Understanding struck her like a bolt of Zeus’s lightning. That hissing sound she’d heard as she’d sat under the tree that day in the Forest of the Beasts—Orion must have been spraying his wooden arrows with his GodBod! Then, later, he’d put them into her quiver and kept hers for himself.
Orion passed her, carrying the arrows he’d shot and retrieved. A fresh, flowery smell trailed in his wake. Perfume. The same perfume Persephone had used on her birthday arrows. So it was true. Orion had stolen her silver arrows! The ones she’d spent hours training during target practice with Apollo. No wonder Orion was doing so well! If he kept her arrows that day in the forest, he must’ve used them to try out for the part of Eros, too. So that was how he’d beat out Dionysus for the lead role in the play!
Artemis’s chest felt so tight she could hardly breathe. Orion had cheated to steal the part from Dionysus. He’d taken advantage of her and tricked her. He didn’t care about her at all. In fact, he didn’t care about anyone but himself. As long as he was the star of the show, he was happy. Her friends had been right. But Orion wasn’t just an egomaniac, he was a mega-mean-egomaniac!
She blinked back tears. Why had she ever liked him? “I’m sorry,” she said to Apollo, once she’d gotten her feelings under control. “It’s my fault we’re losing.”
Apollo shook his head, but there was no time for discussion. As the second round began, the same thing happened—Apollo hit another bull’s-eye, while Artemis’s arrow failed to reach its target. When Orion’s turn came, his shot was a bull’s-eye, but slightly off center this time. His bad aim was messing up the training she’d given her arrows.
“I hate to admit it, but the guy’s pretty good,” said Apollo.
“No. He’s cheating. With my arrows,” Artemis insisted. Since Orion had no teammate, he got two shots. As he nocked a second arrow, preparing to shoot again, she elbowed Apollo. “Watch this. If his arrows are mine, they’ll obey me, not him.” The minute Orion released an arrow, she murmured:
Silver arrow, true and fine.
Bean that boy in his behind!
Since the arrow was hers, it did her bidding. Making a loop in midair, it reversed direction and zoomed back to nick Orion in the rear.
“Ow! Ow!” Orion exclaimed, holding on to his seat with both hands and jumping around. “Somebody help! I need medical attention. And a new toga!”
Artemis rolled her eyes. “Oh, don’t be so dramatic,” she called out.
“Yeah, save it for the stage,” yelled Apollo, crossing his arms. “Our arrows are magic. They might sting a little, but everyone knows you’re not really hurt. Including you.”
Orion did not answer. However, his acting was good enough to stop the contest for a while as others gathered around him in sympathy. In the stands, the other goddessgirls waved Artemis over.
“What just happened?” Persephone asked when she reached them.
“Orion shot himself in the place that hurts him most,” Artemis replied.
“His rear?” asked Athena.
Artemis grinned. “His ego.”
“That’s a pretty big target,” said Aphrodite.
They all laughed. Seeing that Orion was alone again, Artemis quickly told her friends, “Thanks for coming out to watch. I’ll catch you later.” She saw their worried looks as she left them and headed for Orion. They thought she still liked him. Well, they were wrong about that. Now that she finally saw him for the mega-jerk he really was, she was finished with him. Except for one last thing. Running over to him, she snatched her silver arrows from his quiver. “Here,” she said handing him his wooden ones. “I believe these are yours.”
“Really? I wonder how our arrows got switched,” Orion said in surprise. He was such a brilliant actor that she almost believed his look of innocent confusion. Almost, but not quite.
“Yeah, I wonder,” she said, eyeing him so he’d know he hadn’t gotten away with anything. “Now I’m going to have to spend hours undoing the bad training you’ve given mine. Thanks for nothing.” Turning, she stalked off toward her brother. Behind her, Orion limped off the field, still pretending to be injured. Apparently, he was too much a coward to continue in the contest without her arrows to help him win.
“I don’t get it. How did he wind up with your arrows?” Apollo asked when she rejoined him.
“I took him to the Forest of the Beasts,” she admitted.
His jaw dropped. “What? Why?”
Artemis shrugged. “It’s complicated.”
