by Holub, Joan
“Sorry, guys. I’ve got a lot of training to cram into six days,” she told her sleepy snakes as she dove into the chilly water. She swam twenty lengths of the pool and, though pleased with her speed, was so tired afterward that she felt like wilted seaweed.
After swimming, the other girls had to spend time fixing their hair in the changing rooms. That was one of the great things about having snake hair, thought Medusa as she quickly got dressed. No primping needed. It always looked good!
On her way from the pool to class, she saw dozens of unfamiliar chariots parked on the gym side of the courtyard. She guessed they must belong to the guests who’d been arriving for the wedding ever since Saturday.
Hearing sharp words, Medusa turned to glimpse Zeus and Hera walking among the olive trees in the grove on the far side of the courtyard. They were deep in conversation and seemed unaware that Athena and Aphrodite were standing just outside the grove. Whenever other students passed by, the two goddessgirls acted like they were reading a textscroll they held between them. But this was only to hide what they were really doing—eavesdropping.
Suddenly Hera stopped cold and folded her arms in a way that showed she was mad. Was the happy couple arguing? How intriguing. Although Medusa didn’t spread gossip like Pheme, she loved knowing people’s secrets. Sometimes she could use them to her advantage.
Trying to act casual, she slowly swerved between students who were walking to and fro, and headed for the grove. Pausing to one side of the two goddessgirls, she bent down behind a potted lemon tree and pretended to tie her sandal. The goddessgirls were so busy listening in that they didn’t even notice her.
“And why shouldn’t I continue working at my wedding shop?” Medusa heard Hera ask.
“How will it look?” Zeus roared. “I don’t want kings and heads of state, or my friends, to think I’m so poor that my wife has to work. Besides, I want all of your attention, sugarplum.”
“Don’t ‘sugarplum’ me,” Hera said sharply. “I enjoy my job, and I plan to keep it after we marry. And that’s that.” She stalked from the grove. Zeus followed, hot on her heels, still arguing. Aphrodite and Athena shrank back, obviously hoping that Zeus wouldn’t see them and realize they’d been spying. Luckily for them, he didn’t.
“I wish she’d just quit her job,” Athena murmured when they’d gone.
“No way. You know your dad wouldn’t be happy with a wife who didn’t have her own interests,” Aphrodite insisted. “He just needs time to realize that. Remember his answers to my quiz?”
“What quiz?” Medusa asked, popping up from her hiding place.
The two goddessgirls looked her way in surprise. Then Athena pointed an accusing finger at her. “This is your fault.”
Medusa stiffened. “Me? What did I do?”
“You asked those questions at the Job-ology talk on Friday, that’s what. The ones about why goddesses bother to have careers,” said Athena. “If not for you, my dad wouldn’t have cared two figs about Hera continuing to work after they marry.”
“Right,” Aphrodite agreed. “And after all the trouble we took to find Hera for him—”
Medusa snapped her fingers. “Aha! I get it. You set Zeus up with Hera on purpose, didn’t you?”
“Yes, so don’t mess things up,” said Aphrodite. “It wasn’t easy getting him to fill out my Lonely Hearts quiz so we could decide who to match him with. Athena had to slip it into one of his scrollazines so he’d see it and—”
“So you tricked Zeus into answering a quiz?” Medusa interrupted. Tapping her chin with a fingertip, she smirked at them. “Interesting. I wonder what he would do if he knew.” With that she turned and headed for the school steps.
Athena and Aphrodite exchanged a look of alarm, then caught up with her. “We were only trying to find a companion who suited him,” said Aphrodite.
“He was so miserable after my mom left. Remember?” added Athena.
Athena’s mom was named Metis, and she was a real, actual fly that had lived inside Zeus’s head. After she’d buzzed off to find a new life some time ago, Hera and Zeus had gotten together at a school dance. It was apparent to Medusa now that Hera’s presence at the dance had been no mere accident. Reluctantly, she had to admit that Aphrodite’s matchmaking in this instance had been a success. When Zeus had been unhappy in his pre-Hera era, there’d been constant thunderstorms. Since he’d met Hera, the principal was all sunny smiles.
