“Uh-huh,” she sort-of promised, folding her arms. But the minute he left, she slipped behind the curtain to snoop.
Back here, the fragrance of Pyg’s flowers was strong. Glancing around, she saw the vase at the base of a statue that was covered with a long drape. It was the same one he’d stopped her from viewing on her first visit. Curious, she walked over to the statue, which was about as tall as she was.
She reached out to peek under the drape, then recalled her half-promise not to touch anything. Still, for a goddess, snooping while keeping such a promise was easy. Whirling a perfectly manicured, pink-polished fingertip in the air, she created a gentle breeze that lifted the drape higher and higher.
From the bottom up, a statue chiseled from the finest gleaming white marble revealed itself, inch by inch. First, only the hem of the sculpture’s flowing skirt was visible, then a belted waist, two slender arms, shoulders, and long wavy hair. Soon, Aphrodite was staring into the face of one of the most flawless and beautiful girls she’d ever beheld. Pyg might be a lot of annoying things, but he was also an incredibly gifted sculptor.
But why had he set his flowers here? Beside them sat a cage with a small lovebird inside. The minute the drape had lifted, it had begun to sing its high, clear notes. She put a finger to her lips, shushing it. Immediately, the bird quieted. Then she noticed something else. Behind it sat the bright pink gift box from yesterday!
She straightened, excitement flooding her. The flowers. The lovebird. The pink box. These were all tokens of affection. Gifts. Was Pygmalion in love with the girl who’d modeled for this sculpture? Of course! That would explain why he’d rejected all the other girls. His heart was already taken! Why, then, had he sent Isis and her on a wild goose chase to find him a new crush? Did this girl already have a crush? Was he too bashful in her presence to tell her of his affection? Or what?
As she stood gazing upon the statue, she heard Pyg return to the studio with Isis. Quickly, she slipped outside the curtain and stood in the shadows at the back of the studio to watch. Her stomach did flip-flops as she worried her competitor would best her. Then she realized Isis had no chance of winning this competition either. Pyg’s heart was already taken.
The moment Isis began her presentation, Aphrodite was reminded how much they really did think alike. For Isis, too, had brought sketches of her candidates this time, instead of actual girls. Instead of poems, however, her girls had written songs. Same difference, though.
Once again, Pyg rejected them all. “But any of these girls would be perfect for you,” Isis insisted. “Why are you rejecting them? Is it because you prefer one of the girls Aphrodite presented?”
“No, that’s not it at all,” Aphrodite replied. Stepping from the shadows, she went to stand beside the curtain. “It’s because he is already crushing on someone else.” And with that, she shoved back the curtain to reveal the statue. “Her!” she announced dramatically.
With a look of alarm, Pyg leaped past her. “What have you done to my beloved?” Running to the statue, he circled it worriedly, examining it for injuries.
“Don’t worry, I didn’t touch her,” Aphrodite assured him. “I’ve only been admiring her. She’s truly stunning.”
Isis joined them at the rear of the studio, “Who is she?” she asked, obviously awed by the figure’s beauty.
“Her name is Galatea,” Pyg admitted. “And you’re right. She is my crush. My supercrush. My mega-crush.” He clasped his hands over his heart as he gazed upon the statue.
“But she doesn’t return your affections?” Aphrodite guessed.
He nodded sadly. “When I heard about the Lonely Hearts Club, I wrote my letter, hoping the goddess of love could find someone as perfect for me as Galatea is.” He sighed. “But I should have known that was impossible. Just as my crush on Galatea is—impossible.”
He looked so downcast that Aphrodite’s anger at being sent on a wild-goose chase evaporated. When it came to love, mortals sometimes did dumb things. Immortals, too.
“Maybe we could speak to her on your behalf,” suggested Aphrodite.
“We?” Isis asked, glancing at her.
The “we” had slipped out by accident, but now Aphrodite was glad it had. She genuinely liked Isis, and she was sure Isis liked her, too. She smiled. “I think it’s time we worked with each other instead of against each other,” she said. “What do you say?”
A slow smile spread on Isis’s face. “I say you’re right. So what do you say, Pyg? Would you like us to talk to her?”
