Artemis the Brave (6 page)

After the two of them stopped speaking their lines a few minutes later, there was a small silence. Then the audience erupted in applause. Artemis blinked, straightening in her seat and glancing around. She’d been so caught up in their acting that she’d almost forgotten it was an audition, not the actual play. Zeus had allowed them to read far more than the other actors who’d tried out.

“That was a mighty powerful performance,” he said, sounding impressed. He looked at Orion. “Haven’t seen you around before. Are you a new student?”

Orion appeared a little confused. “Um, yes, you invited me to come here, remember?”

“Huh?” Now it was Zeus’s turn to look confused. “I remember inviting a mortal boy named Orio Snar—”

“I prefer to go by Orion Starr,” Orion interrupted hurriedly. Seeming flustered, he added, “That’s my stage name. Didn’t you get the copy of my résumé from the Thespian Guild of Earth? I gave it to the nine-headed lady in your office yesterday.”

Zeus shrugged. “Maybe. My desk’s piled with stuff. I’m pretty busy, what with being King of the Gods, Ruler of the Heavens, and principal of MOA and all.”

Artemis smiled. She liked knowing that Zeus was messy, just like her. It gave her hope. After all, messiness hadn’t held Zeus back from becoming the most important god on Mount Olympus!

“I just happen to have another copy of my résumé.” Orion jumped down from the stage and grabbed a scroll from one of the chairs. Going over to Zeus, he unrolled the papyrus, pointing to various items. “As you see, I was the lead in Sophocles’ tragedy
Electra
and in Euripides’
Medea
. . . .” As he went on, the other students began to shift and grow restless.

“What a show-off,” muttered Apollo.

“He’s just trying to let Zeus know he has experience,” Artemis said, frowning at him over her shoulder. Couldn’t Apollo give him the benefit of the doubt? Orion really wanted this part and probably had no idea he was coming across badly, reciting his long list of credits. Later, maybe she could find a tactful way to tell him that he didn’t need to convince anyone how great he was. It was obvious!

“Can you shoot?” Principal Zeus butted in.

“Shoot?” Orion echoed.

“In the play, Eros shoots magic arrows,” Zeus reminded him. “How are you at archery?”

“Oh, um, well, naturally I’m an expert marksman. Unfortunately, I don’t have my bow with me,” said Orion.

Apollo stood up. “You can borrow mine,” he offered, picking it up from the bench beside him and holding it out.

From somewhere in a far row, Artemis heard Ares, a godboy who could sometimes be a bully, snicker. “Great idea!” he called out. “You should take him up on it, Orion.”

Artemis twisted to glare at him and her brother. Apollo never let anyone touch his bow. He was obviously trying to embarrass Orion, hoping he was a poor shot. And Ares was egging him on. Sometimes godboys could be so annoying.

Orion froze like a deer in torchlights, but then he quickly replied, “I’m not comfortable using someone else’s bow. But thanks for the offer.”

“I didn’t mean now, anyway,” Zeus explained. “Come by my office sometime this week, and you can give me a demonstration.”

“Sure. No problem,” Orion said, confident once more.

Zeus gestured to the MOA herald, who announced, “Auditions for supporting roles will now begin!”
Ping!

As another group of actors came onstage to read for supporting roles, Orion headed off. Artemis jumped up. “I have to give Orion his dog,” she told Apollo. “Back in a minute, and then we can go practice.” Before he could object, she smoothed her short, dark hair and straightened her chiton, then slung her quiver and bow over one shoulder. “Come on, boys,” she said, shooing the dogs from their seats. Urging them down the aisle ahead of her, she kept an eye on Orion as she headed in his direction.

Sirius scampered ahead. When Artemis was still a few yards away, Orion’s dog leaped into his arms and began happily nuzzling his face.

“I came to return your dog,” Artemis said, once Sirius had calmed down.

“Huh?” Orion blinked, looking at her like he’d never seen her before.

“I’m Artemis, goddess of the hunt? Two lockers over from yours? You asked me to watch Sirius yesterday? I showed you to drama class?” Godness, with all those question marks in her voice she sounded like Pandora!

