Artemis the Brave (9 page)

Awake now, Artemis’s dogs joined in the search, snuffling through the piles. Though they couldn’t actually know what they were hunting for, they were always ready to dig.

Eventually Aphrodite emerged from the mess, victorious. “Found them!”

Seeing the shimmering shafts in Aphrodite’s raised hand, Artemis smiled in relief. “Oh, thank godness.”

“Why didn’t you come when I called, arrows?” she asked as she took them from Aphrodite. They didn’t respond, but she didn’t have time to wonder why. Quickly she slipped them into her quiver.

She started to dash out the door, but then turned back to look at Aphrodite. “Wish me luck?” she asked. It was the same request Aphrodite had made of her during auditions for the play. Artemis could see from Aphrodite’s smile that she remembered.

“Knock ’em dead,” she said, giving Artemis the same answer.

Artemis shot her a quick grin, glad that Aphrodite didn’t seem mad anymore. “I’m off!” She ran for the door, her dogs at her heels.

“I’ll change and be right behind you to watch from the stands,” promised Aphrodite.

“Thanks!” Artemis and her hounds flew down the hall, the stairs, and across the school courtyard. Before she knew it, she was on the archery field behind the gymnasium. Zeus, who was going to judge the contest, was already there, along with ten teams of competitors and an audience of onlookers.

“You came,” said Apollo, looking relieved when he saw her.

“Of course. I’m your teammate,” said Artemis. “I told you I’d be here!”

“I never know with you these days,” said Apollo. “And you missed the practice session already. The contest is about to begin.”

Artemis winced at his criticism. She knew she’d let him down recently, but she was determined to make it up to him. As they watched, the first two archers stepped up to the shooting line. Then another team, and another. They were all good, but she and Apollo were better. After the round was nearly over, their turn came. They stepped up to the firing line. It was time to strut their stuff.

“Hey, Artie,” someone called.

Artemis looked up. “Orion? What are you doing here?”

“Same as you. Competing.” He raised his bow. A quiver was slung over one of his shoulders.

“By yourself?” asked Artemis.

He smiled. “Sure, why not? The rules don’t say you have to be a team. I’ll just shoot twice as much.”

“Mr. Big Shot, as usual,” Apollo scoffed, but only loud enough for her to hear. “Is he going to be competition for us?”

Laughter bubbled from Artemis. She put a hand over her mouth, trying to suppress it. “Um, no.” She liked Orion, but he was a terrible archer. Why had he even bothered to enter this contest? And why hadn’t he
told
her he’d be entering? When Zeus saw how bad he was, he might lose the part. She’d hate for him to be embarrassed like that.

“Artemis? Apollo?” Principal Zeus prompted. “You’re up.”

Eager to show up Orion and win the competition, Apollo went first. His golden arrow zoomed straight, singing a phrase from one of his band’s songs:

Nature’s music I inspire,

with my gold, harmonious lyre.

Zzzing!
“Bull’s-eye!” called Zeus.

“Good work,” Artemis murmured as she took his place, preparing to shoot.

“Artemis!” voices called out to her. She glanced to one side and saw that Aphrodite, Persephone, and Athena had come to cheer her and Apollo on. Hades, Poseidon, and Dionysus were in the stands as well.

Nodding at them, she then turned her attention to the contest and pulled out her first arrow. In the sunlight, she noticed something odd. It seemed a little too glittery. And it was gold, not silver.

“What’s up?” asked Apollo, glancing at the arrow. “I thought you were going to use the silver arrows you got for your birthday.”

“I was,” said Artemis. “I don’t know where this one came from, but it’s not mine.”

“Next!” Zeus boomed, sounding impatient. Artemis had little choice but to use the only arrows she had. She stepped up to the line, took careful aim, and released her bowstring.

Zzzing!
Her arrow flew toward the center of the target. But a few feet short of its destination, it began to wobble. Then it fell, poking point-first into the ground. It hadn’t even managed to reach the target! Artemis just stood there, staring in shock. That had never, ever happened to her before.