Pygmalion shrugged, looking hopeless. Then he gestured to the statue. “Be my guest.”
“Well, I don’t think she meant we’d talk to the statue itself,” said Aphrodite. “What good would that do? But if you tell us where we can find this Galatea—”
“You’re looking at her,” Pyg interrupted.
Aphrodite and Isis stared at each other, brows raised in confusion.
“You mean you’re in love with the actual statue, not the girl who modeled for it?” Aphrodite asked him in disbelief.
“What model?” Pyg asked, sounding puzzled. “I never use models. The ideas in my head are so much better.”
So that’s why he’d told them to go away when he’d thought they were models that first day they’d come here! Aphrodite realized.
Going down on one knee, Pyg gazed at Galatea with adoring eyes.
“Aw, that’s so cute,” Isis murmured, obviously touched.
“Poor Pyg,” said Aphrodite. “You truly do love her, don’t you?”
“How could I not love Galatea?” Pyg gushed. “She is my masterpiece. Every day as I sculpt here in the studio, her eyes tirelessly admire my work. When I tell her my jokes, her smile makes my heart sing with joy.
She is everything to me.” His voice turned sad. “Alas, her heart is made of stone.” Hunching his shoulders, he stood and trudged away.
“I never thought I’d ever say this in a mummillion years,” said Isis, watching him sink down on a chair at the front of the studio. “But I actually feel sorry for him. I only wish there was something we could do.”
Aphrodite nodded, thinking hard. Suddenly an idea came to her. “Maybe there is.”
Isis glanced at her.
“There’s this girl at my school,” Aphrodite explained. “A mortal named Medusa. She once turned Athena’s roommate, Pandora, into stone. But then Athena used a de-stone spell to change her back.”
“And you think that same spell might work in this instance?” Isis asked, sounding enthusiastic as she caught on.
“It’s worth a try,” said Aphrodite, her own excitement rising. Not wanting Isis to think that the spells of Olympic gods were boring, she decided to spice up her magic so it looked more impressive. Scooping up handfuls of flowers from the vase, she murmured to them as she tossed them high. Her magic caused them to spin around and drift down in slow motion. Some chained together to form a necklace around the statue, and others settled in its hair or floated lower to decorate the pedestal.
As they continued to rain slowly downward, Aphrodite stepped close to the statue and placed a hand on its cold, white wrist. In a dramatic voice, she cast her spell: “Flesh and bone—return from stone!” Then she released the statue’s wrist and leaped back, ducking to avoid being hit by flying marble chips when the statue transformed.
Only there were no flying chips because nothing happened.
“Hmm,” said Aphrodite, straightening. “I’m certain that was the right spell. I wonder what went wrong?”
“Maybe you need to adjust it a little,” suggested Isis. “After all, that girl Pandora started as flesh, right? Then she turned to stone and back to flesh. But Galatea is starting as stone. So she might require an altered spell.” She grinned. “Though I did like the flashy magic show.”
“Thanks.” Aphrodite grinned back. That Isis had seen through her attempt to spice things up wasn’t really that surprising since they were alike in so many ways. “And you’re right, of course
. I’ll try tweaking the spell.” She thought for a minute, then stepped close to the statue once more. Tossing a heap of flowers high again, she sent some of them dancing in the air in wide swoopy rings that encircled her and the statue. Then she touched Galatea’s delicate wrist while chanting new magic words: “You started as stone—now become flesh and bone!”
Aphrodite leaped back, breaking through the flower rings, which then drifted to the floor. Both girls waited, eyes glued to the statue, their hopes high. After a few seconds, the statue began to shudder. Marble cracked. Chips popped from it. A fine powdery dust filled the air as stone slowly transformed into skin, hair, chiton, and delicate sandals. Moments later, Galatea, now a mortal girl, blinked at them with violet-colored eyes. “Where’s my beloved?” Looking beyond them she called out, “Pygmalion?”
At the sound of her voice, Pyg raised his head and glanced over his shoulder. Tears of joy filled his eyes as he beheld the girl of his dreams, now wholly flesh and blood. Springing up from his chair, he ran to Galatea and knelt among the flowers scattered at her feet. The pair gazed at each other, and the mutual adoration in their eyes was plain to see.
