by Holub, Joan
“Come, my twin, give me a clue—
a picture I can use to find you!”
They’d always been able to locate each other in this way—as long as the other twin was willing to be found. Soon a picture of a familiar forest swam into her head. Then something with eight legs, a shiny exoskeleton, and crablike claws scurried into her picture. A humongous scorpion! There was only one place to find those—in the Forest of the Beasts down on Earth.
So that was where Apollo had gone! Technically, students weren’t supposed to go there except during their scheduled class time, but the Forest was only really off-limits to mortals. Still, what kind of idiot went there alone? The Forest could be dangerous—she knew that from personal experience! In Beast-ology classes, MOA students trained there sometimes, hunting mythical creatures like Minotaurs, Geryons—and scorpions, too, of course.
“Stay!” she commanded her dogs. Then she dashed back inside MOA and grabbed a pair of winged sandals from the big basket by the doors. Someone had left a bowl of snacks for the athletes on a table in the main hall, so she pocketed a few apples and fig bars. Knowing Apollo, he’d be hungry when she found him.
Once outside again, she slipped the sandals on. Their laces twined around her ankles and the silver wings at her heels began to flap. Soon she was speeding across the courtyard and down from Mount Olympus to the Forest. Her dogs raced after her, doing their best to keep pace.
When Artemis reached Earth, she slowed at the edge of the Forest to let her dogs catch up. Only a thin crescent moon lit the rapidly darkening sky. She’d need a torch to find her way. Pulling a silver arrow from her quiver, she blew lightly along the arrow’s length to summon the moon’s power. The feathers at one end of the arrow began to glow with a cool, bluish light that quickly zipped up the shaft to the arrowhead. Now the arrow was bright enough to light the evening path. Being the goddessgirl of the moon, as well as the hunt, had its advantages!
Quickly, she loosened her sandals’ straps with her free hand and looped them around the silver wings, so that she could walk at a normal rate again. Holding the arrow-torch high in one hand, she moved through the Forest, her hounds trailing close behind her.
Now and then, the howling of some beast in the distance reached her ears. Despite her bravery, the sounds gave her goose bumps and also caused her dogs’ ears to prick up. Just because she was goddessgirl of the moon and the hunt, that didn’t mean she liked being out in the dark where beasts lurked. Of course, they weren’t real beasts—only game projections created by her Beast-ology teacher—but they were scary just the same. And since things had gone dreadfully wrong with them once before, it could happen again.
Artemis glanced back at her dogs and saw Suez (“Zeus” spelled backward) lift his head to sniff the air. He growled deep in his throat. “What is it, boy?” she whispered. Then she spotted a creature with the body of a lion and the wings of an eagle, standing completely motionless not ten yards to her right. A Griffin! Though she knew the beast wasn’t real—and at the moment it was even switched off—it still weirded her out. She and her dogs crept past the monster, going deeper into the woods. All was quiet until she stepped on a twig. Snap!
Zzzzzing! A golden arrow whizzed past her ear. As it zoomed by, it sang a line from a Heavens Above song: We never will part, for you’ve pierced my heart! Only Apollo had golden arrows that could sing! They were a gift from their friends on his last birthday.
“Ye gods!” Artemis cried, dropping to a crouch. “Stop, Apollo! It’s me!”
It was a lucky thing he’d missed her. The arrow couldn’t have actually hurt her since it had been dipped in the Pool of Magic, but even magic arrows stung when they struck.
“Artemis?” Apollo ran toward her, sounding worried. “What are you doing here?”
“Looking for you!” Artemis said grumpily, as she got to her feet. She waved her glowing arrow in front of his face. “Didn’t you see me?”
“Sorry—I mistook you for a beast! This place always makes me jumpy.” Apollo didn’t bother to ask how she’d known where to find him. He’d made use of their twin sense and chant to find her before too.
“Why are you here, then?” Artemis asked. Her dogs had leaped on him with joy as soon as he appeared. Now they were licking his face and hands as if they hadn’t seen him in a hundred years, instead of only hours ago.
