Juliet Dove, Queen of Love

  Juliet smiled at the idea and raised her eyes. The audience was still staring at her—held, she was sure, by the power of the amulet. But to get out of this, she was going to have to give them something more.

  Speak from your heart, said a new voice, unexpected, but familiar.

  Athena? thought Juliet.

  I am with you, mortal child, said the goddess.

  As am I, said the voice of Hera.

  We will help with the shaping, said Cupid. But the words, the ideas, must come from you.

  Juliet gazed out at the audience. What do I want to tell them? she thought.

  From that question came the first words, which bubbled up within her as if flowing from some secret fountain.

  “What Do You Love?” she asked, making it clear from her voice that this was the title of the poem she was about to recite.

  Good, said Cupid.

  Juliet took a deep breath, stared for another moment at the silent audience, then leaned close to the microphone and let the words wash through her.

  “What do you love?

  What holds your heart?

  Is it truth? Justice? Freedom?

  Family? Friends? Home?

  Or is it something smaller—

  A sound, a smell, a word,

  A voice?

  What would you give up for it?

  An eye? An arm? A leg?

  Your life?

  Or would you go further,

  And give it your heart?

  What do you love

  More than breath?

  What do you cherish

  In the most secret corners of your heart?

  What, if taken from you,

  Would leave the deepest hole,

  The hardest hurt?

  What do you love—

  And why?

  Tell me this,

  And you’ve told me all I need to know—

  For then I’ll know your heart

  And how to love you back.”

  Juliet stopped, astonished at herself.

  Where did that come from? she thought.

  You, of course, said Cupid.

  Juliet took a breath. She was almost dizzy, not only with the effort of facing the audience, nor with the effort of creation, but with something else that had overcome her as she spoke. It was as if in asking the question, “What do you love?” she had been forced to answer it herself. A tidal wave of love had washed through her—love for her family, for her home, for Venus Harbor, for Queen Baboo, for the little details of her life, the flowers in the backyard, the always present smell of the sea air, even the ridiculous sluggarium. And under all that was an even more astonishing idea, one that fairly staggered her.

  I love myself, she thought. And with that realization came a feeling of peace and happiness deeper than any she had ever known.

  She was pulled from her reverie by a strange sound. Confused at first, it took her a moment to realize it came from the audience, which was applauding. Applauding wildly.

  Applauding for her.

  Suddenly aware of herself, of how she had exposed herself, Juliet felt an urge to bolt for the safety of the curtains. Remembering her father’s training, she caught herself just in time. Taking a breath she looked out at the audience and accepted the applause.

  Then she nodded and walked slowly offstage.

  Her father was waiting for her with outstretched arms. “Well done!” he cried, sweeping her up in an embrace. “Oh, well done, well done, my darling daughter!” Then he held her so close she could feel the beating of his heart against her cheek.

  Ms. Priest approached. She was not as exuberant as Mr. Dove but just as warm in her congratulations. “Not many can or will speak straight from the heart, Juliet,” she said softly. “That was well done indeed. Brave, too.”

  “I don’t even know what I said,” murmured Juliet. “Was it really all right?”

  “You hear the applause, don’t you?” asked Ms. Priest, with just a touch of sharpness in her voice. Then she smiled. “I know how you are feeling. It happens to me sometimes when I am telling stories. Something flows through you, and you are speaking more clearly, connecting more directly, than you thought was possible. It’s a somewhat fearful blessing, isn’t it? And who knows where it comes from? But it doesn’t happen unless you are ready and open your heart. You are part of it. Accept the praise, Juliet—accept it, and cherish it. But don’t let it go to your head.”

  Mr. Dove smiled. “Well spoken, Hyacinth. Sometimes I have a moment like that when I am teaching. It’s like finding gold. But for this one . . . oh, my sweet and quiet daughter, it was like watching a mouse roar!”

  His words sounded like a bell in Juliet’s mind. Was it possible that Mr. Suss’s poem had been . . . well, poetic? Could she be the mouse who had roared?

