Pallas the Pal

by Joan Holub

  Achilles nodded, handing her one of the shields. “And in the end the two best competitors will be pitted against each other, and a grand prize winner will be chosen.”

  “That’ll be me!” Pallas said. She was half-joking, but she also knew that confidence was half the battle. Grinning, she lifted the shield and punched it high overhead as if in victory.

  Overhearing, Eurynome did the same with the shield she held and called out, “You wish!”

  Pallas waved at her, and they both laughed. The two boys frowned and moved Pallas and Eurynome to practice areas that were farther apart. These guys were friends, but they obviously took their training seriously. She guessed they didn’t want her and Eurynome fooling around during practices. They each considered the girl they were working with to be their champion and wanted her to shine the brightest in the competition.

  “Okay, so where’s your sword?” Achilles asked her when they reached a new spot.

  “I brought two.” Pallas bent and opened her sports bag. First she whipped out her dad’s sword in one hand. Then she pulled out a banged-up sword she’d gotten from school—the kind newbie swordplayers used—in her other. Her dad’s was iron, and the school one was bronze. Both were fairly bendable metals, unfortunately.

  Achilles’ eyes widened in horror at the sight of the awful swords, but at least he didn’t say anything mean.

  She grinned at him. “So you can see why I want to win that sword on the poster.”

  He nodded, grinning back. “Yeah. Definitely. But sheathe your blades. Today we’ll practice with these.” He whipped out two wooden swords from his bag.

  “Wood swords?” she scoffed, taking the one he handed her and making an ick face. “These are for babies. I thought you were invincible. Which means I couldn’t accidentally hurt you if we use real blades, right?”

  “But I could hurt you. And even wood swords can result in bruises or cuts. Pain from hits too. In the real competition all the blades will be bespelled to prevent lethal injury, though.”

  She opened her mouth to interrupt.

  “I’m not doubting your skills,” he assured her before she could speak. “I’d even bet you could teach me a thing or two. But you can learn from me, too. I’ve been trained by immortals who’ve seen real combat with giants, beasts, and other immortals. So let’s do things my way for now.”

  “Okay,” said Pallas. What he’d said made sense. She was glad he wasn’t all pompous or acting like a know-it-all at least. When she glanced over at Eurynome, her friend did not look happy. Pallas had a feeling Agamemnon was not going to prove as tactful or patient a teacher as Achilles.

  “Take your starting position,” instructed Achilles.

  Pallas did, right arm bent with the shield clasped in her right hand. She gripped the hilt of her wooden sword in her left fist. The hilt consisted of a handle and a short metal bar called a cross guard, meant to protect her hand. The sword’s blade was long and flat, but its end was blunt, not pointed.

  “Wooden swords just feel so . . . baby,” she couldn’t help complaining. “We use these in first grade here at my school.”

  He ignored her complaint and said, “You’re left-handed, huh? Let me see your grip.”

  She moved her shield a bit to show him how she held the sword, with her fingers and thumb gripping the handle. He eyed her hand critically, then hooked her forefinger in a different position through the protective ring that extended out from the cross guard.

  For a second they were practically holding hands! Whoa, where had that thought come from? Usually, she didn’t think much about boys at all. Pallas found herself flushing again and hoped he hadn’t noticed. She wasn’t starting to crush on this boy, was she? She shook off the thought. No, they were here to practice.

  “That’s a better hold. It’ll give you more control of the blade,” Achilles approved. “Now show me your stance again.”

  With her left arm bent, Pallas held the sword so its point was higher than the handle. In her right hand she clasped the shield, holding it slightly out from her body as protection.

  “Good,” he pronounced. He grabbed a shield and sword and took his stance across from her. “Ready? On guard!”

  They went on the attack with their blades, making cutting and thrusting moves. Pallas lunged. Thunk! Their wood swords made contact.

  “Remember, it’s not just about skill,” Achilles cautioned her at one point. “It’s about theatrics. During the competition, try to create the illusion of danger even when you know you can’t be killed by the bespelled swords. Perform flourishes. Excite the crowd. That could discourage your opponent and help you win points. Now, let’s begin again.”

