Medusa the Rich

by Joan Holub

  Medusa grinned, knowing that the shopkeeper was referring to Dionysus. After she had told him how Mr. Dolos had tricked her, Dionysus had brought this guy back to MOA stuffed in a mail sack so he would have to face Medusa and her accusations.

  “Not at the moment,” she replied. Wouldn’t hurt to let him think that Dionysus was shopping somewhere nearby in the mall right now.

  She opened her bag. One by one she set the gold pot, the gold feather pen, and the bottle of gold fingernail polish on the counter. Seeing them, Mr. Dolos’s eyes glittered as brightly as the items, maybe more. His large, dark mustache twitched with greedy excitement as he asked, “And just how did you come by these?”

  “They’re not stolen, if that’s what you’re thinking. And never mind where I got them,” she told him. “Just tell me how much you’ll give me for them.”

  He looked the three items over, gauging their weight in the palm of his hand. Then he bit down on the pen, presumably to test if it was real gold. “Fifteen drachmas,” he said finally. It was an absurdly low figure, and they both knew it.

  “Ha!” she snorted. “Try adding a zero to the end and making it one hundred and fifty.” Was it too much? She wasn’t sure, but she was determined to make a better bargain with him than she had the last time.

  “Twenty,” he countered.

  “One hundred and twenty,” she shot back.

  “Thirty drachmas and not a penny more,” he said stubbornly.

  Medusa glared at him. “I don’t have time for this! I’ve got to meet my friend in a few minutes. So what’s your best and final offer?” she demanded. She hadn’t lied, since she did need to get back to the makeup shop to meet Pheme, but she hoped that the shopkeeper would think she was speaking about Dionysus.

  Mr. Dolos tugged nervously at the neck of his checkered tunic. “You drive a hard bargain, but all right, then. One hundred drachmas.”

  Was that good? Medusa wondered. Who cared? It was good enough! And she could always make more gold objects to sell whenever she needed to. She was rich! So she nodded. “It’s a deal.”

  Mr. Dolos counted out the coins and placed them in the palm of her golden-gloved hand. If he wondered why she wore just the one glove, and how come it was as gold as the objects she’d just sold him, at least he didn’t ask her any questions about it.

  With the hundred new drachmas safely stowed in her bag, Medusa hurried to the center atrium before going to meet Pheme. Next to a splashing fountain in the midst of some magical rhododendron bushes that bloomed with flowers all year round, she found the box for the Comicontest entries.

  Following the directions printed on a sign above it, she took an envelope from a holder attached to the box, scribbled her name on it using the pen provided, and then put the required fifteen-drachma fee inside. It had taken her way longer than normal to write with her left hand, but she’d managed it.

  After sealing the envelope, she tucked it under the ribbon she’d tied around her comic-scroll collection. Then she deposited her collection inside the box, which was so stuffed with entries already that she could barely fit hers inside.

  “There!” she congratulated herself. “Done and done!” Now she’d just have to hope for the best. Considering there were so many other entries, the competition could be stiff.

  Thinking about the eighty-five drachmas still in her bag, she practically skipped on air the whole way to Cleo’s Cosmetics. There she found Pheme in the process of paying the shop’s purple-haired, three-eyed owner for lip gloss as well as a few other items she’d picked out.

  “I’m going to look for a new chiton at the Green Scene. Want to help me choose something?” Medusa asked as the girls left Cleo’s. The Green Scene sold only green clothing. Stheno and Euryale shopped there all the time, but it had always been too expensive for Medusa. Until now, that was.

  “Woo-hoo! Somebody must’ve just gotten an increase in her allowance,” Pheme said, grinning at her. Medusa just shrugged happily, letting her think she was right. Pheme looped an arm through Medusa’s, adding “Sure. C’mon.”

  As they neared the Green Scene, Pheme pointed to a kiosk across the way. “Look, there’s Hermes.” Wearing winged sandals, a winged cap, and a long tunic, he was just leaving with an armload of packages. The Hermes’ Delivery Service kiosk was a new addition to the IM. It sold packaging supplies such as envelopes and boxes, and you could leave packages there for later delivery.

