Aphrodite the Beauty

by Joan Holub

  “Hey, over here!” Ares called out when he saw them.

  Both girls looked his way, and a little thrill zipped through Aphrodite as Ares drew near. But to pay him back for last night’s treachery, she decided to ignore him. “Hi there, Poseidon,” she said. Smiling disarmingly at him, she said the first thing that popped into her head. “I’ve been meaning to ask—could you tell me more about the waterworks park you designed for our last big project in Hero-ology?”

  “Sure,” said Poseidon, looking pleased. But as he launched into a description of all its fabulous features, Aphrodite only half listened. To her distress, Ares didn’t even seem to care that he was being ignored. Instead, he struck up a conversation with Athena.

  “I like your chiton,” Aphrodite heard him say. “Is it new?” How like him not to remember it was the same one Athena had worn last night.

  “Thanks,” Athena replied. She didn’t mention that he’d already seen it on her. “It’s Aphrodite’s. She’s letting me borrow it.”

  “Well, don’t tell her I said so,” said Ares, in a voice plenty loud enough for Aphrodite to hear, “but I bet it looks better on you than on her.”

  “No it doesn’t!” Athena glanced hastily toward Aphrodite.

  It was nice of her friend to stick up for her, but that didn’t stop a lump from rising in Aphrodite’s throat. How could Ares say such a hurtful thing? Pretending she hadn’t overheard, she kept talking to Poseidon. But after a minute she turned to Athena and said, “You know? I think I’m all shopped out. Mind if we head home?”

  “Not at all,” said Athena. She seemed to sense Aphrodite’s distress.

  They bid the boys a hasty good-bye. Grabbing Athena’s hand, Aphrodite pulled her away.

  “See ya, Theeny,” Ares called after them.

  “Ares is a creep,” Athena announced, as they exited the Marketplace. But Aphrodite said nothing as they bent to loosen the ties on their sandals to free their silver wings. Athena glanced at her. “I know you heard what he said, but it’s not true.”

  Aphrodite managed a small shrug. “It doesn’t matter,” she lied. She was on the verge of tears and just wanted to get home to her room so she could have a good cry. The ties twined around their ankles again and the wings at their heels began to flap. They were quiet as their sandals whisked them to the top of Mount Olympus.

  “I’ve been thinking,” said Athena when they skidded to a stop before the bronze doors of the Academy. “Ares was probably just trying to make you jealous. You know how much he likes to stir up trouble.”

  Of course! thought Aphrodite in relief. She should have thought of that too. “Maybe you’re right.” It would be just like Ares to try and beat her at her own game. He’d ignored her and pretended to be interested in Athena, just as she’d ignored him and spoken to Poseidon instead.

  Slipping off their sandals, the girls walked across the main hall and up the marble stairs to the fourth floor. The marble felt cool and smooth against Aphrodite’s bare feet. As the girls dropped their sandals in the fourth-floor basket, Athena pointed down the hall to a huge bouquet of pink roses sitting right outside one of the doors. “Look! Aren’t those in front of your room?”

  “Yeah!” said Aphrodite, feeling a surge of excitement. Had Ares sent her flowers? Maybe he’d ordered them as an apology earlier this morning, or just now as soon as the girls had left the mall.

  They raced to Aphrodite’s door. The beautiful roses were arranged in a pottery vase painted with a black silhouette of a man in a winged chariot, the symbol for Hermes’s Floral Delivery. Eagerly, Aphrodite unrolled the small piece of papyrus attached by a ribbon to one of the blooms.

  “Who’re they from?” Athena asked, sounding excited for her.

  Aphrodite’s smile faded. “Hephaestus,” she said, unable to keep the disappointment from her voice. She’d so hoped they were from Ares.

  “Oh,” said Athena. She hesitated. “That’s nice.”

  Aphrodite nodded, but without enthusiasm.

  “Hey, do you want to finish telling me about that message you got from a mortal last night?” Athena asked. “What was that all about?”

  “Later,” Aphrodite said, her shoulders slumping.

  “Oh, okay,” said Athena, finally seeming to sense her need to be alone. “Guess I’ll go study then. See you later.”