  If so, they were nearly done. She had found the key. She, the mouse, had roared. Now they needed only a mother’s touch to finish the spell that would free Cupid from the amulet. She felt almost giddy with relief. It shouldn’t be hard to get her mother to hold the amulet for her, especially if she didn’t actually try to say anything about it.

  She was still thinking this through when her father said, “I’ll be right back. I need to take care of things out front.”

  Juliet smiled as she watched her father return to the podium. As silence settled over the auditorium, he said, “I’d like to thank Scott Willis and Corey Falcon for helping us prove that the passion for words is alive and well. I’d also like to thank my daughter Juliet for the poem she just shared with you. And now I need to ask you to hurry on to the next sessions, so our day doesn’t get completely off track!”

  As people began to file out of the auditorium, Ms. Priest leaned over to Juliet and said quietly, “Can you meet me behind your house tonight after all are asleep? If so, I’ll take you on a little trip. I think you’ll find it interesting.”

  Juliet started to ask what she meant but was interrupted by three reporters who had made their way backstage and wanted to interview her. To her amazement she didn’t mind answering their questions, though she got nervous when they wanted her to go back onstage so they could take pictures of her. She remembered what Cupid had said about Eris wanting to make her a star. But she couldn’t find a graceful way out of it.

  Don’t worry, thought Cupid. I think it’s almost over now!

  As Juliet was finishing with the last reporter, her father was called away to deal with Scott Willis and Corey Falcon, who were having a screaming fight about lawsuits.

  What a stupid waste of time, thought Juliet.

  Eris found fertile ground in their hearts, agreed Cupid.

  Though she knew that Byron and Clarice were waiting for her in the wings, Juliet chose to remain on the stage for a moment. She returned to the podium, wanting to remember what it was like to look out at the audience and not be afraid, to actually enjoy speaking to people. She started to open the amulet, thinking to show the space to Cupid as well, when someone said, “Juliet?”

  Turning, she was startled to see Bambi Quilp standing at the edge of the curtain. Juliet frowned. She really didn’t want to deal with Bambi’s teasing and nasty comments, not now, not when she had just had such a triumph. But to her surprise, what Bambi said was, “I just wanted to tell you how awesome that was.”

  Juliet blinked at her, too astonished to say anything at first. Then, to gain a little time—and also because she wouldn’t feel comfortable until she knew—she said, “Where’s Samantha?”

  Bambi made a face. “She’s out looking for Corey Falcon. She wants him to autograph her forehead.”

  Juliet smiled.

  Bambi smiled back.

  Juliet took a deep breath, knowing what she had to do next. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you,” she said. “About the other day.”

  Bambi’s face tightened. “I’m sorry about that.”

  “You’re sorry?” Juliet asked, totally confused.

  “I shouldn’t have teased you about
Arturo. I was just trying to make Samantha laugh.”

  “Why do you hang around with that leech, anyway?” asked Juliet sharply. She was appalled at the tone in her own voice. She wanted to make peace here, not make things worse.

  “She’s my friend!” snapped Bambi. “She may not be perfect, but at least I can talk to her. Not like you. What makes you think you’re all that special? Because you’re good with words? That doesn’t give you any right to act so snooty to the rest of us!”

  Juliet’s astonishment turned to fury. She could feel the tightening in her gut that meant Killer was about to emerge. The ferocious words sprang to her mind fully formed, without her even having to look for them: You brainless blond bimbette, you wouldn’t know a word from a whippoorwill. Why don’t you take your room-temperature IQ, go back to your suck-up friend, and leave me alone!

  But then other words returned to her, words uttered by Athena: “Most people know, most of the time, what would be wisest to do. The problem is they choose to act otherwise. Or they lack courage.”

  Juliet swallowed hard, forcing the poisonous words back to the dark place from which they had come. She took a long, slow breath, and then another one. Then, instead of the angry volley of insults, she said simply, “I’m sorry, Bambi. I don’t really think I’m better than anyone. Honest I don’t. It’s just that I’m very . . . shy.”

