“I thought about it,” Heracles admitted. “But even as they dove toward me, I asked myself: ‘What would Athena do?’”
“Really?” she said, unsure if he was teasing.
He looked a little hurt. “I’d never lie to you, Athena,” he said solemnly. He stared at her for such a long moment that she started to squirm under his gaze. Finally he said, “So, I figured out how I could scare off the birds without actually harming them.”
“How?” she asked.
“Used my brains. Just like you would’ve. I picked up a couple of rocks and—”
Athena sucked in her breath.
“—and I slammed them together like cymbals. Crash! You wouldn’t believe the racket they made!”
“And did the noise drive the birds off?” she asked eagerly.
“More or less.”
Athena cocked her head. “More or less?”
“Well, a couple of the bolder ones just wouldn’t leave, so I—!”
“No! Don’t tell me!” she said, fearing the worst. “I’ll just imagine to myself that you caught them in a net.”
“Yeah, that probably would’ve worked,” Heracles said, not quite meeting her eyes.
Athena decided to change the subject. “What’s next on the list? Something that involves capturing or scaring off more animals, no doubt.”
Heracles grinned. “I have to capture a Cretan bull.”
“In Crete? But that’s so far away!” Athena exclaimed.
He nodded. “I’ll have to sail there.”
She thought about telling him that she invented the ship, but he probably already knew that. And anyway, she didn’t want to him to think she was bragging.
“I’m leaving tonight,” he added.
“But what about school?” Athena asked. “You can’t possibly get back by tomorrow morning for class.”
Heracles shrugged. “I’ll have to skip.” He paused. “I—I don’t suppose you’d go with me.”
Athena hesitated. She’d never skipped school a day in her life! On the other hand, Zeus had asked her to keep an eye on Heracles. But she needed to prepare for her Thursday contest with Arachne, plus there was a quiz tomorrow and she was still behind in her schoolwork. Besides, Heracles had done just fine on his own today. “I’m sorry,” she said finally. “I can’t go. I’ve just got too much to do here.”
Heracles’ shoulders slumped.
“I bet one of the godboys would go with you,” she suggested brightly.
“Maybe,” he said, but he didn’t seem very enthusiastic about the idea. After an awkward silence, they said good-bye.
“Good luck!” Athena called after him as he left. “Will you let me know when you’re back? Just sneak into the girls’ hall and shove a note under my door if it’s late.”
“’Kay,” Heracles mumbled. She could tell he was disappointed that she wasn’t going with him. It made her feel guilty. But it was also flattering. Still, she wasn’t going to skip class and ruin her grades over any boy, even one she liked!
Once he’d disappeared upstairs, she set off for the library again. After she did more homework, she planned to study some art textscrolls. She hoped they would give her some ideas for scenes to create in her weaving. As she shoved through the library doors, she tried not to think of all the things that could cause a ship to flounder and sink, such as high winds and jagged rocks. Or of how dangerous bulls could be.
Missing Heracles
REVENGE-OLOGY CLASS ON MONDAY AFTERNOON just wasn’t the same without Heracles. Athena missed him, and though she was sure she knew what his response would have been, she would’ve enjoyed sparring with him about the day’s question: Should one always avenge an injury? Led by Medusa, the class had been tilting toward yes in their responses, so Athena was pleased when Ms. Nemesis interrupted the discussion to address the class. “I’d like you all to consider this,” she said, as her wings fanned out majestically behind her. “It often takes more strength to forgive an injury than to insist on having one’s revenge.”
Athena agreed, but she raised her hand to ask about the difference between an injury and an insult, since the latter required retribution according to her textscroll. Before Ms. Nemesis could call on her, however, there was a knock at the door and Mr. Cyclops, the Hero-ology teacher, stuck his head in the room. “Excuse me,” he said. The humongous eye in the middle of his forehead focused on Ms. Nemesis. “May I speak with you a minute?”