Suddenly he seemed to notice the bow and quiver of arrows slung over her shoulder. His blue eyes gleamed with interest. “Oh yeah. I remember now. Hey, are you any good with that?”

“My bow?” she asked, seeing the direction of his gaze. “Yep, I’m the best. Except maybe for my brother Apollo.” She glanced toward the bleachers and saw that her brother was talking to some of his friends.

“Want to practice together sometime?”

Artemis’s head whipped around to Orion again. He favored her with a dazzling smile. Was he asking her out? Her heart thumped. But she refused to let him think she was some fainthearted, weak-kneed goddessgirl he could win over with one blink of his lovely, long-lashed blue eyes. So she said casually, “Practice? With you? Yeah, I guess I could do that.”

“How about now?”

“Sure,” she blurted without thinking. Then she remembered Apollo. “Wait. I almost forgot. I promised to practice with my brother. He’s the one who offered to lend you his bow. See, there’s this archery contest coming up and—”

“Perfect. I’ll learn twice as fast with you
and
Apollo helping me.”

“O-okay. But I thought you told Principal Zeus you already know how to shoot.”

He shrugged and smiled. “Truth is, I need to brush up on my skills. It’s been awhile.”

Artemis nodded, hoping Apollo wouldn’t mind. They practiced almost every day, and he enjoyed it when others took an interest in his favorite sport. Maybe if he got to know Orion better, he wouldn’t be so hard on him.

“I’ll meet you on the field in a few, okay?” Orion looked beyond her. “First I need to meet with my fans.”

“Fans?” Artemis turned to see that a half-dozen girls—mortal
and
immortal—had gathered behind her and were waiting to meet him.

He nodded. “There’s talk of forming an official Orion Fan Club.” He grinned and shrugged again as if to say,
Not my idea, but what can you do?
He took a step away from her and toward the waiting girls, who clustered around him like fireflies to a torch. A collective sigh rose from the group. Sirius plopped down to wait patiently as if he was used to Orion being the center of attention and grateful for whatever small scraps of time his master chose to bestow on him.

Artemis glanced around for her brother and spied him still talking to Ares, Poseidon, and Dionysus. They were all watching Orion and his budding fan club, shooting disdainful glances his way. Were they jealous? One thing for sure, they had no plans to join in the adoration. And if she had any sense left at all, she’d make herself quit this crazy crush. But she’d had no experience with matters of the heart until now. She didn’t know how to change how she felt about Orion. Or if it was even possible. Or if she even wanted to.

“Ready for practice?” she called to Apollo.

Target Practice

S
CORE!” SHOUTED APOLLO, PUNCHING A FIST
in the air as his arrow pierced the center of the target. “First time I’ve hit the bull’s-eye from two hundred feet. We’re going to ace that archery contest this year.”

“Yeah . . . great one . . . bull’s-eye,” Artemis mumbled in return. They’d been at it an hour now, each training their new arrows. Eyes angled toward the school building now, she paced back and forth on the archery field behind the Mount Olympus gym. Nearby, her three hounds were napping in the shade of an olive tree.

“Are you looking for something?” asked Apollo, following her gaze.

“Well, yes, actually,” she admitted. “I’m watching for Orion. I told him we’d help him practice his shooting.”

Apollo frowned. “Why?”

Artemis stopped pacing to stare at him. “He’s new here. I thought it would be nice to include him.”

“But the contest is coming up. Every practice counts. These new arrows of ours need training if we expect them to shoot true.” It was up to each archer to teach his or her own arrows how to best navigate distance and wind currents in order to reach an intended target.

“I know.” Stepping up to the shooting line, Artemis aimed her silver arrow at the target.
Zzzing!
Her arrow split Apollo’s, and the two of them grinned at each other. “You know we’re already the best archers in school,” she said matter-of-factly. “And we’ve practiced with every student here at MOA at some point. Why not Orion?”

Apollo wrinkled his nose, looking annoyed again. “I just don’t like him.”

“Because he’s mortal?”

“No!” Apollo exploded, hands on his hips. “Because he’s in love with himself!”

“No, he’s not,” Artemis protested. “Can’t you give him a chance?”