  “Okay, good tip, thanks,” replied Pallas. This time she varied her approaches. She swung her left hand, making cuts toward the left and right of her opponent. Sometimes she thrust out with the flat of her blade, and other times with its edge. Seeing an opening, she swung her sword hard, pivoting her elbow in a circular movement. Catching Achilles unawares, she struck his shoulder. He jerked away, stumbling in surprise.

  “Sorry,” she said, hoping she hadn’t injured him.

  “Don’t be,” he said. “That was amazing.” Then he did that hair-flicking thing again to shake his bangs out of his eyes. Eyes that were a sparkly green. “Obviously I underestimated your ability. Let’s keep on.”

  Achilles was actually kind of cute, she decided. Way nicer than he’d seemed back at the IM, too. And less bossy than his friend for sure.

  She glanced over at Eurynome and Agamemnon again. They were sparring, but judging from Eurynome’s frown, Pallas guessed her friend wasn’t thinking good thoughts about her own coach. Far from it. As Achilles and Pallas continued doing drills, she came to appreciate his knowledge and skill. He had all sorts of small suggestions that added up to a big help, like that change in her grip. It was giving her more directional control over the swing of her blade.

  In the middle of a swing, a strange glittery breeze suddenly blew past her face, carrying a rolled-up piece of papyrus. A message for Pallas from Mount Olympus! the wind howled.

  “I’m Pallas,” she called, losing focus on the bout for a second.

  “Gotcha!” Achilles announced softly.

  Her eyes widened as she gazed down at the point of his sword. It was planted dead center at her chest. “I guess I’m glad you suggested wood swords after all,” she told him.

  Apparently Agamemnon had been watching from across the lawn. He started to laugh. “Oops! You’re dead!”

  Eurynome said something to him. He shrugged but continued to chuckle.

  “Meanie,” Pallas muttered under her breath.

  Achilles laughed in a good-humored way and withdrew his blade. “You got distracted. Understandable. Letterscrolls from immortals don’t arrive every day.”

  “True!” Hastily Pallas dropped her sword and chased down the scroll, which was bouncing along the ground, still blown by the breeze. She unrolled it. It was from Athena! A thrill shot through her as she scanned it:

  I need you, Pal. Let me know if you can come to MOA today, and I’ll send one of the MOA chariots.

  ~ Athena

  Athena needed her? Humph. Pallas couldn’t help feeling a little miffed. Where had Athena been when she had needed her yesterday and in recent weeks, huh? Athena shouldn’t just think that Pallas would jump whenever she bothered to call. “Maybe I’m busy,” she grumbled.

  Achilles walked over. “Problem?”

  “Nuh-uh. Not really.” Pallas rolled up Athena’s invitation and dropped it into her sports bag.

  “Listen,” Achilles said, sounding more serious. “You’ll lose the competition for sure if you get distracted in a real battle like you did back there.”

  “I’ll never be in a real battle,” said Pallas, meaning a war.

  “I meant in a real competition battle,” said Achilles. “We’re a team, both in this to win it. You need a new sword, obviously. But the truth is . . .” He lowered his vo
ice, then continued. “I want Briseis back from Agamemnon. And he wants that grand prize sword. So I figure if you win the prize sword for me, I can trade it to him for what I want.”

  “And if Eurynome or someone else wins the prize instead?” Both girls planned do their best.

  “Well, you and I are going to train our hardest out here so that that won’t happen. Deal?”

  “Sure.” She scrunched her face in confusion. “Only, why’d you give Briseis to Agamemnon to begin with if that was the sword you really wanted?”

  Achilles brushed the grass with the tip of his wooden sword. “It’s complicated,” he said. “Agamemnon can get supercompetitive and jealous, especially when it comes to my whole invincible thing. It’s my fault—I shouldn’t have let him see how much I wanted that sword. Usually I’m more careful. I know I’m making him sound bad to you, and he can be a bully sometimes. But I’ve known him forever and he has stuck by me when I needed him in the past. I don’t ditch my friends.”

  She cocked her head at him. “What kind of a friend leads you into trouble? I overheard him say you were on suspension from swordplay competition, and I’m betting whatever happened was his fault.”

