Artemis the Brave

by Williams, Suzanne; Holub, Joan

  Nectar rolled over and put his head in Artemis’s lap, and she absently petted him. Meanwhile, Orion recovered and began trying to snag Zeus’s attention again, jumping up and down and clutching at his sleeve. He just wouldn’t give up!

  But Zeus continued to ignore him in favor of students who actually did need his help. Artemis saw Hades and a lizard-tailed technician direct his attention upward, pointing at a cluster of seven overhead lights. As Artemis looked at them too, Persephone joined her. “Hades said some of the lights for the grand finale aren’t working,” she said, staring upward as well.

  “I never realized that putting on a play could be so complicated,” said Artemis.

  When she glanced back at Zeus again, Hades and the technician were speaking earnestly and seriously to him. But Zeus was staring at Orion now, who had turned to walk away in dejection, as if he had finally given up hope of regaining the principal’s attention.

  Zeus shifted the scrolls he was holding in the crook of one arm and clapped his free hand onto Orion’s shoulder. “Ow!” Orion squeaked, as a tiny bolt of electricity from Zeus’s meaty fingers zapped through him.

  “Hold on a minute,” said the principal. He grinned hugely, as if he and Orion were suddenly best friends.

  Orion brightened. “Did you change your mind? Can I have the lead back?”

  “No. But Hades gave me an idea. I think we can figure out something else—a special part, just for you.” Zeus turned and winked at Hades, who only looked confused.

  “Mega-tastic!” Orion exclaimed. “I’ve memorized the entire script and am prepared to play any part.”

  “Excellent!” Zeus clapped his arms around Orion’s and Hades’ backs.

  “Ouch!” they said in unison as he began to lead them both backstage. Seeing his master slip away, Sirius bounded from the chariot to follow.

  “I hope you’re not afraid of heights,” Artemis thought she heard Hades murmur to Orion. That didn’t make any sense. Maybe he’d said afraid of lights. But that made even less sense.

  “Come on,” said Artemis, clapping her hands to wake Suez, Amby, and Nectar as she hopped from the chariot. “Let’s find someplace to sit before the play starts.”

  “I wonder which part Zeus will give Orion,” Persephone said as they made their way up the theater aisle. “It doesn’t seem fair to take a role away from someone else.”

  “Especially when Orion left everyone in the lurch in the first place,” said Artemis. They paused at a fountain, and the dogs lapped from its waters for several minutes. “Zeus wouldn’t be that unfair, would he?”

  “I wouldn’t think so,” Persephone said uncertainly.

  Once the girls found seats, Artemis settled her hounds beside her. Just as she got them calmed down, the first lovely, clear notes of Athena’s flute sounded, signaling that the play was about to begin. After weeks of rehearsal and set building, the efforts of the cast and crew were finally going to be on display. Excitement swelled in her. She could hardly believe the big night had arrived!

  The curtain swished open to reveal a backdrop of flower-covered mountainsides with a fire-breathing dragon, a centaur, and a beast or two lurking among them. The audience oohed and aahed. Many were seeing it for the first time. Aphrodite walked onto the stage. She was wearing a long, flowing blue chiton that matched her eyes, and there were flowers in her wavy blond hair. More oohs and aahs.

  “Hey.” Artemis elbowed Persephone lightly. “Good job with Aphrodite’s hair,” she whispered. “It’s hard to believe she just fought a battle. She looks so beautiful.”

  “Doesn’t she?” said Persephone. Her eyes were shining.

  After Aphrodite spoke a few lines, Dionysus appeared onstage. He looked as handsome as always, wearing a white toga and carrying a red and gold archery bow. Artemis was relieved to see that Zeus hadn’t replaced him with Orion after all.

  Aphrodite and Dionysus were so totally convincing that Artemis soon became lost in the play. She forgot she was watching actors. In her mind, her friends had truly become Psyche and Eros.

  “There she is,” Eros whispered to himself onstage, spotting Psyche. He crept closer to her as she strolled through the forest, combing her long blond hair. Stealthily he lifted his bow, aiming a golden arrow of love at the beautiful mortal girl. “May this arrow not wound you, but rather make you fall in love with the ugliest creature on Earth.”

