Artemis the Brave (5 page)

“A little of both, I think.” She glanced from him to Artemis. “Maybe the two of you should try out. Dad mentioned he’ll need some actors skilled in archery.”

“Now that would
really
be tragedy,” said Apollo. “Neither of us could act our way out of a papyrus bag.”

“Speak for yourself,” said Artemis. Secretly, she thought he was probably right, though.

Her brother laughed. “Do whatever you want, but I’ll stick to archery on the field, thanks. There are plenty of other good archers who’ll try out, like Dionysus.”

After that, talk drifted to other things, and eventually the party broke up. That night in her dorm room, Artemis spent some time finishing up the paper on organization that Ms. ThreeGraces had given her. Glancing around her messy room, she doubted the assignment would actually change anything. She was just naturally disorganized. Most times she couldn’t be bothered to hang up her clothes. And what was the point of making her bed or cleaning out her locker, anyway? They’d just get messy again. If she could’ve changed the title of her paper to “The Beauty of Being
Dis
organized,” it would have been a snap to write!

By bedtime, Orion still hadn’t come for his dog, and Sirius was acting kind of worried. Every time he heard footsteps in the hall outside Artemis’s room, his head snapped up eagerly, and he cocked his ears toward the door. After the steps passed, his furry chin sank onto his front paws again, and he practically sighed with longing. Artemis was going to scold Orion tomorrow for deserting his poor pooch on his first day in a new place.

But maybe she’d wear her most fashionable chiton—if she could find it—and comb her hair to do it. Just so he’d see she wasn’t always a mess.

Auditions

T
HE NEXT MORNING ARTEMIS PUT ON HER
best red chiton, which she found in a heap on the floor. As she hunted around for her belt, she stepped on something. “Ow!” It was a hair clip Aphrodite had given her years ago, hidden under an old, holey chiton she wore as a nightie. The clip was pretty. Why hadn’t she ever worn it before? Gathering her hair high on her head, she clasped the gold band around it, then put on her belt and grabbed her bow and arrows. She didn’t have a mirror, so she looked at her reflection in the sunlit window glass. She looked . . . nice. But she couldn’t help noticing that even her best chiton was a little wrinkled. And what was that spot on the shoulder? She angled the strap of her quiver to cover it and smoothed out the wrinkles as best she could.

Satisfied, Artemis whistled for Sirius and her hounds. “Let’s go, guys!” Together, they hurried toward the amphitheater where the drama auditions were being held. The dogs were in their usual high spirits, running this way and that and chasing everything that moved. Sirius seemed to have formed an attachment to Amby, the beagle, and playfully nipped at his tail and ears. When Amby had had enough and started to chase him, Sirius dodged under the larger dogs, as if he were passing under tall bridges. “Hey, you guys, behave yourselves!” she exclaimed when they almost knocked her over. By the time they arrived, most of the seats were full and auditions were under way.

As she started down the aisle, Principal Zeus’s voice thundered out. “Well?” Startled, she jumped. But then she realized he was only speaking to the actors.

More than seven feet tall, with bulging muscles, a curly red beard, and piercing blue eyes, Zeus was an intimidating sight. Wide, flat, golden bracelets encircled his wrists, and he always wore a belt decorated with a thunderbolt. Like most of the students at MOA, Artemis was just a little bit afraid of him.

The school herald consulted the scroll he held. Then he struck the lyrebell with the tiny hammer he always carried.
Ping! Ping!
“Pandora and Dionysus, please report to the stage for auditions!” he called in his clear voice.

Spotting Aphrodite on a stone bench in the third row, Artemis went to sit with her. To her surprise, Apollo was seated one row behind with Hephaestus, Poseidon, and some other godboys. Since when were they interested in drama?

Taking a seat, she told the dogs to lie down. Pooped from all their play, they didn’t object. Suez curled up with his head on her feet, and the other three spilled over into the aisle to her left. Aphrodite shifted to her right, as far from the dogs as she could manage. Meanwhile, Pandora and Dionysus came onstage as directed.

Artemis leaned back to whisper to Apollo, “What’s up? I thought you weren’t going to try out for the archery scenes.”