“Oh, this is so romantic,” whispered Isis, leaning close to Aphrodite.
“I know. Isn’t it amazing?” Aphrodite whispered back. “I love happy endings!”
Pygmalion opened his lips to speak to Galatea. The two goddessgirls breathlessly awaited his declaration of love. But instead, these were his first-ever words to his beloved: “What did the block of marble say to the chisel?”
The two goddessgirls snorted in disbelief, but Galatea just tilted her head, thinking. “I don’t know. What?” she asked after a few seconds.
“You crack me up!” Pygmalion replied, and the two of them laughed uproariously.
Isis and Aphrodite looked at each other. “His first words to her are a dumb sculptor’s joke?” Isis whispered.
“To each their own,” Aphrodite whispered back. “At least Galatea laughed.”
As if he’d just remembered that the goddessgirls were still there, Pygmalion turned to face them. “Which of you accomplished this miraculous act?”
“Aphrodite,” Isis admitted.
Pyg went to his worktable and found some papyrus and a feather pen. “Then I shall write an announcement and have it spread across the land, that Aphrodite is the one and only true goddess of love!”
Aphrodite almost let him do it. She almost did. She had wanted that title all to herself more than anything. But now that it was finally within reach, she found that having it all to herself again didn’t matter as much as she thought it would. Though Isis was smiling bravely, as if losing the goddess of love title didn’t really matter to her, Aphrodite knew it was an act. Just like Isis had known that Aphrodite’s dramatic tossing around of the flowers was only an act. She put herself in Isis’s sandals, imagining her despair. The Egyptian goddessgirl hadn’t tried to claim any credit for helping Pyg find love. And she did deserve some.
“Not so fast!” Aphrodite heard herself say. Pyg shot her a questioning look, his pen poised above the papyrus. “Isis fixed my spell,” Aphrodite said. She felt the Egyptian goddess glance at her in surprise as she went on. “Without her help, it wouldn’t have worked.”
“I see,” said Pyg, twirling the pen between his fingers, “So the title should go to—”
“Both of us,” Aphrodite said decisively. “It was a tie. You can write two announcements—one that proclaims me to be the goddess of love and one that proclaims Isis to be. We’ll share the title.” Which was pretty much the way things were before, when they didn’t even know about each other.
Isis’s startled green eyes stared into her blue ones. “Are you doing this because you feel sorry for me?” she asked.
“Not at all,” Aphrodite said firmly. “It’s only fair that you get half the credit.” In truth, she could hardly believe what she’d just done either. But deep down, it felt right.
Sharing the title of goddess of love wouldn’t take anything away from her own power at all. In fact, it might actually be nice to have someone she could occasionally confide in long distance—someone who understood the ins and outs of love as well as she did.
With copies of Pyg’s proclamations in hand, the two goddessgirls said goodbye to him and Galatea, and took their leave. The two mortals were already making plans to build a cottage for Galatea nearby overlooking the rock quarry, and Pyg promised to introduce her around the village so she could make some friends.
As they headed down the path to the cart, Aphrodite sighed, feeling a contentment that had been missing for days. “Looks like Pyg and Galatea are set to live happily ever after,” she said. “He’s still clueless and his jokes are terrible. But Galatea seems to think he’s a natural-born comedian and all-around awesome guy.”
Isis laughed. “So they’ll probably get along great.”
Aphrodite grinned. “Good thing. ’Cause I have a feeling she is the one and only girl in the world who could appreciate him!”
Getting serious, Isis said, “Thanks for what you did back there. If you had kept the title all to yourself, no one would have blamed you, not even me.”
“I would’ve blamed me,” said Aphrodite. “It wouldn’t have been fair. I couldn’t do that to a friend.”
“Friend?” Isis’s eyes lit up.
Aphrodite smiled. “Yes, friend.” She gave Isis a hug. Suddenly she had an idea. “Could you come to MOA instead of heading back to Egypt right away?” Aphrodite asked her. “There’s a dance tonight, and a makeup expert from Cleo’s Cosmetics is coming to give makeovers. I have an extra bed in my room. You can sleep over and I’ll take you home tomorrow. What do you say?”
