Muses on the Move (2 page)

Back in Olympus, on the tippy top of Mount Samaras

M
any
miles and years away, Apollo waited for Zeus on the top of the flattest mountain in Olympus. They had a tennis game scheduled, but Zeus was a no-show.

Apollo wasn’t in the mood for a game, anyway. He hadn’t been in the mood for much of anything since Thalia had duped him into coming back to Olympus alone. All that begging Zeus for a chance to help the Muses, all that running around disguised as a football player from someplace called Denver, and for what? For Thalia to break his heart all over again.

He had stopped playing his lyre.
^*
He had stopped going on adventures. He had stopped fighting crime. All of his favorite things.

In fact, the sun had not set in days and it was all
Apollo’s fault.
^*
But Apollo had neither the will nor the energy to even
pet
his horses, let alone command them to gallop through the skies.

Even his own twin sister, Artemis,
^**
couldn’t rouse him for archery or a good game of golf. No, Apollo was down and out. Devastated. Depressed. Things were dire.

It was quite shocking, really, that he had in fact shown up for the scheduled tennis match. But he was curious. He wanted to see if Zeus had any news about Thalia. He couldn’t stop caring. In fact, he really didn’t want to.

When he realized Zeus wasn’t coming, part of him longed to go back home to his own small castle in the clouds and bury his head in his silver satin sheets. But the bigger part of him had to know about Thalia. So he went to Zeus’s very large castle in hopes of hearing something, anything, about his love.

A sprinkle of dust and he was in the castle’s dark and cavernous waiting room. Most of the castle was bright and cheery, but Zeus had purposefully created this room to be as ugly and torturous as possible. He was the all-powerful and mighty Zeus, and he had a reputation to uphold.

Apollo looked around for servants, but none appeared. And then he realized why. That screaming.
That high, shrill, evil voice. It would scare anyone away. Anyone who wasn’t determined to find out at least a nugget of information about the girl they loved.

Apollo crept up the stairs toward the noise. Eight doors down on the right he found the source. It was coming from Thalia’s old bedroom.

He pressed his ear to the door (and he really didn’t have to—when Hera screamed, all of Olympus heard).

“I don’t care, Zeus, the girls have used their powers! They broke
my
rules…. They’re done for!”

“Now, Hera, be reasonable. They’ve been getting very good grades in that mortal high school, right? Era even got a B in some survival class! And Thalia, her movie got an A-plus!” Zeus’s voice sounded very desperate.

Apollo was delighted to hear that his film project with Thalia had scored her a perfect grade. That had to count for something.

“Grades?” Hera snorted. “I don’t
really
care about grades. I didn’t send them down there to get an education, I sent them there to punish them for being evil little children who don’t know their place in society.”

“But Hera, you were the one who made it a condition that they get good grades!”

“Oh, I don’t care if they win the National Science Award. I just wanted to give them headaches. They’re
rotten little scoundrels. They deserve to rot in Hades,
^*
and that’s just where I intend to send them!”

“
No!
No, now, Hera, now be reasonable—you are not sending my beautiful girls to Hades. I’m putting my foot down, no.”

“I don’t care where you put your foot. I gave them rules for their life on earth, and they broke them. The Furies have reported that they have used their magic freely!”

Apollo crumpled to the floor. Sitting there, so far from Thalia and her sisters, he felt even more helpless, if that were possible. Apollo continued to listen.

“No, they didn’t use it freely, Hera, honey bunny, they used it in bits, and my God, they went from living with magic daily to cold turkey, no magic! I love you, my sweet, but what do you expect?”

“I expect respect. I expect grace and dignity, and I expect that I don’t have to worry about my own step-daughters turning me green! I expect you to let me handle this situation, and I expect you to continue helping me with this harp—my music recital starts in just three hours!”

“Look, dear, sweetums, I will give you respect, but I will not let you send my girls to Hades. No, they haven’t been that bad, well, outside of that horrible little Apollo debacle.”

Apollo’s ears went red as he thought of the horrible night that Thalia’s sisters had helped her turn
herself green to avoid marrying him…and accidentally turned Hera green in the process. His heart burned so fiercely, his arms just dropped to his sides, lifeless.

“Yes, well, I wasn’t too keen, Zeus, about your decision to send Apollo down there in disguise to help them, but it all worked out in the end, now, didn’t it? Thalia proved herself to be simply wretched yet again.” And then she added, “Apollo got what he deserved!” It stung his ears like a hundred and one bees. He could hear the smile on Hera’s face.

“Yes, my little chickadee, well, I was very disappointed in her for that, yes.”

“Then let’s get her and get her good. To Hades!” And at that moment the hallway went black, and a wicked wind whipped though the space where Apollo was sitting, and he felt cold, wet, and chilly.

“NO!” Zeus bellowed.

And the wind stopped.

