She was shocked to hear herself actually sigh. She sounded just like the nymphs when Apollo and Hades had entered the forest earlier that day. Boy crazy.
Artemis left the cosmetics area and went to sit at her desk, but her unsettling thoughts went with her. She’d never crushed on any guy before. Everybody knew that. So what if Orion liked dogs? So what if he was as gorgeous as the mortal Narcissus? She knew plenty of other boys who liked dogs, and most godboys were handsome. Why him?
As she took her seat, Orion’s image leaped to mind again: the pale blue eyes, the long dark eyelashes, the tall, muscular build, the spiky blond hair. Added together with his obvious dramatic skill, those traits certainly seemed to suggest a kind of star quality. She smiled dreamily. Why not him? Maybe like Aphrodite said, she was about to find out how wonderful romance could be.
“Artemis!” The teacher’s voice jerked her back to attention. “Where’s your mind today?” Uh-oh. Ms. ThreeGraces was standing right beside her desk. Artemis looked around. Everyone else was busy working. How long had she been daydreaming? Glancing down at her desk, she saw she’d been drawing hearts on her papyrus notescroll instead of taking notes.
“Sorry Ms. ThreeGraces.”
“Really, Artemis.” Glancing at the hearts on Artemis’s notescroll, her teacher raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow. “Since you’ve forgotten your textscroll and can’t follow today’s assignment, you may write a three-page essay on the beauty of being organized instead.”
Ugh, thought Artemis. “You mean now?” Ms. ThreeGraces looked at her sternly. With a sigh, Artemis picked up her quill pen and began to write. Although Ms. ThreeGraces was okay, Artemis liked Beauty-ology class about as much as Aphrodite liked Beast-ology hunts. And although class seemed to drag on longer than usual today, she wasn’t able to get her assignment done before the bell rang. After rolling up the half-finished papyrus, she dashed out of the room with it before her teacher could ask her to stay till it was finished.
As she always did on Friday afternoons once school was out, Artemis met her brother Apollo in the Coliseum arena for archery practice. But today she brought Sirius along with her own hounds. As soon as she arrived, the dogs began to frolic together in the park nearby, traipsing through fields of asphodel, irises, and ferns.
“Who’s that?” asked Apollo when she showed up with the little white dog in tow. “I thought Principal Zeus said you could only keep three dogs in your room.”
“His name is Sirius, but he’s not mine. I’m dog-sitting,” said Artemis, pulling an arrow from her quiver. “Come on, let’s shoot to see who’s best out of ten.”
“You’re on.” Apollo nocked his first arrow, forgetting all about the dog.
After two hours of target practice, they packed up their archery equipment and headed to the cafeteria for dinner. The dogs trailed them, ready for dinner as well. When they got to the door, they found a six-inch-long magic arrow darting around just outside of it.
“Artemis and Apollo?” it asked in a buzzy voice that was sort of like what a bumblebee might’ve sounded like if it could speak. Suez stood on his hind legs and put his front paws on the door, sniffing at the arrow interestedly.
Artemis looked at Apollo, who shrugged, looking blank. “Yes,” she replied to the arrow. “That’s us.”
The arrow started buzz-talking again. “Artemis and Apollo . . . I ask you to follow . . . me up the stairway . . . for a very . . .”
“For a very what?” asked Artemis, bewildered when it didn’t say more.
“Follow me . . . and you’ll see,” buzzed the arrow, sounding a trifle impatient.
Apollo opened the door. “Come on. Let’s find out what’s going on.”
“Okay, but I’m starving, so there had better be food involved in whatever’s up there,” Artemis warned the arrow. At that, the arrow zipped inside, leading them up the winding staircase. Taking the four dogs with them, they followed until they reached another door. Apollo pushed it wide, and they stepped into the open-air domed cupola at the top of the school.
“Happy birthday!”
“Wh-what?” Artemis jumped at the sound of a couple dozen voices. The cupola was crowded with their classmates, including Aphrodite, Athena, and Persephone, and some of Apollo’s friends. There were balloons everywhere, and a small pile of gifts. Doves wove among the columns that encircled the dome, pulling colorful streamers behind them. The arrow that had led them there zipped into the room and took a nosedive into something that was set on a nearby table, joining more arrows just like it.
