by Joan Holub
“Where do you keep so many clothes?” wondered Terpsichore.
“Good question! I’ve already filled both closets in my room and one in Artemis’s room too,” admitted Aphrodite. “Pretty soon I may need to take out my spare desk and put in some drawers or another closet!” She laughed, which made her look even more beautiful, if that were possible.
Hmm, thought Calliope. It didn’t sound like there was any space left for another person in Aphrodite’s room. Not a person with clothes anyway. And Calliope did own some clothes, though not nearly as many as this girl. She wondered if she should cross Aphrodite off her list of potential roommates. But she liked her. Hey! Maybe Aphrodite could turn her entire room into a closet and come live in Calliope’s room. There was a “fresh” idea!
Calliope was thinking about bringing up the subject of roommates, when Aphrodite said, “It’s great that Artemis lets me use her spare closet. Except for the dog hairs that sometimes get on the chitons I store in her room, that is.
“I have a kitten named Adonis that I share with my friend Persephone,” she told Terpsichore. “He sheds some too, but brushing him usually keeps things from getting too hairy in my room. Messes drive me crazy. I’m a real neatnik.”
Walking on either side of her, Calliope and Terpsichore exchanged glances and then broke out in grins.
“What?” asked Aphrodite, looking from one to the other of them.
“Since there are nine of us Muses, we shared rooms at home,” Terpsichore told her. “All of us were a little messy in our own ways, I guess. My dance shoes and stuff were always lying around.”
“It wasn’t like we were slobs, but none of us were exactly neatniks, either,” Calliope added.
“Understandable,” Aphrodite said cheerfully. When they paused at a shop window, Terpsichore began doing stretches. She could never stand still for long.
I wouldn’t like having to keep things as clean as a café kitchen, Calliope thought as Terpsichore bent to touch her toes. But it kind of seemed like that was what Aphrodite might expect of a roommate. Sighing, Calliope mentally crossed Aphrodite off her possible roommate list. The way things were going, she might have to start thinking about getting a pet herself, because her roommate prospects weren’t looking so good. But Zeus had to approve any pets brought to MOA. Since she was fairly new at the Academy, why would he do her any special favors? She wouldn’t dare to even ask!
“Ooh! Look at that!” said Aphrodite. She pointed to a white chiton with overlays of pink silk on display in the window just beyond the one she’d stopped at.
“Wow! It’s amazing,” said Terpsichore. “And it would look great on you.”
Suddenly Aphrodite dropped one of her bags. Cupping her fingers behind one ear as if to better hear something, she leaned closer to the store window where the chiton was showcased. “What’s that? I think it’s calling my name,” she told Calliope and Terpsichore. Straightening, she laughed again, grabbed the bag she’d set down, and took a step toward the shop door. “Guess I’d better say bye, unless you guys want to come in and shop too?”
Just then Terpsichore’s stomach grumbled. She put a hand over it and sent them an embarrassed grin. “Maybe I’d better get something to eat.”
With giggles and waves Terpsichore and Calliope bid Aphrodite farewell and made their way to the Oracle-O Bakery and Scrollbooks shop. It was right across from the atrium and next to a twenty-foot-tall carousel with a platform wide enough to accommodate three rows of fantastical animal rides. MOA students had built the carousel and created the creatures upon it before Calliope had started school at the Academy.
“Mmm. Perfect snack stop. You in?” Terpsichore asked.
“Sure,” said Calliope. “I’m kind of hungry too.”
Cassandra, who was Apollo’s crush and a Trojan princess, was behind the glass counter of the bakery when they walked in the door. Or rather, when Calliope walked in. Her sister danced in.
“Ooh. Your shop’s gotten bigger!” Terpsichore exclaimed to Cassandra as she twirled up to the counter.
“Yes,” Cassandra said with a smile that lit up her almond-shaped eyes. “My family thought our customers might enjoy more choices. So now we sell a variety of other desserts besides cookies. And we also thought our customers might like something to read while they snack. So Oracle-O Bakery and Scrollbooks is now two shops in one. Bakery in here. Scrollbooks for sale in there.” She gestured toward an open archway that connected through to the new half of the shop, where shelves of scrollbooks stood.