  “Okay.” Aphrodite carried the roses into her room and set them on her desk. She had to admit they were beautiful and smelled sweet. There was no real reason not to enjoy them, regardless of who had sent them. Only now she’d have to figure out how to deal with Hephaestus. She didn’t want to be his crush! He was a nice godboy, just not her type. She hoped she could let him down gently.

  Ares was another matter.

  6

  Gossip

  APHRODITE HOLED UP IN HER ROOM ALL day Sunday. By staying inside, she avoided seeing Hephaestus and Ares and so avoided having to do anything about them. Instead, she sat at her desk with her red feather pen and a stack of pink papyrus and brainstormed ways to help Hippomenes. The race was the day after tomorrow!

  She could slip him a pair of winged sandals, she thought, jotting down the idea. No matter how fast Atalanta was, there was no way she could win against an opponent wearing those. But the sandals’ wings would be obvious to everyone. Besides, he’d have to be holding an immortal’s hand to make them work properly. She doubted the king would allow anyone to race with such an advantage.

  Sighing, Aphrodite crossed out the sandal idea. Maybe Hippomenes should forget about the race and just elope with Atalanta, she thought. If she liked him as much as Aphrodite suspected she did, she might agree. They could leave at night and be far away from the palace before the king even noticed they were missing.

  But then Aphrodite remembered how she’d suggested the same strategy to Paris and Helen and caused a war! She crossed out that idea, too. She worked for several hours, but every idea she came up with seemed fatally flawed. In the end, all she had to show for her efforts was a stack of paper with crossed-out sentences.

  * * *

  As Aphrodite entered Hero-ology class the next morning students were buzzing about something. They stopped talking as she took her seat though, eyeing her curiously. Weird. She was used to the stares of godboys, but today the goddessgirls were studying her too. There was something in their looks she couldn’t quite interpret, and it made her a little nervous.

  She glanced across the aisle at Athena, but as usual her nose was buried in a textscroll. Aphrodite had knocked on her door yesterday evening, intending to tell her about Hippomenes and to ask for help with ideas, but Athena had been out. Artemis too, probably walking her dogs.

  Pheme coughed, as if trying to get someone’s attention. When Aphrodite turned to look at her, she ducked her spiky orange head. Had she been spreading gossip again? It was to be expected, of course. She was the goddess of gossip and rumor after all.

  Hmm, thought Aphrodite, maybe Pheme and the herald would be a good match. Although it was true that opposites often did attract, it was good to have some similar interests. And weren’t Pheme and the herald both in the business of announcing things? She took out her red feather pen to make a note of the idea, but then paused with her pen in midair. What had Pheme been announcing, she suddenly wondered? Could it be that the gossip had been about her? Aphrodite’s throat tightened.

  Medusa’s snaky head writhed and hissed as she leaned across the aisle. “Interesting weekend, Bubbles?” she asked with a smirk.

  Faking a calm she didn’t feel, but which had nothing to do with the snakes, Aphrodite said, “Yes, I heard you got a bit wet.”

  “And I heard you got a new boyfriend,” Medusa shot back.

  Aphrodite’s eyes widened. “What are you talking about?”

  Medusa smirked again as several snakes twined loosely around her neck to form a thick, live green necklace. “Pink roses?”

  Aphrodite felt her cheeks grow warm.

  On the other side of Medusa,
Pheme giggled nervously. So that’s what she’d been gossiping about. Had she told Medusa about the flowers? But how could Pheme have known about them unless . . . Aphrodite glanced at Athena, who was staring at Pheme with a frown on her face.

  No, Athena would never tell. She was no gossip! “Sure, I got some roses. From a friend. What of it?” Aphrodite told Medusa in what she desperately hoped was a casual tone.

  Medusa raised a dark green eyebrow. “Boys don’t usually give roses to girls who are just friends.”

  “Is that right?” Aphrodite eyed her coolly. “And how would you know?”

  Flicking their tongues, the snakes darted toward her as Medusa shot her a look. Good thing she wasn’t mortal. She would’ve turned to stone at once. Fortunately, Mr. Cyclops chose that moment to begin class.

  When class was finally over, Athena disappeared down the hall before Aphrodite could question her. But that wasn’t unusual. She was always in a hurry to get to her classes early. There was nothing she liked more than learning.

