by Holub, Joan
“Never mind,” Aphrodite said, dipping her spoon into her yambrosia. “It’s just that—” She hesitated.
Artemis shot her a look. “It’s just that what?”
Aphrodite shrugged. “I always thought he liked you. And I’m usually right about things like that.”
“So did I,” said Persephone.
Apollo had said the same thing, Artemis remembered. “Funny way to show it—pushing me into the fountain,” she said.
“It could’ve been an accident,” Persephone said softly. “I mean there was a fight going on. Someone might’ve pushed him into you.”
“Yeah, sort of like what just happened with his tray.” Aphrodite nodded her head toward Actaeon’s upside-down bowl on the floor. A froggy-looking lunch lady, who was in charge of cleanup, had hurried over to deal with the mess. Unrolling her long, sticky tongue, she quickly and efficiently slurped up the spilled yambrosia. Ick. Artemis pushed her own bowl away, her appetite suddenly gone.
“He still shouldn’t have laughed,” she muttered. To be fair, she probably had looked funny with her hair dripping in her eyes and a magic fish flopping on her head. If it had happened to someone else, she might’ve laughed too! But she didn’t want to admit she might’ve been wrong, even a teeny bit. “Let’s talk about something else.”
“Is it true what I heard about Poseidon fighting that giant today?” Athena said, arriving at the table just then.
Artemis groaned and dropped her head into one hand. “Not the kind of topic I had in mind.”
“If the source was Pheme, I doubt it,” said Persephone. “What did you hear?”
“No, I heard it from Pandora. She told me Poseidon single-handedly rescued Ares from the giants’ clutches.” Pandora was Athena’s mortal roommate. She talked in questions, so Artemis figured what she actually said probably went something like this: Poseidon? He—like—rescued Ares from the giant?
“Ha!” said Aphrodite. “Something must be wrong with Pandora’s stoneglasses. They not only blocked out Medusa’s stone-gaze, but reality as well. Ares can take care of himself.”
“Besides,” added Aphrodite. “Pandora would believe a heroic story about Poseidon. She and Medusa have both been crushing on him for years.”
Poseidon was cute—Artemis would give him that. But in her humble opinion, he was also kind of a drip—literally! His feet made squelching sounds when he walked, and he left wet footprints wherever he went. No, if she had to pick a guy to crush on it would be someone like . . . like . . . She blinked as an image of Actaeon with his inquisitive gray eyes and light brown hair entered her head. Ye gods! She shook her head to clear it.
Then she and Aphrodite told the other two girls what they had actually seen during the fight. Their stories were pretty much in agreement, except that Aphrodite made Ares out to be kind of a hero. This surprised Artemis, but maybe Aphrodite really saw him that way. He was her crush, after all.
When lunch was over, and the girls were leaving the cafeteria, Artemis reminded them, “Don’t forget to meet in the courtyard after school’s out so we can set up our tables and petitions!”
Later that day, she met Aphrodite in the hall and walked with her to their last class—Revenge-ology. Their teacher, Ms. Nemesis, usually stood at the door to greet everyone as they entered, but she wasn’t there today.
Instead, the first thing they saw when they went inside was one of the giants. He was across the room talking to Atlas. When he laughed at something Atlas said, Artemis noticed the gap in his teeth where a tooth was missing.
“Looks like one of the giants is making friends,” said Aphrodite. “I wonder which one he is?”
“Ephialtes,” said Artemis.
Aphrodite cocked her head. “How can you tell?”
“He’s missing a tooth. Otus told me.”
“You talked to one of them?” She stared at Artemis in surprise, like she thought that was a daring thing to do.
Artemis shrugged. “Otus was in my Hero-ology class this morning. He’s nice, actually. Ephialtes is the hotheaded one.”
Just then, Hera walked into the room, drawing everyone’s attention as she went to the front of the classroom. She didn’t bother to introduce herself, probably knowing it wasn’t necessary. By now everyone at MOA—even the athletes from other schools—knew who she was and had seen her with Principal Zeus.