“You didn’t think we’d forgotten, did you?” asked Aphrodite.
“No,” said Artemis, “but I almost did. And I sure didn’t expect all this. Thanks, you guys.” She gave her three best friends a hug. They all hugged Apollo, too. Then his godboy friends came over to tease him about it. Eyeing the snacks, Artemis scooted toward the table. Her dogs were already there, sniffing around for any tasty crumbs that might have fallen on the floor.
Set on a long marble table were terra-cotta bowls of ambrosia, cups of nectar punch, and hero sandwiches. But what caught her eye was the large round cake. It was decorated like a target, with concentric circles of white, black, blue, red, and yellow frosting. Stuck tip-first in the yellow bull’s-eye at its center were thirteen arrows. As she and Apollo approached, the end of each arrow suddenly blazed with light. They were candles, she realized. She was the first of her friends to turn thirteen.
“We made your cake in Ms. ThreeGraces’ class this morning,” said Aphrodite.
“It looks really great,” said Apollo, obviously impressed.
After they’d blown out the candles, Artemis hovered over the cake, trying not to drool. “So when do we cut it?”
Persephone laughed. Everyone knew Artemis had a sweet tooth. “How about now?”
At her words, each of the arrows slid outward from the middle of the cake, neatly cutting it into slices. “Let’s eat!” said Artemis, first in line to pile up her plate. Every time a slice of cake was taken, another magically appeared in its place to complete the cake again.
Her hounds had a sweet tooth too, and so, apparently, did Orion’s dog. When a couple of partygoers left their cake unattended, the dogs quickly helped themselves, smearing frosting on their muzzles and leaving crumbs all over the floor, which they quickly slurped up. “Oops, I forgot you guys,” Artemis said, scurrying over to find healthier snacks for them.
After everyone had eaten, Athena brought out two identical boxes. Both were long and slender. She handed the one tied with a gold ribbon to Apollo, and the box with the silver ribbon to Artemis. “We figured with the archery competition coming up, you two could use these,” said Aphrodite.
Artemis opened her box excitedly. Inside, she found three shiny arrows. “Silver arrows!” she breathed reverently. Glancing over at her brother, she saw that he’d gotten three golden ones.
“They’re aerodynamically perfect,” said Athena. “I designed the specifications for them, and Hephaestus helped Aphrodite make them in MOA’s blacksmith shop.”
Hearing his name, Aphrodite’s friend came over. “The first one is named Opsis,” Hephaestus said, leaning on his cane. “That means ‘aim’; the second is Loxos, or ‘trajectory’; and the third is Hekaergos, which means ‘distancing.’”
“They’ll smell good too,” said Persephone. “I added perfume, so each one has a natural floral scent when it flies.”
“Wow,” said Artemis, stroking them lovingly.
Apollo glanced at Persephone in alarm. “No perfume on mine, I hope.”
She laughed. “No, yours are designed to play the songs your band performs. Dionysus helped with that.” Apollo’s band was called Heavens Above, and it played at all the school dances.
Artemis was so overwhelmed she almost started to cry. Instead she held one arrow up and sighted down it. “It’s straight and true. And the best gift I’ve ever gotten. Oh! Thank you so much.” Jumping up, she gave her friends another round of hu
gs. As if worried they might be missing out on something, the four dogs leaped around the girls and tried to squeeze between them. Artemis laughed and hugged them, too.
“So—what are you going to do this weekend?” Athena asked Artemis and Apollo when things settled down. “Something fun for your birthday? Maybe go to Poseidon’s water park down on Earth?”
“Or maybe to the Olympic footraces,” Apollo mused. “What do you think, Artemis?”
“Well . . . actually, I was thinking I might go watch the auditions for the school play,” Artemis announced. “They’re tomorrow.”
Apollo laughed as he went for seconds on the cake. “Ha! Good one. That’ll be the day.”
“I’m serious,” said Artemis. “I want to see the auditions.”
Apollo’s jaw dropped, a fork halfway to his mouth. “Why the sudden interest in drama?”