  While piecing together a mosaic of the Minotaur during her next class, Craft-ology, Aphrodite’s stomach churned as she pondered what Medusa had said. Had Athena gossiped? Of course, Aphrodite hadn’t asked her to keep the roses a secret. But a true friend wouldn’t need to be told! Distracted, Aphrodite glued several ceramic tiles in the wrong places, so that the Minotaur wound up with a horn in the middle of his chest.

  When she noticed the error, she grumpily pried up the tiles and started over. She couldn’t keep her mind from wandering, however. The idea of having her name romantically linked to anyone—especially Hephaestus—was just so embarrassing. How dare he give her flowers, she thought, slapping a new tile into place. He should’ve known the rumors they’d cause! And how could Athena betray her confidence when she’d done so much to help her?

  As the morning wore on, Aphrodite grew more and more annoyed. Paranoid, too. Whenever she heard someone whispering, she worried it might be about her and Hephaestus. At lunchtime she growled at the first godboy who offered her a place in line in the cafeteria. By the time she finally sat across from Persephone and Artemis, she was steaming. She slammed her bowl of Underworld stew down so hard that gravy sloshed onto the table.

  The two goddessgirls glanced up in surprise. “Got it!” Artemis yelled. She grabbed three pieces of bread to soak up the gravy, then fed them to her dogs below the table. They gulped down the soppy treats without even chewing.

  “Bad day?” Persephone asked sympathetically.

  Aphrodite nodded. “Horrible.”

  Moments later, Athena dropped a bag of scrolls and a bowl of pomegranola onto the table and sat next to Aphrodite. She seemed to notice immediately that something was wrong. “What’s up?” she asked.

  Aphrodite just stared into her stew, fuming.

  Athena looked at Artemis and Persephone, who both shrugged as if to say they didn’t know what was wrong with her either.

  Finally Aphrodite said, “Didn’t you hear Medusa in class?”

  “Oh, that.” Athena dipped a spoon into her bowl. “I’d ignore her if I were you.”

  “Easy for you to say.” Aphrodite glowered at her. “You’re not the one Pheme’s spreading stories about.”

  Athena’s eyebrows rose as she lay down her spoon. “You can’t think that’s my fault.”

  “Well, isn’t it?”

  “Hold on,” interrupted Persephone. “What’s this all about?”

  Athena sighed. “Pheme told everyone in our first-period class that someone sent Aphrodite pink roses.”

  “And you must’ve told her!” Aphrodite exclaimed. “How else could she have known?”

  Athena stiffened. “I didn’t tell. The flowers were sitting outside your door, remember? Anyone could’ve seen them there.”

  “Yeah, I heard about those roses from someone in archery class,” Artemis said. “So which one of your many admirers sent them?”

  A blush crept up Aphrodite’s neck to her cheeks. “Hephaestus,” she said in a low voice.

  “Wasn’t he talking to you at the party Friday night?” Persephone asked.

  Before Aphrodite could reply, Artemis said, “Did Medusa know the flowers were from him?”

  “Even if she did, anyone could’ve unrolled the note attached to the flowers,” Athena pointed out. “Pheme’s so nosy, I wouldn’t put it past her to snoop. And she does live at the end of our hall.”

  Athena was right, of course, thought Aphrodite. She tried to remember if Medusa had mentioned Hephaestus’s name. Maybe she didn’t know. She was just about to apologize to Athena when Ares came up to their table.

  Forgetting her plan to ignore him, Aphrodite smiled right at him. It was the kind of smile that had never failed to dazzle him—or any other godboy she’d shone it on—in the past. Only this time Ares seemed immune to her charms. “Hey, Theeny,” he said, hefting Athena’s bag from the table. “Can I help you carry this to your next class?”

  Athena tugged the bag away from him and set it on the other side of her tray, out of his reach. “No thanks. I can manage.”

  Glancing at Persephone and Artemis, Aphrodite cringed at the looks of pity on their faces. She was sure they knew that she liked Ares a lot more than she let on. How dare they feel sorry for her! Straightening her spine, Aphrodite said, “Don’t be silly, Athena. Let him carry your scrolls. He’s as strong as an ox—”

  “Thanks,” interrupted Ares. Grinning, he bent one arm, flexing a muscle.

  “And twice as dumb as one,” Aphrodite finished scornfully.