  Achilles shrugged. “Yeah, long story. There was this cool spear he liked—the only one of the new Clytemnestra brand at our school. Another guy claimed it to use in a gym class competition and scored better than him. Let’s just say trouble ensued. The upshot was that we all got temporarily suspended for bad sportsmanship.”

  Pallas raised her eyebrows but didn’t say anything. It wasn’t her business to tell him that his best bud was kind of rotten. “I’ll be more careful about not getting distracted in the real bouts. Promise,” she told him.

  Taking her position, she faced off with Achilles again, her blade and shield at the ready. “On guard!” she warned with fierce determination. The rest of the afternoon passed swiftly as both teams worked industriously. By the time they’d finished, Pallas was sweating, her breath coming in hard gasps.

  “Good work, champ,” Achilles told her, looking pleased.

  “Thanks, Coach,” she said, grinning at him.

  As the boys got ready to leave, Achilles asked Agamemnon, “How did it go?”

  “Eurynome needs work, but I’m bringing her up to speed.” Agamemnon glanced over at the two girls. “Right, Eurynome?”

  Eurynome shrugged and muttered something under her breath.

  “At least she didn’t almost wind up a shish kebab at the end of my sword like Pallas did on yours,” Agamemnon went on, not seeming to care that he was being kind of insulting to his friend and to Eurynome both, in Pallas’s opinion.

  However, when Agamemnon laughed at his own joke, Achilles just smiled and clapped him on the back. Though Pallas couldn’t understand why Achilles remained friends with the guy, she supposed it was commendable that he stuck by his bud, even if Agamemnon was a selfish bully.

  After the boys lifted off for the IM, the girls began to head home on foot. “Wow! That was some workout,” Pallas remarked to Eurynome.

  “Yeah.” Eurynome’s face was tight and her voice quiet.

  “You okay?” Pallas asked her.

  “Just tired. Of Agamemnon.” She glanced at Pallas and rolled her eyes. They both laughed. “I’m learning a lot, but he’s really full of himself. I’ve decided not to let it get to me, though. I simply nod and smile. He probably thinks that means I agree with everything he says.”

  Pallas laughed again. “Probably.”

  Eurynome glanced at Pallas’s bag as the two girls neared their village. “So that letterscroll you got. I’m guessing it came from Athena since you don’t really know any other immortals and they’re the ones who send them.”

  Pallas nodded and then told Eurynome about the invitation to visit MOA and her decision not to go. “I’m a little mad that she seems to think I should always be at her beck and call.” Then Pallas sighed and admitted softly, “I do miss her, though. Every now and then something interesting or just silly will happen, and I wish I could tell her. Or I think of something that would make her laugh, but I can’t tell her that, either. And then I get sad.” The words just poured out, before she could stop them.

  “Aw, I’m sorry,” Eurynome empathized, leaning sideways to gently bump Pallas’s shoulder with her own. “And I know what you mean. I miss my BFF back at my old school too.”

  Pallas looked at her in surprise. She had never considered that Eurynome might have a BFF that Pallas knew nothing about. She hadn’t really noticed Eurynome when she had first come to Triton. Because Athena had still been around.

  “I guess you can understand what I’m going through, then,” said Pallas.

  “Yeah, but my BFF wasn’t a goddessgirl,” Eurynome noted. “That’s got to make it extra hard for you. Immortals are so amazing and out of reach, with tons of friends and admirers. It’s not easy to compete for her attention, right?”

  “Exactly,” said Pallas, pleased that Eurynome “got” it. “There are constant reminders of her success in Teen Scrollazine. I’m proud of her, don’t get me wrong. Still, I can’t help feeling abandoned. It’s like I just get scraps of Athena now, when I used to have all of her.”

  “You have me, though,” Eurynome said gently.

  Pallas nodded. But no one will ever replace Athena, she thought. She hoped Eurynome knew that, because Pallas wouldn’t want Eurynome to get her hopes up about them becoming BFFs.

  Yet lately Pallas had been thinking that Eurynome was becoming a really, really good friend. They did have fun doing stuff together, and they both loved Cheer Blades. Athena had liked swordplay too, but not as much as Eurynome did.