“You wouldn’t try to ruin things by telling him what we did, would you?” Athena asked anxiously. “Because if you cause trouble and my dad winds up unhappy again, you’ll be the most unpopular girl at school, and . . .” Her words drifted off as she seemed to suddenly recall that Medusa already was the most unpopular girl at school. “I mean—”
Athena’s words stung, even if they were true. “Don’t worry,” Medusa said crisply. “Your secret is safe with me.” Moving ahead, she started up the steps to the Academy’s front doors, but then called back over her shoulder, “For now, anyway!”
Smiling at having gotten the last word, Medusa raced up the rest of the steps. She burst through the bronze doors and then walked down the hall toward her first-period Hero-ology class.
Stirring up trouble didn’t exactly make her happy, but it did give her a feeling of power. And being a mortal, this wasn’t a feeling she got to enjoy very often. Besides, she still hadn’t forgiven Aphrodite for tricking Dionysus into dancing with her that night during Hero Week.
Medusa was jolted back to the present when Artemis’s dogs raced in front of her. She had to stop short to avoid a collision. Grrr. Those dogs were a menace, the way they were always dodging around students in the hallways. If she wouldn’t get in trouble for it, she’d sure like to turn them to stone. But she’d done that once before, and Athena had just changed them back.
Nearing the Hero-ology classroom, she found herself walking right behind Apollo and Dionysus. Immediately her mind returned to the Hero Week dance. She’d figured Dionysus was playing a joke on her that night, so she’d turned the tables and deserted him in the middle of their second dance.
She’d hoped he would be embarrassed when he discovered he was out there dancing alone. However, two other girls had quickly joined him after she’d left, foiling her attempt at revenge. And when he’d finally whipped off his blindfold, they were who he’d seen. Now she wasn’t sure if he even knew he’d been dancing with her earlier. But maybe someone had told him afterward. It would explain why he’d been staring at her so much lately.
“You know Ariadne, that girl I chose for my bridesmaid?” Dionysus said to Apollo as they walked ahead of Medusa. “Her family had to return home. Some problem with their pet Minotaur going on a rampage.”
“Whoa! Guess you better look for a new bridesmaid,” Apollo told him as they split up. “Later.”
Apollo headed a few doors down to Philosoph-ology. Dionysus went into Hero-ology, and Medusa followed. The two of them walked around the edge of the giant game board table on one side of the room. It was a three-dimensional map with roads, valleys, villages, and castles. Small hero statues acted as game pieces, and real-life little scaly beasts peeked from the map’s seas and oceans.
As they always did when they passed by, her snakes hissed at the sea snakes in the miniature Mediterranean Sea. Overhearing, Dionysus smiled back at Medusa. He had really cute dimples when he did that, she noticed. “So I’m guessing hair sssnakes and sea sssnakes are enemiesss?” he quipped.
Was he making fun of her snakes? Unsure, she ignored him and continued on to her desk.
After she sat down, she immediately began organizing her stuff. Glittery green nail polish went on one corner of her desk. (She usually painted her nails during class while using Athena, whose desk was in front of hers, as a shield to hide from the teacher.) Her notescroll went in the center of her desk, and her feather pen beside it. Setting her bag on the floor, she then glanced up to find Dionysus standing there, staring at her.
“What?�
�� she demanded, frowning.
He laughed. “Hey, don’t look so excited to see me!”
“Do you want something?” she asked. Tapping her fingernails on the desktop in irritation, she braced for a crack about her snakes or herself. Why couldn’t he just leave her alone?
Looking suddenly shy, and maybe a bit nervous, too, Dionysus shifted from one foot to the other. The most famous actor at the Academy—shy? That didn’t make sense. He was the star of every play in Drama-ology and was used to being the center of attention. She stared into his purple eyes and was startled to see his cheeks flush.
“Well, I was just wondering if you might . . .” He shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his tunic. But before he could finish delivering whatever joke or insult he must’ve had in mind, Aphrodite and Athena appeared, taking the seats in front of her and across the aisle. “Uh. Never mind,” he told Medusa. After saying hi to the two goddessgirls, Dionysus ambled off to his own seat with his usual happy-go-lucky smile back in place.