  A deer ran across the stage then, surprising him the very moment he let his arrow fly. Dropping his bow, Eros accidentally shot himself in the foot with his own arrow. “Yeeouch!” His expression of dismay was so comical and believable that Artemis laughed out loud along with the rest of the audience. Of course this was exactly the way they’d rehearsed it. Eros was supposed to have this accident.

  Persephone leaned over and giggled when he shot himself. “Remind you of anyone we know from the archery contest?”

  “Hmm?” Artemis was so caught up in the play that the joke didn’t even register. She gasped as Eros ran to Psyche’s side and dropped to one knee. “I love you,” he proclaimed, clasping a hand over his heart. “Forever and ever.”

  Pandora, in the role of a jealous goddess, swept in from the wings of the stage, her eyes flashing dangerously. “Fool!” she raged at Eros. “To punish you for failing to make Psyche fall in love with the ugliest creature on Earth, I will stop her from falling in love with anyone! In fact, I’ll make sure that no one on Earth falls in love ever again—from now until eternity.” She paused, then added, “Do you understand me?” Having rehearsed with Orion many times, Artemis knew that this last line wasn’t actually in the play. It seemed Pandora couldn’t resist asking at least one question.

  “Good,” replied Psyche, raising her chin and drawing the goddess’s cruel gaze. “I’m happy without a boyfriend.”

  “Yeah! You go, Psyche!” Artemis called out, punching her fist in the air. Persephone and the rest of the audience laughed at her outburst, and she grinned. Seriously, though, before she gave her heart again she was going to be sure she found a really great guy who deserved it.

  The story was full of mischief and misunderstandings, and it flew by as fast as the arrows that Dionysus shot from his bow. All too soon it was time for the last scene, in which the trouble was reversed and everyone on Earth was falling in love again. Artemis felt tears burn at her eyes. She’d become so involved in the story that she’d momentarily forgotten that this was just a play. She felt so happy for the characters. If only she had been so lucky in love.

  As the grand finale came to a close, the orchestra started to play a piece called “Seventh Heaven,” written by Apollo’s band. Above the stage, a pulley creaked, slowly towing something across the sky backdrop. Suddenly seven bright lights gleamed, hanging suspended high above the actors. No, they weren’t lights, but stars. A fake constellation!

  “I wonder how they managed to do that,” whispered Persephone. “I thought Hades said those seven lights were broken.”

  “Someone is up there holding them,” said Artemis. They squinted into the glare, trying to see who it was. “It’s Orion hanging from wires!” she and Persephone exclaimed at the same time. A big mirrored star had been pinned to each of his shoulders and two more were attached to his feet. Those four plus his three-star belt buckle shone brightly, reflecting the stage lights so he looked like a constellation.

  Artemis grinned. “Well, Orion always said he wanted to be a star. Looks like Zeus made his wish come true. Times seven.”

  Persephone giggled, bumping Artemis’s shoulder with her own.

  Minutes later the play was over, and the curtains swept shut. Almost immediately they swung open again, and everyone cheered wildly as the entire cast of The Arrow came onstage from the wings. Artemis thought Apollo had done an admirable job as Psyche’s father, even if he did have only six lines. She caught his eye. Good job, she mouthed at him. Smiling, he nodded, looking pleased.

  As the audience cheered and clapped, Suez, Amby, and Nectar woke up and j
oined in by howling their approval. After taking their bows, the actors waved and disappeared backstage.

  The velvet curtain whooshed shut again, but the clapping continued. A moment later the curtain reopened to reveal three people—the two lead actors, Aphrodite and Dionysus, with Zeus between them. The three of them linked hands and took another bow. “Ow! Ow!” Aphrodite and Dionysus squeaked in unison as each received a small shock from Zeus’s hands.

  The audience clapped louder than ever. Artemis was so proud of them that she jumped to her feet. Others followed suit giving the actors a standing ovation.

  Friends and Pie

  WHEN THE CURTAIN CALLS FINALLY ENDED, Artemis and Persephone ran down to the stage, followed by three bouncy hounds. The girls hugged Aphrodite and Athena. “Even though I’ve never seen a play before, I can guarantee that was the best one ever,” Artemis declared.

  Aphrodite beamed at the praise. “Thanks!”

  “C’mon. Let’s go celebrate your opening night!” said Persephone.

  “Sounds great. I’m starving,” said Aphrodite.