  Although Pallas really liked Eurynome, she still missed Athena too much to let anyone get as close to her as Athena had always been. And even though she knew it was wishful thinking and pretty unlikely, in her heart she secretly kept hoping that someday Athena would move back to Triton and everything would go back to how it used to be.

  6

  The Big Day

  Athena

  IT WAS SATURDAY A WEEK later, on the morning of the Greek Fest. Athena tiptoed around her shadowy dorm room, trying not to wake Pandora since the sun wasn’t even up yet. She sighed, hunting through her closet for her lucky aegis, a large collar with a shield attached that protected her chest. Where was it?

  Then she remembered. Oh yeah, her dad had borrowed it last week for a ceremony at one of the many temples dedicated to him. He’d promised to return it to her, but he’d gotten a little distracted since then with the arrival of Hebe. Athena needed it today, though, for the reenactment competition. Could she depend on him to bring it? She’d have to, because there was no time to go find him right now. He was probably asleep anyway, like Pandora.

  Quickly Athena went over to her desk and sent Zeus a messagescroll reminding him to bring the aegis to the festival this morning. She used lots of exclamation points to emphasize how important this was. Leaning out her window, she released the scroll on a magic breeze that would take it to him.

  She crossed her fingers that the message would do the trick and Zeus wouldn’t forget like he’d forgotten their sword practice. He was acting pretty irresponsible lately, and goofy, too. Earlier in the week she’d seen him in his office, swinging his arms like a monkey and jumping from his desk to the chairs to make Hebe giggle. It was like all he wanted to do lately was play.

  Athena pulled a shirt of armor from her closet and slipped it over her head just in case he forgot the aegis despite her reminder. The armor was blue and gold, which matched the chiton she wore underneath. She fastened on gold wristbands and her owl earrings, hoping they would lend her wisdom today. Finally she slipped on golden sandals and shin guards. She smiled at her image in the closet door mirror, thinking Aphrodite would likely approve. She looked ready for battle, yet chic!

  A dog began barking down the hall. It had to be one of Artemis’s dogs, since hers were the only dogs in the dorm. Athena glanced at Pandora, hoping the
barking wouldn’t wake her. A door closed and she heard footsteps and the click of doggie toenails out in the hall. Artemis must be taking her hounds outside for an early morning run.

  Athena bent to reach under her bed for the sword she’d bought at Mighty Fighty. She hadn’t fastened one of her wristbands properly, and it fell off to the floor. Clink!

  Abruptly Pandora sat up in bed and pushed back a strand of blue-streaked hair that had fallen over one eye. It boinged back into its usual question-mark shape. “Going somewhere?” she asked sleepily.

  “Greek Fest today, remember?” replied Athena. Standing with the sword, she fastened the wristband correctly this time.

  Pandora yawned. “Oh? What time is it?”

  “Five,” said Athena.

  “In the morning? Are you crazy? That’s way too early for me, but I’ll be there when the gates open, okay? See you later?”

  “Sure, go back to sleep.”

  Pandora took her advice, snuggled in her covers, and went back to snoozing. Meanwhile, Athena headed out of the dorm in the dark and flew on winged sandals down to Athens. She landed at her temple complex just as the sunrise lit the horizon pink.

  She and her three BFFs had spent every afternoon here this week setting things up, but there were still many details that needed to be taken care of. Quickly Athena pulled out her checklist and got busy, darting here and there to make sure things were in order.

  Over the next few hours her friends arrived to help out. Persephone was in charge of decorations and had gathered enormous bouquets of irises, daffodils, chrysanthemums, and daisies. She placed them in urns around the perimeter of Athena’s main temple, the Parthenon, and at the base of its front steps.

  “That looks mega-amazing,” Athena complimented her as she was walking by.

  Just then Artemis came out of the temple carrying an upside-down helmet. It was an oversize one that Athena recognized as belonging to Mr. Cyclops, their oversize Hero-ology teacher.

  “Here you go: the first sixty-four scrolls. I wrote out the name of a historical battle and the name of a person who fought in that battle on every scroll, and then Aphrodite tied a ribbon around each one, see?” Artemis tilted the big helmet toward the other two goddessgirls, showing them that it was full of small beribboned papyrus scrolls.