by Joan Holub
Calliope flopped onto her side and sank into her own plush comforter, a cheerful yellow one that was decorated with black staff lines and musical notes. A gift from Terpsichore. She wished she could find a roomie just like her favorite sister. A roomie she could feel comfortable exchanging confidences with.
The comforter was an unintentional reminder that she still needed to practice the new song she and her sisters would be singing tomorrow. Oh, there was just so much she needed to do! Merely thinking about it all made her feel tired. She rolled to lie on her back and stared up at the wall next to her bed.
She’d covered the wall with quotations from writers and artists she had inspired to create great works. In addition to Homer, they included the famous sculptor Pygmalion and the pop star Orpheus. She’d had a direct influence on the lyrics of one of Orpheus’s most recent hit songs, “You A-Muse Me.” Locating the first line of the song high on the wall, she sang it out loud in a lilting soprano voice, “You a-Muse me, confuse me. . . . O, will your heart bruise meee-ee-ee?”
Now her gaze went to the autographed picture of Homer on the wall at the end of her bed. He’d given her the painting on the day The Odyssey had been published. An inscription at the bottom read: To my Muse, with cheers and thanks!
No matter how many other creative mortals she inspired, Homer was the only one she’d ever crushed on. So it wasn’t like she was boy crazy. There was just something about Homer that made her adore him. Unfortunately, like her sisters, he seemed to think she was a baby. Or a little kid, anyway.
Calliope sighed. Someday she’d like to achieve lasting fame that wasn’t attached to another’s name. Maybe then others would finally see her as grown up!
Thinking about being grown up made her realize that, once again, she’d lost her focus. If she weren’t more careful, she really would flunk Architecture-ology. And that would be horrible. She liked being here at MOA, even if she was sometimes lonely. She was grateful that Urania had gone to bat for her to convince Principal Zeus to issue her an invitation to attend.
Calliope was sure she was worthy of that invitation. She’d just never had to prove herself before like this. Staying on task and studying would be a lot easier with a friend, aka a roommate. Not to lean on or anything, but for companionship and to have a good role model nearby. When her roomie studied, she would study too. Just like she’d done with her sisters back home.
“Don’t worry. We’ll get a roommate soon, Flowerface,” she told the pillow in a confident voice. “But for now it’s just you and me. Well . . . back to my Architecture-ology project.”
Hopping up, she set the pillow on the empty bed opposite her own. Then, reluctantly, she returned to her desk.
3
All About Muses
BY DINNERTIME CALLIOPE HAD MANAGED to narrow her list of possible Architecture-ology projects to just five. She’d thrown out her most boring ideas and also the most far-fetched (such as the mobile chariot-racing arena that could travel by cloud). It was progress, even if she wasn’t wildly excited about developing a planscroll for any of the remaining five.
She returned to her room after dinner, determined to go over the tunes and lyrics for the three songs she and her eight sisters would be singing at the music festival the next day. Two of the songs she already knew well, since she and her sisters had sung them many times at other events. But she hadn’t yet memorized the tune and lyrics for the new song.
She should have begun learning it earlier. Urania had tried to get Calliope to practice with her all week. But Calliope had put her sister off, saying she was too busy with homework to get together. She’d told Urania she’d practice on her own. She hadn’t, though.
Her excuse had been at least partly true. But she also resented Urania’s constant attempts to arrange joint practice sessions. It made Calliope feel like she was being bossed around. And that made her rebel. She didn’t need guidance on every little thing, for godness’ sake!
She began to warm up her vocal cords. She was in the midst of singing a song called “Knock, Knock, Knocking on Zeus’s Door”—a song she and her sisters often sang at concerts, though it wouldn’t be on tomorrow’s program—when someone knocked on her door.
“Come, come, coming to answer my-y door,” she sang out as she went to open the door. She was surprised to see Medusa standing just outside. But then she remembered that she had invited the snaky-haired girl to drop by to talk about ideas for her Revenge-ology paper.
“Oh! Come in,” she said at last.
Medusa must have sensed her surprise. In an uncertain tone she asked, “You were expecting me, right?”