Apollo crouched to pat Suez on the head. Then he ruffled the fur on Amby’s back with one hand and scratched Nectar behind his ears with the other. “I was—um—training my arrows?”
Artemis raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t have to come here for that. You could’ve practiced with targets at MOA’s archery field.”
Apollo chewed at his lower lip, as if he was trying to think up another improbable excuse. “Um . . .”
“Don’t bother. You’re a lousy liar,” Artemis told him, brushing off the dirt that still clung to her knees.
Apollo’s shoulders sagged. “I know. It’s a real curse.” As the godboy of truth—and also of prophesy—he’d never been able to pull off a lie. “If you must know, I’ve been matching wits with the beasts. Bantering with them.”
Artemis wrinkled her forehead. “Bantering with beasts? When they’re turned off?”
Making a frustrated sound, Apollo said, “Not that it’s any of your business, but I was practicing. You know, so I can defeat the Parnassus Python.”
Artemis gaped at him in horror. “You’re planning to enter the Python-o-thon?”
“Yeah, so?”
“So no offense, but you’re horrible at riddles,” she said. “I read that poster—Python’s a serpent! One that could squeeze the breath out of you in less time than it takes to blink. It’s not a fake beast-machine like the ones in this Forest!”
“See? This is why I didn’t tell you,” Apollo complained. “I knew you’d try to talk me out of it.” Leaning down, he loosened the bindings on his sandals so their silver wings began to gently flap.
“Because it’s a bad idea!” Artemis said, doing the same. She whistled to her dogs to follow, and they all took off through the Forest back toward the Academy.
“It’s school rules that I have to compete in at least one event,” said Apollo as they flew along, side by side. “And no matter what you think, I figure the Python-o-thon gives me my best shot at winning.” He frowned, darting left to avoid a tree branch in their path. “If archery was part of the Olympics, I might win, but you’re just as good at that as I am. I want to prove myself at something that doesn’t involve you. I want to see what I can do on my own!”
Right behind him, Artemis went left too. Though she didn’t like what he’d said, she understood. “The Python-o-thon is probably also going to require amazing strength,” she warned.
“You mean like the strength Heracles has?” Apollo said sourly.
The path had widened, so Artemis moved alongside him and held her arrow-torch closer to study his face. “You can’t really be jealous of Heracles, can you?” she asked. “He’s only mortal. You’re a god.”
“’Course I’m not jealous!” he said, a little too quickly. “But you don’t see heroic paintings of me decorating any temples around here. Heracles’ feats are all over Principal Zeus’s new temple!”
Artemis whipped around, flying backward for a ways so she could face him. “So that’s it! You want your own temple!”
Apollo stuck out his chin. “Maybe. Don’t you?”
“Sure, but even if I were allowed to enter the contest, I wouldn’t be crazy enough to do it. Not even for a temple!” Apollo was clever, but his inability to lie would put him at a real disadvantage with the wily serpent. Rumors were flying that it was as verbally devious as it was crushingly ruthless, and she did not want her brother going up against it!
“A temple means you’ve earned respect,” he insisted. “And stop that—flying backward is dangerous.”
Artemis whipped around to fly forward again. “You’re a godboy. Respect goes with the territory,”
she went on. “Who are you trying to impress? Some girl?”
Apollo’s face flushed. “No! Duck.”
“Huh?” He was trying to impress a farm animal?
Apollo reached over mid-flight and tugged her into a crouch just in time to miss a low-hanging branch.
“Oh, that kind of duck. Thanks,” said Artemis, straightening again.
“I’m not interested in girls right now. Not since—” He broke off, no doubt recalling how his very first crush had ended in disaster. To escape him, Daphne, a nymph huntress, had changed herself into a laurel tree instead of just telling Apollo she didn’t like him back.
The forest nymphs were under Artemis’s protection, and she’d hated to see that happen, but sometimes nymphs could be overly impulsive. What could you do? Thinking about Orion, her own disastrous first crush, she said, “You’re not the only one who’s unlucky in love.”
A silence fell between them. As if to fill it, Apollo’s stomach growled. “I’m starving,” he muttered.
Remembering the apples and fig bars, Artemis slowed her pace. “Hold up. I brought you something to eat.”
