Artemis the Brave (10 page)

She didn’t bother reminding him that the magic arrows couldn’t really hurt him. Instead she followed him, her hounds trailing behind her. “But what are we going to do without you? You’re the lead!”

He shrugged again, as if the problems he’d be leaving behind weren’t worth his time or attention. “Don’t you get it? This isn’t just a school play I’ve been offered on Earth. It’s the big time. My name in torchlights at the Dionysia Amphitheater.”

Artemis pursued him down the polished granite stairway at the front of the school, but she couldn’t think of a way to stop him short of tripping him.

At the bottom of the steps, Orion paused and glanced at her thoughtfully. “Hey, I just had an idea! Why don’t you come with me? I haven’t had much time to study the new script, and you could help me learn my lines.” He smiled at her, displaying his dazzling white teeth and his twinkling eyes. He could turn his charm on and off like a nectar fountain, she realized. Well, this time it wouldn’t work.

“You’ve got to be joking. No!” Artemis exclaimed. “You’re letting everyone here down. Don’t you care?” Part of her was shocked at how she was standing up to him after weeks of letting him run her life. Part of her knew she had to. If he realized how unfair he was being, maybe she could make him change his mind.

“I’m sorry you feel that way,” he told her, “but I don’t have time to straighten this out right now. Rehearsal starts in an hour, so I’ve got to head out. You’ll explain to everyone for me, won’t you?”

Artemis gasped in dismay. “What? You expect
me
to explain to Principal Zeus?” She’d rather face down a beast solo than give the principal such bad news!

Turning away, Orion hopped into Hermes’ chariot and told him that he was ready to go.

“No—wait!” She lunged for the chariot. But before she could stop it, it lifted off and sailed away, leaving her to clean up Orion’s mess and face everyone’s disappointment—again.

“Where’s he going?” asked a voice from behind her. It was Aphrodite.

Artemis turned to see her, Persephone, Athena, and her brother taking the gleaming granite steps down toward her.

“Orion bailed on our play,” she blurted.

“What!” they said in identical tones of disbelief.

“It’s true. He got the lead in a big production at the Dionysia Amphitheater in Greece, so he just took off.” She waved toward the chariot in the sky. “Can you believe it?”

“Yes,” said Apollo. He glared at her as he folded his arms. Like this was somehow her fault.

Artemis heaved a big sigh. It was obvious her brother hadn’t forgiven her for yesterday. As she glanced toward the school, her stomach plunged. “Principal Zeus is not going to be happy when he finds out about this.”

“Orion didn’t bother to tell my dad?” asked Athena, sounding outraged.

Artemis shook her head.

“What a coward,” said Persephone, who usually had something nice to say about everyone.

“I guess it’s up to me to deliver the news.” Artemis began taking the steps upward, her heart quaking.

“Are you crazy?” asked Aphrodite, going after her. “You’re really going to tell Principal Zeus that his play is ruined?”

Artemis paused. “What’s the worst he could do?” she asked, not really wanting to know the answer.

Persephone made a noise in her throat. “
Ahem
. Have you
seen
his office? Holes everywhere from his lightning bolts?”

“Hey, that’s my dad you’re talking about,” Athena reminded her.

“Sorry, but the guy’s got a temper,” said Persephone.

Athena shrugged. “Can’t argue with that.”

Artemis took a deep breath. “But Zeus’s bark is worse than his bite, right? He might yell, but he’s not going to turn me into a toad or anything.”

The others fell silent. Even Apollo. And everyone seemed to avoid looking at her. Hmmm.

Finally Aphrodite spoke up. “Uh-oh. Speaking of Zeus, here he comes.”

“Hi, Dad!” Athena called out, as if hoping to put him in a better mood. It didn’t work.

“What in thunderation is going on out here?” Zeus boomed. “Can’t a god sleep in for once without someone taking an unauthorized chariot trip?” He was dressed in a long robe with fuzzy slippers that each had big lightning bolts on them. His red hair stuck out in all directions like it was full of electricity. It hardly seemed possible, but he looked even scarier than usual in his pj’s as he loomed over their group.