“I’ll bet,” said Apollo, fuming. Given their poor start, their team lost the contest badly. Artemis could tell that he was furious with her. She wanted to leave him alone until he cooled off, but she made herself do the right thing. Apologize.
“I’m sorry,” she told him, sticking by his side as they headed for the bleachers.
“You should be,” he muttered. Waving to Dionysus and his other friends, he broke into a trot, abruptly leaving her for them.
She stood there looking after him, openmouthed. They’d always supported, defended, and encouraged each other, and she’d taken their friendship for granted. But now he was mad at her. She’d never felt so alone, and she didn’t know how to patch things up between them. But she did know that fighting over someone like Orion was absolutely dumb.
Bailing
WHEN ARTEMIS SPOTTED ORION AT HIS locker Monday morning, her first instinct was to turn around and march away. She reached down and petted her dogs, thinking. “No,” she whispered to Suez. “That would be cowardly. Besides, his locker is only two down from mine. I’m bound to run into him now and then. Better to face him and get it over with.” Suez gave her hand a sympathetic lick.
“Artie! Wait till you hear the news!” Orion said when he noticed her drawing near. He was acting as if yesterday had never happened. As if he hadn’t stolen her arrows, teased her, or cheated. As if he’d done nothing wrong at all. In fact, he was grinning from ear to ear. And he seemed to be cleaning out his locker.
“What news?” She bent to give Sirius a quick pat—after all, he couldn’t help who his master was—then she rummaged in her own locker for the scroll she needed.
“Hermes just brought me a message from Earth. The star of the new play in the Dionysia Amphitheater—the biggest theater in all of Greece—has gotten a bad case of catarrh! Coughing, sneezing, the works.” He looked delighted that the other actor had a cold.
“And that’s good news?” she asked, shutting her locker.
“Yes, because I have been asked to take his place!” Orion had a bag over his shoulder and was stuffing the last of his belongings into it.
With a growing feeling of foreboding, Artemis asked, “Oh? And when does this play start?”
“Right away! Hermes is waiting outside in his chariot to take me to Earth now.”
Her jaw dropped. “What? But The Arrow starts in just a week.”
Orion shrugged. “I’ll have to quit.” He shut his locker and headed down the hall, with Sirius trotting at his heels.
“Quit? You can’t quit!” said Artemis, rushing after him. “People have bought tickets. Everyone has been rehearsing, making sets. What about the other actors? And your fans?”
“I’m sorry to disappoint my fans, of course, but the offer on Earth is too good to pass up. Besides,” he said, rubbing his rear, “MOA is too dangerous for me. What if that arrow had hit me in the face yesterday? It could have ruined my perfect profile. My acting career would’ve been over like that!” He snapped his fingers.
She didn’t bother reminding him that the magic arrows couldn’t really hurt him. Instead she followed him, her hounds trailing behind her. “But what are we going to do without you? You’re the lead!”
He shrugged again, as if the problems he’d be leaving behind weren’t worth his time or attention. “Don’t you get it? This isn’t just a school play I’ve been offered on Earth. It’s the big time. My name in torchlights at the Dionysia Amphitheater.”
Artemis pursued him
down the polished granite stairway at the front of the school, but she couldn’t think of a way to stop him short of tripping him.
At the bottom of the steps, Orion paused and glanced at her thoughtfully. “Hey, I just had an idea! Why don’t you come with me? I haven’t had much time to study the new script, and you could help me learn my lines.” He smiled at her, displaying his dazzling white teeth and his twinkling eyes. He could turn his charm on and off like a nectar fountain, she realized. Well, this time it wouldn’t work.
“You’ve got to be joking. No!” Artemis exclaimed. “You’re letting everyone here down. Don’t you care?” Part of her was shocked at how she was standing up to him after weeks of letting him run her life. Part of her knew she had to. If he realized how unfair he was being, maybe she could make him change his mind.
“I’m sorry you feel that way,” he told her, “but I don’t have time to straighten this out right now. Rehearsal starts in an hour, so I’ve got to head out. You’ll explain to everyone for me, won’t you?”