“Nice idea. Snacks and reading go great together,” Terpsichore approved.
Cassandra picked up an empty bag bearing the store logo and leaned slightly forward over the counter. “Now, what can I get for you two?”
Terpsichore made up her mind quickly. “I’ll have that cupcake,” she said, pointing at a pink frosted one with red sprinkles. “On a plate, thanks.”
“Coming right up!” Cassandra got it for her, and then looked expectantly at Calliope. “And for you?” she asked as Terpsichore took a bite of her cupcake and moaned at its deliciousness.
“I don’t know. I can’t decide,” Calliope said with a frown. She was practically drooling as she took in the large assortment of layer cakes, cupcakes, and pies that were now on display in the glass cases, in addition to all kinds of cookies. But just like with her Architecture-ology project, having more choices to consider only made it harder for her to choose!
Eventually she settled on a bag of chocolate chip Oracle-Os, her all-time favorite cookie. The ones they served in MOA’s cafeteria spoke your fortune aloud as soon as you bit into them, but the ones in the shop had written fortunes inside.
With their sweets in hand, the two girls wandered through the archway to the scrollbooks side of the shop. Calliope did a double take and nearly dropped her bag of cookies when she saw Homer there, sitting at a table. He didn’t notice them at first since he was busily autographing a scrollbook for a boy—one of his fans, apparently. A sign on the wall behind Homer read AUTHOR SIGNING TODAY.
“Hey, there’s Homer!” Terpsichore said, nudging Calliope. “You know him, right? Didn’t you guys hang out while he was writing The Odyssey? And I saw you talking to him at the music festival Saturday.”
Typical, thought Calliope. One sister or another was always in her business. But she didn’t mind so much when it was Terpsichore.
“So what’s he like, anyway?” her sister asked after taking another bite of her cupcake.
Having forgotten how miffed she’d been at him on Saturday when he’d failed to credit her for inspiring him, Calliope replied dreamily, “Awesome.”
“As in crush-worthy?” teased Terpsichore.
Calliope could feel her cheeks redden.
A slow smile spread over Terpsichore’s face. “Aha! I knew there was another reason for your sudden interest in this stuff.” She held up the little bag of makeup they’d purchased and jiggled it teasingly. “I’m right, Baby Sis, aren’t I?”
“Ha!” Calliope said, her blush deepening. When it appeared that Homer was finishing up with his fan, she darted over behind one of the scrollbook shelves, dragging Terpsichore with her. That way, Homer wouldn’t see them, but they could see him.
As Calliope peered out at Homer between the shelves, Terpsichore finished off her cupcake and then grinned. “You do like him. I can tell,” she said. Gracefully she bent her knees outward to each side in a plié.
“Shh,” Calliope whispered.
“Why don’t you go offer him a cookie?” Terpsichore suggested.
Calliope rolled her eyes. “Yeah, maybe I can replace the fortune inside it with one saying: You should crush on Calliope.”
They both giggled. “Go!” Terpsichore urged. She gave Calliope a gentle shove toward Homer as the fan left his table. “I’ll slip over and chat with Cassandra while you talk to him.”
“Okay.” As soon as Terpsichore left, Calliope sidled up to the table.
“Calliope!” Home
r exclaimed. He beamed at her. “Thanks for coming to my signing.”
He seemed so happy to see her that she decided not to admit that she hadn’t actually known about the signing and had only happened on it by accident.
“Want a cookie?” she asked instead. She opened her bag and held a cookie out to him. When a crumb fell onto one of the scrollbooks, his expression changed to one of alarm.
He jumped to his feet and hastily brushed the crumb away. Then he got down so that his eye was level with the tabletop to check for any additional stray crumbs. Satisfied that he hadn’t missed any, he straightened to glower at her. “No, I do not want a cookie. And please keep them away from my scrollbooks!”
Godness! Calliope took a step back. Why did he always have to be such a . . . noodge!
