I had to duck down to the Underworld for a few weeks. Persephone thinks my job as Ruler of the Underworld is a piece of cake. Hah! When I got there, Charon, who ferries the ghosts of the dead across the River Styx to my kingdom, had raised his prices. The ghosts were booing him and throwing things. If I hadn’t been there to take charge, things could have gotten ugly.

When I came back to earth, I didn’t have to look far to find news about Atalanta. I picked up a copy of The Arcadia Arrow, and there it was, right on the front page, above the fold:

I rushed to the palace. Whoa! The races had really taken off. Mortals had pitched tents on the palace grounds so they could be first in line at the ticket window. I decided to remain visible that day. Luckily, there was no line at all at the gods’ ticket window.

“Gods’ section,” I told the ticket seller.

“You’re in luck, Lord Hades,” he said. “One seat left.”

As I climbed up the steps to the godly section, I wondered who was in the other seats. I looked out at the track. There was Atalanta. And I counted IX suitors. So few? What was up with that? Maybe there weren’t that many eligible young men left in Greece who thought they had a shot at beating Atalanta.

I climbed higher and spotted Artemis sitting in the aisle seat of the gods’ section. No surprise there. But when I saw who was sitting down the row from her, my mouth fell open in surprise. It was Hera, Queen of the Olympians and goddess of marriage. Next to her sat Aphrodite, goddess of love and beauty. What were they doing here?

I started to slide into the empty seat next to Artemis when she jumped up. The fur she was wearing that day looked like opossum. Her jaw was clenched and she looked totally bent out of shape. She and Hera do not get along.

“I’m going for some ambro-popcorn,” she said. “Want anything, Hades?”

I shook my head. She didn’t ask Hera or Aphrodite if they wanted anything before she ran down the steps. I sat down in the empty seat beside Aphrodite.

“Greetings, goddesses,” I said. “So have you come to cheer Atalanta?”

“Who is she, caro mio?” said Aphrodite, who sprinkled Italian phrases into every conversation.

“The mortal girl,” I pointed her out.

“Ah! She is cosi bella! So beautiful—for a big muscular girl,” said Aphrodite. “Why is she down there with all the uomini, the young men?”

“You really don’t know?”

Both Aphrodite and Hera shook their heads.

“Then why in the world are you here?” I asked.

“Aphrodite and I haven’t been getting any bull sacrifices from this region of the earth for a couple of months now,” Hera answered.

Only Hera would think to track the earthly locations of her bull sacrifices!

“We came to find out why,” Hera went on. “When we got here, we saw that a race was about to begin, so we got tickets.” She shrugged. “We didn’t know Artemis was going to be here,” she added. “You know, Hades, she is the most unpleasant goddess. I can’t believe she’s Apollo’s twin. He’s so refined and artistic. And she’s such a foul-smelling brute.”

“Si!” Aphrodite waved a hand in front of her nose. “Puzza! She stinks! She needs a spritz of my new profumo!”

“So who is this Atalanta, Hades?” said Hera. “And what’s with the races?”

I filled Hera and Aphrodite in on Atalanta’s story. “Her father, Iasus, is a powerful king, a money-grubber, and a control freak,” I finished up. “It’s a bad combination.”

“Welcome to Princess Hero Race number XVII,” called the announcer just as Artemis came back to her seat with her ambro-popcorn. “The race will be IV laps around the track. Runners, take your marks . . . get set . . . go!”

The runners took off.

“Go, Atalanta!” roared Artemis. “Show the world what females can do!”

“Go, suitors!” yelled Hera. “You can beat her!”

“Hera!” I exclaimed. “What are you doing, rooting for the suitors?”

“I’m goddess of marriage, remember?” said Hera. “I want one of the guys to win!”

“Correte, ragazzi! Run, men!” cried Aphrodite. “Catch the girl! Go! Go! Go! Via! Via! Via!”

In spite of the cheering of two powerful goddesses, none of the suitors proved fast enough to beat Atalanta.

When Atalanta ran across the finish line, Artemis jumped to her feet. “Whoooo! Whoooo!” she cried. “Way to go, Atalanta! Daughters of Artemis rule!”

“Per favore!” cried Aphrodite, clapping her hands over her ears. “Please! That hooting will make me go deaf!”

“Oh, per favore, yourself!” scoffed Artemis. “You and Hera just can’t stand it that Atalanta doesn’t need you.”

I winced. Why did Artemis have to taunt Hera and Aphrodite? Was she looking for trouble?

But Artemis charged on. “Atalanta has outrun all her suitors,” she said. “Soon she’ll have outrun every young male in Greece. Then the races will end and Atalanta will never have to fall in love or get m-m-m—whatever.”

Hera arched one eyebrow. “Is that right?”

I didn’t like the way she said that.

“That’s right,” replied Artemis.

“Oh, but cara mia!” said Aphrodite, with a sly smile. “We can arrange things otherwise!”

Uh-oh. Artemis had done it. These goddesses were going to make trouble for Atalanta. Big trouble!

I trusted that Atalanta would be safe at the room Artemis had found for her, but I made sure to check in when Atalanta went to the gym. And of course I went to her next race. Only VI suitors at that one. The next week, only V young men came to race against Atalanta. The races, it seemed, were nearly at an end.

I thought the following week might be the last, so I made sure to get to the stadium early. I figured there’d be a crowd—possibly even in the gods’ section. I made my way to the seats. There was Artemis, wearing what looked like squirrel. Hera and Aphrodite had shown up again too. Uh-oh. Why were they here?

“Hadino, tesoro mio!” Aphrodite called when she saw me. “Hades, darling! We meet again.”

I nodded and sat down. I looked out at the crowded stadium. The place was overflowing. Everyone in Greece wanted to be there to witness Atalanta’s last race. I counted IV suitors standing on the track near Atalanta.

“Solo quattro,” said Aphrodite. “Only four. And yet . . . one of them may beat Atalanta.”

“Not a chance,” said Artemis, without looking at Aphrodite. “In fact, after Atalanta wins today, that will be the end of the races.”

“Oh, I think not, cara mia,” said Aphrodite.

“Don’t bet on it,” said Hera.

“Why do you say that?” I asked, hoping I could find out what they had up their sleeves.

But Hera only shrugged. “Just a hunch.”

In this race, Atalanta crossed the finish line a whole lap ahead of the suitors. Even though it hadn’t been much of a race, the crowd roared. They threw flowers down to their Princess Hero.

I ran down to the field to congratulate Atalanta.

“Good going!” I slapped her on the back. “This makes you the fastest mortal in Greece.”

Artemis was right behind me. “Way to go, Daughter of Artemis! Now you’ll never have to marry!”

Atalanta smiled. “The sign-up sheet for next week’s race is still blank. If no one signs up by V o’clock tonight, it’s over! Maybe by next week at this time, I’ll be out in the world, making money to save Meleager.”

Artemis and I were telling Atalanta goodbye when a tall mortal young man come over to her. His dark hair was pulled into a long ponytail—a very unusual style for those days. He smiled in a friendly way at Atalanta. He didn’t look like an autograph seeker. Artemis took off, but I hovered within hearing distance, pretending to read King Iasus’s NO CLIMBING, NO BLOWING HORNS, NO SPITTING, and SMOKE ALL YOU WANT signs tacked to the fence.

“Excellent race, Atalanta,” said the mortal.

“Not really,” said Atalanta. “All the speedy runners showed up for the early races. These last few races haven’t been too exciting.”

“That could change,” said the mortal. “I’m Melanion, by the way. And I’m signing up for next week’s race.”