Pheme the Gossip

by Joan Holub

  “Another spell? I don’t like the sound of that,” said Pheme. But what choice did she have? None, that’s what. Once Athena removed the red-handed spell, at least Pheme wouldn’t have to walk around hiding her hands anymore. Or worry about soup sloshing on them.

  “Okay. Two spells, then,” Pheme agreed. “A red-removal one. And a no-gossip one.” She stuck both hands out toward Athena, accepting the challenge.

  And the two spells were cast.

  7

  Charades

  WHEN PHEME WOKE THE NEXT MORNING, SHE peered into the mirror above her spare desk. She’d expected to look and feel different somehow, knowing she was now under Athena’s anti-gossip spell. But she looked and felt just like her regular self. And that included normal hands, thanks to Athena’s red-removal spell.

  Humming a little tune, she got dressed, and then headed to the cafeteria for breakfast. On her way down the marble staircase, she passed Pandora going back up.

  Before Pheme could even say hi, Pandora stopped dead and fixed her with a glare. “Athena told me what you did?” she said, making her statement sound like a question. It was something the curious girl couldn’t seem to help doing, especially when she was excited or upset. Which she definitely was now!

  “I can’t believe you!” Pandora went on, her voice rising with anger. “You snooped in our room?”

  “I’m sorry,” said Pheme, meaning it. “I won’t do it again. And don’t worry,” she added, hoping to smooth things over with her friend. “I didn’t find anything. Nothing juicy, anyway.”

  Then, remembering the note Heracles had sent Athena with the row of Xs and Os at the bottom, Pheme’s brown eyes began to twinkle. “Except, there was that note Athena got from—” A sudden tickle in her throat made her cough. Then, to her embarrassment, she made some really odd sounds: “Croak, honk!”

  She paused in surprise, then continued on. But the rest of the words she’d intended to say came out all weird: “—from a pair of fleas.”

  Pandora’s head jerked back. “Huh? What’s wrong with you?” she asked, reading the cloud-words that had formed above Pheme’s head.

  Pheme glanced upward too. She frowned. “Wait! That’s not what I meant to say!” She’d meant to say “from Heracles” not “from a pair of fleas.” She tried again, but the cough returned. And the sounds: “Croak, honk, honk!”

  Pandora giggled uncertainly. “What’s up with you today? Got a frog in your throat? Or maybe a honking goose?”

  “Ha. Ha,” said Pheme. “Not.” Then she snapped her fingers as something dawned on her. “I get it! That spell must be mixing up my words to stop me from gossiping!”

  “What spell?”

  “Athena’s. Didn’t she tell you? She put an anti-gossip spell on me. It’s just for twenty-four hours, though,” Pheme explained. “I can make it.”

  “If you say so,” Pandora said, climbing past her. “But I’m not sure I could stop being curious for twenty-four hours.”

  At least Pandora didn’t sound so mad anymore, thought Pheme as she continued downstairs. She’d even sounded sort of sympathetic. Being curious about everything, she probably understood how urgently you could want to know something—or, in Pheme’s case, want to share something.

  “See you,” Pheme called after her. But Pandora didn’t seem to hear her. Either that or she was still mad after all.

  In the cafeteria Pheme grabbed a plate of hambrosia and eggs from the eight-armed lunch lady, then sat down at an empty table. As she began to eat, she looked around for Phaeton but didn’t see him.

  She hoped Heracles had managed to calm him down after he’d stormed out of the cafeteria yesterday. Maybe she should try apologizing next time she saw him. Even if she didn’t exactly think she’d been wrong, since she hadn’t actually broken any promises. Still, she didn’t want him to hate her.

  She’d almost finished eating when Medusa joined her, sliding her tray onto the table as she took the seat opposite. The dozen snakes that stuck out from the top of Medusa’s head in place of hair didn’t look like they’d quite woken up yet. They were snuggled together in a drowsy ball, forming a bun at the base of her neck.

  “What was up with you and that new boy last night?” Medusa asked, pouring milk onto her pomegranola. “Do you really believe his wild story about Helios?”

  “Well,” said Pheme, “his mom did tell him that—” For the second time that morning her words strangled in her throat and she began to make weird sounds. “Squee! Oink! Oink!”