  “Me too,” said Dionysus, joining them. Apollo and Hades came along moments later, and the three godboys and four goddessgirls decided to go together to get snacks at the Supernatural Market. Aphrodite went to change her clothes backstage before she left, so the girls went with her and the boys walked on ahead.

  “Hello?” a lonely voice called out as the four goddessgirls were leaving the deserted theater at last.

  “Who said that?” asked Artemis, pausing to look around.

  “It’s Orion! He’s still up there,” said Athena, pointing behind them. Everyone turned to gaze toward the stage. Sure enough, Orion still hung above it on the pulley, his seven stars glittering brightly against the dark backdrop. He looked so handsome there, his stars, eyes, and fake golden skin twinkling faintly.

  Sirius sat on a bench, front row center, watching him as if he thought the play was still in progress.

  “Why is he still up there?” asked Aphrodite.

  “From the look on his face, I think he’s wondering the same thing,” said Persephone.

  Suddenly Sirius began to howl. “I think there’s been some snafu with the rigging,” said Artemis.

  Persephone wrinkled her brow. “Who’s going to get him down?”

  Several stagehands came out and gathered below Orion, scratching their heads in puzzlement as they stared up at him. Zeus joined them, calling up encouragement to Orion. “Hang up there—I mean hang in there—and we’ll have you down in a flash.”

  “Thanks . . .” Orion’s lonely reply echoed through the nearly empty theater.

  “Do you think we should offer to help?” Athena asked.

  Aphrodite cocked her head at Artemis. “It’s your call. Do we stay or go?”

  Artemis thought about it, then shook her head. “Seems to me Orion’s getting the star treatment he deserves.” She smiled at her friends. “Anyone else ready for a nectar shake and some ambrosia pie?” Four hands shot up in the air, including her own.

  As they turned to continue on to the market, Artemis accidentally bumped into someone. “Sorry,” she said in surprise, looking up to see a boy she didn’t know. A mortal, since his skin didn’t shimmer. He wore a quiver slung over his shoulder.

  “Hey, Artemis,” he said, bending to stroke a hand over each of her dogs’ backs in turn. He glanced at her, his gray eyes steady but curious. “You’re Apollo’s sister, right? I saw you at the contest. We should practice together sometime.”

  “Mm-hmm,” Artemis said. At her lack of encouragement, the boy just smiled slightly and continued on past them in the other direction.

  “He’s a friend of Hades. A mortal named Actaeon,” Persephone told the group once the boy was out of earshot.

  “Cute,” Aphrodite pronounced.

  “I think he liked you,” Athena informed Artemis.

  Artemis shrugged. The boy had seemed nice. And he’d actually petted her dogs, something Orion had never done. She knew she was brave in some ways, but was she brave enough to try romance again so soon? She glanced back at Actaeon and caught him looking her way too. He waved, and she blushed.

  “I see more romance in your future,” teased Aphrodite, mimicking the tone of an O-racle-o cookie, a type of fortune cookie served in the MOA cafeteria.

  “Ha!” said Artemis, laughing. But maybe she would accept his offer to practice archery together sometime. She’d think about it, anyway. Turning back to her friends, she said, “Speaking of the future, I see some pie in mine. And what about those nectar shakes, huh?”

  Giggling, the goddessgirls linked arms and headed out of the theater in search of snacks fit for the gods.

  WHO’S THAT?” ATHENA ASKED, GESTURING toward an unfamiliar boy as she plunked her tray onto the table where she and her goddessgirl friends always sat for lunch. The entire cafeteria at Mount Olympus Academy was buzzing with excitement over him. Usually she didn’t pay much attention to boys, but even she couldn’t help noticing this one. Dressed in a lionskin cape—its jaws fit his head like a helmet—he was tall with dark, curly hair, and bursting with muscles like Atlas, the school’s champion weightlifter.

  Aphrodite arched a perfectly shaped eyebrow. “You haven’t heard? His name’s Heracles. He was admitted to the Academy only this morning.” A look of disapproval came into her lovely blue eyes as she glanced at him. “I’ll admit he’s cute, but he has absolutely no sense of fashion.”

  Athena took a bite of her hero sandwich. A lion cape was perhaps overkill as a fashion statement.

  “I heard he’s a skilled archer,” said Artemis. “But I’ll believe it when I see it.”

