Pheme the Gossip

by Joan Holub

  Eros waited for Pheme in the hallway. “Frog still stuck in your throat?” he teased gently.

  “Ribbit!” Pheme replied, shooting him a half smile.

  He laughed and fell into step beside her as they moved down the hall. She let him, because for some reason he didn’t annoy her like everyone else did right now.

  “It’s not fair of Athena to ask you to go for a day without gossiping,” he told her. “At least in my humble opinion. I mean, you’re the goddess of gossip and rumor. It’s what you do!” He shifted the textscrolls he was carrying from one arm to the other. “I don’t get why you accepted her challenge. You could still back out, you know.”

  Oh, no I can’t, she thought. She didn’t tell him that, though. He’d probably think less of her if he knew the reason for the challenge. That she’d been caught snooping in Athena and Pandora’s room!

  “I—um—need to stop at my locker,” she mumbled.

  “Sure, no problem,” he replied, following her there. What was up? He never did that. She spun the dial, opened her locker, and shoved her Hero-ology textscroll inside. Meanwhile Eros waited beside her as if it was something he did every day.

  Pheme felt him staring and looked over. “What?” she asked. “Is something wrong with my hair?”

  “No. Looks awesome, as usual,” he said, surprising her. “Orange is my favorite color.”

  She felt herself blushing. “Uh . . . thanks. Mine too.” No boy had ever said anything like that to her before! She dug around in her locker while he continued to stand there. Finally she asked bluntly, “Why are you hanging around me?”

  He slouched against the locker next to hers. “Because I think we’re a lot alike,” he said.

  “Because we both like orange?”

  Eros laughed. “No. Because we both try to help people. I help them fall in love. You help make them famous. Or infamous,” he teased with good humor. “The thing is we both use our special talents to do things on behalf of others.”

  Finding what she needed, Pheme pulled the textscrolls for her next two classes from her locker. “True.” She’d never heard anyone call what she did a “special talent” before. It was nice to hear.

  “And we have something else in common,” Eros told her. “If anything goes wrong when we use our talents, guess who gets the blame?”

  “Us!” Pheme exclaimed, slamming her locker shut. They shared a smile. For once someone seemed to understand the situation she so often found herself in.

  “Hey.” He bent and picked up a sheet of papyrus from the floor. “You dropped this,” he said, glancing at it as he handed it to her. “A job application?”

  She shrugged, reopened her locker, rammed the sheet inside, and then slammed the locker shut again. “I’m hoping to get the student staff reporter job with Teen Scrollazine,” she admitted a little shyly as they set off down the hall, walking side by side.

  “Cool. They’d be lucky to get you.”

  “Thanks,” she said, delighted by his response. “It’s not a for-sure thing. I still need to get a letter of recommendation from Principal Zeus. I’ll wait till tomorrow to ask, though, after this spell ends. Then, fingers crossed.”

  By tomorrow she’d be able to report to Zeus about Phaeton, his chariot-borrowing, and his claims about Helios. Without oinking or croaking! Surely that would put her back on his good side so he’d write that letter. She only hoped he didn’t find out about her enrolling Phaeton before she could explain it in a way that didn’t make her look bad—something she hadn’t exactly figured out how to do yet.

  Ping! Ping! Ping! As the warning lyrebell for second period began to chime, Eros came back to their earlier topic. “So what’s up with that no-gossip challenge, anyway? Why’d you accept it? Does Athena have some hold over you?”

  Pheme hesitated. Something made her want to confide in him. But embarrassment and a fear that her words wouldn’t come out right while she was under Athena’s spell stopped her. “I—I can’t tell you,” she said at last.

  “Aha!” he said. “Then I bet that means I’m right.” His forehead wrinkled in thought. “You know, there could be a way around the challenge.”

  They came to a stop, since they needed to start down different hallways. She cocked her head at him, intrigued. “What do you mean?”

  Eros reached out to tap her notescroll. “In the cafeteria you tried writing what you wanted to say, right?”

  “Didn’t work, though,” she said.

  He started heading off down his hall, walking backward so he still faced her. “Next time maybe try doodling what you want to say—like you were doing in Hero-ology.” Giving her a quick wave, he turned and took off for his next class.