“Yes, definitely,” Calliope replied brightly. This was going to be a great opportunity to get to know this mortal girl better. And if they got along well, she’d ask Medusa if she’d be interested in becoming roommates. Easy-peasy.
“Pleasey. Oh, I mean, please come in and sit,” she said, gesturing toward her spare bed as Medusa came into her room.
After Calliope closed the door, she and Medusa took seats across from each other on the two beds. “How’s it going?” Calliope asked. Her eyes traveled to the top of Medusa’s head, noticing that her snakes were all wearing sparkly green ribbons around their “necks.” “Those guys look so cute, all dressed up!” she added.
The snakes responded by standing a little taller. Medusa smiled wide. “Want to know their names?”
Calliope hadn’t realized they had names. Who named their hair? But then, these snakes were obviously pets. “Sure.”
Pointing to each snake in turn, Medusa began calling out their names. “Viper, Flicka, Pretzel, Snapper, Twister, Slinky, Lasso, Slither, Scaly, Emerald, Sweetpea, and Wiggle.” In turn each snake bobbed its head at Calliope in a little bow of greeting. How gentle and sweet they were!
“Happy to meet you,” she told them, doing a little bow in return.
“So I’ve thought about those ideas you gave me earlier for my Revenge-ology paper,” Medusa said, getting straight to the point. “And I really like the one about interviewing other students about times when they’ve taken revenge on someone.”
“Oh,” Calliope said. “Are you sure? I could probably come up with several more ideas that might be even—”
“Don’t bother,” interrupted Medusa. “I’ve made up my mind. In fact, I’ve already started my interviews.” As she spoke, she pulled a little sack from her pocket. There was a label on it that read, SNAKE SNACKS. “My snakes are hungry. Mind if I feed them while we talk?” she asked. “I’d like to interview you for my paper too.”
“Go right ahead,” Calliope said. She couldn’t believe how little time it had taken Medusa to decide which idea she wanted to pursue for her paper. Seemed like she’d want to consider more alternatives. On the other hand, Calliope thought, if she could make choices as quickly, her Architecture-ology project might already be finished!
“So have you ever taken revenge on someone?” Medusa asked as she scooped a handful of what looked like dried peas and carrots from the little sack. She tossed them into the air. Snap! Snap! Snap! Her snakes gobbled them down in seconds.
Watching them, Calliope thought about the question. “Not all on my own, but my sisters and I did take revenge on the Sirens once. There were three of them. Odd-looking, wicked creatures. Women from the waist up and birds from the waist down, you know?”
“Yeah. I know about them. Their favorite pastime is using their beautiful voices to lure sailing ships toward the rocks where they perch at sea. The ships crash on the rocks and the sailors drown. So what did you do to them? Revenge-wise, I mean,” said Medusa.
“Well,” Calliope went on, “what happened was—”
“Wait a second,” Medusa interrupted. “I need to take some notes.” She shoved the snake snack sack back inside her pocket. Then she seemed to search inside it for something more. Coming up empty, she said, “Rats. I forgot my Revenge-ology notescroll. Can you come down to my room?”
“Yeah!” Calliope jum
ped at the chance to learn more about this girl by seeing her room. Literally jumped. She leaped off her bed and tossed the music-scroll she’d been practicing with onto her desk. Medusa looked a little surprised at her enthusiasm, but then led her down the hall. Once they were in Medusa’s room, they sat in her two desk chairs.
Not wanting to seem too nosy, Calliope surveyed the room in one sweeping glance. Almost everything of Medusa’s was green. She had matching green polka-dotted bedspreads, a green rug, and except for one curiously bright gold one, all of the chitons sticking out of the open closet were some shade of green too.
A bulletin board over one bed held random stuff, such as a dried bouquet of purple flowers, some Oracle-O cookie fortunes, and a purple scroll with a heart on the outside. The purple stuff was probably from Dionysus, her crush. It was a color he seemed to favor. On the shelf above one of the desks was a small amount of makeup—green lip gloss and glittery green nail polish. The room’s decor was simple and cute, she decided. Also, the room was not too messy and not too tidy. Calliope’s hopes about the two girls rooming together rose.