“Ms. Nemesis has been called away this afternoon, and Principal Zeus has asked me to substitute,” she announced. Reaching up, she smoothed a lock of blond hair that had escaped her perfect hairdo. She was so beautiful, she could almost be Aphrodite’s mom, thought Artemis.
“Since your teacher’s absence was unexpected, she didn’t have time to brief me on her planned discussion topic. So I’ve decided that, today, we’ll consider the concept of fairness.” She smiled, her eyes twinkling. “I thought it might make for a more interesting discussion if we talk about the concept in terms of a current situation—say, the upcoming Olympic Games?” For some reason, she looked right at Artemis as she said it.
“You mean, do we think it’s fair that giants are here for the Games?” a godboy called out from the back of the room. “I vote no!”
Artemis glanced at Ephialtes, half-expecting him to leap out of his desk—or shake it off, maybe, since he was wedged in there pretty tight—and go after the boy. Although he scowled, he managed to restrain himself. His expression relaxed when Hera spoke sternly to the godboy, “All of the athletes here from other schools are our guests. You would do well to remember that.”
She paused to let that sink in, and then returned to her discussion subject. “The fairness issue I was thinking of concerns half of the students at MOA. And at some of our current guests’ schools, too, I imagine. Can anyone guess who and what I’m referring to?” She looked straight at Artemis again, and suddenly Artemis knew why. Hera must’ve overheard some of her talk with Principal Zeus!
Artemis’s hand shot up in the air. “You’re referring to girls! To whether it’s fair that we can’t compete in the Olympic Games! And I vote that it’s unfair!” Immediately, a hubbub erupted as everyone reacted to her statement at once.
Although Ephialtes shot her an annoyed look, he didn’t join in the clamor. That was surprising since he had such strong feelings about girls even watching the Games. But then his glance turned snooty, as if he didn’t even think it worth his time to argue with a girl!
“One at a time, please,” said Hera. She called on Atlas.
“Why would girls want to compete with this?” Grinning, he flexed his biceps, showing off his muscles. “They’d get creamed!”
“Yeah!” chorused almost all of the boys. “You tell ’em!”
Artemis glanced at Apollo. He was nodding, the butthead. Did he really agree with them? Of course it was true that no girl would have a chance in a contest of strength against Atlas. He was the strongest godboy at MOA! Duh. But there were other sports girls excelled at.
Aphrodite flipped her long golden hair over one shoulder. The mere motion bedazzled the boys sitting nearby. Their cheering ebbed as their eyes went all goo-goo over her. “Really?” she asked. “Then which one of you—not counting Apollo—would like to challenge Artemis to an archery contest?” Not one boy took up the challenge, knowing they’d lose.
Leaning across the aisle, Artemis high-fived Aphrodite. “You go, goddessgirl!”
From the back of the room a beefy-looking godboy named Kydoimos, called out, “Archery is not an Olympic event. How far can you throw a discus, Artemis?”
“I wouldn’t know,” she called back. “I’ve never been given the chance to try.”
Suddenly arguments filled the room, as everyone wanted to have a say. Some of the girls in class giggled unsurely, while others shouted, “Yeah, Artemis is right. We deserve a chance!”
Hera called for order again. “Let’s give the floor to the boys for a minute. I’d like to hear their major objections to girls’ participation in the Games.”
&nb
sp; Artemis glanced at Apollo, willing him to come to her defense—to the defense of all girls. She craved his support so much that when he raised his hand to speak, she smiled at him, sure he would tell the other boys they were wrong.
But instead, he said, “Girls can’t compete with us. They’d get hurt! And that’s that.” Avoiding Artemis’s eyes, he dusted his hands together as if the matter was settled.
Artemis wasn’t about to let him know how much he’d hurt her. “No problem!” she countered hotly. “We’d rather have our own Games and choose our own events. Events more awesome than any you could ever have!”
A godboy named Makhai squinted his eyes at her and sneered. “Like what, cheerleading?” The boys laughed uproariously, and Ephialtes joined in with a high-pitched giggle.
In a voice full of outrage, Stheno, one of Medusa’s two sisters, spoke up. “Cheerleading takes a lot of stamina. Half the boys at MOA couldn’t hack it!”
