Olympian Challenger

by Astrid Arditi

  She’s the first one to address Aphrodite. “We cannot fight in these dresses.”

  “What do you mean?” Aphrodite blinks.

  “They are too long! They impede our movements.”

  Aphrodite giggles. “What else would you be wearing?”

  “Pants,” Amy suggests, bringing an expression of pure horror to the goddess’s heart-shaped face.

  “Or short dresses,” the girl, Melody I think is her name, offers as a compromise.

  “Short dresses? Like the Amazons?”

  “Or humans. Minidresses are very trendy,” Melody says. She should know—she was dressed like she stepped out of a fashion magazine yesterday.

  “Are you sure? Is it proper to wear them out?”

  “For any kind of social occasion,” Melody assures her.

  Aphrodite considers this before beaming brightly. “How wonderful!”

  The goddess flicks her wrist, launching a gust of glitter in the girls’ direction. Instantly our dresses lose about fifteen inches. When I’m done gawking at my bare knees, I notice Aphrodite’s gorgeous yellow dress has met a similar fate. She twirls, delighted to see the mesmerized expressions on the boys’ faces.

  “What about us?” Clever Boy asks.

  “What about you?” Aphrodite echoes.

  “We need pants,” Bob Jr. says, his cheeks burning as he pulls at the short hem of his toga.

  “You do?”

  “Yes,” all the boys say as one.

  The only one who looks disappointed is Gabriel, standing beside me. He got to fight Clifford, aka Reading Glasses. The poor boy was so afraid of breaking his glasses, he basically threw himself out of the wrestling ring to protect them.

  “If you must.” Aphrodite sighs, invoking a new glitter burst.

  The boys grin foolishly as their togas morph into white pants and tunics. I wrap my arm around Gabriel’s shoulders for moral support.

  “Seems like we’re all changed for the party.” Aphrodite claps her hands excitedly. “Time to celebrate our budding champions.”

  The heroes invite us to meet them tomorrow morning in the arena and say goodbye. We retrieve our weapons from the sawdust and follow Aphrodite out.

  Instead of walking toward our villas, we cross wheat fields and rocky slopes until we reach a charming meadow. In a green field sprinkled with primroses, benches are set on both sides of long, rectangular tables. Trestle tables sag under the weight of a hundred different dishes, and a bonfire flames bright.

  A group of merry satyrs play their instruments for the pleasure of the divinities dancing around the fire. I recognize the Muses, the glowing god who unsurprisingly is Chrysos, God of Gold, and others from the audience today.

  Dionysus sits on plush pillows watching Maenads dance for him. With Aphrodite, they are the only two major Olympian gods present at the party. I scan the crowd for the young god with snow-white hair, but he’s nowhere to be found. I don’t know why I’m disappointed.

  Most of the contenders rush to help themselves to food, famished after our long day. I’m exhausted beyond hunger, so I plop down on one of the pillows arranged around the campfire. The dancing flames entrance me and my mind goes blank for a blessed moment. On this beautiful summer night, at odds with the winter that rages in New York City, I forget about Mount Olympus and its strange divinities, forget about the competition I want no part of, and become one with the flames that fleet aimlessly before me—this could all be a dream and I wouldn’t know it.

  “Hope?” Gabriel whispers, pulling me back to my strange reality.

  Sometime during my daydream, he sat next to me. Other kids are snuggled around the fire, plates balanced on their knees. The sky is the violet hue of dusk.

  “What a day!” Amy exclaims as she sits on the empty pillow to my left.

  “Can’t say I’m sad it’s almost over.” I drag my eyes from the fire.

  Amy huffs. “Are you always so grumpy? I thought it was really cool.”

  “What part? The playing with deadly weapons part, or getting your ass kicked part?”

  “We both won our wrestling matches,” Amy says, pointing at Gabriel and herself. The awe in Gabriel’s eyes says he still doesn’t believe it himself. “But you didn’t pay attention, did you?”

  “Are you saying I’m selfish?”

  She shrugs. “If the shoe fits.”

  Gabriel squeezes my forearm. “You did great in the obstacle course. You almost made it to the end.”