“Zeus, listen to me and listen well. I set the rules for this game; therefore, I get to punish the girls when they break them. It’s out of your hands, it’s God’s laws…but I tell you what. I’m so convinced that they will break my rules again, that they will use their magic freely and they will never fulfill your silly challenges without it, that I’m willing to give them one more chance before I send them to Hades. One more. But I tell you, dear, as I stand before you, they
are going down. Straight down to the darkest depths of eternal damnation—they are going to Hades.” And then her infamous cackle rang out through the whole castle, throughout all of Olympus, probably throughout all of Greece below.

Zeus was quiet. Apollo couldn’t move. He knew he could be found out for listening in and would probably be punished severely, but he couldn’t pick himself up. He pictured Thalia in Hades, cleaning up after the dreaded Furies, doing their laundry and their wicked deeds, and he slowly stood up, clenching his fists.

“I can’t…I can’t…I can’t get involved,” he said aloud to no one but himself. “Thalia’s pushed me away for the very last time.”

Wednesday, 12:30
P.M.
, the front curb outside
the Muses’ home, Athens, Georgia

“W
e’ll
wait out here,” Pocky said, revving the engine of his bright yellow convertible as Polly, Era, and I scrambled out of the car and into the house to get our bags. Finally! The half a day of school had been as torturous as a ferry ride through Hades. All I could think about all morning was getting on the road and getting to Denver, pronto.

Not that I had broached the Denver topic to my sisters yet. Believe me, I wanted to, but this was our first real trip on earth. Convincing them to spend it on finding some random boy I had shaky feelings for, even while having shaky feelings for Apollo to boot, wasn’t going to be easy. It wasn’t like I could blurt it out and expect them to go along. Especially since I
was supposed to be on my best selfless behavior.

No, getting to Denver was going to take cleverness, panache, maybe even major flattery. But I wasn’t worried. In fact, as I ran around the house, getting the last of my things together, I was thrilled. I was beyond ecstatic. I was…falling flat on my face. Era and I ended up on the living-room carpet in a heap of limbs and black plastic bags.

“Girls, get ahold of yourselves,” Polly demanded, her own cheeks flushed in a mixture of anger and anticipation. “Okay,” she said, softening. “Let’s just calm down for a second and make sure we have everything we need.”

Era and I nodded silently from our spot on the ground.

“Clothes? Check. Underwear? Check. Canned veggie cutlets? Check…” Polly continued on down the list, which she had pulled out of her skirt pocket.

We hadn’t really known
what
to pack. In the past, when we wanted to go on a small trip, we just coerced Pegasus into sneaking away with a song or some fudgy-coated carrot sticks. If we needed anything along the way—a cleaner velvet robe, more delicious food, a harp—we just blinked it so. But that wasn’t going to happen here, so we’d stayed up all night, packing everything we could think of.

Finally we finished going over our items, I yanked my favorite backpack onto my shoulders and
snatched up a few bags, and Era and I started half running, half hobbling toward the front door (those bags were heavy). But before we got there, I felt a hand grab the back of my shirt. Era and I turned at the same instant to face a very solemn-looking Polly.

“I’m going to try to stop giving you these lectures, but before we go, I must say this.” I let out a sigh of impatience, my left hand clasping the doorknob behind me. I hoped this wouldn’t take too long. “Whether you believe it or not,” Polly continued, “I’m just as excited about this trip as you are. I do have some reservations, but I think we’re going to see amazing things and learn about places we never knew existed.”
Not if we stand here all day gabbing
, I thought impatiently.

“But we are going to have to be extra careful not to reveal ourselves to Pocky. And please,
please
, let’s remember why we’re here. We need to grow up. That’s what our challenges are all about. We need to change what’s worst about ourselves. I think this is the perfect opportunity for us to focus on that. Era? Thalia? Can we please try?”

Then Polly gave me the most earnest, most thoughtful look and waited for my answer.

Sheesh
. All I could do was nod.

“You brought your trash?” asked Pocky as we loaded our stuff into the back of his mom’s car.

“No,” I said, trying to think of a good solid mortal reason why we had our stuff in trash bags. What kind
of bags were we
supposed
to pack? These were the biggest ones I could find.

“It’s called packing, Pocky,” said Era, saving the day with attitude. Pocky laughed.

“Okay, girls. You came all the way from Europe and you don’t have, like, real suitcases?”

“Give ’em a break, Pocky,” said Claire, who’d come along to see us off. “Like they’re gonna drag huge heavy suitcases on a little weekend trip. I like their fine plastic luggage. It’s
très
chic.”

Man, I wished she was coming. Claire is like my mortal mentor. She teaches me all the cool words. She gives me all the good gossip. And she always lets it slide when I act like a freak from another planet. Polly just looked mortified.

“We brought snacks,” said Era, holding up bags of gummi bears and chips and pretzels and more.

