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CORPOPROMOTION
SOURCE: HERMES
The ability to use the body to its fullest extent. This power may manifest as superior stamina, extraordinary healing ability, and athletic talent. Can., depending on thehematheos heritage, result in superior physical grace, rhythm, and affinity for dance. Descendants of Hephaestus lack this power entirely.
DYNAMOTHEOS STUDY GUIDE * Stella Petrolas
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"PHOEBE, WAKE UP." A voice penetrates my dream. Then the owner of the voice shakes me awake. "Dad and Valerie will be home in a few hours and you're going to be late for camp. Get up."
I try burrowing under the comforter, hoping Stella will take the hint and go away. Not that she's ever been one to take hints.
"Don't make me get the ice water," she warns.
I grunt in response.
I want to get back to my dream-in which I not only win the Pythian trials tomorrow, but also the Pythian Games andthe Olympics… but all while running underwater. I know, dreams never make sense.
Besides, Stella wouldn't really-
"I warned you," she says, a split seeond before my comforter is jerked away and a splash of freezing water hits my forehead.
Bolting up, I shout, "Are you insane?" Wiping at the water before it can trickle down to my neck and other sensitive areas, I give her my best you'd-better-run glare. "You can give a person a heart attack doing that."
"Stop being so dramatic." She holds the still-half-full glass over me. "Now get out of bed before I dump the rest on you."
She disappears before I can even begin to think of ways to murder her and hide the body.
Well, I'm fully awake now-my dream is out of reach-so I swing myself out of bed. It wasn't the ice water that jolted me awake so much as the reminder that Mom and Damian are getting home today.
Though I could be relieved that Damian is about to be home and can help me train, I'm terrified, even though he said it could happen at any time. I felt pretty certain the gods wouldn't spring the test on me while Damian was off the island. With his return comes the looming reminder that I'm going to be tested, and soon. Summer solstice is only days away.
As I splash water on my face, my stomach is full of butterflies. What kind of test will it be? Will I be able to figure out it's the test before I fail miserably? And what really will happen if I fail? I'm picturing me chained to a boulder while a giant eagle pecks out my liver when Stella opens the bathroom door.
"You're not even dressed," she points out.
Not willing to dignify her statement by turning around, I give her reflection a look that says, Duh.
"Hurry up already," she says, giving me the speed-it-up gesture. "I don't want to be late today."
Rather than point out that shedoesn't have to be late, even if I am-since when does she wait for me?-I ask, "What's the rush? Why are you so excited about today?"
"No reason," she says. But I see the twinkle in her eye.
She's up to something.
"Be on the front porch in five," she says. "Or I'm zapping you to camp, dressed or not."
As if the butterflies in my stomach weren't bad enough, now they're swirling up a storm at the thought of what she has cooked up for today. I can only imagine it will end in my total embarrassment-as always.
But, since my getting zapped into the middle of camp in my smiley-face boxers would mean certain humiliation, I speed up my routine and beat Stella to the front porch by a good thirty seconds.
"Are you going to tell me what's going on?" I ask as we descend the steps and head toward school.
"I don't think so," she says. "I like keeping you on your toes."
When we pass by the turn for the front entrance, I ask, "I thought we were meeting in the courtyard today?"
"We were." She smiles cryptically. "Plans change."
We round the back of the school, where Adara and Xander are waiting. Adara looks annoyed. Xander looks… well, also annoyed, but that's how he always looks.
There are no little campers around.
"What's going on?" I ask nervously. One or two of the ten-year-olds are always early. "Where is everyone else?"
"They'll be here later," Stella explains. "At ten."
"At ten?" I look for my watch, only to find my wrist empty. "I thought it was ten."
"It's eight," Adara says, crossing her arms across her chest.
Spinning on Stella, I ask, "Why am I here two hours early?"
Xander, silent until now,. steps forward. "This is my idea."
"We think this might help you take your powers control to the next level." Stella explains.
They are being intentionally vague and evasive. I'm immediately on guard. If this were some simple exercise, they'd just tell me without all the dramatic suspense. "What is 'this' exactly?"
No one answers.
Adara steps forward, carrying a black sash. "Trust me?"
It's only half a question. Asking me and telling me to trust her at the same time. A week ago, I would have shouted, "No way!" But ever since she shared her darkest secret, we've had a kind of understanding. She hasn't once threatened to smote me.
I turn my back, letting her secure the sash over my eyes.
"What am I supposed to do?" I ask. "Guess how many fingers you're holding up?"
"Not exactly," Xander says, moving closer and taking my elbow. He leads me… somewhere. All my senses are on high alert because I can't see my surroundings. I can hear the crunch of our footsteps on the gravel path.
"So…" I say as the scent of pine fills my nostrils. "Are you going to tell me what's going on?"
"You're going to complete an obstacle course."