“Thanks,” he said gratefully. Slowing as well, he took the snacks, devoured a couple of fig bars, then munched on one of the apples as they continued on.
“I didn’t see you at dinner, so I figured you’d be hungry,” Artemis said. “Good thing I brought something, huh?”
Apollo swallowed a bite of apple. “Look, Artemis,” he said, his voice serious. “I appreciate the food. I really do. And I appreciate you watching out for me. You’ve always been the most loyal sister anyone could have. But—” He paused.
“But what?” Artemis asked.
He tossed the apple core over his shoulder. One of her dogs caught it, then dropped it, probably disappointed it wasn’t a bone. Apollo continued. “You’ve got to stop being so—so helpful. Sometimes you act like you think you’re my mom instead of my sister!”
Artemis stared sideways at him through the dim light of her arrow-torch. Feeling hurt, she wanted to run away—to pretend this conversation had never happened. But that had never been her way.
Apollo ran a hand through his wavy black hair. “Did you ever stop to think that sometimes I don’t want your help?”
“Then maybe you should give me that last apple back!” Artemis snapped, reaching for it.
Grinning, Apollo held it away from her. “I meant no help after this time.” Quickly, he took a big bite of the apple.
“Fine. I promise never to help you ever again.” She expected that Apollo would utter a protest, and her heart sank when he didn’t.
Soon the trail narrowed so they had to go single file. Apollo took the lead. By the time it widened, Artemis could see the lights of MOA up ahead. With her three hounds racing along behind, she and Apollo sped the rest of the way back to school in total silence. Almost like they were strangers!
6
Girls Only
ARTEMIS PULLED OPEN THE DOOR TO THE girls’ dorm and started down the hall to her room. Panting hard, her dogs trailed behind her with their tongues hanging out. After racing to keep up on the return to MOA, they were exhausted. As soon as they got to her room, they trotted over to their water and food bowls. Within minutes, all three had flopped onto her spare bed and curled up for the night.
Seconds later, Aphrodite knocked and then opened the door to poke her head in. “We thought we heard you come back,” she said. Persephone was right behind her. “We’re in my room working on ideas for our girls-only games. Athena too. Are you coming?”
Persephone held up a chip, adding, “We’ve got snacks.” Popping the chip in her mouth, she crunched it. At the sound, Artemis’s dogs—who definitely knew the word “snacks”—suddenly perked up. Leaping off the bed, they slipped around the girls, and ran lickety-split for Aphrodite’s room next door. The goddessgirls chased after them.
“No, Amby! Stop, Nectar! Down, Suez!” Artemis shouted as the snack-hounds dashed through Aphrodite’s open door. Inside, Athena tried to save the bowls of chips and ambrosia dip, which had been sitting on the bed. But they wound up scattered on the floor. Aphrodite was the neatest person Artemis knew, so she did not look pleased.
Artemis grabbed the dogs and herded them back to her room. “Sorry about that,” she apologized when she returned. “I love those dogs, but nothing gets between them and snacks!”
As the girls cleaned up the mess, Persephone looked at Artemis and asked, “Where’ve you been?”
“Yeah, you left the cafeteria in a hurry after dinner,” Aphrodite added casually.
Artemis shrugged. “I needed to take my dogs out, so—”
“You sure were gone a long time,” Aphrodite interrupted. She exchanged a look with Persephone and Athena that Artemis wasn’t sure how to interpret. “Did you have a nice walk?”
Flopping onto Aphrodite’s spare bed now that things were cleaned up, Artemis sank into the plush red velvet comforter that covered it. “Yeah, I guess,” she said, studying her friends. What’s going on here?
Aphrodite examined her perfectly shaped, blue-polished nails. “You wouldn’t have been meeting anyone on your walk, would you?”
Athena grinned, opening a new bag of chips. “Like a cute godboy, perhaps?”
All three girls look at her expectantly.
Godsamighty! thought Artemis, rolling her eyes. In her absence, they must have been concocting a romantic scenario that was as far from the truth of what had happened on her walk as the moon was from Earth. Sometimes her friends could be annoyingly boy-crazy. Especially Aphrodite. Since she was the goddessgirl of love, that was to be expected, though.