“Okay. Go on. The Sirens,” Medusa prompted. Her pen was poised above a scroll unfurled on her desk.
“Oh yeah. Basically, it all started when the Sirens lost a singing contest to me and my sisters.” Calliope ran a hand over her wavy red ponytail, remembering. “That would have been the end of things, but instead of being good sports about it, those birdbrained women tried to claim we’d cheated. Bribed the judges or something. So we . . .” She paused, a little embarrassed. “Are you sure you want to hear this? It’s history now. And I was only six.”
“You can’t leave me hanging. Tell me!” said Medusa, sounding intrigued. As she leaned forward, so did her snakes.
“Well, just to teach them a lesson, we plucked out some of their feathers!” said Calliope. “They were grounded till they grew more and could fly again.”
“Ha!” said Medusa, scribbling away on her notescroll. “Good one. Served them right! Everyone knows goddesses and gods expect to be honored and don’t take kindly to creatures who show them disrespect.”
When Medusa had finished writing, she shut her notescroll and tossed her pen down. Then she rose as if ready to escort Calliope out. “Well, thanks.”
“So!” said Calliope, hoping to delay her. She needed more information before she could properly rate this girl as a prospective roomie. “Heard any good revenge stories from other immortals yet?”
Medusa nodded and sat back down. “My favorite is how Athena turned a mortal girl into a spider.”
“Oh yeah. I heard something about that,” said Calliope. “Her name was Arachne?”
“Right,” said Medusa, grinning. “She was rude to Athena after challenging her to a weaving contest, and then made things even worse by creating a tapestry that was insulting to Zeus.”
“In what way?” Calliope asked, curious.
“Athena wouldn’t say,” said Medusa. “But rumor has it that the tapestry showed Zeus hopping around in pain with a thunderbolt stuck in his foot and the hem of his tunic on fire.”
Calliope gasped. “No wonder Athena took revenge!”
Insulting immortals was never smart. And challenging them to contests wasn’t usually a good idea either. In fact, that satyr Marsyas would have been wise to think about that before challenging Apollo to tomorrow’s musical battle.
Calliope smiled at Medusa. And her snakes, too. She thought they all might be a good fit. Maybe it was time to try a sleepover. But before she could suggest one, Medusa asked abruptly, “So, what’s it like being a Muse? Do you have, like, special powers?”
“Besides the ability to inspire, you mean?” said Calliope.
Medusa nodded.
Calliope furrowed her brow, thinking. “Well, my sisters and I can cast spells, just like other immortals,” she said. “But that’s about it, really. And our ability to inspire is limited to our areas of expertise.”
“That’s what I thought,” said Medusa. “By the way, I love The Odyssey.” Suddenly, she jumped up and spread her arms wide. Until that moment, her snakes had been quiet, either bored with the conversation or maybe just sleepy after eating their snacks. They’d curled themselves into a tight bun at the back of her neck.
But now they began wriggling as Medusa quoted from The Odyssey in a dramatic voice: “ ‘My word, how mortals take the gods to task! All their afflictions come from us, we hear. And what of their own failings? Greed and folly double the suffering in the lot of man.’ ”
“Those are my favorite lines!” Calliope exclaimed in delight.
“Did you tell them to Homer so he could write them down?” Medusa asked bluntly, sitting cross-legged on her bed now and waving Calliope over to sit on the opposite bed.
“Well . . .” As Calliope stood, she knocked a couple of scrolls off the desk she’d been sitting near. When she picked them up, one of them unrolled to reveal some cute drawings. “Hey! I just remembered you’re a writer, aren’t you? And an artist. I read in Teen Scrollazine that some of your comics won a contest a while back. They were about a character called the Queen of Mean, right? That’s mega-cool!” Since Medusa was a writer and Calliope inspired writers, they were beginning to seem more and more like a good roomie fit! Excitement rose higher in her.
“Thanks, but I promise I wasn’t asking how you’d helped Homer because I wanted help for my comics,” Medusa assured her confidently. “I’m just curious about how this inspiration thing works.”
