ATHENA THE BRAIN

by Joan Holub; Suzanne Williams

  As they traveled on, Athena caught glimpses of green fields, blue seas, and cityscapes below. But they faded away as the winged chariot flew ever higher.

  Soon they began circling the top of a gigantic mountain. “Next stop: Mount Olympus Academy,” rumbled Hermes. Athena leaned forward trying to see it, her long hair whipping in the wind behind her.

  With a burst of speed the chariot broke through a fluffy cloud. Up ahead, her new school sprang into view almost like magic. The majestic academy gleamed in the sunlight atop the highest mountain in Greece. Built of polished white stone, it was five stories tall and surrounded on all sides by dozens of Ionic columns. Low-relief friezes were sculpted just below its peaked rooftop.

  Looks like I’ve traded Pallas for a palace, thought Athena.

  Below in the courtyard, dozens of students were rushing around. Everyone seemed to have someplace to go. These were godboys and goddessgirls, she realized. How strange to think that she was one of them. Were they nice? Would they like her? Athena clutched her bag tight.

  “Too late to change your mind now,” said Hermes. How had he guessed she was having second thoughts? He touched down at the top of the granite steps leading up to the school and scooted her out of the chariot. Then, without another word, he took off in a rush, leaving her behind with her bag. Probably had another urgent package to deliver.

  He’d left her standing in front of a huge white door. Letters chiseled on it read the office. A water fountain stood just outside. Parched from her journey, Athena bent to take a gulp from it and quickly discovered that, instead of water, it spouted some kind of juice she’d never tasted before. It was so delicious that she took a second drink.

  When she straightened again, she noticed her hand looked kind of weird–like it had been powdered with golden glitter. Tilting it side to side, she saw that it sparkled in the sunlight. So did her arm. So did both of her arms! And her legs, too.

  Her skin had begun to shimmer–just like a real goddess!

  THE NINE-HEADED LADY BEHIND THE COUNTER in the front office stared at Athena with all eighteen of her eyes. “You must be the new student Zeus told me to expect.”

  Startled, Athena tried to decide which head to reply to. The grumpy green one, the icky orange one, the impatient purple one, or . . . ? Before she could answer, the heads all spoke at the same time again. “Athena, correct? From Earth?”

  Athena nodded. Finding her tongue at last, she said, “I’m here to register for classes.”

  “Ms. Hydra?” A noisy group of students had come in with questions. All but one of the lady’s heads turned away to answer.

  “Right, then,” the orange head continued to Athena. “You’ll find your class choices, your locker combination, and your dorm room assignment in this packet.” Ms. Hydra shoved it across the counter to her. “Classes are in the main building, floors one through three. Dorms are upstairs–girls on floor four and boys on five. Any questions?”

  “Um . . .” Athena’s head was spinning just trying to remember everything. She pulled out the class list. What had happened to philosophy, rhetoric, and mathematics? she wondered. Instead she saw a list of classes she’d never heard of back at Triton Junior High. She checked off five of the choices: Hero-ology, Spell-ology, Revenge-ology, Beast-ology, and Beautyology. She wanted to learn as much as she could, as fast as possible.

  Ms. Hydra looked a little concerned as she handed over five textscrolls–a different-colored one for each class. “Five classes? That’s quite a load for your first semester here. Are you sure?”

  The woman obviously had no idea who she was dealing with. Everyone back in Triton knew Athena was a brain. Still, if she’d had time for second thoughts, she might’ve dropped a class. But a lyrebell sounded in the hall behind her, and she was worried she’d be late. “Sure, I’m sure.” Juggling everything she’d been given, she headed out of the office.

  “Wait! Don’t forget this.” Ms. Hydra tossed her one last scroll. It was pale pink and tied with a sparkly silver ribbon. The words Goddessgirl Guide were written on the outside of it in swirly pink letters.

  “Thanks,” Athena called. The sundial outside the window in the courtyard showed she had only ten minutes to find her locker and get to her first class. As she hurried off, she turned her head this way and that, taking note of everything so she could tell Pallas about it when she wrote her later.