  “—knees the bun of the fun pod,” she finally finished. Of course, what she’d meant was: His mom did tell him that he’s the son of the sun god.

  Startled, Medusa almost drowned her cereal. Setting down the pitcher of milk, she peered at the cloud-words forming overhead. “‘Bun of the fun pod’?” She let out a snort of laughter. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Shh!” Pheme whispered, appalled. “Everyone’s looking.” She reached up and waved away the ridiculous cloud-words that had formed overhead.

  When she tried again to explain what Phaeton’s mother had told him, she was seized by another oinking fit.

  Medusa stared at her. “Are you catching a swine flu or something?”

  “No, I—” Pheme tried to continue, but more preposterous sounds and words kept puffing from her lips. “Ribbit! Croak! I mean she—hissss—told him that . . .”

  Medusa’s snakes began wiggling. The hissing sounds Pheme was making were disturbing them.

  “Shh. It’s okay, Sweetpea. Calm down, Lasso,” Medusa murmured. She’d given names to all twelve of her snakes. They were like her pets or something.

  “Sorry,” Pheme told her. “I meant to say that . . . Athena patooee blunder a smell.” (Which actually should’ve been: Athena put me under a spell.)

  Pheme’s cheeks flamed bright red. Students were pointing at the words drifting away over her head. Some giggled or looked confused. Others glanced at her with pity in their eyes, as if they thought she might be totally losing it.

  So how come she’d been able to tell Pandora about the spell before, but now she couldn’t tell Medusa? Was it possible that the spell grew stronger each time she attempted to gossip?

  Medusa stood up abruptly. “I can’t stay if you’re going to keep hissing and spouting nonsense. You’re upsetting my snakes.” With that, she picked up her tray and hightailed it to another table.

  And wouldn’t you know it, Athena, Aphrodite, Persephone, and Artemis were all in the cafeteria now too. They were sitting not more than a few feet away at the popular table. Witnesses to her humiliation.

  Pheme grabbed her tray of half-eaten food, dropped it off at the tray return, and started out of the cafeteria. It only took a minute, but it felt like hours till she was out the cafeteria door and in the main hall.

  This dumb spell was turning out to be worse than she’d expected. Maybe she should just go to her room and stay there till tomorrow. She had a variety of snacks stashed away in her closet, enough to last till morning. She could tell everyone she was sick.

  Good plan, she decided. So she dashed upstairs and into her room, slamming the door behind her. Safe at last.

  She opened the window by her desk and leaned her head out. Breathing the cool morning air in great gulps calmed her. And it seemed to ease her throat, which was scratchy from all that oinking and hissing.

  Waaaa!

  Pheme clapped a hand over her mouth, thinking she was making weird sounds again. But then she realized that the waaaa sound wasn’t coming from her.

  Waaaa! It sounded kind of like a baby crying. No, it was more like the bleat of a deer! And it was coming from overhead. She twisted to gaze skyward just in time to see a chariot, drawn by four golden-horned, milk-white deer, sail over the school.

  She stared after it, confounded. Those were Artemis’s deer. And that was her chariot. But Artemis was in the cafeteria. Pheme had just seen her. So who was driving her chariot?

  She sucked in her brea
th as a possible answer came to her. Was it Phaeton? He hadn’t been in the cafeteria. And he was obsessed with chariots.

  But he wouldn’t just take Artemis’s chariot without permission. Would he? Craning her neck, Pheme tried to see the driver. It did look like a boy. Just before the chariot disappeared in the distance, she caught a glimpse of his golden hair whipping in the breeze. Golden hair! Like Phaeton’s.

  Convinced now that he was the driver, she rushed back downstairs. Artemis needed to know what was going on. Everyone knew how picky she was about that chariot and her deer. And someone needed to rein Phaeton in before an accident happened!

  Besides that, Pheme wanted to share her news, because she just, well, loved being the first to share news. She imagined the hush that would fall over the room as everyone stopped what they were doing and saying to listen to what she had to say. And how grateful Artemis would be to her for telling what she’d seen!

