She and Heracles hadn’t even spoken to each other, yet her dad expected them to become best buds? And Zeus had made it clear he’d be very disappointed if she didn’t succeed at—at what, exactly? Some goddessgirl of wisdom she was. She’d agreed to help Heracles without really knowing what Zeus expected her to do. Zeus said Heracles was hotheaded. Was she supposed to keep him out of trouble, then? Or maybe tutor him in his worst subjects? Oh, why hadn’t she asked more questions when she had the chance?
Veering left, she dodged past a godboy, with curved horns and a scaly tail, and two goddessgirls, with pink hair and large wings, to stop at her locker. “Number one eighty three, open for me,” she chanted. Her locker door swung open, and she grabbed the textscroll for her next class from the neat stack inside. A lyrebell sounded just as her locker door swung shut again.
Athena glanced up at the herald who stood on the balcony at the end of the hall. “Class will begin in two minutes,” he announced in a loud, important voice. Then he struck his lyrebell again with a little hammer. Ping! Ping! Ping!
Athena waved at him. He was rather pompous and took pride in always keeping a straight face, so all the students had made a game of trying to startle him. It didn’t work this time. Turning, she hurried off to Revenge-ology. Her teacher, Ms. Nemesis, stood just inside the door, nodding a curt greeting as each student entered the classroom. She was glad she was on time because Ms. Nemesis was big on punishments and just desserts—and that didn’t mean the sweet kind. Still, Athena secretly admired her because she was bold and independent. A strong woman, just like Athena wanted to be.
Skirting her teacher’s large wings, Athena walked toward her seat. As she passed Medusa, her snaky hair writhed and hissed. Athena leaned away.
Medusa shrugged. “Sorry, my reptiles just don’t like flybabies. What can I do?”
Gorgonhead, thought Athena, but she didn’t say it because she wasn’t mean like some people. It was no secret that Athena’s mom was a fly, but Medusa—and her two sisters—were the only ones mean enough to tease her about it. Ignoring her, Athena continued on past. After taking her seat, she set her textscroll on top of her desk, then reached into her bag for a feather pen.
Bam! The loud thump made Athena jump.
“Hey, watch it with that thing!” growled Medusa.
Athena glanced up to see Heracles just a few seats ahead of her, struggling to balance a stack of textscrolls. His club lay on the floor next to Medusa’s desk, where it had fallen.
“Sorry,” he said to Medusa. As he stooped to pick up his club, her snakes flicked out their tongues and darted toward him. Quicker than Zeus could shoot a lightning bolt, Heracles grabbed a handful of the snakes in his free hand and began to squeeze.
“Stop!” screamed Medusa. “You’re strangling them!”
From the front of the room Ms. Nemesis shot Heracles a stern look. “Is there a problem?”
Sheepishly, Heracles let go of the snakes. They drooped, seeming dazed but unharmed. Ms. Nemesis pointed him toward an empty seat across the aisle from Athena. “Sit, please.”
“’Kay.” Ambling casually to the desk, he tossed his textscrolls on top of it, and then slung his club onto the floor beside his chair. Wham! As he sat, Medusa turned her head to glare at him.
Athena leaned toward him. “Don’t look her in the eye,” she whispered quickly. “She turns mortals to stone.”
Heracles’ hands flew up to shield his eyes. “Thanks for the warning,” he said, peeking at Athena between his fingers.
“No problem,” she said. Maybe guiding Heracles wasn’t going to be so difficult after all. He’d already acted on her first piece of advice. What luck that he was enrolled in one of her classes!
Athena glanced toward the front of the room. Ms. Nemesis was writing something on the board, her back to the class. At the nape of her neck, a shiny gold clip in the shape of a sword held back her golden hair. Athena had often thought that if Aphrodite had had a mother, she might have looked something like Ms. Nemesis. Only Ms. Nemesis was a great deal graver and more serious than Aphrodite. And grouchy. And winged.
Turning toward the class, Ms. Nemesis pointed to the question she’d written on the board. “What is vengeance?” she read aloud.
Lots of hands shot up in the air, including Athena’s. Ms. Nemesis called on Medusa.