“Guess that’s why they named you Artie-miss,” Orion called out. In the audience, his admirers laughed at his joke, and his smile widened.

“What happened?” Apollo asked her.

“I don’t know.” Humiliated, Artemis could only stare at the target, replaying her misguided shot in her mind over and over again.

“You should have spent more time on the practice field,” Apollo chided.

“You know that’s not it. It was that arrow!” Artemis protested. “It was trained by a really, really bad archer.”

Halfway down the line, Orion stepped up to take his turn. His form was terrible. He had no skill. Yet when he released his arrow, it flew straight and true to pierce the end of Apollo’s, in the bull’s-eye.

“Ye gods! He split my arrow right down the middle!” said Apollo. “You’re the only archer good enough to do that.”

Now that the first round was over, the all-clear signal was given and everyone went to retrieve their arrows from the targets. After picking hers up, Artemis looked at it closely. Something wasn’t quite right. She scratched at the shaft with her fingernail. It wasn’t metal—it was wood! The glittery gold was just a coating! And it was the exact same color as Orion’s shimmer spray.

Understanding struck her like a bolt of Zeus’s lightning. That hissing sound she’d heard as she’d sat under the tree that day in the Forest of the Beasts—Orion must have been spraying his wooden arrows with his GodBod! Then, later, he’d put them into her quiver and kept hers for himself.

Orion passed her, carrying the arrows he’d shot and retrieved. A fresh, flowery smell trailed in his wake.
Perfume.
The same perfume Persephone had used on her birthday arrows. So it was true. Orion had
stolen
her silver arrows! The ones she’d spent hours training during target practice with Apollo. No wonder Orion was doing so well! If he kept her arrows that day in the forest, he must’ve used them to try out for the part of Eros, too. So that was how he’d beat out Dionysus for the lead role in the play!

Artemis’s chest felt so tight she could hardly breathe. Orion had cheated to steal the part from Dionysus. He’d taken advantage of her and tricked her. He didn’t care about her at all. In fact, he didn’t care about anyone but
himself
. As long as he was the star of the show, he was happy. Her friends had been right. But Orion wasn’t just an egomaniac, he was a mega-mean-egomaniac!

She blinked back tears. Why had she ever liked him? “I’m sorry,” she said to Apollo, once she’d gotten her feelings under control. “It’s my fault we’re losing.”

Apollo shook his head, but there was no time for discussion. As the second round began, the same thing happened—Apollo hit another bull’s-eye, while Artemis’s arrow failed to reach its target. When Orion’s turn came, his shot was a bull’s-eye, but slightly off center this time. His bad aim was messing up the training she’d given her arrows.

“I hate to admit it, but the guy’s pretty good,” said Apollo.

“No. He’s cheating. With
my
arrows,” Artemis insisted. Since Orion had no teammate, he got two shots. As he nocked a second arrow, preparing to shoot again, she elbowed Apollo. “Watch this. If his arrows are mine, they’ll obey me, not him.” The minute Orion released an arrow, she murmured:

Silver arrow, true and fine.

Bean that boy in his behind!

Since the arrow
was
hers, it did her bidding. Making a loop in midair, it reversed direction and zoomed back to nick Orion in the rear.

“Ow! Ow!” Orion exclaimed, holding on to his seat with both hands and jumping around. “Somebody help! I need medical attention. And a new toga!”

Artemis rolled her eyes. “Oh, don’t be so dramatic,” she called out.

“Yeah, save it for the stage,” yelled Apollo, crossing his arms. “Our arrows are magic. They might sting a little, but everyone knows you’re not really hurt. Including you.”

Orion did not answer. However, his acting was good enough to stop the contest for a while as others gathered around him in sympathy. In the stands, the other goddessgirls waved Artemis over.

“What just happened?” Persephone asked when she reached them.

“Orion shot himself in the place that hurts him most,” Artemis replied.

“His rear?” asked Athena.

Artemis grinned. “His
ego
.”