“Certainly,” Ms. Nemesis told him. She stepped into the hallway, and as soon as the door clicked shut, everyone started goofing off. A folded-papyrus airbird whooshed past Athena’s desk, thrown by someone in the back, and someone else started humming the latest song by Apollo’s band. Medusa slipped out of her seat. Planting herself in front of Athena’s desk, she leaned toward her and asked, “Where’s your boyfriend today?” Her green hair writhed and hissed, the snakes flicking their forked tongues in Athena’s face.
Athena scooted back in her chair, just out of their reach. “I assume you mean Heracles,” she said coldly. “I know it’s useless to tell you this, but he’s not my boyfriend. And the only reason he’s not here is because he had something very important he needed to do today.”
“Off on another of his little adventures, huh?” said Medusa. “I bet you wish you were with him.”
“He asked me to go, but I—” Athena clapped a hand over her mouth. Goddessgirl of wisdom? Hardly! How stupid of her to let herself be drawn into this conversation! Medusa was sure to relay this little tidbit to Pheme, and then rumors about her and Heracles would be flying all over the school—if they weren’t already.
“Oooh,” said Medusa, pretending to swoon. “I think someone’s in lo-ove. Heracles and Athena sitting in an olive tree. K - I - S - S - I - N - G.” Two of her snakes lunged forward to form a heart shape around Athena’s face.
Athena itched to throttle them. She clenched and unclenched her fists, and just for a moment, she could totally understand Heracles’ hotheaded reactions. But how could she respect herself and lay claim to any wisdom at all, if she couldn’t set a proper example for him and for others—even when it was hard? Taking a few deep breaths, she silently counted to ten to regain her composure.
Sending Medusa a sweet smile, she simply said, “Cute.” Medusa stomped back to her desk. She was obviously frustrated at not having made Athena mad. Athena smiled inwardly. Score!
But when Heracles didn’t show up in the cafeteria at dinnertime, she grew worried. What if a Siren’s song had lured him to a watery death? What if the Cretan bull had fatally gored him? Sure, he was strong, but he was also mortal. She silently scolded herself for not accompanying him.
A few of the godboys already knew Heracles had skipped to go to Crete. Apparently he’d told them about the bull before he left and now everyone knew, including Athena’s best friends. Unfortunately he’d ignored Athena’s advice about taking a godboy friend along.
“Apollo and I offered to go with him,” Hades said, as he helped himself to the ambrosia pudding Persephone had been too full to finish. “So did Poseidon and Ares, but he turned us all down. I hope Principal Zeus is okay with him cutting classes to do these labors. Otherwise, Heracles could get kicked out of MOA.”
Persephone smiled up at him. “You should talk.”
Hades blushed. He often skipped classes, usually because he was needed in the Underworld. Luckily, Zeus had overlooked his absences so far.
After dinner, Athena went to study in her room. She also worked on her weaving, though she still hadn’t decided on a design for the contest on Thursday. Around eight o’clock, Pandora stuck her head in the door. “Mind if I spend the night with Pheme?” she asked. “We’ll be up late working on a project for Beauty-ology class, if that’s okay?” Even when something didn’t need to be a question, Pandora couldn’t seem o help making it one.
“No problem,” said Athena as she tightened a thread on her loom. “Have fun.” Then she added, “But don’t believe everything P
heme may tell you—especially if it’s about me!”
Pandora laughed. “Do you really think I believe everything she says?”
After she left, Athena kept working at her loom, experimenting with various patterns as she wove colored threads back and forth through the looped threads. It was good to have something to occupy her hands and mind, but every few minutes she glanced toward the door, hoping to see a note from Heracles appear under it. When a knock finally sounded, she jumped up in relief. She practically tripped over her loom in her haste to open the door.
“Oh, it’s you,” she said dully, when she saw who was standing there. “Come in.”
Aphrodite and Artemis exchanged a look. “Gosh, thanks,” said Aphrodite. “Nice to see you, too.”
“We know it’s late,” Artemis said, “but we saw your light on. Since you’re usually in bed by now, we wondered if everything’s—”
“Heracles isn’t back yet,” interrupted Athena. “What if he’s hurt, or—or worse?” She sank onto her bed with her head in her hands.
