by Joan Holub
“Guess the herald won’t be much help breaking a tie,” said Aphrodite, jerking her thumb over her shoulder. Pallas turned to see him riding away on Mr. Cyclops’s tricycle, with the grand prize sword balanced over the top of the handlebars.
“Oh no! He must’ve drunk from the fountain during the sparring,” said Eurynome.
“I say Pallas won!” Agamemnon shouted. “Zeus cheated when he threw that whatchamacallit aegis thing onto the stage, so Athena should be disqualified.”
The audience began grumbling, some still favoring Athena as the winner and some favoring Pallas.
“Zeus should decide,” Pallas suggested. “Later, when he’s back to his grown-up self again, we can trust him to be sportsmanlike. He’ll choose the person who won fair and square.”
“Ha!” grumbled Agamemnon. “He’s Athena’s dad. He’ll choose her no matter what.”
Ignoring him, Pallas said firmly, “I trust him! We can count on Zeus.”
“Whah? Did somebody call my name?” Finally recovering from his fainting spell, the King of the Gods sat up, looking woozy. Then he leaped to his feet. “What’s going on here?” he demanded.
For half a second Pallas thought maybe he was back to normal. But then he grinned and said, “Who wants to play a game of Duck Duck Zeus?” After some other grown-ups in the stands responded excitedly that they were on board for that idea, they all ran off to begin.
Athena sighed, shaking her head at them. But then her eyes lit with determination and she straightened up to gaze around at the remaining audience. “Before Apollo’s arrow hit Achilles, Pallas had scored the most points,” she said in a loud, clear voice. “And my dad did break the rules by interfering. Therefore, in my dad’s place, I hereby award the win to Pallas!”
“I still think we should wait for Zeus to weigh in,” Pallas argued. However, both girls knew she’d bested Athena, if only by a slim margin.
“No, take the grand prize. You’re the winner,” Agamemnon urged gleefully. He obviously couldn’t wait to lay his paws on that bejeweled sword.
Pallas looked Athena in the eye. “Are you sure?”
Athena sent her a soft smile. “Absolutely, Pal.” She went over and took the grand prize sword from the herald. Then she bestowed it to Pallas, saying, “Pallas, on behalf of Zeus, the King of the Gods and Ruler of the Heavens, I officially award you the grand prize in the Greek Fest competition!”
Seeing that the decision had been made, and that the two girls were in agreement about it, the crowd applauded politely and then began to exit the stands.
Pallas stared down at the sword’s ruby-studded handle and its flashy blade. It truly was magnificent. She turned to Agamemnon. “Since you’re my coach now, I believe this is yours.” He started to grab it, but she held it back. “And in return you agree that I now own the sword I used in the final competition—Briseis? Fair trade?”
“Sure, no problem,” he told her, his dazzled eyes on the prize.
“Okay, then.” Pallas handed the prize sword to him. Then she picked up Briseis from where she’d dropped it earlier, and walked over to Achilles.
“Here you go. I’ll trade you Briseis for Evgenís,” she told him.
He took a step back, his expression stubborn. “You don’t need to. I’m fine with keeping Evgenís, the sword I bought.”
However, Pallas could see how his eyes gleamed at the sight of Briseis, and she knew how highly he valued it. After all, if she had won the far more valuable prize sword for him, instead of Agamemnon, Achilles himself had told her he planned to trade it to Agamemnon for Briseis.
“Both Mighty Fighty swords are the same to me,” she told him. “I couldn’t tell a bit of difference when I sparred with them.” She stepped toward him again and spoke in a coaxing tone. “But you love Briseis best. So trade me.”
Achilles’ green eyes searched her brown ones. Then he grinned, accepting that she’d meant what she’d said. “Okay, then. I will. Thanks!” After they made the trade, Pallas slid Evgenís into her scabbard. Achilles just stood there for a long moment, gazing at Briseis in his hands as if he could hardly believe his luck.
And for once Agamemnon didn’t try to take what Achilles so clearly valued. He was too busy showing off the bejeweled prize sword to everyone who wanted a look at it.