“Excellent! I knew traveling with you ladies was going to be divine.”

“Oh, I wish I could come with you,” said Claire. “So hey, where did you guys decide to go?”

We all stood there just looking at one another in an awkward moment of silence. This might be our one and only earth trip. None of us had been bold enough to take the lead. Not that I didn’t want to.

Why, oh, why did Polly have to make that speech? Why couldn’t my personal challenge be something besides being less selfish? Like learning to control my
temper. Or learning to have more patience. Or learning to pay more attention. Really, I had more than enough bad traits to choose from.

Polly quietly asked Pocky if there was anyplace he wanted to go. After all, he was driving.

“Girls, I feel free. I love the road. As far as I’m concerned, I’ll drive till I can’t drive anymore. As long as I’m home in time to pick up my parents from the airport on Sunday, I am but your handsome driver. So, shall we go north? South? East or west?”

I’d looked on a map (a funky, modern version of the kinds of maps they have in ancient Greece), and I knew Denver was west, but now I felt guilty and suspicious even picking that
direction
. So I said nothing.

Polly rustled through her purse and pulled out her own map. I was impressed. “Well, I was thinking we could go someplace historical.” She spread the map across the hood of the car. We all gathered around it.

“If you want historical, Polly, it’s a trek, but we should really check out Colonial Williamsburg,” suggested Pocky. “It will probably be awesome this time of year, too. Everyone dresses up in colonial clothes, and they reenact life in colonial times, like cooking and shopping and just about everything. It’s all about re-creating the birth of the United States. And there are old gardens and even animals that they had in olden times. And they talk funny. It’s a hoot.”

“That sounds perfect, just perfect,” cried Polly. I
didn’t have half an idea of what he was talking about, but I felt queasy. What if that was nowhere near Denver?

I quickly scanned the map, looking for Colonial Williamsburg. I couldn’t find it, and I panicked. “Where is it on the map?” I asked.

“It’s in Virginia, just due north,” explained Pocky.

I searched the map. Virginia was superclose to Georgia. But it was a whole map away from Denver.

“No!” I cried. “I mean, um, do we really want to sit around and watch people walk around in silly old clothes? Ptooey, that doesn’t sound like much fun. It sounds boring.”

“It’s not bad, Thalia,” said Claire. “I’ve been with my folks. It’s kind of interesting, and the clothes are amazing.” I looked at her with my best please-don’t help look.

“C’mon, more interesting, Pocky, name someplace else historical but more interesting,” I pleaded, hoping he would psychically read “more interesting” as “closer to Denver.”

“I think Colonial Williamsburg sounds great, Thalia. It’s exactly what I had in mind,” said Polly sternly.

“Hey, we’re just looking for options. Now, Pocky, where else?”

“Um, okay, there’s the Alamo. It’s an old mission where just a handful of men defended Texas against
the Mexican army for like thirteen days. The best part is you get to go inside and scream at the top of your lungs, ‘Remember the Alamoooooo!’”

“Yes, but where is it?” I was growing impatient.

“In Texas, silly. San Antonio.”

I scanned the map. Texas was huge! And not too far from Denver. I mean, it was only about an inch and a half!

“The Alamo sounds great. C’mon, Pol, what do you say?”

“Well, what else does the Alamo have besides a place to yell?” Polly asked unhappily.

“Uh, not much,” said Pocky.

I was losing this battle.

He then said, “There’s a cool gift shop that has stuff like sheriff badges and cowboy hats.”

“C’mon, cowboy hats, Polly—you’d look great in a cowboy hat,” I said.

I sounded pitiful.

“And,” Pocky continued, “there’s a Ripley’s Believe It or Not wax museum across the street. It’s kinda cool.”

“Ohhh, Polly, you love museums!”

“Well, it’s not like a real museumy-museum,” said Pocky. “I mean, it’s sort of a museum of freaks.”

“But it’s a museum, and she loves ’em, don’t you?”

Polly sounded so hesitant. “Um, well, I guess, but Colonial Will—”

“Alamo! Alamo! Alamo!” I just started chanting it, trying to get her worked up.

“Well…” She was coming over to my side. I could feel it.

“Remember the Alamo!!!” I screamed.

“Remember the Alamo!!!” Pocky screamed.

Era sorta mumbled it. “Yeah, um, remember the Alamo?”

“Fine. Remember the Alamo,” said Polly.

Mind you, the Alamo didn’t sound like a great adventure. It seemed tame next to anything Apollo and I would’ve done. But at least it wasn’t Colonial Williamsburg. Really, I was doing Polly and Era a favor by steering them toward the Alamo because Williamsburg did sound seriously boring. And the fact that the Alamo was closer to Denver—it was a bonus, not really selfish.

We hugged Claire good-bye, climbed in the car (I took the front seat, of course), and were off with a sputter and a vroom.