“If someone does something monstrous or diabolical or just plain rotten to you”—Medusa broke off, narrowing her eyes at Heracles, who ducked to avoid her gaze—“or your snakes,” she added, “then you get to do something bad back to them.”
“Okay,” said Ms. Nemesis. “Can anyone expand on or improve Medusa’s answer?”
The mortals in class who had raised their hands earlier withdrew them as Medusa’s eyes swept the room. Athena kept her hand in the air.
“Yes?” said Ms. Nemesis.
“The thing is,” Athena said, “Vengeance is really revenge. And for revenge to be fair, there needs to be balance.” She hesitated.
Ms. Nemesis nodded. “Keep going.”
“Well,” said Athena, toying with her blue feather pen. “It’s the ‘eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth’ idea. The punishment for a wrong should fit the deed. For example, if someone kicks you, you could kick them back, but cutting off their leg would be going too far.”
“Very good,” said Ms. Nemesis. “Would anyone else like to comment?”
“The rules change during times of war,” offered Heracles. His lion cape was attracting lots of stares from fellow students, but he seemed blissfully unaware of it.
Ms. Nemesis lifted an eyebrow. “How so?”
Heracles shrugged. “In a war, soldiers kill at the direction of rulers, not because they’ve personally been wronged. The same rules don’t apply.”
“Interesting point,” said Ms. Nemesis. Athena thought so too. His comment surprised her, since Zeus seemed so sure Heracles had more brawn than brains. She smiled at him, and he smiled back. Maybe becoming friends with him might actually turn out to be fun.
Just before the lyrebell sounded at the end of class, Ms. Nemesis said, “You will all read chapters three and four in your Revenge-ology textscroll for Monday.” Her eyes narrowed. “Or else.” No one ever wanted to find out what her “or elses” meant, so they always did her assignments.
Heracles picked up his club and slung it up to rest on one shoulder. He did so with an ease that suggested the club weighed no more than Athena’s pen, which surely wasn’t true. Then he grabbed his pile of textscrolls. “Later,” he said to Athena. Holding the textscrolls over his head, he started toward the door. Suddenly a couple of the scrolls shifted.
“Watch out!” warned Athena, but it was too late. As his textscrolls scattered, Heracles made a valiant effort to grab them, but only managed to drop his club instead. It landed on his foot.
“Ow! Ow! Ow!” he yelled. Clasping his foot in both hands, he hopped up and down on one leg.
Students gaped at him in surprise. “Serves him right,” Medusa muttered with a smirk.
Ms. Nemesis hurried over. “Are you okay?”
As if he’d just noticed that everyone was staring at him, Heracles’ face turned as red as a pomegranate. “I’m fine,” he mumbled. “At least I will be when my foot stops throbbing.”
“You’re sure?” asked Ms. Nemesis.
Heracles felt his foot carefully. “Nothing broken,” he said. “Except my pride.”
Several students chuckled, but seeing he was all right, they began to leave.
Athena knelt to help Heracles pick up his textscrolls, pleased that he’d had a sense of humor about the mishap. “You might want to stow some of these in your locker,” she suggested. “And maybe you don’t need to carry around your club all the time either.”
“Good idea about the scrolls,” said Heracles. “But my club stays with me.” They walked out of the room together. “You know,” he told her, “that was kind of embarrassing back there. And on my first day of school.”
&
nbsp; Athena laughed. “On my first day here, a toy horse I’d had since I was a toddler rolled out of my bag in the middle of class.”
“Whoa,” said Heracles. He grinned. “I guess I shouldn’t feel too sorry for myself, then.” He motioned with the tip of his club toward a wall of lockers. “I think I’ll take your advice before my next class. See you.”
“Wait,” Athena said impulsively. “I’m meeting up with some friends after school at the Supernatural Market. Want to come? They make the best ambrosia shakes ever.”
“Sounds like fun.” He leaned his club up against a locker, then twirled the lock on his. “Where is the Supernatural Market?”
“On the other side of the sports fields, beyond the gymnasium,” she said. “How about if I meet you by the stairs up to the dorms at the end of the day? We can walk together.”
“Great!” said Heracles. “Catch you later, then.”