  “Looks like he’s off to his chariot to make more deliveries,” said Medusa. Hermes and his package-filled, silver-winged chariot were a familiar, daily sight at the Academy. Though he was always grumpy about taking on passengers, she had hitched a ride in his delivery chariot several times.

  Once the girls got to the Green Scene, Medusa tried on several chitons, all of them the newest style with sleek lines and flowing skirts. As she modeled them for Pheme, her friend oohed and aahed over them all, unable to decide which she liked best.

  Medusa’s snakes were able to give her a bit more feedback, however. They hissed at the chitons they didn’t like when she looked in the shop’s full-length mirror, but bobbed up and down excitedly when she modeled one they thought looked especially good on her.

  After trying on ten outfits, Medusa narrowed her selection to five. “They’re all cute,” Pheme agreed. “So which one will you get?”

  Medusa frowned. “I don’t know.” She checked the prices. Then slowly she smiled. “I think I’ll get all of them,” she said. And why not? The chitons were on sale. And besides that, she now had the means to buy everything she wanted, no matter what the price! So she also picked out pretty green ribbons for all of her snakes. There was nothing orange for Pheme, or Medusa would’ve gotten her something too.

  Feeling deliciously happy, Medusa took the chitons and the ribbons over to the counter. I’m riding high now! she thought. She had entered the Comicontest and hoped to win. And she had plenty of money and the means to get more. People were fond of saying that money couldn’t buy happiness, but they were wrong in her opinion—because money was making her mighty happy right now!

  As the Green Scene clerk was ringing up her purchases, the bell over the shop door rang. Medusa’s smile froze in horror as her two sisters walked in. Instantly their eyes fell on the pile of drachmas she was holding out to the clerk and all of the chitons spread over the counter.

  “Who died and left you a fortune?” grumped Stheno, coming over.

  “Yeah,” echoed Euryale. “Or did you just rob a bank?”

  8

  Trade-Offs

  HA!” MEDUSA SAID TO HER two sisters, giving a fake laugh. “Me robbing a bank? Very funny.” But inside her chest a panicky feeling was growing. As she finished paying the clerk, she tried to think of a convincing story to explain her newfound purchasing power. Her sisters knew just how small her allowance actually was. They knew there was no way on Earth or Mount Olympus that she could’ve saved enough to pay for those chitons, even on sale.

  Meanwhile the clerk was bagging her purchases. And Pheme was listening intently, probably hoping for some good gossip she could spread.

  “Well?” asked Stheno, tapping her foot impatiently. “Where did the money come from?”

  Out of nowhere a good answer came to Medusa. “Mr. Dolos,” she announced. Which was the truth, of course. “He owed me some royalties for using my picture on those toy shields he made a while back, remember?”

  This was also true, except Medusa had turned down the hundred drachmas in royalties he’d once tried to pay her because she’d been so disgusted at what he’d done with her image. He’d used it to scare people and had claimed the shields were magic when they weren’t!

  Seemingly satisfied with her answer, her sisters lingered nearby awhile longer. “Why are you wearing that glove?” Euryale asked as Medusa reached for the bag of five new chitons, which the clerk was now holding out to her.

  Pheme piped up. “She’s got a skin disease.” The words puffed from her lips to hang in the a
ir above her.

  The clerk, who hadn’t seemed fazed by Medusa’s snakes, now gave a little gasp and took a step back.

  “A skin condition,” Medusa corrected quickly. “And it’s not contagious. Just a bit of dryness and some flaking. That kind of thing.”

  Stheno grinned at Euryale. “Maybe she’s molting,” she joked. “Shedding her skin just like her snakes.”

  Euryale laughed gleefully. “Yeah. That’s got to be it!”

  Though her snakes hissed, acting annoyed on Medusa’s behalf, Medusa was happy to let her sisters have their little joke. It was better than them finding out the truth about her golden touch. “Right,” she said in a perky tone. “You got it in one!”

  “Really?” said Pheme, her eyes rounding in surprise.

  This cracked Stheno and Euryale up anew.

