance?”

  Suddenly she heard a dog barking. Sirius ran up to them and began dancing around her heels. Then he bounced off to go play with her three hounds. She turned to see Orion striding across the field toward them. His walk was cocky and confident, like he hadn’t a care in the world. He’d changed into a bright blue toga that looked great on him. Artemis wondered if, like Aphrodite, he had an outfit for every occasion. If so, perhaps this was his archery outfit.

  “If you want to help him try to take the part away from Dionysus, go ahead,” said Apollo. “But I’m not going to.”

  So that’s what this was all about! thought Artemis. Her brother and Dionysus were good friends as well as bandmates. “He only wants a chance to practice a little before showing Zeus what he’s got,” she said reasonably.