Suddenly she heard a dog barking. Sirius ran up to them and began dancing around her heels. Then he bounced off to go play with her three hounds. She turned to see Orion striding across the field toward them. His walk was cocky and confident, like he hadn’t a care in the world. He’d changed into a bright blue toga that looked great on him. Artemis wondered if, like Aphrodite, he had an outfit for every occasion. If so, perhaps this was his archery outfit.

“If you want to help him try to take the part away from Dionysus, go ahead,” said Apollo. “But I’m not going to.”

So that’s what this was all about! thought Artemis. Her brother and Dionysus were good friends as well as bandmates. “He only wants a chance to practice a little before showing Zeus what he’s got,” she said reasonably.

“Whatever. I’m outta here,” said Apollo. He picked up his bow and arrows in disgust.

“Am I interrupting?”

Artemis whipped around. Orion was standing right behind her. He didn’t have a bow or quiver, but he was wearing a pouch clipped to the waist of his toga and was gripping three wooden arrows.

“I was just leaving,” said Apollo, shooting him a wide, fake smile. “You two have fun.”

“Hey, I brought my own arrows, but if you’re not going to need it for a while, can I use your bow?” Orion asked him. The boy had guts, that was for sure. Or maybe he just didn’t realize he was pushing too hard. Apollo kept walking.

“Ignore him,” said Artemis. “He never lets anyone borrow his bow. Not even me.”

“That’s okay,” said Orion. “I’ve never understood it, but girls always seem to warm to me more than boys.” He smiled, showing gleaming white teeth. “You may find this hard to believe—I know I do—but not everyone’s a fan of O.”

“O?” She couldn’t help cringing. Ares sometimes talked like this, and she’d always thought him conceited.

“I’m shortening my stage name to O. It’s catchier, don’t you think?”

“I guess so,” she said uncertainly.

“Ready to get started?” he asked.

Artemis nodded slowly, wondering if she should go after Apollo and try to coax him into coming back. Not only were they twins, they’d been best friends since birth. It felt weird to be arguing with him.

“Listen, I really appreciate you helping me like this, Artie,” Orion continued, his eyes big and twinkly as he gazed at her. “You’re the best.”

Dazzled, she just stood there, a goofy grin growing on her face.

He reached for her bow. “Can I try it?”

She hesitated. Like Apollo, she didn’t like loaning her bow to anyone, but if she refused to let Orion borrow it, she was afraid he might not like her. “Sure,” she said, pretending it was no big deal. Still, when he grabbed the bow by the string, she was jolted out of her stupor. “Not like that! Hold it by the arrow rest.”

“Oh, right,” he said, flipping the bow around in his grip. “I knew that.” He peered into her quiver, openly admiring her silver arrows. “Can I—?”

“No! You can’t use my arrows. I’m training them for the archery contest, and it’d confuse them to be shot by another archer. It’s better if you train your own instead.”

“I see.” Quickly finding the notch in the blunt end, he fitted one of his wooden arrows over the string in the wrong place. Then he drew the bow with his right hand.

Before Artemis could scold him for doing this without getting into proper position, the arrow’s shaft slid sideways off his supporting hand. Falling from his fingers, its sharp tip stuck in the dirt.

Shocked, she stared from the arrow to Orion and back again. It was a good thing Apollo hadn’t stayed to watch. He’d be laughing his head off.

“Your bow is different from the kind I’m used to,” Orion explained quickly.

“Really?” she asked, intrigued. “I’ve never seen another kind. What does yours look like?”

“It’s hard to explain.” His white teeth tugged at his lip as he plucked his misfired arrow from the dirt. “Why don’t you just show me how yours is used? Pretend I’ve never shot one before. I want to relearn everything the way it’s done here on Mount Olympus.”

“Why?” she asked in surprise as he handed her bow back to her.

“Because Eros is a god. In the play, I want to shoot like he would, not like a mortal.”

That made sense. Taking her bow, Artemis stepped up to a line painted on the grass. “Okay. This is the shooting line,” she told him. “Stand behind it before raising your bow. Never step over it until you first call out, ‘Clear.’ If other shooters are nearby, they’ll also call out to let you know when they’ve cleared off the range area.”