"Blindfolded?" I stop in my tracks, only slightly pleased to feel Xander jerk to a stop next to me. "Are you crazy?"
I reach up to rip off the blindfold, but Xander's hands clamp around my wrists.
"Listen to me," he says, his voice low and close. "In order to tap into your powers, sometimes you have to stop relying on your senses. You don't need to see the obstacles to overcome them."
"But what if I get hurt?" An image of me sitting in the bleachers at the Pythian Games, my leg encased in a massive cast, sends a shiver through me. The trials are tomorrow and I need to be in peak condition."
"I placed a protection on you," Stella says. "Nothing will happen to you while you're on the course."
I relax a little.
Until Adara adds. "But if you use the protection, you'll fail that obstacle."
"Fail?" My heart thumps. "Is this my test?"
"No, " Xander answers. "But treat it as if it were."
I start to ask more questions, but he cuts me off. "Remember when I said I hoped you never found out the consequences of failing the test?" he asks, like I could forget. I've been stressing about it ever since. He continues, "Well, that's not exactly the truth. What I meant was I knewyou would never find out."
"You knew?" That makes no sense. "What do you-"
"No one at school knows my heritage," he says, his voice low and right next to my ear so the girls can't hear. "Only Headmaster Petrolas knows I'm a descendant of Narcissus." He pauses, and then adds, "His son."
Whoa. That means he's even farther up the tree than I am. He makes my three degrees of separation seem like a seventh cousin thrice removed.
I remember the myth about Narcissus. He was completely infatuated with his own reflection, in love with his own perfection to the exclusion of everything else. I'm surprised Xander confided in me, but now his feelings about superficiality make a lot more sense.
"Believing he had learned his lesson on self-absorption, the gods paroled him with a grant of temporary immortality," Xander's voice wavers a little. "He met my mother. And quickly proved he had learned nothing."
For a jaded rebel boy, he sure is sharing a lot of very personal info. He must have a reason. I ask, "What does that have to do with me?"
"To make up for having to be his descendant," Xander explains, "and to protect me from succumbing to the same fatal flaw, the gods granted me the ability to see beneath the surface in others. I can see into a person's deepest center. Do you know what I see in you?"
I shake my head.
"A great and powerful hematheos,"he whispers, "with a pure heart."
That heart beats a little faster.
"You will succeed, Phoebe."
Then he turns me, gives me a little push, and I know he's gone. I feel completely alone. Part of me is tempted to take off the blindfold and go home-I'm too old for games like this. But the rest of me knows that I have to do this. Solstice is days away, and after that little autoporting stunt I pulled in our training run, I know I need to get my powers under control once and for all.
Before something irreversible happens.
As worried as I am about the trials tomorrow, I won't be running any races if I'm smoted to Hades. This is more important than a single competition.
I focus my energy on my surroundings, trying to get a sense of what I have to do. I take three steps forward, then stop. An image of a fallen tree pops into my mind. I see it blocking the path, its tangled branches daring me to try climbing over. Carefully-like I'm feeling for the last step in the dark-I take a step forward.
Bending down, I feel around for what I sense is there. When my hand hits the rough bark of a pine trunk, I shriek, "It's really a fallen tree!"
No one responds, but I know they're watching.
Telekinesis flashes in my mind like a neon sign.
Great, if this obstacle tests a single power, I bet the rest of the obstacles test the rest of the powers. Thank the gods I finally studied Stella's guide.
I focus on moving the tree out of the path, on the tree already being out of the path. Two seconds later, I sense that it's gone.
Forcing myself to trust my instinct, I take a step forward. Then another. And another. Until I'm well past the spot where the fallen tree had blocked my path.
"How was that for perfect?" I shout to the course.
Excited by my success, I turn and move on to the next obstacle. Twenty paces into the woods, I feel a spray of water across my face. An image of flood-making heavy rain appears.
"You've got to be kidding," I mutter. When Adara tied the blindfold over my eyes five minutes ago, the sky was cloudless clear blue. Now it's pouring?
Must be obstacle number two.
Stay dry,I hear in my mind.
Okay. I hold out my hand, which promptly gets soaked in the deluge two feet in front of me. Hydrokinesis,I think. Control and movement of water. As I take a step forward, I focus on the water not hitting me. I'm staying dry,I think, Not a molecule is going to hit me.
Even as I move fully under the downpour, I can't feel a single drop on my skin or clothes. I hurry through the rainy section-it's like I can feel the rain sliding around me, over me, but not on me- and emerge on the far end completely dry.
"Woo-hoo," I shout to myself.
Maybe this course isn't going to be as tough as I thought.
Three steps later, the image of a sheer drop-off blares red in my mind. I pull up just inches before the edge.
"What the-?"