“Attention, class!” Hearing the teacher’s voice, Medusa looked over to see Mr. Cyclops holding up a listscroll at the front of the room. “As you know, many dignitaries, immortals, kings, and heroes from other realms are visiting MOA this week to await Sunday’s big wedding. Many have brought their families, including some preschool-age children.
So in the interest of strengthening our relations with other cultures, you have each been paired with a kindergarten buddy. Your assigned buddy will be your responsibility during my class all this week. Starting today.”
Realizing that this probably meant no regular class assignments or homework that week as well, a cheer went up among the students. Mr. Cyclops smiled slightly. “As you’ve evidently guessed, our usual class activities will be suspended until next Monday.”
Striking a dramatic pose, Dionysus clasped his hands over his heart and let out a deep sigh. “My heart is breaking,” he joked. “So, no test tomorrow?”
“Right. I know it’s a huge letdown, but try to bear up,” Mr. Cyclops replied, the single big eye in the middle of his forehead twinkling. Then he looked toward the door, which had just opened. “Ah! Come in, Ms. Hydra,” he said. “And bring your charges. Welcome, children!”
Ms. Hydra slithered in, her nine heads bobbing and weaving as she herded the energetic five-year-olds into the room. Once they were all inside, she bade a relieved farewell and slithered away again, shutting the door behind her. Without her many-headed supervision, the kindergarteners began running wild in the classroom. They examined everything, crawling under desks, and tripping over the older students’ feet.
Some of these kids were mortal. Hmm. For a split second Medusa imagined curbing the wildness in the room by turning them to stone. Would anyone really blame her? Reluctantly, however, she slipped on her stoneglasses and gazed warily at the newcomers. Who wanted a kindergarten buddy? Not her.
“Oh, aren’t they adorable?” she heard Aphrodite coo. Athena nodded, like one of the GodsBobble dolls she’d seen at Gods Gift. Medusa rolled her eyes.
Mr. Cyclops began calling off sets of names from his list. Poseidon got a sea monster’s son named Cetus as his kindergarten buddy. Dionysus got Perseus, a mortal boy whose parents owned the Perseus Shield Market on Earth. And Pheme got a mortal girl. Aphrodite and Athena seemed thrilled with their cute curly-haired buddies, two sea nymphs named Thetis and Amphitrite.
By the time Mr. Cyclops got to Medusa, all the other students had been matched with a buddy. There was only one little girl left. Her dark eyes sparkled and her black hair had been divided into dozens of braids, each one tied with a ribbon. “This is Andromeda, a princess from Ethiopia,” Mr. Cyclops told Medusa. “She’ll be your buddy.”
The little girl took one look at Medusa and then burst into tears. “You can’t make me go with her!” she shouted. Then she dashed into the supply closet and slammed the door shut behind her. Everyone turned to stare at Medusa, as if this were all her fault. Most kids were leery of her snakes.
Most grown-ups too. Oh, well. It was no skin off her green nose if she didn’t have a buddy. For all she cared, the little girl could just stay in the closet! But then she felt Poseidon’s eyes on her, waiting to see what she would do.
Not wanting to risk his disapproval, she sighed. “I’ll get her.” As she walked over to the closet, the rest of the class returned their attention to their own kindergarteners. Some picked up books to read together; others got out games or art stuff.
Medusa opened the closet door and peeked inside. The little girl was curled up in a corner sucking her thumb. Using her friendliest voice, Medusa said, “Come on, don’t be scared, Andromeda. My snakes won’t hurt you.”
The thumb popped out. “I’m not ascareduhsnakes. Unless they bite. Do they bite? Does it hurt to have them? Can they talk?” This kid asked as many questions as Pandora!
“Um, no,” Medusa replied, answering all three questions at once.
The girl scooted forward, walking on her knees. “Can I pet ’em, then?” Standing, she reached out.
Medusa recoiled. No one had ever dared touch her snakes. Except Heracles, who’d tried to strangle them once—the jerk. Her snakes froze, unsure how to react either.
The girl put her hands on her hips, acting tough, but also looking a little hurt at Medusa’s hesitation. “Okay. I guess. If you really want to,” she told Andromeda at last. She kneeled down and bent her head.
