by Holub, Joan
Artemis searched her mind for a great comeback. Before she could come up with anything, a voice said, “’Scuse me, can I borrow a pen?” It was Actaeon!
“No way!” said Makhai, practically having a fit as Actaeon stepped closer to the table. “You’re not going to turn traitor on us, are you?”
“Yeah, we guys have to stick together,” added Kydoimos.
Artemis pushed the petition toward Actaeon, daring him. Aphrodite held out a pen. The goddessgirls held their breath as they waited to see what he would do.
Actaeon hesitated for a few seconds. Then, taking the petition, he quickly signed his name.
“Woo-hoo!” Athena cheered.
“Our hero!” crowed Aphrodite.
“Arghh!” one of the other boys moaned, as if he were dying.
“I can’t believe you just did that! Girls and Olympic Games don’t mix,” said Makhai.
Boom! Boom! The girls’ pens bounced on the tables as a giant loped toward them. Seeing him coming, Kydoimos muttered, “Just like gods and giants don’t mix.”
A giant shadow fell over their table. Artemis glanced up at the scar on the giant’s forehead. Otus! Quickly reading the sign, he bent and picked up a pen. It looked like a toothpick between his big fingers as he signed his name on Artemis’s petition. Then he stood and glared at the boys. “Why don’t you all mix yourselves on outta here?”
Makhai shrugged. “Big deal. Signatures from a mortal, and a giant who doesn’t even go to school here. I still don’t see any godboys signing! Come on, guys.” With that, the four immortals took off, snobbish looks on their faces.
“So . . . are you up for wrestling tonight?” Otus asked Artemis, as the other goddessgirls began discussing what had just happened.
“Um, I don’t know,” said Artemis, only half-listening as she tried to tune into her friends’ conversation too. “I think you might squash me, don’t you?”
The thin white line above Otus’s eyebrow shifted upward as he grinned. “I meant are you up for watching some wrestling. The practice match I told you about is tonight, remember?”
“Oh, right.” Sighing inwardly, she said, “Okay, I’ll be there.” She owed him one for adding his name to the petition, after all. Speaking of owing someone, where was Actaeon? She looked around, but he’d disappeared.
As more girls arrived, Otus took off too. “Awesome! See you!”
“Thanks for signing!” Persephone called after him. “Yeah!” Artemis added.
All four goddessgirls were buzzing with excitement now. Every time another girl came to sign, or another boy made fun of them, they quickly pointed out the two boy signatures they’d already gotten. Who cared if they weren’t from immortal boys? They were still from boys. But though they got plenty of girl signatures, no more boys would sign.
That night during dinner, Artemis watched for Apollo in the cafeteria, but he didn’t turn up. Gods-amighty! Where was he? She wanted to find out where she stood with him, especially after what he’d said in Revenge-ology. Had his loyalty shifted from her to his friends now? Or would he support her and sign the petition?
After saying good-bye to her friends, she spoke the twin chant under her breath, searching for Apollo with her mind. Only she couldn’t come up with a clear image of his whereabouts. Was he blocking her? Grr. Sometimes brothers could be so annoying!
Well, she didn’t have time to look for him now. She’d promised to go watch Otus wrestle. Leaving her dogs to nap in her room, she set off for the outdoor arena where the practice was taking place.
As she entered the circular arena, Artemis was surprised to see Athena sitting three rows up in the stands. But then she saw her wave at Heracles, who was seated on the athletes’ bench at the edge of the arena, and knew she’d come to support him. Coach Triathlon was there too. And, gulp, Principal Zeus. Had he heard about the petition? Quickly she ducked into the stands and went to sit by Athena.
Elbowing her, Artemis gestured to where the principal sat. “Do you think your dad knows what we’re up to?”
Athena shook her head. “No, I talked to him a minute ago, and he didn’t mention it.” Before they could discuss it further, a cheer went up from the crowd. The wrestlers were coming out onto the floor of the torch-lit arena. Artemis counted eight of them: Heracles, Atlas, Otus, Ephialtes, and four wrestlers she didn’t know from other schools. The boys began to warm up with stretches.
“Who is Heracles up against?” Artemis asked.