Mentally, I try to see over the edge. Maybe it's just a short drop and I can climb down. But I can't see anything. It's like a fog is obscuring my mental view of the bottom.
Okay, so clearly I need to get down there, wherever that is, but how? Autoporting is out, since I don't know where I'm going-I don't really want to end up at the core of a boulder or something. What am I supposed to do, fly?
Then I remember Nicole asking me if I flew the day I earned my aerokinesis merit badge. That must be the way down.
Stepping forward until the toes of my Nikes hang over the edge, I try to call up the air. My track pants whip back in the wind. It feels like a mini-hurricane is swirling around me.
I hesitate.
Afraid you can't do it?Adara's taunting voice echoes in my mind.
"Of course I can do it," I shout back above the wind. I feel like an idiot getting all defensive with a disembodied voice. Then I mutter even quieter, "I hope."
Taking the biggest leap of faith in my life-I know Stella's protection won't let me get hurt, but it's hard to make my brain fully believe-I step over the edge. Rather than plummet to the unseen depths below, I bob like a beach ball in the ocean, buoyed by a strong column of wind.
Slowly, I descend.
Halfway down I freak out. I mean, I'm floating on freakin' air. Literally. What if this isn't what I'm supposed to do? What if I'm really descending into a fiery pit or the jaws of a sea monster?
I stop descending. The air is holding me steady, not moving up or down. I'm about to send myself back up to the safety of the cliff above when I realize that my fear is the only thing holding me back. If I believe in my powers-and I've experienced them enough at this point to know that they're real-then I have to trust them.
Time to go for the gold. Taking one deep breath, I relax and let myself descend without hesitation. For three seconds, I drop through the empty air. My stomach flies up into my throat. My heart races as anticipation pounds through me.
Then I land.
Both feet touch down in perfect alignment. Sand squishes beneath my sneakers.
A beach.
I feel invincible.
Without pausing to gloat or gawk, I continue down the course until I sense the image of another cliff face. Apparently this isn't a beach, it's a gorge. And now I have to get back up the other side.
Before I can call up another wind, I hear Xander say, Complete the puzzle.
Puzzle? What puzzle?
There is a stack of wooden planks, each about two feet long, and a pair of long pieces of lumber with funny-shaped holes cut into them at regular intervals. I pick up one of the planks, feeling for any clues, and find that the ends of that plank are the same shape as one of the holes in either long piece. Laying the two long pieces out two feet apart, I fit the ends of the plank into the corresponding hole. When I pick up the next plank, it has a different shape atthe ends, which matches up to another pair of holes in the long pieces. I click that plank into place and realize I must be building a ladder. I quickly grab the rest of the planks, locking them into their corresponding holes. When I'm done, there is only one set of holes left in the two long pieces, the uprights. I double-check that there isn't another plank lying around. Nope, I've used them all.
I lift the ladder to set it against the cliff, and it falls apart.
"Aaargh!" All my work just evaporated.
Clearly, I missed something. I quickly repeat my procedure. When I get to the point where there is just one set of holes left, I stop to think. Maybe the ladder fell apart because this set of holes was left empty. So I need to fill them, even though there aren't any more planks.
I smack myself on the forehead. How could I be so dumb? If there aren't any more planks, then I need to neofactureone!
Seconds later, I'm plugging the plank I created into the ladder, setting it against the cliff, and climbing to the edge above.
I totally rock.
I feel the heat one rung before I reach the top. It's scalding, like someone just opened the oven door. Ignoring the urge to climb back down, I try to get a clear picture of what I'm facing.
Flames.
I see a huge wall of flames, blocking me from climbing up onto the level surface above. Fire. That has to do with-I cling to the ladder with one hand while I wipe at my sweaty brow with the other- photomorphosis.Controlling light and fire.
The heat is getting worse, closer. I take a deep breath to clear myhead, but my lungs fill with smoke. Fighting my instinct to shimmy back down to the gorge-or to rely on Stella's protection- I concentrate on controlling the fire.
I picture the flames shrinking, receding, backing away from the cliffs edge. Slowly, the heat fades. When I can no longer see fire in my mind, I haul myself up the ladder and dive onto the safety of solid ground.
As much as I want to lie on my back, sucking in deep, smoke-free breaths, I want to finish this course more. Climbing to my feet, I push forward.
When I reach a broad, open field, I stop. Something isn't right. Too easy. It looks like a big grassy spot, but something tickles at my brain.
I center myself, focusing all my energy on the field and what I'm not seeing in my mind. As I focus, my image changes, and I see a series of open pits, holes in the otherwise level earth.
Aha! Viseocryption.Someone must have cloaked the opening of the pits with an image of grass. Now that I can see the holes, I avoid them as I navigate through the field. The path ducks back into the woods and winds around until it reaches a shallow canyon with adecent-size river running through. An old, rickety rope bridge spans the canyon. It looks like an overweight butterfly could send it crashing into the current below. There's no way it will support me-even at my training weight.