  The academy was so beautiful! There were gleaming marble floor tiles and golden fountains. And the domed ceiling was covered with paintings illustrating the glorious exploits of the gods and goddesses. One showed Zeus battling giants who were storming Mount Olympus carrying torches and spears. Another showed him driving a chariot pulled by four white horses across the sky while hurling thunderbolts into the clouds. That was her dad up there! Suddenly Athena felt a pang of sadness. Pallas would have loved this! If only she were here to see everything too.

  Other students rushed past Athena to class. She stared after one with a scaly tail and horns, goggled at a slimy one with webbed feet, and rubbed her eyes in disbelief at another that was part horse.

  Three girls in particular caught her attention. Even among other amazing immortals, these girls stood out. One was extraordinarily beautiful, with long, shimmery golden hair. Another, whose hair was short and black, strode along confidently with a quiver of arrows slung across her back and a bow hanging over her shoulder. The third was delicate and pale, with curly red hair. All three had graceful figures and wore flowing gowns called chitons, a fashion that was all the rage in Greece now. And their skin shimmered lightly, just like hers.

  Heads turned to follow them as they walked down the hall. As Athena gaped too, she saw that identical gold necklaces with dangling double G-shaped charms hung from the necks of all three girls. “Hey, goddessgirls!” someone called to them, waving. So that was what the double Gs stood for.

  At the top of the stairs, Athena noticed three more girls, each with skin the color of spring leaves, and long green hair that was so dark it almost looked black. She glanced at their faces and gave a start. They were triplets! Except for one thing: Only two had skin that shimmered.

  As she stared at them, she realized they were staring back.

  “Hi,” she said, smiling. But the trio looked away. She tried not to let her feelings be hurt. These girls might be standoffish, but that didn’t mean everyone else would be too. After all, she couldn’t expect to make tons of friends her very first day.

  Suddenly a boy in front of her sprouted giant wings, startling her into dropping several of her scrolls. A passing teacher grabbed him by his pointed ear. “No shape-shifting in the halls. You’ve just earned yourself a demerit, godboy.”

  Athena knelt to pick up her stuff. Everything was so different here from back home. It was fascinating, but also a little scary. In Triton she’d tried so hard to be like the other kids, but she’d somehow always felt apart from them. Maybe she could be herself here, where everyone was a bit weird.

  “Hey, are you new?” asked a voice. “Where are you from?”

  Standing, Athena stared in surprise at the girl who’d spoken. Her hair was streaked blue and gold, and her bangs were plastered against her forehead in the shape of a question mark. Her skin didn’t shimmer. Was she a mortal? Would it be rude to ask?

  “What’s your name?” the girl asked, despite the fact that Athena hadn’t yet replied to her first two questions. Continuing down the hall with her, the stranger talked a mile a minute. She seemed to ask any question that came into her head.

  Spying her locker, Athena stopped and opened it. When the girl paused for a breath, Athena blurted, “I’m Athena. What’s your–?”

  But before she could finish, the girl fired more questions: “Athena, huh? So when did you get here? This morning? What classes are you taking?”

  Athena gave up trying to get a word in and shoved as much stuff as she could into her locker.

  “So, who’ve you got first period?” the girl went on. “Is it
–?”

  “Hi, Pandora,” said a new voice.

  Athena turned. It was one of the three beautiful goddessgirls she’d noticed earlier–the golden-haired one wearing a double G-charm necklace. Her long, glossy tresses were threaded with ribbons and held back from her face with shell-shaped clips that matched both her sparkling blue eyes and the belt she wore at the waist of her white chiton. Up close, she was a breath-taking beauty unlike any Athena had ever seen–even in Teen Scrollazine.

  “What’s up, Aphrodite?” Pandora asked, grinning at her. “Wow! Where’d you get that great belt?”

  Before the glamorous goddessgirl could even attempt a reply, Pandora turned away to stare at a godboy walking past.

  Squish, squish, squish. His feet made squelching sounds, and he left wet footprints behind him with every step. He was holding a dripping three-pronged spear. With pale turquoise skin and eyes, he was the handsomest godboy Athena had seen so far. And he looked just like the statue she and Pallas had seen in Crete. The one of–

  “Poseidon! Hey, where’d you get the cool pitchfork?” Pandora hollered, following him.

  “It’s called a trident,” he informed her.

  Athena stared after them. “Is Pandora a mortal?”

  “Are you new?” asked Aphrodite at the same time.