Waving a big, meaty hand toward the chariot that was rapidly disappearing through the clouds toward Earth, he demanded, “Who’s responsible for that?”

Dead silence greeted his question. His slipper began tapping. “WELL?” he thundered.

Artemis stepped forward. “Principal Zeus, I have s-some b-bad n-news—”

“SPEAK UP, GIRL!” he roared.

Suddenly Artemis realized that physical prowess in the hunt was only one type of bravery. A different kind of bravery was needed now. Clasping her hands together to keep them from trembling, she looked the principal in the eye. “Orion is gone.”

Zeus blinked. “Orion?”

“The foreign exchange student?” Artemis reminded him. “He took a part in another play down on Earth, and he’s dropping out of
The Arrow
.” She noticed the others were looking at her in awe. Did she sound braver than she felt?

“WHAT?” Zeus’s voice was louder than she’d ever heard it. But she refused to cower, even though she was scared. In a way this was like a battle. She just needed to stay calm, keep her wits about her, and face him with as much strength of character as she could muster. “Don’t worry. Things are under control.” It made her feel braver just to hear her own reasonable, calm tone.

“How do you figure that?” he demanded, folding arms that bulged with muscles.

“Dionysus is Orion’s understudy. He can take over Orion’s part with no problem,” she said, feeling certain this must be true.

Zeus frowned. “Then who’ll take Dionysus’s part?”

Everyone looked blank.

“Um . . . ,” said Artemis, thinking hard. Drops of perspiration formed on her brow.

“I will,” Apollo volunteered.

Artemis looked at him, more grateful than she’d ever been. “Do you know his part?”

Apollo rolled his eyes. “He only had six lines. The part is mostly archery, so how hard can it be?” He clapped a hand on Artemis’s shoulder and looked up at Zeus. “My sister and I were practically born with bows and arrows in our hands.”

Zeus still looked grumpy, but things were working out so well that he seemed to be calming down. He yawned hugely and scratched his beard. Then he got a familiar, weird look on his face and thumped the side of his head with his fist. “What?” he said. “Yes, well, I’m surprised too, but what can ya do? Win some, lose some.”

“He’s talking to my mom,” Athena whispered to the others. As everyone knew, strange as it was, Athena’s mom, Metis, was a fly who lived inside Zeus’s head.

Zeus sighed deeply, listening to the voice only he could hear. “Yes, dear. I know you’re hardly ever wrong. I was sure that Orion boy was star material, too!” While continuing to carry on a conversation with Athena’s unseen mom, he turned on one giant slippered foot and strode back to the Academy, the hem of his long robe fluttering in the breeze behind him.

“Thanks, Apollo,” said Artemis. “I know you don’t even like drama, so it was really nice of you to volunteer to take over Dionysus’s part.”

Her brother shrugged. “It was the least I could do. I haven’t been entirely fair to you,” he admitted. “Part of the reason I’ve been so grouchy lately has nothing to do with you. I was upset because Daphne sent me a note saying she just wants to be my friend. I should’ve guessed she didn’t want me for a boyfriend. She ducked behind a tree every time I came near her.”

Artemis wrapped an arm around his shoulder. “I know how you feel. Really. I’m sorry.”

Apollo nodded. “It hurts when someone doesn’t like you the same way you like them, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah, but that’s not all I’m sorry for. I should have listened to you. You were right about Orion, only I couldn’t see it at the time.”

“He was a jerk, all right,” said Aphrodite, overhearing.

Artemis nodded. “A mega-jerk.” The others laughed and she smiled, feeling that things were getting back to normal with her friends and brother. It was as if for a time she’d been struck by one of Eros’s arrows herself. One that had briefly made her fall in
like
with Orion, just as Eros had fallen in love with Psyche in the play.

But in her case, that love-struck feeling had definitely faded!