“I thought the same thing about you.”

“Me? I’m just here to watch. And to support Aphrodite when it’s her turn. And to give Orion his dog.”

“Yeah? Well, I’m just here to support Dionysus when he tries out, so—”

“Places!” Principal Zeus boomed, drawing everyone’s attention. Apollo and Artemis both jumped in their seats, and onstage Pandora jerked in surprise, dropping her script.

“Stage left!” Zeus ordered as Pandora retrieved it. Frowning slightly, the herald leaned over and whispered to him. “Oh, yeah, I get those confused,” Zeus replied. “I meant stage right!” he called to the actors.

“So how’s it going?” Artemis asked Aphrodite.

“Three have tried out. I’ll go last, after Pandora. She wants to play Psyche too. there are five of us trying out for the lead.”

“What about the part of Eros?” asked Artemis, hoping she hadn’t missed Orion’s turn to try out for the boy lead.

“Five are trying out for that, too.” Suddenly her eyes swept over Artemis, taking in her styled hair and fancy chiton. “Hey! You look nice.”

“Thanks.” Artemis wanted to ask about Orion, but she didn’t want to arouse Aphrodite’s suspicion. Aphrodite was an expert at sniffing out any hint of romance, and it would be just like her to make Artemis’s interest in Orion into some big deal. Which it wasn’t. Not really.

Somewhere in the distance, she heard the sound of chanting voices and music. Hidden from sight behind the stage backdrop, students had begun practicing for the Greek Chorus that was part of every theatrical play. Their job was to narrate the story as it took place, to help the audience figure out what was going on. And, according to her Music-ology teacher back in fourth grade, to explain the themes and deeper meanings of certain events. As the chorus chanted their lines to gentle music, the beautiful notes from Athena’s flute were unmistakable.

At the back of the stage, students wielded paintbrushes or hammers, creating backdrops and scenery. Persephone was painting asphodel, daisies, and daffodils on a green hillside, and Hades was painting great curls of fire spewing from a dragon’s mouth.

“All right, cue the nymph!” Zeus boomed.

Situated at the right side of the stage now, Pandora jumped again at the crack of his deep voice. “Who? Me?” She nervously patted the bangs on her fore-head, which were shaped in the form of a question mark.

“Yes, you. When I say ‘cue,’ it means you are to begin,” Zeus explained, tapping his sandaled foot with impatience.

Nodding nervously, Pandora turned to Dionysus. Holding her script in one hand, she laid her other hand over her heart. “Oh, Eros, god of love, do not wound me with your arrows?”

“The wound will only make you fall in love, nothing more,” Dionysus assured her. Though he’d spoken quietly, his voice seemed to fill the room with its power and beauty. Even Artemis, who had never been to a play in her life, could tell he was a good actor.

“I trust you not?” Pandora said, fluttering her eyelashes at him. “For I am but a nymph and therefore not immortal?”

“Very nice, you two,” Zeus interrupted. “But, Pandora, please try not to turn every line you read into a question.”

Pandora glanced at him in surprise. “Oh, sorry, Principal Zeus, was I doing that? I wonder why I didn’t notice?”

Zeus’s broad shoulders went up and down slightly and Artemis had a feeling he was sighing. She knew how he felt. Pandora was sweet, but her nonstop questions and curiosity got on Artemis’s nerves sometimes too. Poor Athena actually had to live with Pandora, though, since the two of them were roommates.

Before long Pandora and Dionysus’s audition was over. As they left the stage, Zeus nodded in the herald’s direction. In response, the herald struck his lyre bell again.
Ping!
“Aphrodite and Orion, please report to the stage for your audition!” he called out.

“Wish me luck,” said Aphrodite, smoothing her seafoam-colored chiton as she stood.

“Knock ’em dead,” said Artemis. A dozen other godboys and goddessgirls called to wish Aphrodite luck too as she made her way to the stairs at the left side of the stage. She was the most popular girl in school. Especially with the godboys, who practically fell over themselves to catch her attention. In Artemis’s opinion, she was a cinch for the part.