Artemis reached for some chips. “How did you guess?” she said, stuffing a handful of them in her mouth. Crunch!
“I knew it!” Aphrodite crowed. “Who is he? Tell us!”
“Well,” said Artemis, around a mouthful of chips, “He’s tall, dark, and handsome.”
“That description fits half of the godboys at MOA,” Athena pointed out.
“Come on,” coaxed Persephone. “We want a name.”
Artemis swallowed, then took a swig of nectar, making them wait. “You sure?” she teased finally. “You might be disappointed.”
Aphrodite gave her the stink eye. “Stop being so infuriating.”
Artemis shrugged. “Okay, but don’t say I didn’t warn you. The boy I was with just now was . . .” She paused for dramatic effect. “Apollo!” Then she rolled over on her side, laughing.
“Why, you—!” Realizing they’d all been had, Aphrodite threw a heart-shaped pillow at Artemis’s head. She caught it and tossed it back, hitting Aphrodite in the chest. Soon all four girls were flinging pillows back and forth, while giggling up a storm.
When they finally calmed down, Athena said, “You’re so lucky that both you and Apollo get to go to school here.” Artemis wondered if Athena was thinking about Pallas—her best friend down on Earth. The one she’d had to leave behind when she came to MOA.
“Yeah, having a twin must be fun,” Aphrodite said wistfully. She was born from sea foam, and had never even known her parents.
Persephone nodded. “You and Apollo are practically joined at the hip.”
“Or more like at the brain,” said Athena. “That mind trick you guys do to find each other is awesome.”
“It does come in handy,” agreed Artemis.
“Can you see him right now?” asked Persephone.
“Could if I wanted to, and if he let me.”
“Does that mean—could Apollo see you with us now if he wanted to?” asked Aphrodite. She peeked at her reflection in her mirror to check her appearance, just in case.
“Can he hear us?” Athena asked in a hushed whisper. Suddenly her friends seemed a little creeped out by the whole mind thing they’d thought was so cool a minute ago.
“We can’t hear each other,” said Artemis. “And we just get hints of what’s going on. So Apollo could probably tell I’m with you guys. If he wan
ted to, like I said. And if I let him. Which I won’t.” She paused. “I’m a little better at it than he is. Maybe because I’m older— ten minutes older, but still.”
Scooping a chip in the fresh bowl of ambrosia dip, Athena nodded, munching it. “You’ve always seemed like you’re the big sister. The boss.”
The goddessgirls laughed. All except Artemis, who couldn’t help remembering Apollo saying, “Sometimes you act like you think you’re my mom instead of my sister!” Was she too bossy around him? Not wanting to think about it, she changed the subject. “So, what ideas for our girl games have you gotten so far?”
“Ooh! Wait till you hear—I have the perfect event!” Aphrodite squealed, immediately forgetting about Apollo. “We could have relay races where, instead of handing off a baton, we could pass off a little stuffed animal.”
“Oh, that sounds so cute!” Persephone agreed.
Artemis squirmed. “I’m not so sure.” She didn’t want to hurt her friends’ feelings, but wasn’t the point of a girls-only Olympics to get boys to take female athletes seriously? That was her goal, anyway. Apollo had talked about wanting to earn respect. She was beginning to understand what he meant.
Unfazed, Aphrodite continued. “And for the long jump, we could have sparkly pink sand. Magic sand that would rise into the air and form a number at the end of each girl’s jump to measure how far she went.”
“I love it!” said Athena.
Artemis’s uncertainty must have shown on her face because, after a glance in her direction, Athena added diplomatically, “But maybe we should try to get support for our whole idea first before we decide on events. Dad might be more willing to consider a girls-only games if he knew lots of students were in favor of them.”
“We could draw up a petition!” Persephone exclaimed.
“Good idea,” said Artemis. Up until now, she hadn’t been totally sure her friends were as interested in a girls’ games as she was. Seeing their enthusiasm, she was sure other girls would like the idea too, as soon as they heard about it.
