it that was, somehow, hopeful.
The island was where we had to go; I just knew it.
“Over there.” I pointed to my sisters.
Without another word, we just started running toward the water. My sisters hopped into the rowboat ahead of me. Polly grabbed one oar and Era grabbed another, but just as Era reached out her other hand to pull me on board, I heard a screech from behind us.
“You wretched little monsters, get back here!”
It was Hera. The ground rumbled as, with a wave of her hand, the gates flew open once again and she charged out onto the sand, then swung closed again behind her. She was coming after us with a vengeance.
“Stop, you nasty ingrates—I said stop!” screamed Hera.
We don’t have a chance, I said to myself. We’re powerless. I looked at my sisters, already in the boat. And I suddenly realized what I had to do.
It was my fault they were here. I was tougher, stronger than either of them. And Hera hated me the most. I could distract her. For just long enough.
Then I didn’t think; I just acted.
I pushed the boat into the river. While I stayed onshore.
“What are you doing? No!” cried Polly.
Hera was still coming toward me. “Just go! You have to get away!”
“No,” cried Era, “you’ll be stuck here!”
I looked at my timepiece—a few measly grains of sand remained. “It’s okay. Please just go!”
Polly desperately tried to get out of the boat, but a wicked current whipped the vessel into deeper waters.
I was glad. It wasn’t that I was any less desperate than before to get home or to see Apollo again or my family. But the fact was I didn’t have delicate skin like Era; I didn’t get dishpan hands. And I knew Polly couldn’t live without seeing the sun, breathing fresh air, and spending time with her animals. Of the three of us, I was the only one who could stand this fate. And there was no way I’d let my sisters suffer for my mistakes any longer.
That was what was going through my head as I stood on the shore, watching my sisters float off into the distance.
SEVENTEEN
A pollo just needed to reach the gates of Tartarus to get Cerberus’s slobber. But that was easier said than done because he was lost in the maze of corridors that made up the underworld.
He asked everyone he passed, be they animal or human or beast. He even asked the walls and doors and rocks, hoping that they, too, could talk. But most creatures simply ignored Apollo or refused to help.
One old woman acknowledged him long enough to laugh and point at his tight pants. “They are football pants,” he yelled at her. “And very fine ones at that!”
After much exasperation and desperation (how would he find his way back to the Secret SocietyWitch Tart, anyway?), Apollo saw a man hanging from his knees off the limb of a tree that grew beside a small pond. As he got closer, he realized he knew this man, for he was Tantalus, king of Sipylos. Apollo was overjoyed to see someone he knew. That is, until he realized what that must mean.
“Tantalus, Tantalus, is that you? Are you really stuck here in Hades?”
“Yes, it is I. And, pray tell, who are you?”
“It’s Apollo, sir!”
“I think not. You look nothing like him.” Tantalus was swinging back and forth, swiping at an apple that was just beyond his fingertips. “Do you think you could help me grab that apple? You see, I’m attached to this tree here—at the knees, for all eternity—and that apple is just out of my reach.”
Apollo effortlessly nabbed the apple off the tree, but as he handed it to Tantalus, it slipped from his grip and fell into a puddle at his feet. When Apollo bent over to pick it up, the apple sank deep down, far deeper than he would have thought such a small puddle could go.
“Sorry, sir.”
“Look, another is right there, just out of my reach—do you think you could get that one?”
“Right, um, okay.” Apollo plucked the second apple from the tree and handed it to Tantalus. Thistime Tantalus’s
The island was where we had to go; I just knew it.
“Over there.” I pointed to my sisters.
Without another word, we just started running toward the water. My sisters hopped into the rowboat ahead of me. Polly grabbed one oar and Era grabbed another, but just as Era reached out her other hand to pull me on board, I heard a screech from behind us.
“You wretched little monsters, get back here!”
It was Hera. The ground rumbled as, with a wave of her hand, the gates flew open once again and she charged out onto the sand, then swung closed again behind her. She was coming after us with a vengeance.
“Stop, you nasty ingrates—I said stop!” screamed Hera.
We don’t have a chance, I said to myself. We’re powerless. I looked at my sisters, already in the boat. And I suddenly realized what I had to do.
It was my fault they were here. I was tougher, stronger than either of them. And Hera hated me the most. I could distract her. For just long enough.
Then I didn’t think; I just acted.
I pushed the boat into the river. While I stayed onshore.
“What are you doing? No!” cried Polly.
Hera was still coming toward me. “Just go! You have to get away!”
“No,” cried Era, “you’ll be stuck here!”
I looked at my timepiece—a few measly grains of sand remained. “It’s okay. Please just go!”
Polly desperately tried to get out of the boat, but a wicked current whipped the vessel into deeper waters.
I was glad. It wasn’t that I was any less desperate than before to get home or to see Apollo again or my family. But the fact was I didn’t have delicate skin like Era; I didn’t get dishpan hands. And I knew Polly couldn’t live without seeing the sun, breathing fresh air, and spending time with her animals. Of the three of us, I was the only one who could stand this fate. And there was no way I’d let my sisters suffer for my mistakes any longer.
That was what was going through my head as I stood on the shore, watching my sisters float off into the distance.
SEVENTEEN
A pollo just needed to reach the gates of Tartarus to get Cerberus’s slobber. But that was easier said than done because he was lost in the maze of corridors that made up the underworld.
He asked everyone he passed, be they animal or human or beast. He even asked the walls and doors and rocks, hoping that they, too, could talk. But most creatures simply ignored Apollo or refused to help.
One old woman acknowledged him long enough to laugh and point at his tight pants. “They are football pants,” he yelled at her. “And very fine ones at that!”
After much exasperation and desperation (how would he find his way back to the Secret SocietyWitch Tart, anyway?), Apollo saw a man hanging from his knees off the limb of a tree that grew beside a small pond. As he got closer, he realized he knew this man, for he was Tantalus, king of Sipylos. Apollo was overjoyed to see someone he knew. That is, until he realized what that must mean.
“Tantalus, Tantalus, is that you? Are you really stuck here in Hades?”
“Yes, it is I. And, pray tell, who are you?”
“It’s Apollo, sir!”
“I think not. You look nothing like him.” Tantalus was swinging back and forth, swiping at an apple that was just beyond his fingertips. “Do you think you could help me grab that apple? You see, I’m attached to this tree here—at the knees, for all eternity—and that apple is just out of my reach.”
Apollo effortlessly nabbed the apple off the tree, but as he handed it to Tantalus, it slipped from his grip and fell into a puddle at his feet. When Apollo bent over to pick it up, the apple sank deep down, far deeper than he would have thought such a small puddle could go.
“Sorry, sir.”
“Look, another is right there, just out of my reach—do you think you could get that one?”
“Right, um, okay.” Apollo plucked the second apple from the tree and handed it to Tantalus. Thistime Tantalus’s
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