  As she hurried the rest of the way to Beauty-ology class, Pheme thought about what he’d suggested. It was worth a try.

  She’d brought the concealer she’d borrowed with her, so she replaced it before heading for her seat. Medusa glanced at her a little warily as she sat down beside her at their worktable at the back of the room.

  “Don’t worry. I’m not going to start hissing or anything,” Pheme told her.

  Medusa relaxed, grinning. “I guess you can’t help it. How many more hours till the spell ends?”

  “Twenty-one maybe? It started at dawn this morning before I woke up and ends tomorrow at dawn. So I’ll live,” Pheme told her. “I think.”

  As the lyrebell rang to start second period, their teacher, Ms. ThreeGraces, stepped to the front of the room. Her styled hair and makeup were perfect, of course. She’d probably never even once gotten a single wrinkle in her chiton before, thought Pheme.

  Extending her hand, Ms. ThreeGraces gestured as gracefully as a ballerina toward a table at the front of the room. It was covered with colorful assorted flowers.

  Speaking in elegant tones, she said, “We are fortunate that Persephone’s mother has donated all of these blossoms for our use in class today.” Persephone’s mom owned a flower shop called Demeter’s Daisies, Daffodils, and Floral Delights in the Immortal Marketplace.

  Flower arranging? Pheme scribbled the question on her textscroll. She nudged Medusa, pointing at what she’d written.

  “I hope so. My snakes love the greens,” Medusa whispered back. “But I don’t know. Those blossoms look like they have awfully short stems.”

  Pheme craned to look. She could name some of the flowers on the table—roses, daisies, poppies, hyacinths, orchids, and baby’s breath. But Persephone, who was the goddess of spring, could likely have named them all.

  “Today you’ll be weaving blossoms with other items I’ll provide to make decorative hair ornaments,” Ms. ThreeGraces explained.

  Hair ornaments? Pheme made a yikes face. Most of the girls at MOA had long hair. But she wore hers in a short, spiky style she didn’t have to fuss with. She couldn’t have long hair hanging over her ears. It might make her miss some news, despite her exceptional hearing!

  Ms. ThreeGraces passed out bins containing pieces of lace and netting, ribbons, feathers, beads, and other knickknacks. One bin for each table. Then she excused the girls table by table to go to the front of the room for flowers.

  When it was her table’s turn, Pheme just grabbed a random handful and hurried back. Medusa was pickier, choosing blossoms that still had leaves. For her snakes to snack on, Pheme supposed.

  Back at their table Pheme toyed aimlessly with the blossoms she’d selected. She didn’t want to wear flowers in her hair. That just wasn’t her style.

  So while everyone else was working and her teacher’s attention was on other tables, she opened her notescroll. Using her favorite orange feather pen, she scribbled a quick sketch of Artemis’s chariot, then slid it over to Medusa to see if she’d be able to tell what it was.

  “It’s a chariot. So?” Medusa said. The green girl was making twelve ribbon and flower designs—to decorate each of the snakes that grew from her head, Pheme assumed.

  Medusa tossed some leaves she’d stripped from the blossoms in
to the air to feed her snakes. They snapped up every bite. But when they ventured near the flowers, Medusa nudged them away. “Flowers are for dessert. After class.”

  Pheme slid back her chariot doodle and studied it. So far so good. She’d been half afraid the spell would alter her drawing somehow. Or, since she wasn’t a real artist, that Medusa just wouldn’t be able to tell what she’d drawn. But it was looking like Eros’s idea might turn out to be a great one. She quickly added four deer to the chariot to identify it as belonging to Artemis.

  “Why do those dogs have tree branches growing out of their heads?” Medusa asked when Pheme showed her the changes she’d made.

  Before Pheme could reply, Ms. ThreeGraces appeared at her side. She’d glided over so quietly that there was no way Pheme could’ve heard her coming, despite her supergood hearing.

  “May I see that, please?” the teacher asked, holding out her hand for the notescroll. Though Ms. ThreeGraces had phrased her question as a polite request, Pheme knew there was only one acceptable response. She handed over the notescroll.