  The last word was barely a whisper.

  Something softened in Bambi’s face, as if her anger was melting away. She paused for a moment, then asked incredulously, “Do you really expect me to believe you’re shy?”

  Juliet shook her head, astonished that anyone could imagine she was anything but shy. “Does everyone think I’m stuck-up?” she asked softly.

  Bambi shrugged. “I don’t know. A lot of us do.”

  Juliet sighed. “That’s so weird I don’t even know what to say.”

  Bambi shook her head. “Well, if you really are shy, you did pretty good shutting everyone up a few minutes ago.”

  Juliet smiled. “I had help for that one.”

  Bambi looked puzzled. But before she could ask what Juliet meant, there was a beeping from her pocket. She took out a cell phone and glanced at it. “It’s Samantha,” she said with a sigh. “I have to go. I told her I’d meet her. She . . . latches on to me. Sometimes it’s hard to get away from her. Anyway, all I wanted to say was, I really liked your poem.”

  “Thanks,” said Juliet softly.

  Bambi nodded, smiled, and scooted off the stage.

  No sooner had she gone than Juliet heard the sound of clapping again. Not from many hands this time, but from just one person. The applause was slow, and if applause could sound sarcastic, this did.

  She turned toward the sound. To her horror, Eris was sitting in the front row of the otherwise abandoned auditorium.

  “Very touching,” said the goddess, her voice tinged with acid. “Did you stage that little bit of peacemaking just to annoy me?”

  “What do you mean?” asked Juliet.

  “Oh, don’t act stupid. I had you and your little friend all worked up and ready for a nice fight. But you chose to calm things down instead—which I know very well is not your way . . . Killer. Do you really want to defy me, child? The price will be high.”

  She stood and walked to the edge of the stage. With a single, sharp move—an impossible jump that looked almost as if she had been lifted by invisible strings—she was standing in front of Juliet.

  “You’ve had your fun,” she said, her voice cold. “Now it’s time we had another little talk.”

  Juliet stepped back, startled by the intensity of the goddess’s wrath. Eris continued toward her, hissing, “I warned you not to cross me!”

  Don’t worry, said Athena, speaking in Juliet’s mind.

  She cannot touch you, said Hera. Have we not given you kisses of protection?

  Eris took a step closer and reached for Juliet. But when her fingers were inches away, the goddess of discord cried out, pulling back as if she had been stung. “So, you have protection, do you?” Raising her head she cried, “Do not think to thwart me, Athena! Save your energy, Hera! Earth is still my realm. Your feeble kisses cannot stand against my power here. If I cannot touch the girl now, I will take her where I can teach her a lesson!”

  Removing her cape she swirled it around her, clearly about to fling it over Juliet.

  “Arturo!” cried Juliet. “Gil! Tyrone! Help me!”

  Eris looked around in surprise as more than a dozen sixth-grade boys raced onto the stage and surrounded Juliet in a protective circle. Despite her fury the goddess actually laughed. “What good do you think this is going to do?”

  “Byron!” cried Juliet. “Open the box!”

  Her little brother rushed onstage, still clutching the box he had been carrying that morning. Fumbling with the cardboard, he pulled open the flaps.

  Out flew Roxanne and Jerome.

  “Fire at will!” cried Juliet.

  Eris stared around her, looking confused.

  She can’t see them! said Cupid triumphantly. Discord is blind to the messengers of love!

  Eris started forward again, but Arturo thrust himself in front of Juliet. Eris reached out to shove him aside. As she did, Jerome fired a tiny arrow. It struck Eris in the neck. In the same instant, Roxanne, who was fluttering directly above the goddess, strummed her harp. Out poured the music of love.

  Eris’s face softened and she looked at Arturo with gentle eyes. “What a sweet boy,” she murmured, reaching out to stroke his cheek.