“Why not?” Artemis leaned over to pick up Sirius. He’d been pawing at her leg, and she wondered if he was feeling homesick for Orion and a bit overwhelmed by all this excitement.
“Don’t tell me you got another dog?” Aphrodite said in horror. Apparently, she hadn’t noticed Sirius until just that moment. That figured. She’d never been overly fond of dogs and tried to ignore them. “He’s not mine,” Artemis assured her. “I’m only watching him for a friend.”
“On your birthday?” asked Athena, sounding surprised.
“For who?” Persephone said at the same time.
“For the new godboy, Orion,” said Artemis. “Have you met him yet? He’s a foreign exchange student.”
Apollo, who had begun playing a game of darts with Hephaestus, Hades, and Dionysus, looked over. With a frown, he said, “Orion’s not a godboy. Did he tell you he was?”
“Well, no,” said Artemis, shaking her head. But he had to be. He was totally handsome and had glittery skin!
“He’s a mortal,” said Apollo.
Artemis’s eyes widened. “Really? But he’s so . . . shimmery.”
Apollo folded his arms, looking superior. Behind him, the dart game continued. “Have you been to the Immortal Marketplace lately? There’s a new store there called Play Spray.”
“I’ve heard of it!” Aphrodite said. “They sell all kinds of temporary body sprays and paints.”
Apollo nodded. “Right. Orion told us he bought a bottle of something called GodBod and sprayed himself with it.” He snapped his fingers. “Instant shimmer skin.”
“Fake shimmer to look like us?” Persephone said, shaking her head. “What will those mortals think of next?”
“Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery,” quoted Athena.
Sirius had begun to squirm in Artemis’s arms, so she set him down. He scampered over to join her hounds in licking up the last bits of frosting from abandoned plates. “How do you know all this?” she asked her brother.
“Orion told me himself. He’s in my Olympics-ology class,” said Apollo.
“I remember passing him in the hall this morning,” Persephone added. “He didn’t speak when I said hello. I thought he must be a little shy.”
“Shy? Are you kidding? He’s a bigmouth,” said Apollo. “When Coach Triathlon asked him to tell us a little about himself, he went on and on for at least ten minutes.”
“What did he say?” Artemis couldn’t help asking.
Apollo rolled his eyes. “I don’t know. I zoned out after the first minute. Something about his dreams of being a star.”
“A star?” Persephone asked, looking toward the heavens in confusion.
“The actor kind,” Apollo clarified. Turning toward the dartboard, he rejoined the game.
“He’s probably trying out for the play tomorrow in the amphitheater then,” said Aphrodite. She eyed Artemis speculatively. Had she guessed the real reason for her sudden fascination with the theater?
“I saw a poster about it. It’s called The Arrow,” said Artemis quickly. “Naturally, anything about archery catches my eye.”
“I heard about it too.” Persephone glanced at Athena, whose dad was the principal. “Principal Zeus is directing it, isn’t he?”
Athena nodded. “It’s a drama about Eros and Psyche.”
“I’m hoping to snag the lead role,” said a godboy with eyes the color of purple grapes. A talented actor, Dionysus took the lead in every school play. He was famous down on Earth, too. There was even a dramatic festival held every year in Athens, Greece, in his honor.
Aphrodite smiled at him. “Gee, I wonder if you’ll get the part?”
Dionysus grinned and shrugged, running his fingers through his curly black hair and around the two small horns that stuck up from the top of his head.
“Maybe I’ll try out too,” said Aphrodite. “I’d love to play Psyche, the nymph.”
“We could help with the sets,” Persephone suggested to Hades.
“Sure,” he agreed distractedly, intent on aiming his dart.
“I’m already involved,” said Athena. “Dad asked me to lead the Greek Chorus with my flute.”
“Yes!” Apollo cheered Hades’ dartboard bull’s-eye, then turned to Athena. “Is this play a tragedy or a comedy?”
“A little of both, I think.” She glanced from him to Artemis. “Maybe the two of you should try out. Dad mentioned he’ll need some actors skilled in archery.”
“Now that would really be tragedy,” said Apollo. “Neither of us could act our way out of a papyrus bag.”
“Speak for yourself,” said Artemis. Secretly, she thought he was probably right, though.