“That’s right!” yelled the girls.
Before things could get too out of hand, Hera broke into the discussion again. “Remember,” she said calmly, “the issue is fairness. Can anyone offer a definition of the term?”
“Something is fair if it’s in accordance with the rules,” offered Atlas.
“And the rules say the Olympics are for guys only!” added Kydoimos.
“But doesn’t fairness also mean not showing favoritism to one group over another?” a girl named Aglaia asked, glancing at Hera.
Hera nodded. “Yes, that’s another definition.”
“And the rules for the Olympic Games favor boys,” said Aphrodite. “So the rules are unfair!”
Apollo shrugged. “Rules are rules. And Principal Zeus made them. Deal with it!”
“Yeah! Rock it, Apollo!” the boys called.
Artemis’s eyes flashed. “Don’t worry. We will deal with it! Just you wait.”
The girls cheered. “You tell ’em, Artemis!” yelled a goddessgirl with large pink wings, who Artemis barely knew. “We should have our own Games! Who needs boys?”
The godboys laughed, and so did Ephialtes. “Dream on!” one of them told her.
Ooh! They are so annoying! Artemis didn’t want Hera to find out about the petition yet, in case she told Zeus and he called a halt to their plans before they could even start them. But before she could stop herself, she said, “It’s not just a dream! Come on out to the courtyard after school, and you’ll see!”
She couldn’t wait to see the expressions on these boys’ faces when they discovered what she and her friends had planned. To tell the truth, she’d been a little worried that some of the girls, especially the nonathletic ones, wouldn’t care enough to sign a girl-Games petition. But the discussion in Revenge-ology today had given her cause an unexpected boost. It was almost as if Hera was on their side and had stirred up this controversy on purpose. Not only that, but Pheme was in the back of the room taking it all in. The news of the boys’ unfairness would be all over school within the hour. What a stroke of luck!
9
Gathering Signatures
AS SOON AS REVENGE-OLOGY ENDED, ARTEMIS AND Aphrodite dropped off their stuff in their lockers. Then they hurried to the cafeteria to borrow tables to set up in the courtyard, where they could catch students going to and from the school. “Need some help?” asked a couple of godboys who’d come by for a snack. Aphrodite was a magnet for boys’ offers of help.
“Sure,” said Aphrodite. She pointed to several tables folded up against a wall. “If you could just carry two of these to—” She hesitated, and then a look of determination came over her face. “Thanks anyway, but we can do it ourselves.”
“You sure?” asked one of the boys doubtfully. “They’re awfully heavy.”
“And we’re awfully strong,” Artemis said with emphasis.
The boys were right, though. The tables were heavy. And Artemis’s dogs were no help. They bumped up against the girls’ legs, and squeezed back and forth under the first table as the girls struggled to get it out through the Academy’s front doors.
Fortunately, Persephone and Athena arrived just then with the petitions and the poster they’d made. Aphrodite and Artemis quickly filled them in on what had gone on in their class with Hera as substitute. With all four of them working together, it didn’t take long to get a second table and four chairs down the granite steps and set up in the courtyard.
“I sure hope this works,” said Persephone as she propped their JOIN THE CAUSE poster on an easel near the tables.
“It will,” said Artemis, feeling confident. But at the same time, a tiny worry zinged through her brain. What if Principal Zeus saw them? She wasn’t really defying his orders, since she wasn’t trying to join the boys’ games. Still, he hadn’t given them permission to try and start their own. In fact his exact words had been, “. . . the best way for you—for all girls—to enjoy the Games is from a seat in the bleachers.” Didn’t he realize how belittling that was? Their petitions just had to make him change his mind!
As the girls took their places behind the tables, Artemis’s three hounds settled in the shade under the chairs. Armed with their four pink papyrus petitions and pens, the goddessgirls waited for “customers.” It wasn’t long before a couple of girls wandered over. “What’s this all about?” asked a young goddess in a purple-flowered chiton. A wreath of purple crocuses sat atop her head.
“We’re gathering signatures to convince Principal Zeus to let us girls hold our own Olympics,” Artemis explained. “Want to sign our petition?”
