Hour of the Olympics by Mary Pope Osborne Page B

Annie,” said Annie. “And we come from Frog Creek, Pennsylvania. It’s
very
far away.”
    Plato looked puzzled.
    Annie turned to Jack.
    “I think we should show him our cards,” she said in a low voice. “He’s a lover of wisdom.”
    Jack nodded. He reached into his bag and took out the secret library cards. He showed them to Plato.
    The letters M and L that stood for Master Librarian glittered on the cards.
    “Amazing!” said Plato. “I’ve never met such young Master Librarians. Why have you come to Olympia?”
    Jack pulled out the piece of paper with the title of the story.
    “We’re looking for this story,” he said.

    “Oh, yes,” said Plato softly. “This was written by a brilliant poet—a friend of mine, in fact.”
    “Do you know where the poet lives?” asked Jack.
    “Very near here,” said Plato.
    “Will you take us there?” asked Annie.
    “Yes, but I must warn you—never tell anyone who the poet is,” said Plato. “It’s a secret.”
    “We won’t,” whispered Annie.
    Plato led them away from the outdoor theater.

    They started down a dirt road. It was crowded with people heading to the games.
    Plato stopped at the door of a sand-colored house with a brick roof.
    He opened the door and led Jack and Annie into an empty courtyard.
    “Wait here,” he said. He disappeared through a doorway.
    Jack and Annie looked around.
    Rooms opened onto the sunny courtyard. Everything was quiet.
    “The people who live here must have gone to the games,” said Annie.
    “I bet you’re right,” said Jack.
    He pulled out the Greek book and found a picture of a house. He read aloud:
    Men and women lived in separate parts of a Greek house. Women spent most of their time spinning and weaving and taking care of the kitchen. Boys were sent away to school when they were seven. Girls were not allowed to go to school.
    “Girls can’t go to school?” said Annie. “How do they learn to read and write?”
    At that moment Plato returned. With him was a young woman dressed in a long tunic with a colored border. She was holding a scroll.
    Annie smiled a big smile.
    “
Finally
,” she said. “Another girl.”
    “Jack and Annie, meet our secret poet,” said Plato.

The young woman smiled at Jack and Annie.
    “How did you learn to read and write?” Annie asked.
    “I taught myself,” the woman answered.
    “She wrote a poem and brought it to me,” said Plato, “because I have written and told people that I think Greek girls
should
go to school and learn things.”
    “Is that the poem?” said Jack. He pointed to the poet’s scroll.

    “Yes,” said the young woman.
    “It’s a wonderful story,” said Plato. “But she will get in trouble if it is read in our land. You must take it back to your faraway home, where it will be safe.”
    The poet handed Jack her scroll. He put it into his bag.
    “Tell us your name,” said Annie. “So we can tell people who wrote the story.”
    The young woman shook her head.
    “I cannot,” she said. When she saw Annie’s sad face, she added, “You can tell people it was written by Anonymous.”
    “
That’s
your name?” asked Annie.
    “No,
anonymous
means that no one knows who wrote it,” said Plato.
    “But that’s not true!” said Annie.
    “I’m afraid the risk is too great,” said Plato.
    Annie looked back at the woman.
    “I’m sorry,” said Annie. “It’s not fair—not at all.”
    The poet smiled at her. “I am happy that you will take my story to your country,” she said. “Perhaps someday women everywhere will write books just like men.”
    “They will,” said Jack. “I promise.”
    The young woman looked at him, puzzled.
    “It’s true!” said Annie.
    “Thank you, Annie,” the young woman said. “And thank you, Jack.” She bowed, then hurried out of the courtyard.
    “Wait!” said Annie.
    She started to go after the poet, but Plato stopped her.
    “Come along,” he said. “The games will start soon.”
    Plato then led Jack and