Athena waved to him as she started off to her next class. Maybe Zeus had judged Heracles too harshly. Yes, he could use some guidance—the kind that all new students needed. While it was true that he’d almost strangled some of Medusa’s snakes, probably everyone at MOA had wanted to do that at one time or another. And he had managed to cool down before he did any real harm. Perhaps he’d been provoked into beaning his music teacher with the lyre as well! Anyway, she liked his sense of humor. She smiled to herself. It didn’t matter if Zeus was right or wrong about Heracles. Now that she was getting to know him, she was happy to have an excuse to keep an eye on him!
A Mysterious Figure
ATHENA TAPPED HER FOOT IMPATIENTLY. She’d been waiting by the marble staircase for nearly half hour. Where in the world was Heracles? The hallway was empty. Her friends would be at the Supernatural Market by now. They were probably wondering where she was. If Heracles had changed his mind about coming, it would’ve been nice of him to let her know. Feeling irritated and let down, Athena pushed through the Academy’s bronze doors and ran down the granite steps to the courtyard to start toward the market alone.
She was halfway across the courtyard when she overheard loud voices and glimpsed two figures arguing at the edge of the olive grove that grew on the courtyard’s far side. One of the voices sounded familiar. Was it Heracles’? Shading her eyes against the sun, she squinted at the figures. They were both boys. She didn’t recognize the one on the left, but the one on the right was wearing a lion pelt. Definitely Heracles!
Feeling confused, Athena tried to think about what to do. She felt certain Aphrodite would have advised her to ignore him and keep walking, to punish him for standing her up. But she wanted an explanation! Should she interrupt him and ask for one? As she stood there, undecided, Heracles broke away from the other figure, who melted into the grove.
“Athena!” he called out. Holding his club against his shoulder, he jogged over to where she stood. “Sorry I’m late,” he said. “Are you mad?”
“A little,” she admitted. Then she grinned. “But I’ll get over it. Do you still want to go?”
“Yup!”
They started toward the sports fields at the edge of campus. Athena had to walk fast to keep up with Heracles’ long strides. “Who was that boy you were talking to?” she asked after a minute.
Heracles frowned. “My cousin. Eurystheus.”
“Sounds like you weren’t happy to see him,” Athena said, huffing and puffing a little.
“You got that right,” Heracles muttered.
Athena raised an eyebrow. “Something the matter?”
Heracles shook his head. “It’s nothing. Nothing I can’t take care of, anyway.”
She’d promised not to tell Heracles that Zeus had asked her to help, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t offer. Still, boys could be so touchy about anyone thinking them weak in any way. Especially one who seemed to rely so much on his brawny strength. So Athena said carefully, “If you ever find yourself in trouble here or need help, will you ask me?”
He looked at her in surprise, then shrugged. “I guess so.” Moments later, he pointed to a huge, round building to the left of the grassy field they were crossing just then. “Is that the gymnasium?”
“Uh-huh,” said Athena. “Sometimes the school holds dances there, and Apollo’s band plays. It’s open to the sky in the center.”
“Wow,” said Heracles. “My old school’s gymnasium wasn’t even half as big. It sure was nice of Principal Zeus to invite me here.” He hesitated. “Guess he’s your dad, huh?”
“Yes.” The intercom announcement during lunch had certainly made that clear! Athena wondered if Heracles also knew that her mom was a fly. If so, at least he was tactful enough not to mention it.
When they arrived at the doors to the market, Artemis’s three hounds, who weren’t allowed inside, barked joyfully and bounded up to them, their tails wagging. Amby, the beagle, wiggled all over as Athena reached down to pet him, while Nectar and Suez growled, seeming wary of Heracles’ lion-skin cape. He held out a hand for the dogs to sniff. Within moments they were licking his fingers and yipping playfully, as if they’d always been friends.
Athena gave Amby one last pat on the head. “See you later, boys,” she said, leaving them behind as she and Heracles entered the market.