As Artemis shut the door, Aphrodite hurried to sit beside Athena. “Calm down,” she said putting an arm around her. “I’m sure Heracles can look after himself.”
“But Zeus asked me to keep an eye on him!” Athena cried. “If anything’s gone wrong, it’ll be all my fault!”
“Keep an eye on him?” Artemis echoed, as she plopped down on Athena’s other side.
Athena clapped a hand over her mouth. “Oh, no. I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone that. But it’s true! My dad wants me to report to him about what Heracles is up to, but I still haven’t done it. How can I tell him I let Heracles go off to Crete without me? On the other hand, how am I supposed to go to class, get all my own work done, and watch over Heracles at the same time?”
Aphrodite frowned. “I don’t get it. Surely Principal Zeus wouldn’t want you to ignore your schoolwork to traipse after Heracles. Maybe you should tell him about the labors. He probably doesn’t know.”
“Oh, he knows,” said Athena. “I’m sure of it.” He’d hinted broadly enough about them in yesterday’s note. In fact, since he’d been speaking through the oracle that Heracles consulted, he’d basically assigned him the twelve labors. “What I don’t get is why it’s so important to my dad that Heracles do all those tasks.”
“Why don’t you ask him?” asked Aphrodite.
Athena sent her an are you kidding look. “If he wanted me to know, he would have told me. You know he doesn’t like his orders being questioned.”
Artemis nodded. “If I were king of everything in sight, I guess I wouldn’t either.”
“This is probably a silly question,” said Aphrodite, “but are you sure Heracles isn’t already back?”
Athena nodded. “He said he’d let me know when he got in.”
“But what if he forgot?” said Artemis. “Maybe he was exhausted from the travel and corralling that bull and everything. For all we know, he could be sound asleep in bed!”
“You think so?” asked Athena, feeling a burst of new hope.
“Only one way to find out,” said Aphrodite. “C’mon.”
A few minutes later, the three goddessgirls sneaked down the hall and upstairs to the boys’ dorm on the fifth floor. Right away they heard music. Athena, who played the flute, recognized the sound of the kithara—a seven-stringed lyre—and the double-reeded aulos.
“Apollo and Dionysus must be practicing,” whispered Artemis. “That’s their room,” she said, motioning to a door on their left. The two godboys were part of a band called Heavens Above that played for all the school dances.
The girls tiptoed farther down the hall. Outside of Ares and Atlas’s room stood a suit of armor. As the girls drew near, it clanked into the middle of the hall and held up a shield to block their path. “Halt!” it said in a deep voice. “No man shall pass!”
“Humph,” Aphrodite said with a frown. “Ares must have put a spell on it.” The two of them were still not on speaking terms. “We’re not men, we’re women,” she said to the armor. “Goddessgirls, that is, so step aside!”
The armor swayed back and forth, appearing uncertain how to respond. Then, as if remembering some former training, it lowered its shield and bowed, creaking, at the waist. “Pardon me, fair ladies,” it said, “please continue thusly.” Then it clanked back to its original position outside Ares and Atlas’s room.
The girls scooted past the armor and continued down the hall. When they were directly across from the boy’s bathroom, the door swung open. Out stepped Poseidon, clad only in a towel wrapped around his waist. He squealed when he saw them, holding his trident in front of him with one hand (which was no help as a shield), and tightening his grip on his towel with the other. Water dripped from his light turquoise skin and puddled on the floor at his feet.
“What are you doing here?” he said in an embarrassed squeak.
“Looking for Heracles,” said Athena. “Which room is his?”
Still gripping his trident and his towel, Poseidon jerked his chin toward the right. “Next door down.”
Artemis had been staring at Poseidon ever since he appeared. Finally she asked, “You shower with your trident?”
“Um—well—yeah.” Blushing, Poseidon sprinted across the hall and disappeared into the room he shared with Hades—whenever Hades wasn’t spending the night in the Underworld, that is.