  “But I tried to forfeit. I was scared.”

  “Who wasn’t?” Gabriel brushes me off.

  Am I really selfish? My mother’s face hovers before my mind’s eye. No, I wasn’t worried about me. I was attempting to survive for my mother.

  Around the fire pit, the other contenders are deep in conversation. I lean in to hear what they whisper about.

  “I climbed the Chrysler Building,” Bob Jr. explains to Clifford. “I’m afraid of heights.”

  “So who rescued you?”

  “Zeus. He threw a thunderbolt as I lost my footing around the thirty-ninth floor. I thought for sure I was going to die.” The giant shudders. “What about you?”

  “I hacked into Yale’s servers and erased their admissions list for this year,” Clifford answers. “They turned me down because of my ‘poor athletics performance’! I have a 4.0 GPA!”

  “That’s cool. Then what happened?”

  “Well, the hacking part isn’t daring to me. I do it all the time,” Clifford admits. “But I had to be inside the building to access the servers.” He pauses. “I’m great with computers. People, not so much. Getting into Yale unnoticed was the hard part.”

  “So who picked you up?”

  “Hephaestus. He’s the greatest engineer of all time. My computer actually caught fire and the flame engulfed me. But I didn’t burn—clearly.”

  Now I understand why he’s been glaring at the bonfire as he speaks. It must have been frightening.

  Gabriel has started a conversation with Melody, the beautiful girl who asked for our dresses to be shortened.

  “Aphrodite rescued you as well?” he gushes.

  “Yes. I mean, I love fashion, but I hate the spotlight. My school holds this charity fashion show every year and I never participate. This year I did it. But by the end of my first runway walk, I was shimmered here. I wonder if anyone noticed.”

  “I would love to be a model!” Gabriel exclaims.

  I swallow the giggles bubbling in my throat. He’s insecure enough without me making fun of him.

  “What about your parents? Were they at the fashion show?”

  “My dad was,” she says.

  “What about your mom?”

  “She’s not feeling great lately.” Her green eyes dart guiltily to the ground. “What about your parents?”

  Gabriel’s lips quiver. “I’m not sure my dad would notice that I’m gone. He doesn’t like me much.”

  “What’s wrong with him?” I interrupt their conversation, filled with indignation.

  “I can never do anything right. He’s always angry. And he’d totally freak out if he learned the truth about…who I’m attracted to.”

  “What does your mom say?” Melody asks.

  “She loves me. But I don’t want her to keep protecting me. Even if they do realize I’m gone, in the end, I’m sure it would be best for both of them.”

  “You can’t possibly think that,” I say. “She’d never be happy without you.”

  “How would you know?” Amy crashes our conversation. “Gabe may be right.”

  I want to punch her when I see the effect of her cruel words on Gabriel. He’s about to break into sobs.

  I whirl to face her. “What’s wrong with you? Can’t you show some compassion?”

  “Compassion is for the weak. He needs to toughen up. I’m actually doing him a favor by being honest.”

  “Can you please stop acting as if I’m not here?” Gabriel speaks softly.

  Jessica Grey, t
he girl who kicked my ass earlier, comes to stand next to Amy.

  “You’re one of us,” she says, pointing to herself and to a boy with shaggy blond hair and hollow cheeks. “A foster kid.”

  “You’re wrong. I’ve never met you in my life.” Amy snaps.

  “I know the look. I can spot an orphan a mile away. Been in the system since I was eight.”

  Some of the resentment I held against Jessica fades away. I never knew my dad, but at least I always had my mother. I don’t know what I would have done, growing up on my own.

  I expect Amy to deny Jessica’s allegations, but she storms away from the campfire, her eyes raw with pain. I’m tired and I don’t want to stand up, but I can’t leave her like that.

  “I’ll go check on her,” I tell Gabriel.

  The festivities are going full swing in the meadow. Gods and nymphs with flower crowns dance weightlessly, their grace painful to watch. I feel awkward and so human next to them. I could never belong here.

  A flash of white catches my eye. Sitting on the grass, as far away from the revelries as can be, is the young god wearing black pants and a tunic similar to the boys. His outfit looks almost modern compared to the togas and Grecian dresses sported by the rest of the guests.