Since Zeus and Hera weren’t acting old enough (or at least responsible enough) to take care of Hebe for now, Athena invited both Pallas and Eurynome to sleep over in the dorms. “You can hang out and help me and the other goddessgirls take care of the baby,” she suggested. “It’ll be fun! C’mon, it’s Saturday. No school tomorrow.”
Eurynome shook her head. “Oh, I can’t. Wish I could, but it’s my little cousin’s birthday tonight, and I promised I’d go to her party.”
“How about you?” Athena asked Pallas.
“I can tell your parents if you want to stay,” Eurynome promised Pallas. “If you think it’ll be okay with them.”
“They won’t mind as long as they know where I am,” said Pallas. She turned to Athena. “So that’s a yes!”
The chariot carrying Eurynome and other villagers to Triton soon departed. Then Athena instructed Heracles to hide the Fountain of Youth in a secret vault within the Parthenon so that no one could ever again accidentally drink from it. Just to be extra safe, Pallas and Athena hung an OFF-LIMITS sign on it.
“Pallas!” Achilles came running over to her as the girls came out of the temple. He drew her aside on the temple steps.
Beyond him Pallas could see Athena and some other girls bidding farewell to Persephone, who didn’t live at the MOA dorm. Concerned about what kind of mischief her mom might have gotten into, Persephone was anxious to return to their house and check on her.
Apollo, Ares, and a bunch of their guy friends had already left. They’d made it their mission to see that all of the wacky grown-up immortals and mortals made it safely home.
“So, congratulations and all,” Achilles told Pallas, drawing her attention. He looked away and then back at her. “Um, I was just wondering if, um, we could still maybe spar sometime, like maybe next week?”
A little thrill zinged through her at the thought of hanging out with him again. She smiled at him, nodding. “Sure, sounds fun.” After a moment’s hesitation, she added, “I hope you know, I only agreed to have Agamemnon coach me because I wanted to use Briseis in that final bout. I knew you considered it the better sword. But regardless of whether or not it is, you are definitely the better coach!”
Her heart skipped a beat when he did that headflick thing and smiled back. “Thanks. But next time we spar maybe you can teach me a thing or two, you Greek Fest reenactment winner, you!”
She laughed, and then he dashed off. His bud Agamemnon was proudly exhibiting his new sword to some mortal girls. He seemed to have forgotten all about coaching Pallas now that he’d gotten what he really wanted—that grand prize!
After Persephone departed, Aphrodite and Artemis crowded together into Artemis’s chariot, along with Hebe and her stroller. Pallas slipped her dad’s now-gleaming sword back into her bag and slung its strap across her shoulder, while Athena tucked her aegis safely in with Hebe for the ride home. Then they all lifted off.
There hadn’t been enough room in the chariot for Pallas and Athena, so they’d decided to fly alongside the chariot in winged sandals. Since mortals required the help of immortals to make such sandals work, Athena linked her arm through Pallas’s and they all headed to MOA. It was Pallas’s first time flying like this, but she caught on quickly and was soon balancing in the air like a pro.
“Hey! I should’ve said something before, but I want you to know I did read your last six letterscrolls,” Athena told Pallas a few minutes after they were airborne. “It’s just that I got them late. Hermes only gave them to me this week.”
“Oh,” said Pallas. That explained it. She was really happy to learn there was a good reason why Athena hadn’t responded to her recent letters.
�
�So from reading them, it sounds like you’re having fun in Triton?” said Athena.
“Well . . .” Deciding that it was time to be truthful and clear the air between them, Pallas took a deep breath. “Everything’s not quite as great as I made it sound,” she admitted. “I didn’t want you to feel sorry for me or think I couldn’t have fun without you. I thought that if I made everything seem exciting in Triton, you might be more likely to come visit. It doesn’t make sense, but that’s what I was thinking. The truth is, I miss you like crazy.”
“Really?” Athena brightened. “Me too! I never told you, but when I left Triton for good that day, I was as terrified that you would make new friends without me as I was about starting a new school. I didn’t realize till just now that ever since then, I’ve been assuming you’d be right there standing still in Triton and available whenever I need you. I didn’t want you to change. I didn’t want anything to change between us.”