“Well, it’s not an exact science,” Calliope explained, setting the comicscrolls aside to go sit on the edge of the spare bed. “Every artist or author I inspire already has the talent inside him or her. I just try to bring it out and help them when they’re stumped. As I recall, what I said to Homer was actually something like this: ‘Mortals are so unfair to the gods. They think everything bad comes from us. They’re not perfect, you know. They bring a lot of bad stuff down on their own heads through their greediness and foolishness.’ ”
“Hmm,” said Medusa. “Same idea, but your words don’t have quite the same ring to them as Homer’s.”
“I agree. He’s amazing,” Calliope said with heartfelt enthusiasm. In her view Homer deserved every scrap of praise he got for his books, even if she had inspired them. She was just pleased to have helped him.
Medusa lifted an eyebrow. “So I saw that stuff about Homer in your room. Are you, like, crushing on him?” she asked in her straightforward way.
Calliope felt herself blush. “No!” she lied quickly.
As if sensing the lie, Medusa sent her a doubting look. Ignoring it, Calliope traced a finger around a polka dot on Medusa’s bedcover. She wondered if she should reconsider Medusa’s suitability as a roommate.
“Okay, well . . . ,” said Medusa, standing to usher Calliope out.
Would this girl make a good roommate? Calliope wondered again. She was pretty blunt. And if her snakes hissed at night, it might be hard to sleep. But Medusa and her snakes were also interesting and fun. Plus, Medusa appreciated Homer’s writing just like Calliope did.
“You know, Ms. Hydra never assigned me a roommate,” Calliope said, deciding to sidle up to the topic. This had probably just been an oversight on the part of Zeus’s nine-headed administrative assistant. Still, Calliope wanted to choose her own roommate now that she had the chance. That way, she’d get someone well suited.
“Lucky you,” said Medusa, sitting back on her bed again. Her snakes had curled up into that bun again, Calliope noticed.
“Isn’t it great having a room to yourself?” Medusa continued. “When I started at MOA back in third grade, Pandora was my roommate. I like her, but her constant questions drove me crazy. So I started answering all her questions with more questions, till she asked for a new room assignment.” Medusa grinned. “She’s Athena’s problem now.”
“Oh,” said Calliope. She hadn’t known till now that Medusa had once had a roommate.
“Then Ms.
Hydra assigned Pheme to room with me,” Medusa went on. “I know she couldn’t help it, but her word-puffing habit drove me even crazier than Pandora’s questions had. I finally declared our room a no-smoking zone. Since that meant she couldn’t talk, she eventually moved out too.”
“I see,” said Calliope, wondering if she had some annoying habit that she wasn’t aware of. If so, she might not fare any better as Medusa’s roommate than Pheme or Pandora had.
Right then and there Calliope abandoned the idea of asking this girl to share a room. Even though Medusa hadn’t actually said so, it seemed obvious that she was not in the market for a roommate. Calliope would just have to find someone else to ask!
4
Fun and Games
SUDDENLY SHOUTS CAME FROM THE courtyard below Medusa’s dorm window. She and Calliope rushed to gaze outside. Some students had gathered to play games and toss balls around. Dionysus was among them.
“Yeah! A hang-out session. C’mon!” said Medusa. She dashed for the door, then looked back at Calliope with a question in her eyes. “You coming?”
Calliope hesitated, thinking of the sheet music back in her room. “Well . . . I should work on memorizing the new song lyrics for tomorrow’s festival. And on my Architecture-ology project too.” Then she grinned. “But playing games would be more fun.”
“You know it!” said Medusa. “Besides, you’ve got tonight and the morning for memorizing the music. And even more time for homework.”
Allowing herself to be convinced, Calliope nodded. “You’re right. Let’s go!” After all, this could be a great opportunity to size up other possible roommate candidates!
Outside, on a section of lawn that sloped down toward the sports fields, the students had started up a competitive game of Episkyros. It was a two-team ball game. A white middle line on the ground called the “skuros” separated the two teams, and there was another white goal line some distance behind each team. The object for each team was to pass the ball back and forth until one member was able to carry it over the opposing team’s goal line.