Wild Beasts

A
FTER HER LAST TWO NERVE-RACKING
experiences in the Forest of the Beasts, Artemis dreaded a return there. But she could hardly avoid going when her Beast-ology class was assigned to meet there again the following Friday. She contemplated playing sick, but she didn’t want to let her friends down. So, when she could put it off no longer, she stashed her quiver of silver arrows, her bow, a pair of winged sandals, and her three dogs in her chariot and called to her four white deer to take them all to the forest.

By the time she arrived, Aphrodite, Athena, and Persephone were already waiting, their magic sandals allowing them to hover a few inches above the brightly colored wildflowers growing low on the forest floor. Artemis’s hounds hopped out first, greeting the others and sniffing the area excitedly. Reluctantly she slung her quiver and bow over one shoulder and stepped out too. Sitting on a mossy rock, she strapped on her winged sandals. The sooner they got started, the sooner they’d finish, right? She rose to hover alongside the others. “Ready,” she announced.

Ping! Ping!
The faint sound of a bell tinkled, and a distant voice announced, “Third period at Mount Olympus Academy is now in session.”

“Just in time,” said Persephone. “Let’s get going.”

Everyone looked at Artemis, waiting.” Somebody else take the lead this time,” she said. “I’m not in the mood.”

“I will,” Athena volunteered, and then they were off.

Artemis brought up the rear, zooming through the forest, her eyes darting here and there. Her heart raced as she watched and listened carefully for telltale signs of lurking beasts.

Clink-clink-clink!

Artemis flinched. “W-what was that?” she called out.

“Godness—you’rejumpytoday,” said Aphrodite, who was just ahead of her. She pointed to a herd of white-bearded goats munching grass nearby. The clinking sound had only been the bells that the nymphs had looped around their necks to keep them from straying.

Artemis tried to calm herself. It wasn’t going to help anything if she jumped at the slightest noise. Her favorite bow was at the ready. Her hand flexed on it, and her confidence began to build. She could handle whatever came along, she told herself.
Oomph!
Suddenly she bumped into Aphrodite. For some reason, everyone ahead of her had come to a screeching halt.

Peeking around them, Artemis gulped. Minotaurs had appeared in the middle of their path! Three of them. Each was huge, with horns, clawed hands, hooves, and a gold ring in its snorting nose. They’re not
real
, she told herself. They can’t hurt anyone. But her traitorous body wouldn’t believe her. It insisted on trembling anyway.

“What’s going on?” Aphrodite gasped. “Why are there so many?”

Hic! Hic! Hic!
All three of the beasts hiccuped at the same time. As if a switch had been flipped, they instantly changed into fire-breathing griffons!

Hic! Hic! Hic!
Then they transformed into hippo-camps.
Hic! Hic! Hic!
They each turned into a charybdis. And then they were Minotaurs again.

“Something’s gone wrong,” said Persephone. “They shouldn’t be shape-shifting like that.”

“Maybe it’s some new kind of test Professor Ladon came up with,” suggested Athena. In the lead, she was first to nock an arrow and shoot at one of the Minotaurs. Grinning widely, it caught her arrow in its big, scary teeth.

Artemis gasped. “That’s never happened before.” She and the other goddessgirls began firing, sending off arrow after arrow to no avail. The beasts either caught them or else the arrows sailed right through their bodies to land in the dirt beyond.

“No matter how many times we shoot them, they won’t go up in smoke,” Persephone murmured. She sounded as scared as Artemis felt.

“There’s s-something else w-weird about them,” Aphrodite said, her voice an octave higher than usual. Her teeth had begun to chatter, and Artemis didn’t think it was because she was cold. “See how they g-glitter? Why are they all gold?”

“Uh-oh.” Artemis’s eyes widened as understanding dawned. If she was right about what had happened, then this was her fault. And that meant it was up to her to fix things. But how?

The others began to back away from the beasts. They were looking at her as if waiting for her to do something. To rescue them, perhaps? “You know what’s going on, don’t you?” said Athena. Her face had become as pale as Persephone’s natural color. “Tell us!”

“I brought Orion here a while back,” Artemis admitted. “When a scorpion popped out at us unexpectedly, I sprayed it with his GodBod so we could escape.”