  Ares winced as if she’d struck him across the face. She could feel her friends glancing at her in surprise. She knew she was being unforgivably rude, but it was too late. The words couldn’t be taken back.

  “Heard about your pink roses, Aphrodite,” he said loud enough for half the cafeteria to hear. “You may be the goddessgirl of love, but everyone knows you have no heart. I pity the godboy who sent them.”

  If everyone thought that, they were wrong, thought Aphrodite, blinking back sudden tears. She did have a heart, and it felt like he’d just stomped on it!

  “You’d never catch me sending flowers,” Ares continued. “It’s such a girly thing to do.”

  “Shut up, Ares,” said Artemis.

  “Maybe you should just go,” Persephone suggested to him. “Now’s a bad time.”

  Abruptly, Athena stood. “No. I’m going,” she said. She reached for her bag, but Ares tugged it away from her.

  “I’ll carry it,” he said. “Please? I want to talk to you about something.”

  After a moment of hesitation Athena gave in and the two of them left together.

  Aphrodite stood too. Glancing at Persephone’s and Artemis’s faces, she muttered, “Stop looking at me like that. I don’t care if he likes her. In fact, he can marry her for all I care!” Then, just like at the party, she fled the room, her cheeks burning and her heart broken.

  7

  The Olive Grove

  SOMEHOW APHRODITE GOT THROUGH THE rest of the day. She was glad none of her friends were in her afternoon classes. She knew she’d behaved badly at lunch and didn’t want to face them quite yet. Instead of returning to her room after school, she stowed her textscrolls in her locker and headed outside.

  “Aphrodite, wait up!”

  Hephaestus! Had he been hanging around waiting for her? She was in no mood to talk to him—or any godboy right now. She pretended not to hear him and raced across the courtyard, thinking she could easily outdistance him.

  But Hephaestus just kept calling. Aphrodite could hear his cane thumping along behind her more quickly than she would have thought possible. She didn’t want to be mean, but couldn’t he take a hint? She wanted to be alone! Afraid someone would hear him calling to her—someone like Pheme or Medusa—she finally looked around for a private place to talk to him, someplace where no one would see them together.

  To one side of the courtyard there was a grove of olive trees that would offer some
shelter from prying eyes. Waving to Hephaestus to follow, Aphrodite headed toward it. The park of silver-green trees had only sprung up recently—a result of Athena’s invention of the olive.

  “Whoa. You sure walk fast,” said Hephaestus as he finally caught up to her. Breathing hard, he leaned against the trunk of a tree causing some of its silver-green leaves to flutter to the ground. “Did you get the roses I sent?”

  “Yes, thank you,” said Aphrodite, sitting cross-legged on the stone bench under another tree. Now that they were face to face, she realized it wasn’t going to be easy to tell him she didn’t like him—not as a boyfriend, that is. She took a deep breath. “But you really shouldn’t have—”

  “Sent them?” interrupted Hephaestus. He pushed off the trunk of the tree and came to sit beside her. “I hope they didn’t give you the wrong idea.”

  “Well . . . ,” Aphrodite began uncertainly.

  Before she could say another word, Hephaestus forced a chuckle. “There’s a rumor going around that you’ve got a new boyfriend. It would be dumb if everyone thought it was me, huh? I mean, is there a law that says you can’t give flowers to a friend?”

  His face was so earnest, that she heard herself say, “No law that I know of.”

  Hephaestus hesitated and she felt him glance at her, then away. “So, did you like the . . . ,” he cleared his throat. “ . . . The roses?”

  “They’re very pretty.” She paused. “And they smell great. Sweet. Just like the godboy who gave them to me, but . . .”

  Hephaestus cut her off, speaking enthusiastically. “Was I right to guess that pink is your favorite color? You wear it a lot.”

  “I love pink,” said Aphrodite. She smiled fondly at him.

  “What?” he asked, reading something in her expression.

  She shrugged. “I was just thinking that you’re so different from the other godboys.”

  He straightened, looking insulted.

  “That’s a compliment,” she said quickly. “I mean, I can’t think of even one other godboy perceptive enough to notice how much pink I wear and to realize it’s my favorite color.” Certainly Ares wouldn’t. Given the way he’d been treating her recently, it was a mystery that she still liked the guy. But then the workings of the heart were mysterious.