  A drawing pad is propped on his unfolded legs and he holds a piece of charcoal between his thumb and index. Instinctively I take a couple more steps in his direction to get a better look at him. Although I can’t see his face, the creases on his forehead remind me of someone in pain. It bothers me for some reason.

  I’m not the only one who noticed him. A nymph with silvery hair sashays toward the god. He lifts his face before she reaches him, his nostrils flaring as if he caught a bad smell. His usual jaded pout turns into a scowl as the nymph bends over him flirtatiously, but it doesn’t seem to deter her. She whispers something into his ear, her long flowy hair masking his reaction from me. My cheeks burn, making me grateful for the darkness. This feels too intimate so I look away and remember my mission. I need to find Amy.

  But now I have no idea where she went. Thinking what I would do if I wanted to get away, I creep toward the forest that sprawls on the edge of the meadow. It looked inviting enough earlier on, but the shadows that dance among the trees now are eerie.

  “Amy? Are you there?” Only the sound of the wind between the branches answers me.

  If she chose the forest to hide, she’s deep inside where she can’t hear me. I forge ahead, my nerves a raw mess.

  Chapter 13

  Ten minutes after stumbling into the forest, I’m certain it’s alive. Besides the obvious nocturnal animal cries, trees that were there one second ago are uprooted somewhere else, and rustling sounds follow me. I keep calling Amy’s name. Silence answers me.

  At last I stumble upon a clearing bathed in moonlight. Horses are huddled together, deep in conversation. Wait, what? They’re not horses but centaurs—half men, half horses.

  The centaurs hear me come in and stomp their hooves against the grass. As they move, a woman, bent at the waist from old age, hobbles into view.

  “Come forth, my child.” She directs unseeing eyes in my direction. Their orbs are all white, giving her flat stare an unnerving quality.

  When I start walking toward her, she nods.

  “Yes, come closer,” she croaks.

  I glance at the centaurs looming high above my head and wait for their approval. I’m not looking forward to being trampled to death tonight. The one who looks the oldest, with his bushy beard and muscular torso, bows to indicate I have his permission.

  “Thank you,” I whisper, stopping before the old woman.

  She’s the stuff witch tales are made of, with her milky eyes and equally white, wild tresses. She looks wretched, but she must be someone of status on Mount Olympus judging by the expensive material of her gray dress and the necklace at her throat. In the center, a round opal that is as cloudy as her eyes is encased in platinum. Amy would adore this ornament.

  “Have you seen my friend?” I blush when I remember she can’t see.

  The old lady cackles good-naturedly. “Not with my eyes, no. Let me see you,” she says as she entraps my right hand between her gnarled ones. Her skin is cool, as if ice ran in her veins.

  I expect her to run her fingers over my face to “see” me, but instead she hums softly.

  “Hope. A good name.” I gawk at her. I haven’t introduced myself. “You’re longing for home.”

  “I am.” The pressing need makes me forget about Amy. “Can you help me?”

  “Someday I will. But you’ll be surprised where home is for you when the day comes.”

  “Are we moving?” I’m afraid she means a nursing home because that means my mom won’t recognize me anymore.

  “Your heart is.”

  She doesn’t make any sense, like the Fates. Fury takes over as I reach my limit of cryptic conversations and non-answers. I need to take action.

  I tear my hand from the old lady’s iron grip. “I don’t have time for riddles.”

  The centaurs close ranks around me in silent warning but I hear their intentions. If I hurt the old lady, they’ll descend upon me. I’m not too worried—I’m angry, not murderous.

  “I need to go.” I whirl away from them, heading back in the direction I came.

  “We’ll meet again,” she chants behind my back. “I’m the Oracle of Delphi, and I know what your future holds, Hope.”

  I stomp away from her as fast as I can, muttering to myself all the way. All these divinities pretend to know everything but they never have answers. What’s the use of a seer who can’t predict the future?

  At the edge of the clearing, I spot wood nymphs, their skin like bark, that have been listening to us. They melt into the trees promptly as if sensing my wrath.