But that would mean that if Orion got the part of Eros, he and Aphrodite would spend a lot of time together. Hmm. Artemis couldn’t help noticing that Aphrodite’s chiton wasn’t wrinkled and didn’t have stains. She looked glamorous, something Artemis could never hope to be. What if Orion decided he liked Aphrodite? Artemis didn’t like that idea one bit.

Orion entered the stage from the stairs at the opposite side. At the sight of him, Artemis sat up straighter. Her pulse raced a little faster. Her stomach did an unfamiliar little flip.

“Artemis,” said Apollo, nudging her shoulder from behind. “How about if we go get in some archery practice before—”

“Shhh!” she said, batting him away. Her eyes were glued to Orion as he sauntered onto the stage. His golden skin shimmered, his blue eyes twinkled, his broad shoulders looked even broader than she remembered in the turquoise toga he wore. Suddenly she wished she’d sat closer to the action.

“Artemis?” It was Apollo again. Why was he being so annoying all of a sudden?

“Later,” she said, fluttering her hand to brush him off. “I want to stay to hear Ori—um, I mean, Aphrodite audition. And I thought you wanted to support Dionysus,” she reminded him. “He doesn’t have the part yet, you know.”

Apollo sighed and sat back, obviously bored. “Okay, but I doubt they need us. They always get the leads.”

“You’ll both begin reading on page ten,” Zeus said, holding out scripts to the two new actors. Aphrodite took hers and thumbed through it to the correct page, but Orion held up the flat of his hand, refusing to take his.

Zeus frowned. “Go on, take it. You’ll need the script to read your lines.”

“Not necessary, Principal Zeus,” Orion assured him. “I’ve already memorized the part of Eros.” At the sound of Orion’s voice, Sirius sat up, ears pricked forward. His tail began thumping. But he must have been accustomed to sitting in a theater audience, because he didn’t lunge for the stage to greet his master.

“Well, that’s very professional of you,” said Zeus, looking surprised. “You can begin, then.”

Pandora slid onto the bench beside Artemis, just as Orion opened his mouth to speak. Before he could utter a word, a banging sound came from the back of the stage. Hades had begun hammering green scales onto the dragon’s tail.

Orion turned to glare at him. “Do you mind?”

“Sorry, artist at work,” replied Hades, grinning to display the nails gripped between his teeth.

“Artists are at work here, too,” said Orion. “Thespians. Show some respect.”

Hades looked a little embarrassed, but he stopped hammering. “Okay. No problem.”

“Wow, who’s that?” Pandora whispered to Artemis, nodding toward Orion.

“The new foreign exchange mortal from Earth,” said Artemis.

“He’s mortal?” A mortal herself, Pandora looked at him with even more interest. “Then why does he shimmer?”

“Fake shimmer spray,” Apollo muttered from behind them.

Artemis ignored him. All around her, she heard other goddessgirls oohing and aahing over the new boy. Unfortunately, she wasn’t the only one who found him intriguing.

Suddenly Aphrodite’s voice filled the room. “Oh, Eros, god of love, do not wound me with your arrows.” Her voice was as beautiful as she was, and Artemis could almost feel everyone’s interest perk up when they heard her.

Orion took a deep breath, his muscular chest expanding. Then, in a smooth, emotion-filled voice, he replied, “The wound will only make you fall in love, nothing more.” He reached out a hand and touched her cheek, as if he was trying to comfort her.

For a second Aphrodite just stood there, looking at him in surprise. He’d amazed even her with his talent. He was that good. No wonder Zeus had invited him to MOA to join the theater!

“Aphrodite?” Zeus prompted.

She started, turning pink. “Oh, sorry, Principal Zeus.”

“I trust you not,” she went on, slipping back into the part of Psyche again. “For I am but a nymph and therefore not immortal.”

“Wow! Aren’t they great?” Pandora whispered.

Nodding, Artemis leaned forward to hear better. Planting her elbows on her knees, she rested her chin on her fists and listened to Aphrodite and Orion continue their lines. Their voices were almost like music, hers high, his low, both intertwining. For the first time, she understood, at least a little, why people liked plays.