  Then, as if she had realized what had happened, she shook herself and swung away from him, her face furious. But she was surrounded by a circle of sixth-grade boys, and no matter which direction she started, Jerome was there with another arrow.

  She darted toward Gil. Jerome let fly. Roxanne strummed her harp.

  Again Eris’s face grew soft with love.

  “Don’t do that!” she cried, as if the experience pained her. She turned toward Tyrone.

  Another arrow, more music.

  “Stop it!” screamed Eris. “Stop it!”

  But the Immortal Vermin of Love were merciless. Roxanne, fluttering three feet above the goddess’s head, poured out a cascade of music that flowed around Eris like a waterfall of desire. Jerome, fitting new arrows to his bow as fast as he could fire them, moved even closer.

  Eris stopped, closed her eyes, put her hands to the side of her head. When she opened her eyes again, they were blazing, fiery red. It was clear she could now see the rats—as could everyone else, since the boys cried out in surprise.

  Jerome, confident in his invisibility, had gotten too close. Eris gave him a vicious swat that sent him flying sideways. His bow tumbled from his hand, and the arrow he had been ready to fire fell to the stage. Jerome himself struck the side of the podium. One wing crumpled behind him as he slid to the floor.

  Looking up at Roxanne, the goddess pursed her lips and blew. A fierce gust of wind pushed the startled rat up and up, until she vanished in the high, dark area above the curtains.

  Eris turned again to Juliet. This time it was Tyrone who stepped forward and thrust himself between them. Eris reached for him.

  “Tyrone, run!” cried Juliet. “Run!”

  Tyrone ignored her warning and stood his ground. But just as Eris was about to grab him, Jerome—who had dragged himself to the fallen love arrow and then pulled himself across the floor with it clutched in his tiny paw—reached the goddess’s foot. With a desperate cry of “Love conquers all!” he jabbed it into Eris’s ankle.

  Roxanne came down like an arrow herself, plummeting from the dark recesses above, then stretching her tiny wings to stop just above the goddess. Another outpouring of music flowed over Eris.

  “Too much!” Eris cried in horror. “Too much love!”

  She swirled her cloak around her.

  “Jerome!” cried Roxanne, recognizing the gesture. “Get away, get away! She’s gonna go!”

  But Jero
me continued to cling to Eris’s ankle, jabbing the goddess with the love arrow.

  With a shriek that was equal parts rage and despair, Eris vanished.

  When she was gone, so was the rat.

  “Jerome!” shouted Roxanne mournfully, hopelessly. “Jerome, come back!”

  Silence.

  “What will happen to him?” whispered Roxanne, turning to the others.

  But for that, neither Juliet nor Cupid had an answer.

  SIXTEEN

  Love on the Half Shell

  Though they were jubilant over the defeat of Eris, the little group was subdued by the loss of Jerome. Juliet tried asking Hera and Athena if they knew where Eris had gone and could somehow protect the brave little rat, but the goddesses had vanished from her mind.

  Gently, Juliet picked up Roxanne and whispered, “We’ll find him again, I’m sure of it.”

  The part about being sure was a lie, but she didn’t think it was wrong to say, just then.

  Clarice trotted onto the stage and held out her chubby arms. Roxanne leaned toward her, so Juliet passed the rat to her little sister, who cuddled her gently. Juliet wasn’t sure, but she thought she could hear Roxanne crying.

  “Go back where you were,” Juliet told Clarice. “I’ll be there in a little while.”

  Clarice nodded. “Me and Mr. Toe will try to make Roxanne feel better,” she said. Then she returned to the wings.

  “I’ll keep an eye on them,” said Byron.

  “Thanks, said Juliet, knowing that he made the offer partly so that she could be alone with the boys to thank them.

  “You guys are great,” she said. “Who knows where I might be now if you hadn’t come to save me?” Even as she said it, she realized that wherever Eris would have taken her was probably exactly where Jerome was now. “I wasn’t expecting all of you,” she continued, “just Arturo and Gil and Tyrone.”