“Hey,” said the second girl, whose chiton shimmered with all the colors of the rainbow. “We talked about how unfair it was that the Olympic Games are boys-only during lunch!” She frowned. “I wanted to slug this godboy who said he could just imagine the dumb events girls would want to add.”
“What were they?” Athena asked.
“I don’t remember all of them, but one suggestion was speed fingernail-painting.”
“That is so ridiculous!” scoffed Aphrodite. But then she looked thoughtfully at her own sparkly pink nails which, Artemis recalled, had been blue yesterday. “On the other hand,” Aphrodite joked. “That’s an event I might just have a chance at winning!”
They all laughed. “Where do we sign?” asked the first girl. Artemis and Persephone quickly shoved their petitions and pens across the table. The girl with the purple crocus wreath took Artemis’s green feather pen and signed her name—Antheia—with a flowery flourish. The other girl borrowed all four pens so she could print her name—Iris—using a different color for each letter.
“I wish we could ask Hera to sign,” said Athena, once they’d gone.
Artemis shook her head. “Zeus might find out. We need a bunch of signatures to show him before that happens.”
Just then Medusa and her sisters, Stheno and Euryale, marched up to the tables. “Give us some pens!” Medusa said in her usual bossy manner. “We’re signing!” For once the goddessgirls were happy to do as she requested. Aphrodite, Athena, and Persephone eagerly shoved their petitions and feather pens toward the three girls. As she was signing her name on Aphrodite’s petition, Medusa pushed down so hard that the tip of her pen punched a hole in the papyrus. A look of embarrassment flitted across her face.
“No problem,” Aphrodite said smoothly. She flipped the petition over. Touching a fingertip to the hole, she used a bit of magic to instantly mend the tear. “See, all better now.”
Quickly recovering from her embarrassment, Medusa said, “Hmph. You should’ve used thicker papyrus!” After she finished signing her name, she and her sisters flounced off.
The goddessgirls looked at one another. “Whatever,” said Persephone, which made them all laugh.
Before long, girls were lining up to sign. Artemis gleefully watched the signatures on her petition add up. She had fifteen already, including Aglaia’s and Pandora’s. If the others had about as many, that made sixty! She wondered how many girls attended MOA. She was about to ask Ath
ena, who was likely to know, when some girls in line started to giggle. Glancing up, she saw that a boy had sneaked into her line.
“Hi, Artemis,” said Actaeon. “How’s it going?”
Artemis felt her heart beat faster. Hardening it against him, she said coolly, “You here to make fun of me again?”
Grinning, Actaeon flattened both hands on his chest, acting surprised at the idea. “Are you kidding? I wouldn’t dare. You might turn me into something even worse than a stag!”
Artemis couldn’t help smiling back. “Like what? Just in case you annoy me again and I need some ideas.”
His grin widened. “Hmm. Next time I think I’d like to be something flashier. Maybe a Geryon?”
Artemis brushed the feathery tip of her pen on her chin, pretending to consider. “I think I’d go for something less daunting. Maybe a toad?”
He burst out laughing. “A toad? Give me a break!” Just then, Suez wiggled out from under the table and pushed his head against Actaeon’s leg. “Hey, boy.” Actaeon reached down to ruffle the fur on the hound’s neck. “You think maybe I should ask her to turn me into a dog next time?” The girls behind him drifted over to Athena’s line, when they saw he was going to hang around and chat. Suddenly, Actaeon straightened. His eyes looked into hers. “Listen,” he said solemnly, “I want you to know that I—”
But before he could finish, some athletes came along on their way back from the sports fields. Pointing at the girls’ poster, one of the boys grabbed his stomach and pretended to laugh like crazy. “Olympic Games for girls? Ha-ha-ha!”
Artemis recognized only two of the four boys—Makhai and Kydoimos—but all had skin that shimmered slightly, which meant they were immortals. “I can guess whose dumb idea this is,” Kydoimos said, jerking his thumb toward her. He snatched up her petition, running an eye over the list of names. “You haven’t gotten one single boy to sign—not even your own brother!” He tossed the petition down disdainfully.