Artemis gasped in dismay. “What? You expect me to explain to Principal Zeus?” She’d rather face down a beast solo than give the principal such bad news!
Turning away, Orion hopped into Hermes’ chariot and told him that he was ready to go.
“No—wait!” She lunged for the chariot. But before she could stop it, it lifted off and sailed away, leaving her to clean up Orion’s mess and face everyone’s disappointment—again.
“Where’s he going?” asked a voice from behind her. It was Aphrodite.
Artemis turned to see her, Persephone, Athena, and her brother taking the gleaming granite steps down toward her.
“Orion bailed on our play,” she blurted.
“What!” they said in identical tones of disbelief.
“It’s true. He got the lead in a big production at the Dionysia Amphitheater in Greece, so he just took off.” She waved toward the chariot in the sky. “Can you believe it?”
“Yes,” said Apollo. He glared at her as he folded his arms. Like this was somehow her fault.
Artemis heaved a big sigh. It was obvious her brother hadn’t forgiven her for yesterday. As she glanced toward the school, her stomach plunged. “Principal Zeus is not going to be happy when he finds out about this.”
“Orion didn’t bother to tell my dad?” asked Athena, sounding outraged.
Artemis shook her head.
“What a coward,” said Persephone, who usually had something nice to say about everyone.
“I guess it’s up to me to deliver the news.” Artemis began taking the steps upward, her heart quaking.
“Are you crazy?” asked Aphrodite, going after her. “You’re really going to tell Principal Zeus that his play is ruined?”
Artemis paused. “What’s the worst he could do?” she asked, not really wanting to know the answer.
Persephone made a noise in her throat. “Ahem. Have you seen his office? Holes everywhere from his lightning bolts?”
“Hey, that’s my dad you’re talking about,” Athena reminded her.
“Sorry, but the guy’s got a temper,” said Persephone.
Athena shrugged. “Can’t argue with that.”
Artemis took a deep breath. “But Zeus’s bark is worse than his bite, right? He might yell, but he’s not going to turn me into a toad or anything.”
The others fell silent. Even Apollo. And everyone seemed to avoid looking at her. Hmmm.
Finally Aphrodite spoke up. “Uh-oh. Speaking of Zeus, here he comes.”
“Hi, Dad!” Athena called out, as if hoping to put him in a better mood. It didn’t work.
“What in thunderation is going on out here?” Zeus boomed. “Can’t a god sleep in for once without someone taking an unauthorized chariot trip?” He was dressed in a long robe with fuzzy slippers that each had big lightning bolts on them. His red hair stuck out in all directions like it was full of electricity. It hardly seemed possible, but he looked even scarier than usual in his pj’s as he loomed over their group.
Waving a big, meaty hand toward the chariot that was rapidly disappearing through the clouds toward Earth, he demanded, “Who’s responsible for that?”
Dead silence greeted his question. His slipper began tapping. “WELL?” he thundered.
Artemis stepped forward. “Principal Zeus, I have s-some b-bad n-news—”
“SPEAK UP, GIRL!” he roared.
Suddenly Artemis realized that physical prowess in the hunt was only one type of bravery. A different kind of bravery was needed now. Clasping her hands together to keep them from trembling, she looked the principal in the eye. “Orion is gone.”
Zeus blinked. “Orion?”
“The foreign exchange student?” Artemis reminded him. “He took a part in another play down on Earth, and he’s dropping out of The Arrow.” She noticed the others were looking at her in awe. Did she sound braver than she felt?
“WHAT?” Zeus’s voice was louder than she’d ever heard it. But she refused to cower, even though she was scared. In a way this was like a battle. She just needed to stay calm, keep her wits about her, and face him with as much strength of character as she could muster. “Don’t worry. Things are under control.” It made her feel braver just to hear her own reasonable, calm tone.
“How do you figure that?” he demanded, folding arms that bulged with muscles.
“Dionysus is Orion’s understudy. He can take over Orion’s part with no problem,” she said, feeling certain this must be true.
Zeus frowned. “Then who’ll take Dionysus’s part?”
Everyone looked blank.
“Um . . . ,” said Artemis, thinking hard. Drops of perspiration formed on her brow.
“I will,” Apollo volunteered.