  She frowned in his direction. “Word is that he’s mortal, just like Orion. So maybe he’s a liar, too.” Orion had been her disappointing first crush, too stuck on himself to notice anyone else’s feelings—especially hers. Now she tended to look upon all boys with suspicion, particularly those who reminded her of Orion in any way.

  Persephone took a sip from her carton of nectar. “So he’s mortal and he dresses weird. That doesn’t mean he isn’t nice.” She was sensitive about stuff like that. Probably because her crush, Hades, had often been misunderstood just because he came from the Underworld.

  A burst of admiring laughter came from the table where Heracles sat, drawing the girls’ eyes. He seemed to have wasted no time in making new friends among the godboys. Several of them, including Hades; Artemis’s twin brother, Apollo; Ares; and Poseidon were hanging on his every word. Athena couldn’t quite hear what Heracles was saying, but whatever it was probably involved weapons, war, sports, or hunting. In her experience, those were the topics that interested godboys most. Sure enough, moments later Heracles passed around his big, knobby club, which the boys oohed and aahed over. Not to be outdone, Poseidon showed off his trident and Apollo, his bow.

  Aphrodite nudged Athena. “So, what’s your opinion?”

  Thinking she must have missed part of the conversation, Athena asked, “About what?”

  “About Heracles.”

  Aphrodite, Artemis, and Persephone leaned toward her, as if anxious to hear what she had to say. Athena hesitated. She could well remember how nervous she felt when she first came to MOA less than a year ago. Most of the godboys and goddessgirls here, including her three best friends, had been together for years by then. They were all so beautiful, handsome, gifted, and amazing. If she’d suspected at the time that they were discussing her—sizing her up and making judgments—she would’ve felt way more nervous.

  “Maybe we should try to put ourselves in his sandals and wonder what he’s thinking of us, instead of the other way around,” she suggested. “He’s probably wondering if we’re all going to like him. Perhaps he’s trying to impress those godboys.”

  Aphrodite blinked. “I never thought of that.”

  Persephone smiled at Athena in admiration. “That’s beyond brainy thinking, even for you.”

  “Words of wisdom from the
goddessgirl of wisdom herself!” added Artemis.

  “Thanks,” Athena told them. The praise was nice, but honestly, although she knew she was brainy, she wasn’t so sure she deserved the title of goddess of wisdom. If she were truly wise, she wouldn’t have made all the mistakes she’d made since she’d been here—like flooding the Earth with inventions, taking on too many classes and extracurriculars, and turning Medusa’s hair into snakes. Besides, words meant nothing without action. So far, she hadn’t done anything herself to welcome Heracles. Well, she could change that.

  She finished off her hero sandwich, hoping it would make her feel a little more heroic. Then, gathering her courage, she stood up from the table. “I’m going over to say hi to him. You know, welcome him to MOA.” She hesitated a moment. Putting herself forward like that didn’t come easy to her—especially with boys. As her friends looked at her in surprise, she hinted, “Anyone want to come with me?”

  Before the others could reply, the school intercom crackled to life. There was a tapping sound, as if someone was repeatedly poking at the button. Then Principal Zeus’s voice boomed out of the speaker over the cafeteria door, making everyone jump. “IS THIS THING ON?” Tap tap tap. “MS. HYDRA?” Tap tap tap. “YOU SURE?” After some more crackling, he finally thundered out his message: “CALLING ATHENA! REPORT TO MY OFFICE. PRONTO. ON THE DOUBLE!” A pause. “OH YEAH, AND BY THE WAY, THIS IS PRINCIPAL ZEUS, YOUR DEAR OL’ DAD, IN CASE YOU DIDN’T GUESS!”

  Every eye in the cafeteria swung her way. Athena gulped. Zeus was never one to say please, especially if he was displeased about something. After all, he was king of the gods and ruler of the heavens, so manners were not his first priority.

  “Change of plans, everyone. I’ll see you later.” Leaving her tray on the table, Athena hurried out the door. Even though—or maybe because—Principal Zeus was her dad, she worried about pleasing him more than anyone else at MOA did. Her stomach did acrobatic flips as she rushed down the hall to his office. She racked her brain trying to think if she’d done something wrong. She was making straight A’s, so surely none of the teachers had complained. But her dad wasn’t big on friendly fatherly talks, or idle chitchat, either. So what could he possibly want?