Despite their initial uncertainty, the snakes seemed to take to the girl. Some wound around her wrist like bracelets, others gently flicked their tongues out to tickle her cheek. Andromeda giggled. A good sign. “Do they have names?” she asked, petting them.
No one had ever asked her that before either! “Yeah,” said Medusa, beginning to feel flattered by Andromeda’s interest. She pointed to each snake in turn, introducing them. “They’re names are Viper, Flicka, Pretzel, Snapper, Twister, Slinky, Lasso, Slither, Scaly, Emerald, Sweetpea, and Wiggle.”
After the girl had satisfied her curiosity and petted each snake, Medusa stood, trying to think up a way to get her out of the closet. “I don’t think my snakes like it in here. So could you maybe come out? We could join your friends and you could teach them the names of my snakes.” It would be something to do, at least. She’d never had a kindergarten buddy before. How was she supposed to know what to do with one?
“Don’t have any friends. I’m new,” Andromeda informed her.
“New at your school, you mean?”
Andromeda nodded. Taking Medusa’s hand, she allowed herself to be led into the classroom. Medusa immediately noticed there was an empty spot between Poseidon and Heracles at the Hero-ology game board. What luck! She steered her buddy in that direction.
“Make way! For I am the brave-hearted Perseus!” a boyish voice piped up. Medusa and Andromeda both jumped out of the way of the shaggy-haired little boy. He was riding on Dionysus’s back, his legs looped around the godboy’s waist as Dionysus pretended to gallop around.
“And I’m his winged sea horse,” Dionysus informed them, his purple eyes twinkling. “We are riding the wild waves of stormy seas in search of a dangerous mission. And it looks like we found one, right, Perseus? Two princesses in need of rescue!”
Andromeda’s eyes got big, and she squealed so loud that Medusa winced. “Princess Rescue is my favorite game ever!”
Dionysus sure was good with kids, Medusa thought. And he was right that she’d needed rescue—from not knowing what to do with her buddy! Within minutes she was following Andromeda’s lead, pretending to be locked in a tower that stood upon an island in the middle of the sea.
“Oh, no! Waves are crashing all around us,” Andromeda said in an excited voice, her imagination running wild. “And look! A scary serpent is swimming our way!” She pointed to Poseidon’s sea monster buddy, Cetus, who had left the game board to come join in their game instead. Poseidon was right behind him.
Yes! thought Medusa, carefully acting un-thrilled about he
r crush’s arrival.
“How will we ever escape?” Andromeda asked in pretend alarm, still focused on their game.
“We’ll save you, won’t we?” Perseus asked Dionysus as they galloped to their rescue.
“You bet, partner!” Dionysus assured him. He was taking all kinds of detours, trying to make the trip to reach them seem long and treacherous, which Perseus loved.
“Or maybe we could figure out a way to save ourselves,” Medusa suggested to Andromeda.
“No! That’s not how it works,” Andromeda said, insisting that they wait for the boys to help them. Leaning back, she looked up and yelled to Medusa’s snakes. “Come on, snakeys. Help us get them over here before we are chomped to smithereens!”
Medusa felt her snakes wiggling around, and figured they must be making directional signals. Dionysus pretended to misunderstand, making hilarious wrong guesses about what the snakes were trying to tell him, which made Andromeda giggle.
Even though it was dumb, Medusa did think this game was kind of fun. But then, how could you not have fun with Dionysus around?
“You’re a real snake charmer,” Poseidon said, winking at Andromeda. His sea monster buddy was now making growly noises and trying to look dangerous as he “swam” around the girls.
“I’m not a snake charmer. I’m a princess,” Andromeda informed him. “The prettiest princess in the whole sea!”
Poseidon’s eyes narrowed, and he frowned. “Oh, is that so? Because I’m the god of the sea, and—”
“You’re a big fat liar,” Cetus butted in, glaring at the little girl. Across the room Aphrodite and Athena’s sea nymph buddies scowled and nodded in agreement.
Uh-oh. It was never a good idea to announce that you were beautiful around immortals or fantastic beasts. Someone always took offense and wanted to argue about it.
“It’s true!” Andromeda insisted, glaring at Cetus. “My mom says I’m so pretty I could be in Hera’s wedding.”
Now Dionysus’s little buddy spoke up. “I think so too,” said Perseus.