There was a large piece of papyrus tacked to Heracles’ door. Big block letters spelled out a message: “Gone to Crete. Back later.” He’d mentioned once that he didn’t have a roommate yet, so Athena didn’t worry about waking anyone but him when she knocked lightly. No answer. She put her ear to the door, but heard nothing from inside. Her shoulders slumped. “He’s not here. Let’s go.”
On the way back down to the girls’ dorm, Aphrodite said to Athena, “I noticed earlier that you’ve set up your loom. Getting ready for the contest?”
Athena nodded, but she didn’t want to admit that she was still stuck for a good design.
“We’ll be glad to go with you to Hypaepa on Thursday,” said Artemis, glancing at Aphrodite.
She nodded. “We’ve talked about it, and Persephone said she’ll come too.”
Artemis grinned. “It’ll mean missing Beauty-ology class,” she said. “But that’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make.”
“I appreciate it,” said Athena. “But I think I’d rather go alone.”
“You sure?” Aphrodite asked.
“Yes,” said Athena as they reached her room. “But thanks for the offer. It’s really sweet of you.”
Artemis shrugged. “Suit yourself. But if you change your mind, let us know.”
“I will,” Athena promised.
“And try not to worry too much about Heracles,” Aphrodite said. “He’s bound to turn up by morning.”
Artemis nodded in agreement. “The trip to Crete probably just took longer than he thought it would.”
“Yes, you’re probably right,” said Athena as they all said good night. Even so, after Aphrodite and Artemis left, she considered waking Zeus to tell him about Heracles. She abandoned the idea only because her dad was always horribly cranky when he didn’t get enough sleep. But when Heracles didn’t show up in Revenge-ology the next day, Athena summoned her courage and marched down the hall to Zeus’s office.
All of Ms. Hydra’s heads were busy when she arrived, but the administrative assistant waved Athena toward Zeus’s open door. When Athena peeked inside, she saw a large scale-model of a temple sitting smack in the middle her dad’s desk. But no Zeus.
“Hello?” she called.
His big red-haired head popped up from behind the model. “Theeny! About time you came to see your dear ol’ dad. I sent you a message two days ago. Didn’t you get it?” He ducked his head again. The model faced him, and he was fiddling with something on his side of it where she couldn’t see.
Athena gulped. “Yes, but I had a lot of schoolwork, and—”
“Never
mind,” Zeus interrupted. “You’re here now. Sit. Sit.” Taking the same green chair with the scalloped back that she’d sat in the last time she was there, Athena rolled her eyes. The way he told her to sit always made her feel like he was commanding a pet dog.
“Is that a model of the temple I saw plans for last Friday?” she asked, when he didn’t speak right away. What was he doing back there anyway?
Zeus nodded enthusiastically and turned the model around, so she could see the front. Judging from the small size of the windows and doors in relation to the overall building, the temple was going to be huge. It was surrounded on all sides with soaring columns, covered with lots of marble and gold, and out in front there was a pedestal with a giant statue of Zeus himself holding a thunderbolt.
“Awesome, isn’t it?” he said, his face glowing with excitement. “I told the architect I wanted something that would make mortals fall all over themselves to worship me the minute they saw it.”
“That ought to do it,” said Athena, admiring the model.
Zeus eyed it critically. “You don’t think it needs more geegaws?”
“Geegaws?”
He waved his hands around. “You know. Maybe a bunch of wreaths over here, bows over there, banners, beasts, towers. More stuff like that stuck here and there.”
“No, I think it’s nice as it is,” said Athena tactfully. The building’s design was clean and tasteful, the exact opposite of Zeus’s ideas. She noticed a dozen or so small, moveable doll-like figures set around the statue of him, and realized he must’ve been playing his own version of “house” with them, moving them around the statue of himself, pretending they were Greeks coming to worship him. Ye gods! Sometimes he acted like an overgrown kid!
Zeus nodded. “You’re probably right. Besides, it’s almost built. Just the artwork and sculpture left to consider.” Looking in one of the windows, Athena noticed the blank areas on the walls and the vacant pedestals. Abruptly Zeus shoved the model aside and, leaning on his elbows with his hands steepled together, he peered at her keenly. “So how’s our boy doing?”
Athena the Wise Page 7