“Otus,” said Athena. “I’m a little worried. Even though Heracles is strong, a giant is . . . well, giant!”
“Otus won’t hurt him. I don’t think.”
Athena shuddered. “I’m just glad Heracles won’t be in the ring with Ephialtes. Those giants may be twins, but they aren’t much alike personality-wise, are they? I can’t see Ephialtes signing our petition!”
Artemis nodded. “Me either.” And he probably wouldn’t be any too happy if he knew his brother had signed it, she thought. She wondered if Otus had told him.
Heracles and Otus’s match was first. Before they began, they looked up at the girls and waved. Then they faced off against each other, looking serious.
Athena leaned closer. “Know much about wrestling?” she asked as Otus grabbed Heracles around the waist and lifted him in the air.
“Nope,” Artemis admitted.
“That’s called a throw for obvious reasons,” said Athena as Otus tossed Heracles toward the mat. He landed on both feet and moved quickly behind Otus. Reaching high, he grabbed the giant around the chest and pulled him backward toward his own chest. Though Otus was much taller and larger, Heracles was proving just as strong.
“Wouldn’t it be easier just to trip him?” Artemis asked.
“Tripping’s against the rules,” said Athena. “You can’t grab your opponent below the waist or hook his leg.”
“I see,” said Artemis, intrigued now. There was more to wrestling than she’d realized. She guessed it shouldn’t have surprised her that Athena knew so much about it. Whenever her brainy friend got interested in a subject, she immersed herself in it, learning all there was to know.
“The object is to pin your opponent’s shoulders to the mat and hold him down for at least three seconds,” said Athena as Otus broke free from Heracles’ hold.
When the match was over, Artemis was surprised to learn that Heracles had won, since neither he nor Otus had managed to pin the other. “It’s because he scored more points for the moves he made than Otus did for his,” Athena explained.
The boys shook hands good-naturedly, and then went to sit on the athletes’ bench. Artemis was glad to see that they got along even in a competition.
Ephialtes and Atlas were up next. As they began to grapple with each other, Hera appeared by the bleachers. A huge smile lit up Zeus’s face, and he waved her over. Just then, Ephialtes grabbed Atlas from behind and swung him up over his head as if the godboy weighed less than that giant tooth Ephialtes had lost. Beaming a smile, he spun Atlas around twice before tossing him to the mat.
“Atlas is losing, isn’t he?” said Artemis. “Your dad’s not going to like that.”
The girls peered down at Zeus and Hera, but it didn’t look like they were paying much attention to the match right now. From the way they were waving their hands around, it appeared their conversation was a heated one. Suddenly Hera frowned. Crossing her arms, she shook her head at Zeus emphatically.
“Whoa,” said Athena. “Are they fighting?”
Zeus said something to Hera. Even though the girls couldn’t make it out, there was no mistaking his sharp tone. She stood up as if to leave, but whatever Zeus said next must have changed her mind because then she sat back down. Zeus put his arm around her shoulders and she whispered something in his ear.
“Phew,” said Artemis. “I guess it wasn’t a big deal.”
“Guess not,” said Athena, relaxing. “She’s made Dad so happy. I’d hate to see things go back to how they were before he met h
er.”
“Everyone at MOA would hate that,” Artemis said sincerely. “Things were pretty bad around here after your mom buzzed off.”
“Yeah, no kidding!” Athena agreed. After Metis had gone, Zeus’s constant grouchiness had clouded everyone’s mood. “I wonder what they were arguing about.”
Artemis shrugged. “Who knows?” Their eyes were drawn back to the match when they heard a big thump. Ephialtes had tossed Atlas onto his back and pinned his shoulders to the mat, thus winning the match. He jumped to his feet, grinning, and then did a quick victory lap around the mat.
“Show-off!” muttered Athena.
As Ephialtes finished his lap, Atlas got to his feet. He held out his hand to offer his congratulations. Which was the sportsmanlike thing to do of course. Ignoring him, Ephialtes pumped his fists in the air. “I’m number one!” he shouted. Poor Atlas, who had been friendly to the giant in Revenge-ology class earlier, slowly lowered his hand. Looking embarrassed, he shuffled off to the athletes’ bench.