  When Pheme reached the cafeteria, she scanned the room for Phaeton first, just in case she’d been wrong about him and the chariot. Nope. She didn’t see him. And Artemis was still at the popular table. Pheme’s urge to gossip overcame any hesitation she might have felt based on what had happened every other time she’d tried it today. She dashed over.

  “What’s up?” Artemis asked when Pheme screeched to a halt beside her chair.

  But when Pheme opened her mouth, all that came out were more of those weird sounds. “Ruff! Ruff! Woof!”

  Oh no! Now Athena’s spell was blocking her from saying really important stuff!

  Artemis’s dogs sniffed at her ankles as if they suspected she might be a dog in a girl disguise. Between woofs Pheme struggled to explain herself. Strange sentences puffed from her lips: “Your chair he’s been bowling!” she warned Artemis.

  Frustrated, Pheme tried again: “There’s a cherry it in the pie bean driven by a face of tons.” The craziness of the phrases was getting worse and worse!

  As students read her words, the whole cafeteria rang with laughter. “Looks like my anti-gossip spell is working,” Athena told her. “Sorry about all the laughing, though. I guess it’s kind of embarrassing.”

  “Yeah, duh! Also dangerous because . . .” Pheme’s eyes bugged out in alarm. She shook her head vehemently from side to side. She didn’t dare speak again. Instead she snatched up Athena’s blue feather pen.

  After grabbing a napkin, Pheme used the pen to write what she’d wanted to say. The words “Phaeton has taken your chariot and flown away with it” were clear in her mind as she scribbled away. Without rereading what she thought she’d written, she hastily shoved the napkin toward Artemis.

  “‘Fate bacon your lariat and blown the hay with it’?” Artemis read aloud.

  Tears of frustration sprang to Pheme’s eyes as she realized that Athena’s spell must extend to writing as well as speaking. Double rats!

  Maybe she could act out what she wanted to say instead. She’d never taken a drama class or been very good at charades. But she had to try. Because this was no idle gossip she had to impart. It was important news!

  Raising her hands to the top of her head, Pheme spread her fingers and pointed them upward to make pretend deer antlers. She bent over and ran one lap around the girls’ table. Then she looked up at the ceiling, trying to indicate “sky.” She glanced back at Artemis, hoping she’d gotten it.

  Instead the girls all seemed totally confused. Artemis even looked like she wanted to laugh.

  “Maybe someone should go get Principal Zeus,” she heard Ares say somewhere behind her. “I think Pheme has flipped out.”

  There were some chuckles, but a lot of the students were starting to look more alarmed than entertained. A few of the godboys had left their table to come see what was going on. Pheme caught the look of concern on Eros’s face. She hoped he didn’t think she’d gone totally and completely insane.

  Just then Athena stood up. Stepping to Pheme’s side, she gave her a quick hug. “Listen up, everyone,” she announced to the whole cafeteria. “Pheme’s okay. It’s just that she’s accepted a challenge to go twenty-four hours without gossiping.”

  It was nice of Athena to offer a hug and explain about the challenge. And also to leave out what had led up to it, thought Pheme. But Athena—and probably everyone else here as well—didn’t seem to have a clue that sometimes gossip might actually be useful to hear!

  “And she even let me put her under a spell that renders any attempt at gossip impossible. Brave of her, huh?” Athena said with a smile that encouraged others to agree. “So, while she may be saying or doing some odd things throughout the day today, please just ignore them.”

  “Honestly,” Pheme said, huffing a big sigh. “I’m just trying to explain that—Meow! Meow!” As more animal sounds rolled off her tongue, Artemis’s dogs couldn’t take it anymore. They leaped on Pheme, bracing their front paws against her, and began to bark.

  “Stop, guys! She’s a girl, not a cat. I promise,” Artemis yelled at them.

  Desperate, Pheme hopped onto the table, scattering dishes as she tried to get away from the dogs. Just then the lyrebell chimed a warning that first period was about to begin. Students were reluctant to leave the show. But when Artemis called off her dogs, everyone began to go to class.

  As Artemis headed off with her dogs, Pheme climbed down from the table. She felt incredibly frustrated. She must’ve looked it too, because Aphrodite gave her a sympathetic smile. “This is really hard for you, isn’t it?” she said. “But it is a fitting punishment.”