  They both laughed.

  “I guess Pandora’s curiosity is catching,” said Aphrodite. She shifted the scrolls she was carrying from one hip to the other. “I’ll go first. Yes, Pandora’s a mortal. You can tell because her skin doesn’t shimmer like ours. Okay, your turn.”

  Athena smiled at her. Aphrodite wasn’t just beautiful, she was also nice. “I’m Athena. And yes, I’m new. I asked about Pandora because I wondered if mortals are allowed to go to school here. I have a friend back home on Earth who’s mortal, and I thought maybe she could–”

  Aphrodite shook her head, probably guessing what she’d been about to ask. “Pandora isn’t just any mortal–the gods took great care when they created her, giving her special gifts.”

  “Curiosity?” guessed Athena.

  “That and other things,” said Aphrodite.

  “But do other mortals go here? I saw three girls earlier,” said Athena. “Triplets with green skin. One of them had skin that didn’t shimmer.”

  Aphrodite nodded. “Medusa. Her two sisters are goddesses, but she’s not. Only a few special mortals invited by Zeus are lucky enough to attend the academy with us. New students–mortal and immortal–come and go every semester at his whim. You must be something special to have been invited.”

  Special? She hoped she was, because it sounded like Zeus might decide to send her home if she didn’t measure up, Athena realized with alarm. Imagine, her own father dismissing her from Mount Olympus Academy. That would be so embarrassing–not to mention an awful letdown.

  Just then a herald appeared on a balcony at the end of the hall. “The first class of the academic year is now in session!” he announced in a loud, important voice. He hit a lyrebell with a little hammer.

  Ping! Ping! Ping!

  “Oh, no, we’re late!” exclaimed Athena. She grabbed the textscroll for her first class and poked it into her bag. Hoisting its strap over her shoulder, she slammed her locker shut.

  “No worries.” Aphrodite said calmly. “The teachers always cut us some slack the first day. So where are you headed?”

  “Hero-ology in room 208,” said Athena. She had already memorized her class schedule and the corresponding room numbers.

  Aphrodite smiled, which made her even more dazzling. “Me too. C’mon.”

  INSIDE THE CLASSROOM THERE WERE ONLY two empty seats left, across the aisle from each other. Aphrodite and Athena took them. The girl directly behind Athena was one of the green-haired triplets she’d seen that morning outside the school. The one who didn’t shimmer–Medusa. She was painting her fin gernails green too, in her lap so the teacher couldn’t see.

  After placing her Hero-ology textscroll on her desk, Athena dropped her bag beside it with a clunk.

  “What in the Underworld have you got in that thing?” Medusa muttered.

  But Athena didn’t reply. She was too busy ogling the teacher who stood at the front of the room. He was bald, with large, sandaled feet, and had one humongous eye in the middle of his forehead. He was holding a big, bronze soldier’s helmet upside down, like a bowl.

  “Good morning, class,” he began. “I’m Mr. Cyclops, and this is Beginning Hero-ology.”

  He shook the helmet, and it made a clanking sound. Then he tilted it and showed them that it was filled with little painted statues. Each one was a person about three inches tall, with a card tied around its neck by a string.

  “I’ve placed figures of your heroes inside this helmet,” Mr. Cyclops said. “Without looking, please choose one and pass the helmet to the person behind you. Over the course of the semester, it’ll be your job to guide the hero you’ve selected on a quest.”

  “I’ll start with you, Dionysus.” He handed the helmet to a boy with little horns on top of his head. He was seated at the head of the first row of desks. After taking a figure, the boy passed it to Poseidon, who was sitting behind him.

  “If we don’t like who we get, can we trade?” Medusa asked.

  Mr. Cyclops’s big eyeball squinted at her, and his single eyebrow bunched in irritation. “No trading.”

  “Now,” he said, speaking to the class again. “You’ll be scored on three skills in my class: manipulation, disasters, and quick saves. Any more questions?”

  Athena’s hand shot up. “Do you mean to say that these hero-guys represent real people? And our assignment is to make them do stuff down on Earth?”

  “Yes, that’s right,” Mr. Cyclops said impatiently.

  “How do we do that exactly?” asked Athena.

  Everyone gasped so hard that it almost seemed as if all the air was being sucked out of the room.