Artemis looked at him, more grateful than she’d ever been. “Do you know his part?”
Apollo rolled his eyes. “He only had six lines. The part is mostly archery, so how hard can it be?” He clapped a hand on Artemis’s shoulder and looked up at Zeus. “My sister and I were practically born with bows and arrows in our hands.”
Zeus still looked grumpy, but things were working out so well that he seemed to be calming down. He yawned hugely and scratched his beard. Then he got a familiar, weird look on his face and thumped the side of his head with his fist. “What?” he said. “Yes, well, I’m surprised too, but what can ya do? Win some, lose some.”
“He’s talking to my mom,” Athena whispered to the others. As everyone knew, strange as it was, Athena’s mom, Metis, was a fly who lived inside Zeus’s head.
Zeus sighed deeply, listening to the voice only he could hear. “Yes, dear. I know you’re hardly ever wrong. I was sure that Orion boy was star material, too!” While continuing to carry on a conversation with Athena’s unseen mom, he turned on one giant slippered foot and strode back to the Academy, the hem of his long robe fluttering in the breeze behind him.
“Thanks, Apollo,” said Artemis. “I know you don’t even like drama, so it was really nice of you to volunteer to take over Dionysus’s part.”
Her brother shrugged. “It was the least I could do. I haven’t been entirely fair to you,” he admitted. “Part of the reason I’ve been so grouchy lately has nothing to do with you. I was upset because Daphne sent me a note saying she just wants to be my friend. I should’ve guessed she didn’t want me for a boyfriend. She ducked behind a tree every time I came near her.”
Artemis wrapped an arm around his shoulder. “I know how you feel. Really. I’m sorry.”
Apollo nodded. “It hurts when someone doesn’t like you the same way you like them, doesn’t it?”
“Yeah, but that’s not all I’m sorry for. I should have listened to you. You were right about Orion, only I couldn’t see it at the time.”
“He was a jerk, all right,” said Aphrodite, overhearing.
Artemis nodded. “A mega-jerk.” The others laughed and she smiled, feeling that things were getting back to normal with her friends and brother. It w
as as if for a time she’d been struck by one of Eros’s arrows herself. One that had briefly made her fall in like with Orion, just as Eros had fallen in love with Psyche in the play.
But in her case, that love-struck feeling had definitely faded!
Wild Beasts
AFTER HER LAST TWO NERVE-RACKING experiences in the Forest of the Beasts, Artemis dreaded a return there. But she could hardly avoid going when her Beast-ology class was assigned to meet there again the following Friday. She contemplated playing sick, but she didn’t want to let her friends down. So, when she could put it off no longer, she stashed her quiver of silver arrows, her bow, a pair of winged sandals, and her three dogs in her chariot and called to her four white deer to take them all to the forest.
By the time she arrived, Aphrodite, Athena, and Persephone were already waiting, their magic sandals allowing them to hover a few inches above the brightly colored wildflowers growing low on the forest floor. Artemis’s hounds hopped out first, greeting the others and sniffing the area excitedly. Reluctantly she slung her quiver and bow over one shoulder and stepped out too. Sitting on a mossy rock, she strapped on her winged sandals. The sooner they got started, the sooner they’d finish, right? She rose to hover alongside the others. “Ready,” she announced.
Ping! Ping! The faint sound of a bell tinkled, and a distant voice announced, “Third period at Mount Olympus Academy is now in session.”
“Just in time,” said Persephone. “Let’s get going.”
Everyone looked at Artemis, waiting.” Somebody else take the lead this time,” she said. “I’m not in the mood.”
“I will,” Athena volunteered, and then they were off.
Artemis brought up the rear, zooming through the forest, her eyes darting here and there. Her heart raced as she watched and listened carefully for telltale signs of lurking beasts.
Clink-clink-clink!
Artemis flinched. “W-what was that?” she called out.
“Godness—you’rejumpytoday,” said Aphrodite, who was just ahead of her. She pointed to a herd of white-bearded goats munching grass nearby. The clinking sound had only been the bells that the nymphs had looped around their necks to keep them from straying.
Artemis the Brave Page 7