  “No. They were joking,” Medusa explained patiently.

  Stheno snorted. “Or maybe not. See you both back at MOA!” she called over her shoulder as she and Euryale headed farther into the store to look for clothes themselves.

  Phew, thought Medusa. Talk about a close call!

  When she and Pheme arrived back at the Academy a half hour later, Medusa said a quick good-bye and hurried to her room. After carefully hanging her new chitons in her closet and stashing her leftover drachmas in the back of her desk drawer, she decided to go do something she loved as much as Artemis loved archery. Swimming! Having grown up on the coast of the Aegean Sea with a sea monster for a mom and a sea hog for a dad, Medusa was a natural at it.

  In fact, she’d learned to swim almost before she could walk. And if earlier in the year some nasty sea nymphs hadn’t pushed her five-year-old kindergarten buddy into the school pool during a swimming race—thus necessitating a rescue—Medusa would have won that race. And she’d have also secured the right to accompany Poseidon down the aisle as a bridesmaid during Zeus and Hera’s wedding.

  Not that she minded in hindsight, she thought as she changed into her swimsuit and a cover-up and grabbed a towel. If she hadn’t played the hero and rescued her buddy that day, Dionysus might not have become her friend and crush. And he was a much worthier friend than Poseidon, in her humble opinion.

  Heading for the gym, she passed several students when she crossed the courtyard outside, but beyond a quick wave or a “Hello,” they left her alone. Which was just the way she wanted it at the moment. Out on the sports fields groups of students were heaving spears, shooting arrows at targets, and climbing up and down rope nets. More Temple Games practice.

  Once inside the gym, she took the limestone stairs two at a time down to the pool below. As godboy of the sea, Poseidon had created this underground pool and many others around Earth and Mount Olympus. He sometimes magically changed this pool’s shape for special MOA events. He’d made it heart-shaped for Zeus and Hera’s wedding, for example! And sometimes he added waterfalls, rocks, and various fishy creatures too.

  Today the pool was its usual rectangular shape, though, with braided sea grass ropes marking off the swim lanes. Medusa looked around as she pulled off her cover-up and towel and set them aside. Luckily, she was the only one there. She loved the times when she had the pool all to herself.

  Without thinking, she pulled off her glove and reached out to test the water’s temperature. As soon as her index finger grazed the surface of the water, she realized her mistake. She jerked her hand back. But it was too late. Already, gold sparkles raced across the pool, turning the water into something that resembled a huge golden butterscotch pudding.

  Medusa could only watch with alarm and regret as the golden “pudding” began to harden into solid gold. Quickly, she shoved her hand back inside her glove. Just why liquids should harden, while cloth stayed flexible, she wasn’t really sure. She only knew she was helpless to do anything about it! When she heard the basement door open, she threw on her cover-up. Several voices rang out, and footsteps clattered down the limestone steps, coming closer.

  Hide! her brain screamed. She grabbed her towel and looked around wildly. Spying a large basket for wet towels a short distance away, she raced over to it. After removing its lid, she jumped inside, finding it empty. Quickly she covered her head with her towel and lowered the lid into place.

  Just in time! Seconds later she heard a voice she recognized as Pandora’s call out, “Hey, what happened to the pool?”

  “It’s gold!” another girl shouted in astonishment. Was that Iris? Medusa wasn’t sure, and she didn’t dare lift the lid to peer out, in case someone saw her. She kind of wished she hadn’t hidden. She probably could’ve bluffed her way out of this, pretending the pool had been gold when she’d arrived. But now it would look suspicious if she leaped out of this basket. And even more suspicious if someone found her in here. Argh!

  “Think this is Poseidon’s doing?” asked a third girl.

  “Why would he want to make it so no one can swim here?” Pandora asked dubiously.

  “It’s kind of pretty, though,” said the girl Medusa thought might be Iris. “But rainbow-colored would be even prettier.”

  Definitely Iris. Medusa hunkered lower inside the basket until she finally heard the girls leave. Then she waited another few minutes before she climbed out and headed back to the Academy. Along the way she avoided eye contact with the students she passed, hoping no one would take notice of her swimming outfit and eventually put two and two together.