They walked past shelves of snacks and a rack filled with copies of the latest issue of Teen Scrollazine. Noticing that Orion was on the cover wearing a big bright smile, Athena flipped the magazine around, hoping Artemis hadn’t seen it on her way into the market. “It’s a long story,” she told Heracles, when he looked at her curiously. Then they went on to a big round table at the back of the store where Athena’s friends sat drinking their shakes. Her roommate, Pandora, and Pheme, the goddessgirl of rumor, were there too. Aphrodite waved her over. “About time you got here!”
“Heracles!” shouted Apollo. “What are you doing here?”
“I was invited,” Heracles replied with a grin. “And you?”
Apollo laughed. “Touché.” He motioned to an empty chair between him and Poseidon, and Heracles sat.
At the far end of the table, Persephone pulled Hades up by the hand. “We’ll go get more shakes.”
Artemis got up too. “I’ll help.”
“Interesting,” murmured Aphrodite as Athena took the chair between Pheme and her. “Guess you managed to introduce yourself to Heracles after all.”
“Don’t go getting any of your romantic ideas,” Athena said, keeping her voice low so that Pheme wouldn’t hear. “I was just being friendly when I asked him here.”
Aphrodite smiled. “That’s what they all say.”
Pheme leaned toward them. Her eyes gleamed as she licked her orange-glossed lips. “Did I miss something?” Her words puffed above her head in little cloud letters that vanished soon after they were spoken.
“Nothing important,” Athena said quickly.
“Oh.” Scraping a spoon along the bottom of her empty shake glass, Pheme sighed with disappointment.
To cheer her up, and because it was true, Athena said, “That’s a really cute chiton you’re wearing.” Dark green looked good on Pheme, complementing her fair complexion and spiky orange hair. And Athena could see that the quality of the woven fabric was exceptionally good.
Pheme brightened at the compliment. “Thanks. I got it from Arachne.”
“Arachne’s Sewing Supplies?” asked Athena. “In the Immortal Marketplace? I thought they just sold yarns, thread, and fabrics.”
Pheme shook her head. “I didn’t buy this chiton at the mall. I bought it from Arachne herself.”
“Arachne is a real person?” said Athena. “I thought that was just the name of the shop.”
Pheme stared at her, wide-eyed. “The shop is named in her honor. Seriously, though, you’ve never heard of her?”
“Isn’t she that mortal girl who’s supposed to be such a terrific weaver?” asked Aphrodite. “I hear she’s quite famous down on Earth. I forget where she’s from, though.”
“Hypaepa,” said Pheme.
“It’s this tiny little town at the foot of Mount Aepos.”
Athena felt embarrassed that she hadn’t known about the girl. After all, Athena had invented weaving. “I wonder why I’ve never heard of her,” she said aloud.
Aphrodite laughed. “Maybe because you spend too much time with your nose stuck in your textscrolls?”
“You should pay more attention to what’s going on around you,” said Pheme. “You’d be surprised how many interesting things you can learn.”
Athena smiled. It was just the kind of advice you’d expect from the goddessgirl of rumor. Pheme had a point, though. Athena should pay a little more attention to things going on down on Earth. And she couldn’t help feeling flattered that mortal girls were taking an interest in weaving, a craft she had invented. Perhaps she should champion their successes. She made a mental note to visit this Arachne sometime soon.
Persephone, Hades, and Artemis were back with another half-dozen ambrosia shakes. “Thanks,” said Athena as Persephone handed her one. She also gave one to Heracles.
“Mmm,” he said, a few moments later. He glanced at the shakes that Hades and Artemis still held. “You can just leave all of those with me.”
Everyone laughed. “Is that lion skin for real?” Pandora asked, staring at Heracles from across the table.
“Sure,” said Heracles. “Is your blue hair for real?”
Pandora blushed, reaching up to pat her hair, which was streaked with blue and gold. “It’s the school colors, didn’t you know?”
Athena hid a smile. For as long as she’d known her, Pandora’s hair had looked like that. As a sign of her curiosity, her bangs were plastered against her forehead in the shape of a question mark. But sometimes Pandora’s curiosity bordered on rudeness. Heracles had just given her a taste of her own medicine.
Now Apollo nudged Heracles with his elbow. “Tell the girls that story you told us at lunch.”
Athena the Wise Page 2