“But it has,” Pallas said softly. “We don’t get to hang out.”
“Which stinks,” said Athena. The wind turned momentarily fierce, so she banked left, in a move that took them both higher, where the air was calmer. Then she added, “You and Eurynome are friends, though, right?”
“Yeah, she’s cool. Aphrodite and your friends are too.”
“Yeah,” said Athena.
Pallas debated whether she should spill her guts about her feelings and tell Athena that she was jealous of those girls being Athena’s friends, but . . .
“I’m a little jealous,” Athena announced meekly. Sounding slightly embarrassed, she told Pallas, “It’s not an emotion I’m proud of—it seems unworthy of a goddessgirl—but I can’t seem to help it.”
“Me too,” Pallas admitted, thinking that Athena meant she was jealous about Pallas’s new friends the same way that Pallas was jealous of Athena’s new friends.
“Why are you jealous?” Athena asked.
“Well, because . . . Why are you?”
“I’m jealous of Hebe. Because all of Zeus’s and Hera’s attention is on her now.” She paused. “Or it was,” she amended. Before they drank from the Fountain of Youth, she meant.
“Sibling rivalry,” Pallas said, brushing her dark windblown hair from her face.
“Huh?”
“Happens a lot between the brothers and sisters I’ve babysat,” Pallas told her. “I mean, like I said before, you’ve had practically zero time to get used to the idea of a baby sister.” She shifted and leaned forward a little to keep herself balanced as they were buffeted by another air current. “Parents always focus on a new baby at first, so jealousy from an older sibling is understandable. It doesn’t make you a bad goddessgirl.”
Pallas turned her head toward Athena and locked eyes with her. “You could never, ever be a bad person,” she said earnestly. “Just look at all the good stuff you do for mortals all the time. Like inventing the olive. Or holding the Greek Fest to build them a community center and gymnasium. You didn’t have to do that.”
Athena grew quiet, thinking. “Thanks. That helps a lot, Pal. But what did you mean before when you said you were jealous?”
“Oh, nothing,” said Pallas, embarrassed to explain.
“C’mon,” Athena coaxed. “I spilled my guts. Your turn.”
For a few moments it got so quiet that they could hear the gentle flapping sound of the silver wings at the heels of their sandals. Pallas thought about Agamemnon and how he was always so jealous of what others had—especially Achilles—that he could never be truly happy. She didn’t want to be that way.
So she took a deep breath and then admitted, “I was jealous because you made so many friends so fast at MOA and because you wear that BFF necklace. But it’s okay. I mean . . .”
Athena looked at her in surprise, then gestured toward the necklace Pallas wore. “But you’ve made friends too. When Hermes was flying me away to MOA, you were already walking to school with some other girls. I remember I felt like it was going to be easy for you to forget me.”
“But you were the one going someplace new and exciting. I felt left behind.” Pallas smiled and rolled her eyes. “Ye gods that sounds pathetic. I was happy for you that day too, though. Honest. You couldn’t not go to MOA. Zeus commanded it. And you’re, you know, a goddessgirl!”
“We need to find a way to hang out more. That’s all there is to it!” said Athena.
“Yeah!” said Pallas. But exactly how they’d accomplish that, she wasn’t sure.
Just then they broke through a cloud, and the Academy sprang into view up ahead. It gleamed in the sunlight atop the highest mountain in Greece.
“Wow,” said Pallas. “I can hardly believe you live there!” The first time she’d been to MOA, she’d been whisked there by magic and so had missed this view!
Athena just laughed. “It’s pretty much like Triton Junior High, actually. Only with magic and immortals and stuff.” Which of course made Pallas laugh. Because those were things that made MOA very different from TJH!
After they touched down in the marble courtyard, they scurried up the Academy’s wide granite steps with Aphrodite, Artemis, and Hebe to enter the school. They got dinner in the cafeteria first thing, and the eight-armed lunch lady filled several bottles with milk for the baby, while at the same time filling their plates. After dinner Pallas and Athena took the bottles with them and headed for the girls’ dorm hall on the Academy’s fourth floor.
Pandora was spending the night with her friend Medusa, which worked out kind of great. Because Pallas got to stay with Athena!