  No doubt the whole school would soon be buzzing over the mystery of the golden pool, she thought as she climbed the marble stairs to the dorm. She shuddered to think what might have happened if anyone had already been in the pool when she’d touched the water. Thank godness no one had been!

  With luck Poseidon would be able to change the hardened gold back to water without too much trouble. He was an immortal, after all. He could perform real magic. He wasn’t limited to the occasional quasi-magic of a stony gaze or a golden touch the way she, a mere mortal, was.

  As she slipped inside the dorm hallway—thankfully empty of girls at the moment—she tried to think of ways to waterproof her right index finger so she’d be able to swim if Poseidon ever managed to fix the pool. Sadly she faced the truth. That there was no way she could ever go swimming again, not even if she wore her glove or wrapped her finger in something else. She’d always worry that the water from the pool would leak through and the whole pool would turn to gold again.

  And the next time, someone else might be swimming. And maybe they would be turned to gold. What a horrible mistake that would be. Ye gods!

  Once back in her room, Medusa flung her unused towel onto her bed. To ease her disappointment about not being able to swim, she decided to try on all the new chitons she’d bought at the Green Scene again.

  Each time she modeled a different one before the mirror that hung on the inside of her closet door (while wearing her stoneglasses, of course), her snakes got caught up in the excitement. They did themselves up in various hairstyles—from braids, buns, and fancy chignons to spikes, twists, and crazy updos—all to complement her outfits. They were probably also trying to cheer her up after what had happened at the pool, she guessed. And it worked.

  “Thanks, guys. This golden-touch stuff is trickier than I thought it would be,” she admitted to them as she dug into their snake snack sack and tossed them dried peas and carrot curls. Snap! Snap! Snap! The treats were gone in an instant.

  “I should have figured there would be trade-offs, like not being able to swim,” she went on as she put away the snacks. “But it’s worth it, right? Just think, I’ll never have to worry about money again.” She wasn’t sure who she was trying to convince more—her snakes or herself.

  Seeming to sense her doubt, Wiggle and Sweetpea dropped their heads to nuzzle her cheek. The sweeties! She knew they were trying to reassure her that all would be well.

  Greatly cheered, she asked her snakes, “So, do you think I should wear one of my new chitons when Dionysus gets back tomorrow?” She felt all twelve snakes bob the
ir heads up and down in approval of the idea. But for now Medusa reached into her closet for the same old chiton she’d worn to the IM.

  “He’s going to be curious about my glove,” she murmured as she slipped the knitted green chiton over her head. “I won’t be able to lie to him about my so-called skin condition. He’ll guess the truth. Especially once word gets around about the solid-gold pool. Think I should admit what happened? That King Midas regretted the golden touch right away and passed it on to me?”

  Again her snakes all nodded. After a pause, she nodded too. “Okay, but let me pick the right moment to make my confession. Don’t give me away,” she told them.

  Just then someone pounded on her door. “Open up,” Stheno called out.

  “Yeah,” echoed Euryale. “Don’t keep us waiting.”

  With an irritated sigh Medusa let them in.

  “You lied to us,” Stheno accused right away.

  Medusa tensed up. “About what?” she asked, trying to make her voice sound casual. Had they found out about the pool and guessed about her golden touch?

  “That wasn’t royalty money Mr. Dolos gave you,” Euryale put in, wagging a finger in Medusa’s face.

  “Yeah,” said Stheno. “You sold him some stuff made of gold. He showed it to us.”

  Euryale frowned at Medusa. “And we want to know where you got it.”

  Rats, thought Medusa. It had never occurred to her that her sisters might check out her story. Conscious of her golden glove, she clasped her hands behind her back.

  Suddenly Stheno’s eyes darted to the pin on Medusa’s chiton. “Hey, I remember that jellyfish pin!” she exclaimed, poking a finger at it. “But it wasn’t gold before!”

  “You’ve got some explaining to do, Sister,” Euryale said, getting in her face. Carefully keeping her hands behind her, Medusa took a step back.