  “Kind of like the ones Hades gives out in the Underworld,” Persephone added in a kind voice.

  “Only about fourteen hours to go till bedtime. Next thing you know it’ll be morning. And then the spell’s over!” Athena smiled at Pheme, obviously hoping her pep talk was helping.

  “Thanks,” Pheme told her, even though it wasn’t. But she knew Athena meant well.

  Aphrodite and Athena were in Hero-ology class with her first period. However, after what had just happened, Pheme didn’t feel like walking with them. And she needed to think. So she lagged behind the other two girls as they all started down the hall.

  She should’ve dragged Artemis outside to show her that her chariot was gone from its usual spot, she realized. Too late now. Besides, the spell probably would have found a way to stop her from doing that. It did seem to be getting more powerful—and bossy—as time passed.

  Anyway, maybe Phaeton had only “borrowed” the chariot for a short ride and had already returned it. Or maybe it hadn’t been him driving the chariot at all. She’d made mistakes before. Like with Freya’s necklace.

  But she’d seen someone with golden hair flying away in Artemis’s chariot. Unless not being able to gossip was giving her hallucinations!

  8

  Alike

  NO WAY SHE’LL MAKE IT TWENTY-FOUR HOURS!”

  Pheme overheard someone murmur this as she took her seat in Hero-ology class. He probably thought she couldn’t hear what he was saying. Not many students knew just how exceptional her hearing was. It was one of the few secrets she kept pretty well, since it made her more effective as the goddess of gossip and rumor.

  Eavesdropping now, Pheme learned that most of the students around her believed she wouldn’t survive Athena’s no-gossiping challenge without going totally bonkers. Some thought she’d already gone bonkers.

  It felt strange to be the object of rumors, instead of the source of them. She just hoped her teacher, Mr. Cyclops, wouldn’t call on her to answer any questions today. She couldn’t trust herself not to say something that Athena’s spell would consider to be gossip. And how embarrassing would that be if she started making animal sounds again!

  Pheme listened as the teacher droned on about Greek city-states and Spartans and blah, blah, blah. He was oblivious to the undercurrent of whispers zipping around the room.

  She doodled in her notescroll while pretending to listen intently to his lecture. Acting as if she were totally unaware of—or
didn’t give a hoot about—what others were saying about her. But deep down inside, she really did care.

  If only magic were allowed in class so she could make herself invisible. She’d always hated being ignored worse than anything. But she didn’t like this kind of attention. Not one bit. Still, what could she do about it? That was the worst part. Not being able to defend herself.

  Sensing someone’s eyes on her, she glanced up. Eros had turned in his seat, two rows ahead of her. He was gazing at her with a thoughtful look on his face. He smiled when he caught her eye, and then motioned to her notescroll. She smiled back uncertainly. Was he asking to see her doodles?

  Hiding behind the girl in front of her, Pheme held up her notescroll, tilting it so he could see what she’d drawn, but Mr. Cyclops wouldn’t. Mostly they were just squiggles, but also a heart with wings, and an arrow stuck in a target. They were just doodles illustrating snippets of ideas. Plus some jotted notes for news stories. They didn’t mean anything.

  Still, Eros grinned when he saw them and gave her a thumbs-up. It was as if he saw something in them that she didn’t. She remembered the look of relief that had flitted across his face when Athena had explained to everyone in the cafeteria about the twenty-four-hour challenge. It was nice of him not to want to believe she was crazy.

  “Eros!” Mr. Cyclops called out just then. “Please pay attention. To something other than Pheme.”

  Eros’s cheeks flamed redder than usual, and his glorious golden wings fluttered a little as he whipped around to face forward again. Pheme could feel her cheeks going red too. Sometimes Mr. Cyclops showed no sensitivity to students’ feelings whatsoever!

  A few titters ran through the class. Mr. Cyclops scowled. The single, humongous eye in the middle of his forehead swept the room, pinning everyone to their seats. All laughter ceased immediately, and he continued with his lecture.

  At the end of class Pheme sped out ahead of Athena and Aphrodite. They’d been shooting her concerned looks from across the room. She didn’t want to listen to them trying to make her feel better about the rumors of her going bonkers, if that was their plan.