Most of the girls left their doors open up and down the hall and visited with each other all evening. They played games in the halls, had snacks, entertained Hebe, and hung out till late, having fun. But after a while more and more girls began to yawn, and doors along the hall began to close.
In Athena’s room Pallas helped get Hebe settled into her stroller for the night. Then Athena and Pallas snuggled in identical beds on opposite sides of the room. Even after they were in bed, they talked softly for a while. There was just so much to say! So they talked and talked till they were so tired that they finally drifted off to sleep. Zzzzz.
14
Headache
Athena
SUNDAY MORNING AFTER BREAKFAST ATHENA carried her baby sister to Zeus’s office, walking with Pallas, Aphrodite, and Artemis. She had slipped a note under his door the night before so that he and Hera wouldn’t worry if they snapped back to being their grown-up selves and discovered Hebe was gone.
On the way the girls joined up with Heracles and some godboys going there too. Concerned about Zeus, the boys announced that they wanted to make sure he was back to normal.
Hebe began crying the minute they all stepped inside the office together. Immediately, Zeus opened his arms wide. “Hand her over,” he commanded. “She likes my singing.”
Huh? When Athena passed Hebe to her dad, he took a deep breath and opened his mouth. She braced herself for what she knew was coming. She had heard him sing before. And although he had many, many talents, singing wasn’t one of them.
“Rock-a-bye, Heebee
In the treetops . . .”
As Zeus belted out a lullaby off-key, the students cringed. A couple of boys actually held their ears. But amazingly, her dad’s claim turned out to be true. Hebe was the one person in the office who appreciated his singing. She immediately stopped crying and began to gurgle happily.
“How’s my wuvwee widdle thunderbolt?” Zeus cooed to her after he’d finished his song. “Dancey wancey woo!” As he whirled her in an impromptu dance around his messy office, Hera came in. Her pigtails were gone, and she looked more put together than she had over the past few days, which Athena took as a good sign. Smiling at Zeus and Hebe, Hera joined in their dance.
“Oh no! Zeus and Hera are still acting weird,” murmured Ares.
“When other realms find out what’s happened to Zeus and most of our teachers, MOA will be a laughingstock,” Apollo wailed quietly.
“It’s so embarrassing,” said Poseidon, shaking his head.
“No, it’s not,” Athena said, coming to her dad’s defense. “Besides, they are their grown-up selves again,” she added, though she wasn’t quite a hundred percent certain of this. Hebe looked so tiny in Zeus’s big arms as he spun her around the room that Athena’s heart melted for both of them.
“There’s nothing cuter than dads taking care of their kids,” Aphrodite added, sighing happily at the sight.
The other girls nodded.
“Yeah, Zeus and that baby are adorable together,” Heracles pronounced. All the students turned to look at him in surprise. Especially the boys. Athena wasn’t sure that she’d ever heard the word “adorable” pass the lips of a boy before unless it was said with sarcasm. Which definitely wasn’t the case here. It only made her like Heracles more.
“What?” Heracles looked confused by the fact that everyone was staring at him.
“Bravo! Well said,” Pallas told him, clapping. Athena beamed at her, glad to see that her mortal friend approved of her crush.
Aphrodite and Artemis nodded approvingly too.
After Hera took the baby off for a nap, Athena peered closely at her dad. “So you’re back to normal, right?”
Zeus’s eyebrows slammed together. “What do you mean? Why has everyone been asking me that all morning?”
“Uh, nothing. No reason. Just glad you’re feeling okay,” Athena told him. If Zeus didn’t remember his silly actions of the day before, it was best not to remind him. Hera had seemed okay too. Athena breathed a sigh of relief that the fountain’s effects apparently wore off quickly once a person stopped drinking its water.
“Only thing is, my sandals are full of sand and my knees are all scraped up for some reason,” Zeus admitted.
Recalling his tree-climbing and crawling activities from yesterday, Athena could imagine why that was. However, since she and the other three girls could tell he was back to himself now, they wisely said nothing. The boys watched Zeus closely, though, still seeming suspicious as to whether he was totally, one hundred percent normal again.