  “Are you for real?” Medusa whispered. “We learned Basic Mortal Manipulation in first grade!”

  Mr. Cyclops’s single eye blinked at Athena. “You must be the new student. You’re going to have some catching up to do.”

  Athena slumped lower in her chair. She’d always been an A-plus student on Earth. Now, for the first time in her life, she felt dumb.

  “I got Paris, a prince from the city of Troy. Who’d you get?” Aphrodite asked Athena after they’d both drawn from the helmet.

  “Some Greek guy named Odysseus,” said Athena, reading the card attached to her hero’s neck.

  “Ooh, he’s cute,” said Aphrodite, leaning across the aisle to peer at the statue.

  Athena stared at the muscled, tanned mortal in her hand. He wore gold sandals laced up his calves and a white toga, and he had an adventurous look in his eyes. “I guess,” she said. “I wonder what quest I should send him on?”

  “I think I’ll make Paris fall in love with somebody,” said Aphrodite, drawing a heart on her card over the i in Paris’s name.

  “Falling in love isn’t a quest,” scoffed Medusa.

  Aphrodite stiffened. “I wasn’t talking to you.”

  “Sorry, Bubbles.” Medusa snickered. “My mistake.”

  Aphrodite glared at her.

  “Why’d she call you that?” asked Athena.

  Aphrodite shrugged.

  “Didn’t you know?” Medusa butted in. “She was born from sea foam.”

  “And she never lets me forget it,” said Aphrodite.

  “What’s wrong with sea foam? It’s beautiful,” said Athena.

  “Think so?” asked Aphrodite, perking up.

  Athena nodded, her eyes widening in surprise. How could someone so incredibly beautiful doubt she was pretty for even half a second?

  Medusa started to say something else–probably something mean–just as the school herald appeared in the doorway. In a clear voice that caught everyone’s attention, he announced, “Will Athena–favorite daughter of Principal Zeus for all time and forevermore�
��please report to the office?”

  The entire class turned to stare at Athena. She blushed in embarrassment. Favorite daughter? Was this her dad’s idea of a joke? He hardly even knew her.

  “Principal’s pet,” Medusa singsonged, softly so the teacher wouldn’t hear.

  “He sounds like he’s in a good mood, anyway,” said Aphrodite, giving Athena an encouraging smile.

  What did she mean? Was Zeus usually a big grump? At least he’d used the word “please” instead of commanding her presence this time. That had to be a good sign, right?

  As Athena stood up to go, she tripped over her bag. It fell open, and something rolled out onto the polished marble floor. Heads craned to see what it was, and there were giggles.

  Ye gods! It was Woody–her wooden horse on wheels! What was he doing here? Had Pallas packed him in her bag, intending him to be a reminder of home?

  Cheeks burning, Athena grabbed the horse by its red-and-white-striped reins. The little door in his side where she used to hide secret treasures like bird feathers and speckled rocks sprang open. She pushed it shut and rammed the toy back into her bag. Then she noticed a small shield-shaped mirror lying nearby that had also slid out. She and Pallas had each gotten one free when they’d gone to the grand opening of the Perseus Shield Market last year.

  As Athena picked it up, she saw Medusa’s smirk reflected on the mirror’s silver surface. I don’t like you and you don’t belong here, the look on her face seemed to say.

  Athena gulped. This was only her first class, but already it seemed she had made an enemy. Maybe she’d been too hasty in thinking she was going to fit in here on Mount Olympus any better than she had on Earth.

  ATHENA HOVERED AWKWARDLY IN ZEUS’S office doorway. His big head, with its wild red hair and curly beard, was bent over his desk as he chiseled a statue from a tall block of limestone. Chink, chink, chink!

  “Well, don’t just stand there!” he boomed when he finally noticed her.

  Athena took a couple of steps into the room, then stopped. There was nowhere else to go, because a tall file cabinet blocked her way. Her “dear ol’ dad’s” office looked like a tornado had hit it. Files, scrolls, maps, board games, and half-empty bottles of something labeled “Zeus Juice” were scattered everywhere. Discarded art projects carved from stone, wiggling plants, and a variety of chairs with big scorch marks on their cushions sat at odd angles as if positioned by a madman–or a madgod.