  Ms. ThreeGraces took it, barely glancing at the drawing. “I’ll just keep this on my desk till the end of class, shall I? So you can turn your attention to your class work.” She looked pointedly at the pile of untouched blossoms on the table in front of Pheme.

  Rats, thought Pheme. But then she had an idea. “I was going to add that drawing to my ornament,” she fibbed. Aware that girls at nearby tables were beginning to dart looks her way, she squirmed in her chair, hoping Ms. ThreeGraces would be satisfied and leave. She’d had enough unwanted attention today, thank you very much!

  “Oh!” Ms. ThreeGraces looked startled. “Well, then.” She set the notescroll back on Pheme’s desktop. “Carry on.”

  Pheme genuinely liked Ms. ThreeGraces and hated to disappoint her, so she dutifully got to work. She cut out her chariot and deer drawing, snatched up a bedraggled orange poppy, a couple of bent yellow feathers, and a scraggly piece of baby’s breath. After fixing them onto a hair clip, she rammed the ornament into her hair.

  There. Done! She was now wearing a ridiculous hair doohickey that wasn’t her style. Which just made her day that much more perfect.

  9

  The Gray Ladies

  SECONDS LATER THE DOOR TO THE BEAUTY-ology room blew open. A magic wind rushed in.

  Summons for Pheme! it roared. Stray blossoms, ribbons, and bits of sparkly stuff swirled up in the air in a mini craft-material-tornado as the wind headed toward Pheme’s table at the back of the room.

  Ignoring the eyes that turned her way, Pheme awaited it. Magic winds brought messages. Maybe this one would impart a piece of good news to improve her morning. Maybe she’d won a prize in some contest! Except she couldn’t remember having entered any.

  When the wind stopped in front of her, the whole class turned to watch. It delivered its message in a breathless voice:

  This command I bring your way—

  It comes from the three Ladies Gray.

  You must go to their office today.

  You must depart without delay!

  Medusa will take you.

  She knows the way.

  Having said what it came to say, the wind whooshed out the door as quickly as it had entered. Pheme and Medusa looked at each other.

  “What did you do?” Medusa asked in a whisper. Pheme could remember when Medusa had been called to the Gray Ladies’ office not long ago, and she’d asked Medusa the same question. Now the situation was reversed.

  The Gray Ladies were the school counselors, and as everyone knew, they only summoned you to their office if you were in trouble. Had word about her breakfast time looneyness prompted this summons? Or had the counselors somehow found out about her snooping in Athena’s diaryscroll? Athena had promised not to tell Zeus about it, but she hadn’t promised not to tell anyone else!

  “Godsamighty. Could this day get any worse?” Pheme mumbled, ignoring Medusa’s question. Whatever the reason for the summons, she couldn’t ignore it. And she had to go now. School rule.

  Ms. ThreeGraces had been helping some girls at another table with their hair ornaments when the wind had blown in. Now she called out to Pheme and Medusa. “Go on, girls. You’re excused. Take some cloaks from the costume area. It’ll be chilly on the trip.”

  “C’mon,” said Medusa, jumping up from their table. Her snakes were now each wearing ribbons and flowers, which looked kind of adorable, actually. And Pheme was wearing her not-so-adorable chariot hair thingie.

  Before they dashed out the classroom door, they each chose a warm cloak. Pheme’s was orange wool with black toggle closures. Medusa chose—surprise—a green one with a hood.

  Pheme had planned to find Artemis between classes so she could show her the drawing—um, hair ornament—she’d made. She’d hoped it would finally get her message across. Now it looked like she’d have to wait until she was back from the counselors’ office.

  “Let’s stop at our lockers and stash our textscrolls so we won’t have to carry them,” Medusa suggested as the girls made their way down the hall.

  “Good idea,” said Pheme.

  After their lockers they headed for the Academy’s entrance. There the girls shucked off their regular sandals and grabbed winged ones from the big basket by the bronze doors.

  The counselors’ office was a long way away, in the far north. Luckily, the winged sandals would allow them to travel ten times faster than normal walking speed. The whole trip shouldn’t take more than two hours or so.