“What a bad sport!” Artemis huffed as the giant finally went to sit on the bench too.
“You can say that again,” said Athena. “I’m just glad Dad didn’t see.”
As Artemis glanced toward Zeus and Hera again, she saw they only had eyes for each other. Zeus said something that made Hera laugh, and in return, she kissed him lightly on the cheek.
Athena sighed in delight. “Aw, how sweet.”
Although she usually gagged over mushy stuff, Artemis nodded in agreement. She was glad Zeus was happy. Because when he was unhappy, it rained thunderbolts at MOA!
10
Keep Away
HALFWAY THROUGH THE NEXT MATCH, Artemis nudged Athena, “I’m going to go find Apollo. See you later.” They wiggled their fingers at each other as Artemis left. Once outside the arena, she squeezed her eyes shut and tried chanting again:
“Come, my twin, give me a clue—
a picture I can use to find you!”
After a few seconds, a vision of a room swam into view. It was blurry, though, so Apollo must still be blocking her, Artemis thought. Likely he was concentrating so hard on something else that he’d half-forgotten to shut her out. Now was her chance to find him!
She squinted, trying to figure out what she was seeing. Long things . . . breadsticks? No . . . batons? No! Textscrolls! Lots and lots of textscrolls on shelves. The MOA library? It had to be. Maybe he’d gone there to study for the Revenge-ology quiz. To tell the truth, she should be doing the same, not chasing after her brother!
Nevertheless, Artemis raced back to the Academy to look for him. Bursting through MOA’s front doors, she hurried up the hall and then downstairs to the library. “Apollo?” she called out as she entered.
Mr. Eratosthenes, the librarian, looked up. He was wearing some weird binocular-looking glasses, so she couldn’t see his eyes. A mapscroll lay unfurled on the desk before him, and it appeared he’d been making notations on it. His lips moved like he was saying something, but she couldn’t hear him. He was the quietest librarian—or person—she’d ever met.
Artemis glanced around the room, but except for Mr. Eratosthenes, the place was deserted. “Have you seen my brother, Apollo?” she asked.
Mr. Eratosthenes lifted a hand and focused his binoculars in her direction, as if to see her better. “Godboy? Taller than you, but same dark hair and eyes?”
His voice was too quiet to hear, but she’d read his lips this time. “Yes, that’s him.”
The librarian glanced around the room. “He’s not here,” he announced. At least that’s what she thought he’d said. Either that or “Bee snot fear,” and that made no sense. Refocusing the binoculars again, he went back to making notes on his mapscroll. Every time he wrote something, Artemis noticed that it caused the map to magically alter. Boundaries between lands shifted, seas grew or shrunk, and mountain ranges sprang up.
“Was he here earlier?” she persisted. Honestly, it was like pulling teeth to get anything out of this guy. Weren’t librarians supposed to help kids seeking information?
“Possibly,” he whispered, not looking up from his work. “Do you expect me to remember everyone who comes in and out of here?”
Ye gods, thought Artemis. The place was empty. Apparently Mr. Eratosthenes was so caught up in his mapscroll he couldn’t pay attention to the comings and goings of even one single student!
Artemis took a quick tour around the library on her own, but Apollo was nowhere to be found. She was sure he’d been here, though—she’d seen this place in her vision!
The library shelves were stacked high, but the most valuable and rare scrolls in here were housed in storage cabinets, called armaria. When Artemis noticed a scroll sticking out of a half-open door on one armaria, she went closer. She peeked at the scroll’s title: The Caves of Parnassus. Parnassus? Hmm. Why did that ring a bell?
Pulling out the scroll, she unrolled it atop the nearest table to take a look. Her eye was quickly caught by five fearsome words. “Cave of the Parnassus Python.” Aha! Now she recalled why the name “Parnassus” sounded so familiar. It was where the infamous Python was from! So Apollo hadn’t come here to study for their quiz at all. He’d been looking for information about the terrible serpent he planned to match wits with in the biggest, baddest event of the Olympic Games. The Python-o-thon!
Had he hoped to find out if the Python had any weaknesses? If that had been his goal, this scroll didn’t seem to offer any help. It described the serpent as a “frightful monster,” mentioning that it lurked in the Parnassus Caves and “did dreadful things to thin-legged sheep and their owners as well.”