“That’s a pretty big target,” said Aphrodite.

They all laughed. Seeing that Orion was alone again, Artemis quickly told her friends, “Thanks for coming out to watch. I’ll catch you later.” She saw their worried looks as she left them and headed for Orion. They thought she still liked him. Well, they were wrong about that. Now that she finally saw him for the mega-jerk he really was, she was finished with him. Except for one last thing. Running over to him, she snatched her silver arrows from his quiver. “Here,” she said handing him his wooden ones. “I believe these are yours.”

“Really? I wonder how our arrows got switched,” Orion said in surprise. He was such a brilliant actor that she almost believed his look of innocent confusion. Almost, but not quite.

“Yeah, I wonder,” she said, eyeing him so he’d know he hadn’t gotten away with anything. “Now I’m going to have to spend hours undoing the bad training you’ve given mine. Thanks for nothing.” Turning, she stalked off toward her brother. Behind her, Orion limped off the field, still pretending to be injured. Apparently, he was too much a coward to continue in the contest without her arrows to help him win.

“I don’t get it. How did he wind up with your arrows?” Apollo asked when she rejoined him.

“I took him to the Forest of the Beasts,” she admitted.

His jaw dropped. “What? Why?”

Artemis shrugged. “It’s complicated.”

“I’ll bet,” said Apollo, fuming. Given their poor start, their team lost the contest badly. Artemis could tell that he was furious with her. She wanted to leave him alone until he cooled off, but she made herself do the right thing. Apologize.

“I’m sorry,” she told him, sticking by his side as they headed for the bleachers.

“You should be,” he muttered. Waving to Dionysus and his other friends, he broke into a trot, abruptly leaving her for them.

She stood there looking after him, openmouthed. They’d always supported, defended, and encouraged each other, and she’d taken their friendship for granted. But now he was mad at her. She’d never felt so alone, and she didn’t know how to patch things up between them. But she did know that fighting over someone like Orion was absolutely dumb.

Bailing

W
HEN ARTEMIS SPOTTED ORION AT HIS
locker Monday morning, her first instinct was to turn around and march away. She reached down and petted her dogs, thinking. “No,” she whispered to Suez. “That would be cowardly. Besides, his locker is only two down from mine. I’m bound to run into him now and then. Better to face him and get it over with.” Suez gave her hand a sympathetic lick.

“Artie! Wait till you hear the news!” Orion said when he noticed her drawing near. He was acting as if yesterday had never happened. As if he hadn’t stolen her arrows, teased her, or cheated. As if he’d done nothing wrong at all. In fact, he was grinning from ear to ear. And he seemed to be cleaning out his locker.

“What news?” She bent to give Sirius a quick pat—after all, he couldn’t help who his master was—then she rummaged in her own locker for the scroll she needed.

“Hermes just brought me a message from Earth. The star of the new play in the Dionysia Amphitheater—the biggest theater in all of Greece—has gotten a bad case of catarrh! Coughing, sneezing, the works.” He looked delighted that the other actor had a cold.

“And that’s good news?” she asked, shutting her locker.

“Yes, because I have been asked to take his place!” Orion had a bag over his shoulder and was stuffing the last of his belongings into it.

With a growing feeling of foreboding, Artemis asked, “Oh? And when does this play start?”

“Right away! Hermes is waiting outside in his chariot to take me to Earth now.”

Her jaw dropped. “What? But
The Arrow
starts in just a week.”

Orion shrugged. “I’ll have to quit.” He shut his locker and headed down the hall, with Sirius trotting at his heels.

“Quit? You can’t quit!” said Artemis, rushing after him. “People have bought tickets. Everyone has been rehearsing, making sets. What about the other actors? And your fans?”

“I’m sorry to disappoint my fans, of course, but the offer on Earth is too good to pass up. Besides,” he said, rubbing his rear, “MOA is too dangerous for me. What if that arrow had hit me in the face yesterday? It could have ruined my perfect profile. My acting career would’ve been over like that!” He snapped his fingers.