  As soon as the girls were outside, they slipped the sandals on. Laces immediately twined around Pheme’s ankles. The silver wings at her heels began to gently flap.

  She rose to hover in the air, just a few inches above the ground. The wings on Medusa’s sandals stayed stubbornly still, however. Because she was mortal, she couldn’t make them fly on her own. She’d have to hold hands with an immortal to make them work.

  Knowing how sensitive Medusa could be about needing help, Pheme simply grabbed her hand. The minute their palms touched, the wings on Medusa’s sandals began to flap, and she rose too.

  “I don’t know why, but flying in these things always makes me nervous,” Pheme said. It wasn’t true, but she hoped it would make Medusa feel better. “Don’t let go, okay?”

  “Don’t worry. I won’t!” Medusa said sincerely. “These things make me nervous too.”

  As the girls skimmed across the courtyard, Pheme suddenly noticed Artemis’s chariot. There it was—in its usual spot at the side of the school. The sun glinted off the golden horns of Artemis’s white deer as they grazed.

  What a relief! Looked like she’d been worried for nothing. If Phaeton really had taken the chariot, he was back now.

  Good thing. Nobody flew Artemis’s chariot but her. She would be furious if an unskilled driver dared to!

  Soon the two girls were flying high, hand in hand, their cloaks whipping in the wind. Medusa pulled up her hood to keep her snakes warm.

  “How far north is the counselors’ office?” Pheme asked. “I’ve never been there before.”

  “We keep going till we get goose bumps,” said Medusa.

  “Pretty strange directions,” said Pheme.

  “Yeah, well, you haven’t seen anything yet,” said Medusa.

  What did that mean? wondered Pheme. “So, what are the Gray Ladies like? What happened when you went to see them?”

  Medusa shrugged. “They helped. I didn’t think they could, but they did. Just try to ignore how weird they are.”

  Weird? They flew on in silence as Pheme considered this. The Gray Ladies were a big mystery to anyone who hadn’t been to their office. No one who ever had been to see them discussed what happened there. After Medusa had gone, Pheme had tried to get her to explain why she’d been summoned, but Medusa had kept mum.

  Suddenly Pheme was almost looking forward to this visit. The experience might make for a good news article in Teen Scrollazine!

  The air aroun
d them gradually became chilly. Soon Pheme began to shiver in spite of her wool cloak. Noticing, Medusa said, “We’re getting close.”

  Pheme glanced down. A gray-black sea dotted with icebergs churned about thirty feet below them. Moments later Medusa pointed to an igloo perched atop a gigantic iceberg. Carved in the roof of the igloo were the words: “Office of the Gray Ladies.”

  Together the girls dipped low, slowing when their feet touched down.

  “Ye gods!” Pheme exclaimed as her legs almost slid out from under her. “It’s slippery!” After loosening her sandals’ laces, Pheme looped the laces around the silver wings to stop their flapping so she could walk at normal speed.

  “This way,” Medusa told her. Still holding hands, they slipped and slid across the ice, all the way to the igloo’s entrance. Pheme was surprised at how warm it was once they were inside.

  A long tunnel took them to a little waiting room. Medusa pointed to a door beyond it marked ENTER. “The Gray Ladies’ office is in there,” she said as she hung her cloak on a coat hook on the wall. “I’ll wait for you here.” She flopped down in a chair, then picked up a scrollazine from a side table.

  Just then a voice sounded from beyond the door causing Pheme to jump. “Goddess of gossip, you may enter!” the voice commanded.

  Pheme went to the door and then hesitated, glancing over at Medusa. “So I should just—”

  “Go on in,” Medusa finished for her. “It’s okay. It’s just a regular office. And they don’t bite.” She grinned. “Be hard to, since they only have one tooth among them.”

  Was she serious? Feeling a little more nervous about this whole counseling thing than she’d care to admit, Pheme pushed the door open. Once she was through it, it automatically shut behind her.

  “Whoa!” She grabbed on to a rail along the wall to keep from falling. To her surprise the office floor was a big oval sheet of thick ice! And there were three lady-size haystack-looking lumps of scraggly gray moss skating around it, doing stunts.