  If Amy is around, she’s on her own. I came for her. I tried. All day I’ve been trying to protect Gabriel from the trials and to protect myself from the obstacles thrown in my way. I’ve tried to improve in order to be a valuable contestant in the gods’ challenge. And for what? I don’t want to be here, don’t want to compete. I’m not starstruck by the gods like the other kids are. I’m not looking for fame or wealth. I only want my mother to be fine and to enjoy her company for as long as I can. One way or the other, tonight I’m going home.

  I dash across the forest, ignoring the branches that scrape my skin and the roots that attempt to trip me. I’m impervious to their treachery with my mind set on its goal.

  “Challengers shouldn’t roam the forest at night.” A hoarse voice from somewhere ahead startles me.

  A pale stain detaches from the dark bark of an oak. The white hair is attached to a face cast in shadows and slender arms crossed against a broad chest clad in black.

  “Not if they want to survive until competition starts.” The enigmatic god that has piqued my curiosity tilts his face to the side as if listening to something.

  Well, it’s a good thing that I don’t care about the competition then.

  “Go home.”

  I think he means my quarters in Helen of Troy’s villa, but at least I don’t have to lie to him. I snap, “I’m going. Don’t worry about me.”

  “You’re mistaken. I don’t worry about you.” He bares his teeth, another spot of light in the ambient darkness, before pivoting on his heels. “I’d gladly be rid of the whole lot of you.”

  He walks away from me without a goodbye. Silence echoes where his footsteps should thud against the ground.

  If I wanted to return home before, my encounter with the young god has me consumed with the thought now. I scamper through the clearing furtively, afraid Gabriel might spot me, then cross the field in direction of the arena. Once I’ve reached it, I descend the mountain toward its edge, where the clouds hang like a veil. Once I cross the ghostly barrier of clouds, I’m sure I’ll reach Earth. From there I can figure out how to get myself home.

  The road down is longer than ever despite my haste and the all-consuming need that
propels me forward. The villas on the way appear to have multiplied since this morning. I don’t stop to admire their exquisite architecture or guess whom they belong to, nor do I linger on the moon flowers that now adorn their lawns.

  At last I make it to Helen of Troy’s villa, the last landmark before the clouds. I look up one last time toward the snowy peaks and the Olympian Palace, the beautiful mirage that is Mount Olympus and its promise to fulfill my heart’s desire.

  Then I jog headfirst toward the clouds. I’m going home.

  “Ouch!”

  Pain radiates inside my skull after I hit an invisible wall that propels me backward. I land hard on my butt, a thousand stars twirling before my eyes. I massage my forehead that took the brunt of the shock.

  The clouds taunt me, their apparent softness a lure that I fell straight into. I glare at them but force myself to stand up and take cautious steps toward the nebulous mass. This time I keep my hands out to avoid a repeat of my collision. I don’t think my brain could handle another one.

  The clouds are not soft cotton balls as I expected. They are cool mist hovering in the air, leaving my searching fingers moist with dew. But these clouds are deceptive. They hide an inner layer, as hard and impenetrable as rock. I probe the concealed wall for a long time, walking for what feels like miles, hoping to find a gap in its defenses large enough to sneak through.

  I search along the bottom for a hole in the cloud fence and stand on my tiptoes to look for the top of the wall. Nothing. They sprawl forever on the slope of the mountain like an opalescent blanket, masking the rest of the world.

  After two hours of hopeless exploration, I’m trembling from exhaustion and my face is streaked with tears. I punch the cloud wall until my knuckles are raw, calling helplessly for my mother. The gods treat us like adults, but we’re only high school kids. For the first time since my mother got sick and I was forced to grow up faster, I admit how much of a child I still am. I pretend I’m grown up and capable of taking care of my mother, but the truth is, I’m the one who needs protection. I’m not ready to face the world on my own.

  I sink to the ground, hugging my knees to my chest. Amy may be right. I’m selfish. Maybe I should just let my mother fade away to a place where oblivion will spare her from the loss of her sanity and her memories. She won’t hurt anymore once dementia is done with her, obliterating all that she is and ever was. I’m the one who will suffer because I’ll be all alone.