“I say yes!” said Isis. She held up her hand and the girls high-fived. High fives must be a universal language too, like pinky swears, Aphrodite thought.
When word got around down on earth that she and Isis had hung out at the dance together, everyone would know that they were buds. And that would erase any chance of a war between Greek and Egyptian mortals who had sided with one or the other of them. Inviting Isis to the dance was a friendly thing to do, but it was also smart thinking. Whoever said beauty and brains couldn’t go together was wrong, Aphrodite thought. She had both!
12
Guess Who?
APHRODITE’S DORM ROOM SERVED AS “central makeover headquarters” that night before the Hero Dance began at MOA. Cleo from Cleo’s Cosmetics had come as promised to give makeup advice to the two dozen goddessgirls who dropped by. All three of her eyes lit up every time a new girl came in for a makeover. Inspired by Isis’s exotic look, Aphrodite, Athena, Persephone, and Artemis asked to have their eyes lined with kohl. When others saw them, they began asking for the same look. Isis smiled, obviously flattered.
The girls had all dressed in costumes representing their Hero-ology heroes. Athena was wearing a boat headdress because her hero, Odysseus, was currently sailing homeward. Since Paris was prince of Troy, Aphrodite was dressed in a princely fashion, wearing a toga woven of purple velvet and a small silver crown in her long golden hair. She wore sparkly silver stockings and sandals, and had powdered her face and hair with silver glitter to match.
As Aphrodite and Isis watched Cleo work, the three of them discussed techniques such as proper eyeliner application. They could have talked makeup tips all night. But there was a dance to get to.
“C’mon, we’re running late,” called Persephone as the sky darkened outside. Her crush, Hades, was busy in the Underworld that night, but she wasn’t one of those girls who couldn’t have fun without a godboy to flirt with and was as excited as everyone else about the party. “I can already hear the band warming up over in the gymnasium!” she said. Though it was some distance away—the classrooms and dorms were separated from the gym by sports fields—the sound of Dionysus on his double-reeded aulos and Apollo plucking at his seven-stringed kithara carried faintly. Soon Persephone and the others headed off.
Aphrodite a
nd Isis were the last ones to go out the door. Just as they were leaving, a magic breeze whooshed in through Aphrodite’s window. “Hold on a sec,” she said to Isis.” Hurrying to her mailbox, she pulled out the small papyrus scroll that had just come in. Magic buzzed her fingertips.
“A letter?” Isis asked.
Aphrodite nodded. Opening it as she headed out of her room, she saw that it was another riddlescroll. Her third!
“What does it say?” Isis asked, seeing her puzzled expression. As they walked outside and across the school courtyard, Aphrodite read it aloud:
I WAS ON YOUR SIDE IN THE TROJAN
WAR.
WHEN I THINK OF YOU, I THINK:
“AMOUR.”
~ FROM GUESS WHO LIKES YOU?
“Ooh! Someone is mashing on you,” said Isis, sounding excited.
“Huh?” asked Aphrodite.
“Isn’t that what you and Pygmalion were saying earlier to mean when someone likes you?”
Aphrodite laughed with sudden understanding. “You mean crushing. Someone’s crushing on me.”
Isis looked a little bewildered. “Either way, it is mysterious, yes?”
“Definitely,” agreed Aphrodite.
Which of her many admirers could have sent it? Everyone at MOA took Hero-ology, and students had been evenly divided between both sides of the Trojan conflict.
She tucked the riddlescroll in her pocket as she and Isis arrived at the dance just behind the other goddessgirls. The gym had been decorated to resemble the Hero-ology game, with bright murals on the walls depicting different countries, cities, and beasts, as well as Greek heroes and their glorious feats. Colorful banners hung around the room and torches had been lit here and there. The bleachers had been pushed back and tables heaped with food lined the far wall.
Up ahead, Artemis waved to her brother Apollo on the stage with his bandmates, Dionysus, Ares, and Poseidon. Artemis had helped him write the song they were playing now, a popular tune called “Goddessgirls Just Wanna Have Fun.” Apollo waved Artemis up, and she joined them onstage, harmonizing with him.
Aphrodite the Diva (Goddess Girls) Page 11