Her brother laughed. “Do whatever you want, but I’ll stick to archery on the field, thanks. There are plenty of other good archers who’ll try out, like Dionysus.”
After that, talk drifted to other things, and eventually the party broke up. That night in her dorm room, Artemis spent some time finishing up the paper on organization that Ms. ThreeGraces had given her. Glancing around her messy room, she doubted the assignment would actually change anything. She was just naturally disorganized. Most times she couldn’t be bothered to hang up her clothes. And what was the point of making her bed or cleaning out her locker, anyway? They’d just get messy again. If she could’ve changed the title of her paper to “The Beauty of Being Disorganized,” it would have been a snap to write!
By bedtime, Orion still hadn’t come for his dog, and Sirius was acting kind of worried. Every time he heard footsteps in the hall outside Artemis’s room, his head snapped up eagerly, and he cocked his ears toward the door. After the steps passed, his furry chin sank onto his front paws again, and he practically sighed with longing. Artemis was going to scold Orion tomorrow for deserting his poor pooch on his first day in a new place.
But maybe she’d wear her most fashionable chiton—if she could find it—and comb her hair to do it. Just so he’d see she wasn’t always a mess.
Auditions
THE NEXT MORNING ARTEMIS PUT ON HER best red chiton, which she found in a heap on the floor. As she hunted around for her belt, she stepped on something. “Ow!” It was a hair clip Aphrodite had given her years ago, hidden under an old, holey chiton she wore as a nightie. The clip was pretty. Why hadn’t she ever worn it before? Gathering her hair high on her head, she clasped the gold band around it, then put on her belt and grabbed her bow and arrows. She didn’t have a mirror, so she looked at her reflection in the sunlit window glass. She looked . . . nice. But she couldn’t help noticing that even her best chiton was a little wrinkled. And what was that spot on the shoulder? She angled the strap of her quiver to cover it and smoothed out the wrinkles as best she could.
Satisfied, Artemis whistled for Sirius and her hounds. “Let’s go, guys!” Together, they hurried toward the amphitheater where the drama auditions were being held. The dogs were in their usual high spirits, running this way and that and chasing everything that moved. Sirius seemed to have formed an attachment to Amby, the beagle, and playfully nipped at his tail and ears. When Amby had had enough and started to chase him, Sirius dodge
d under the larger dogs, as if he were passing under tall bridges. “Hey, you guys, behave yourselves!” she exclaimed when they almost knocked her over. By the time they arrived, most of the seats were full and auditions were under way.
As she started down the aisle, Principal Zeus’s voice thundered out. “Well?” Startled, she jumped. But then she realized he was only speaking to the actors.
More than seven feet tall, with bulging muscles, a curly red beard, and piercing blue eyes, Zeus was an intimidating sight. Wide, flat, golden bracelets encircled his wrists, and he always wore a belt decorated with a thunderbolt. Like most of the students at MOA, Artemis was just a little bit afraid of him.
The school herald consulted the scroll he held. Then he struck the lyrebell with the tiny hammer he always carried. Ping! Ping! “Pandora and Dionysus, please report to the stage for auditions!” he called in his clear voice.
Spotting Aphrodite on a stone bench in the third row, Artemis went to sit with her. To her surprise, Apollo was seated one row behind with Hephaestus, Poseidon, and some other godboys. Since when were they interested in drama?
Taking a seat, she told the dogs to lie down. Pooped from all their play, they didn’t object. Suez curled up with his head on her feet, and the other three spilled over into the aisle to her left. Aphrodite shifted to her right, as far from the dogs as she could manage. Meanwhile, Pandora and Dionysus came onstage as directed.
Artemis leaned back to whisper to Apollo, “What’s up? I thought you weren’t going to try out for the archery scenes.”
“I thought the same thing about you.”
“Me? I’m just here to watch. And to support Aphrodite when it’s her turn. And to give Orion his dog.”
“Yeah? Well, I’m just here to support Dionysus when he tries out, so—”
“Places!” Principal Zeus boomed, drawing everyone’s attention. Apollo and Artemis both jumped in their seats, and onstage Pandora jerked in surprise, dropping her script.
Artemis the Brave Page 3