Just then another boy fan came up to Homer with a copy of The Odyssey. He looked at Calliope, then stepped past her when he saw she wasn’t holding a scrollbook to be signed. “Autograph it to me, please,” he said to Homer. “Name’s Lemnos.” The boy leaned in closer. “I heard you’re giving away free action figures with every scrollbook?”
“Um . . . yeah,” said Homer. He signed the scrollbook quickly. Then, after shooting Calliope a furtive glance, he reached down to a box on the floor beside his chair. From out of the box he drew a small three-inch-high action figure.
Calliope saw at once that the figure greatly resembled the Hero-ology game piece of Odysseus.
“Wow, cool!” said the boy as Homer handed him the figure. Immediately he pushed a button at the back of the toy. Odysseus’s arms, which had been balled into fists at his sides, popped up as if to punch out an enemy. Engrossed in pushing the button over and over, the boy started to walk away.
“Hey, don’t you want the scrollbook too?” Homer called after him, sounding a bit peeved.
“Oh yeah,” said the boy, turning back. Still playing with the toy Odysseus, he slipped the scrollbook under one arm without even looking at it. “Thanks,” he said.
“Action figures?” Calliope said to Homer once the boy had left the shop. Homer smiled a little nervously. Her brain was working a mile a minute. It wasn’t long before she put two and two together.
“It was you who stole the Hero-ology game pieces from Mr. Cyclops’s room!” she accused. “You didn’t just find them at the theater.”
“Shh! I didn’t steal them,” insisted Homer, looking around in alarm to make sure no fans were nearby to overhear. “These action figures are based on some loose sketches I made of the game pieces when I hung out in the Hero-ology room a while back. It was when I was writing The Odyssey. Just ask Apollo or Aphrodite or anybody about that. It’s true.”
“Your action figures are too perfect to have been created from loose sketches,” Calliope insisted, picking one out of the box and examining it.
Homer huffed out an exasperated breath and then leaned forward to take the piece from her, speaking quietly. “Okay, okay, but keep your voice down.” He let out another long sigh, then admitted, “You’re right, I’m the one who borrowed the game pieces. But you should be thanking me. I did it for our book—yours and mine—to help boost sales. I only meant to keep them for a day or two, while my publisher commissioned an artist to draw likenesses of the game pieces that were better than my sketches.”
“So you could use those likenesses as models for your toy giveaway?”
He nodded. “Unfortunately, the artist took forever. But when he finally returned the game pieces on Friday, I tried to put them back where they belong. Remember how I showed up at the Academy when you guys were playing around in that fountain? Only when I went to the Hero-ology classroom, Mr. Cyclops was in there working late on lesson plans, which meant I couldn’t sneak the hero figures back onto the game board, so . . .”
“So instead you lied and tricked me into returning them for you by giving them to me at the festival the next day,” Calliope finished. Our book, indeed. He’d never referred to The Odyssey as their book before! He was just trying to get on her good side now so she wouldn’t rat him out about this.
Homer nodded sheepishly. “You understand, right? And you won’t tell Mr. Cyclops or Zeus? They were both really rooting for The Odyssey to do well. Sales did start strong, but I kind of panicked when they went into a little slump due to a competing book by another poet.” He frowned as he said this, but the frown turned into a grin as he confided excitedly, “These action figures have shot sales of my scrollbook sky-high again!”
So now it was his scrollbook once more? Typical. What hurt most, though, was that he hadn’t trusted her enough to be straight with her from the start.
“You do know that those game pieces control the movements of the actual mortal heroes they represent,” she said.
He shrugged. “That’s only true if the game pieces are physically on the game board at MOA. Take them off, and they don’t affect the real heroes anymore.”
“Still, if anything devastating had happened to those pieces while in your possession . . . Well, it just doesn’t bear thinking about!”
“Mmm-hmm. Could you move a little?” asked Homer.
Huh? Calliope looked behind her to see that another fan was approaching with a copy of The Odyssey. While Homer signed it, Calliope glanced through the store’s archway to see Terpsichore staring at them, a grin on her face. She obviously thought things were going well in here. Ha!