Ye gods! Apollo didn’t own any sheep, but his legs were kind of skinny. Her concern for him increased. Would Python make a meal of her brother if they tangled?
Python couldn’t kill Apollo—he was immortal, after all—but what if it gulped him down whole? Her poor brother would have to remain in its stomach until it chose to barf him back up. And that would mortify him in front of his friends. It might take him ages to recover. Besides, who wanted to be barf, even for a few minutes!
Artemis rolled up the scroll and put it away, then closed the armaria. Squeezing her eyes shut, she whispered their chant, trying to see where Apollo had gone. But no image came. And that could only mean one thing: Apollo was playing Keep Away.
So that’s why the armaria had been left open, she realized. He’d felt her trying to “see” him and had left in a big hurry, figuring she was hot on his trail! Did he think she was going to take another stab at talking him out of entering the Python-o-thon? Or had he heard about the petition and didn’t want to sign it? Whatever the reason, Artemis was through chasing after him. He wasn’t the only one around here whose feelings could get hurt. If he didn’t want to see her, then fine. She’d leave him alone. Let him see how well he got along without her!
When she got back to her room, her dogs practically bowled her over as she opened the door. At least they were happy to see her! She sat on the floor and gave them all a group hug, burying her face in their cool fur. For some reason, she sort of felt like crying. She hated fighting with Apollo. Luckily, being with animals had always had a soothing effect on her and she eventually calmed down.
While she was setting out fresh dog food and water, someone knocked on her door. Hope surged up in her. “Apollo?” she called out. Even though boys weren’t supposed to visit the girls’ floor, they sometimes did. Like when they had important apologies to make to their sisters.
“No. It’s me,” said Aphrodite through the door.
“Oh. Come in,” said Artemis, hoping her disappointment didn’t show.
Aphrodite opened the door an inch at a time, edging inside while keeping a sharp eye on the dogs. She didn’t exactly dislike dogs, but she definitely wasn’t as fond of them as Artemis’s other friends. She didn’t like anything the least bit messy. Thinking about that made Artemis smile inwardly. It was a wonder that Aphrodite liked her!
“Want to
sit?” With a sweep of her arm, Artemis pushed the ratty chiton she slept in, plus a couple of arrows whose tips she’d been meaning to sharpen, and some other random junk, off her unmade bed and onto the floor.
Aphrodite’s fingers twitched and Artemis had a feeling she was itching to clean up the mess. “Uh, no. Thanks anyway,” Aphrodite replied. “I just have a sec. I’m meeting Ares downstairs. He wants me to time him in a practice run.”
“So late?” Artemis asked in surprise, glancing toward the darkness outside her window. Of course, the track would be lit up with torchlights.
“I think that’s the idea,” said Aphrodite. “He’ll have the whole track to himself. He said it’s hard to practice with those giants shaking the ground with all their stomping.”
“Is that what started yesterday’s fight in the hall?”
Aphrodite shook her head. “No. According to Ares, Ephialtes stepped on the heel of his sandal and tripped him. Ephialtes said it was an accident, but Ares thinks otherwise.” She sighed. “Putting two hotheaded guys together in one Olympics is a recipe for disaster. Especially if one is the god of war and the other is a bad-tempered giant. Anyway,” she said, changing the subject, “I wanted to ask if you think we should set up tables in the courtyard again tomorrow morning.”
“Definitely,” said Artemis. “We got a lot of signatures today, but we could use more. We can take turns manning the tables all weekend. If you see Athena and Persephone, tell them. Ditto, if I see them first.”
“Deal,” said Aphrodite, turning to go.
“Is that one of our petitions?” Artemis asked, noticing the pink scroll tucked under her arm. The other three were stashed in her quiver for safekeeping.
“Uh-huh.” Aphrodite smiled mischievously. “Speaking of deals, I told Ares we could do one. I’d time his run if he’d sign our petition.”
Artemis jerked her head back in surprise. “And he agreed?”
Aphrodite nodded.
“That’s amazing! He’ll be our first immortal boy to sign! And you only need to time his run?”