Once the fan left with his signed scrollbook and an action figure of Agamemnon (king of Mycenae and supreme commander of the Greek troops during the Trojan War), Homer turned back to Calliope. “So, have you been practicing your singing?” he asked. It seemed an obvious attempt to shift the topic away from one that was uncomfortable for him—namely game pieces and action figures!
“No, I haven’t really had time,” she replied testily.
Homer tsk-tsked. “How do you expect to do better during your next performance if you don’t make time to practice?”
“I’m surprised you don’t call it our performance when I sing. You do like to take credit for things I also have a hand in.”
He looked genuinely startled. “What are you talking about?”
At this, Calliope exploded. “I’m talking about how I’ve had it with your lectures and your selfishness!” she exclaimed. “You say I was your inspiration, but you never . . .” She broke off, unable to continue for a moment. Finally, choking back a sob, she snapped, “You only care about your writing and yourself! Period.”
Homer stared at her in shocked confusion. “No way! Of course you’re my inspiration,” he assured her. “The only reason I give you suggestions to improve yourself is because you’re also my friend.” He frowned. “Right?”
Calliope glared at him. “Right.” Knowing what Homer was like, she guessed she shouldn’t have been surprised at his willingness to go to any lengths—even stealing the precious Hero-ology game pieces—to further his author ambitions. And she’d been fooling herself to think that he’d ever see her as more than just a friend. Though in her opinion, he didn’t really know how to be a friend back. Unfortunately for her, his scrollbooks were probably the only thing he would ever crush on!
To her dismay, as she was thinking this, a teenage girl came toward them with a tray of cookies. She looked about the same age as Homer and was very pretty, with long black hair and dark blue eyes. Oh yeah, it was Cassandra’s sister. Calliope had seen her around the bakery before.
“Hey, Laodice.” Homer smiled at the girl in a way he’d never smiled at Calliope.
“Hey, Homer,” Laodice responded. Then she giggled as if they’d just shared some private joke. “Want a cookie?” she asked, holding out her tray.
“Sure,” said Homer.
Calliope’s eyes almost bugged out of her head when, instead of freaking out because he feared getting crumbs on his precious scrollbooks, Homer took a cookie from Laodice. No, not just one cookie, but a whole handful of them! “Thanks,” he told her. “Your cookies are the best!”
St
aring from one to the other, Calliope suddenly realized that they were crushing! On each other. She guessed she should have known that if Homer ever did fall in like, he’d probably choose a girl his own age. Someone such as Laodice. Feeling a bit sick at heart, Calliope excused herself and hurried away. Not that Homer noticed.
Terpsichore met her as she came through the archway into the bakery half of the shop and headed for the door. “Ready to go?” her sister asked, following her.
Calliope nodded, forcing herself to smile.
As they stepped outside the shop, she saw Aphrodite and Ares hanging out with Artemis and Actaeon across the way in the atrium. They were all waiting in line for tickets to ride on the IM carousel.
Calliope’s gaze flicked to the awesome scenes painted atop the carousel’s peaked roof. There was mighty Zeus bringing down a Titan with one of his thunderbolts, and Athena dressed for battle, wearing a pointy helmet and clutching a spear and shield. Carved around the roof’s edge were colorful flowers, rainbows, and cute kittens that looked an awful lot like Adonis.
When the carousel started to load, Calliope couldn’t help noticing the sweet way Ares was smiling at Aphrodite as they held hands and approached the platform. A pang of longing went through her. Homer had never tried to hold her hand.
All the carousel animals were taller than their riders and had been painted and polished till they gleamed. Calliope watched Actaeon give Artemis a boost onto the back of a white, golden-horned deer. Artemis had probably made that particular ride, since it looked like the deer that led her chariot.
Actaeon climbed onto a spotted leopard, a stately stander on the other side of Artemis’s jumper. Stately standers—the rides that didn’t go up and down on their poles—stood closest to the carousel’s center. Jumpers—the rides that could pump up and down on their poles—stood along the outer edge.
Artemis and Actaeon laughed together as the carousel began to go around. They waved to Aphrodite and Ares, who were riding side by side on a white swan and an owl.
Calliope sighed. Maybe someday she’d experience that kind of liking too, she thought. Just not with Homer.