There could be another way across, upriver or farther down. Even though I can't see through the sash, I turn my head as I try to see if there is a more reliable-looking bridge over the canyon. Fromthe corner of my mental vision, I see the image of the bridge flicker. The rickety-looking version fades and a far more substantial wooden bridge appears in its place.
When I turn back, I see the rickety bridge again. Someone must have cloaked it, too. I reach forward, expecting to feel the solid bridge under my fingers. Instead, I feel fraying rope.
The sturdy bridge must have been altered, not cloaked. Viseomutated.
It only takes a second to reverse the visiomutation,and then I'm scurrying across the bridge.
I'm starting to think nothing can surprise me. Until I turn a corner and sense Stella, Adara, and Xander blocking my path.
"What?" I ask. "Did I do something wrong? I didn't use the protection."
Why else would they be here?
When they don't answer, I say, "Okay, guys. If I haven't screwed up, then get out of my way so I can finish."
They just stand there, immobile and silent. Maybe this is some kind of mental mirage. But when I reach forward, half expecting my hand to go right through Stella, my palm hits her shoulder.
"What?" I ask, louder this time. As if maybe they didn't hear me.
Nothing. Absolute silence.
But there is something about the looks I'm sensing on their faces, like they're concentrating really hard, that makes me think I'm missing something. I can practically feel Stella's gray eyes burn into mine, and not in her favorite I'd-smote-you-if-I-could way. It's like she's trying to tell me something.
What on earth is she trying to say? I stare right back at her. Maybe if I concentrate hard enough I can read her-
Choose.
I hear the word as clearly as if she'd said it out loud. Only, she hasn't spoken-not out loud or in my head. This was outsidemy head, if that makes any sense.
She smiles, like she's glad I figured it out. Figured what out? Choose. What on earth does that mean?
I turn to Adara, like she might have answers. She's still concentrating. I try my trick again, of staring back at her and concentrating-
Door.
I definitely heard that. And it was definitely outside my head. Maybe I really did read their minds.
Duh! Psychospection.
I turn my attention on Xander and read his thought.
Three.
Choose. Door. Three.
Choose door three?
Before I can ask any questions, Stella, Adara, and Xander shimmer away. Apparently I cleared that obstacle.
Around another corner, I find the answer to my question. There are three doors-very Alice in Wonderland-eachwith a big gold number on the front.
"Door number three, then," I mutter to myself as I pull the door open.
As soon as I step through the door, I can't move. I'm frozen mid-step. It's like someone turned on a freeze machine, but my brain doesn't know it's supposed to be frozen. I can still think and hear and see my surroundings, but I feel like someone shut off all my muscles.
Help.I try to scream. But I can't open my mouth. No sound vibrates in my throat. I can't call out for help.
I start to panic. My heart is beating faster than it ever has. Tears well in my eyes.
Help,I try again. Help, help, help.
That's not working. Maybe someone is still close by, watching out for me. Maybe they'll see that I chose the wrong door-or whatever sent me into this trap-and come save me.
After what feels like several torturous hours-but was probably like two minutes-I realize no one is coming. Stella and her posse aren't going to rescue me. I can't scream to let them know I'm in trouble.
There has to be another way.
If they can't hear my voice, maybe they can hear my mind.
Help,I say with my mind. I focus my mental communication, my psychodictation,on Stella because I know her best. That might make my efforts easier. Please, I beg. Help. I'm trapped. Set me free.
Instantly, I'm free and stumbling forward onto my hands and knees.
All you had to dowas ask,Stella replies.
"Aaargh!" I scream at no one. I should have known it was just another obstacle.
I take a minute, allowing my heart rate and adrenaline levels to return to the vicinity of normal, before moving on. Right now I just want this stupid obstacle course done.
I tear ahead, focused on finishing to the exclusion of everything else. I almost don't see the barricade of briar bushes until it's too late. At the last second, their image flashes into my mind-thanks to self-preserving corpoprotection,probably. I don't have time to do anything but react. Instinct and some corpopromotionsuperstrength send me high-jumping over the barricade, and landing safely on the other side.
For the love of Nike," I grumble, "How many times do I have to almost die or get seriously injured?"
Okay, I have to admit that, even without using the protection, I haven't actually gotteninjured. And maybe, just maybe, that's part of the exercise.
Deciding that caution is more important than speed, I set out at awalk. I try to mentally list the obstacles I've done so far. If you count the briar barricade for two powers, then I've completed eleven. Eleven (dangerous) obstacles without injury. My powers haven't failed me once, guiding me over, around, and through as if my eyes were wide open. Better, even. If I could see what I had to face, I'd probably be too scared to attempt it.
Considering the twelve dynamotheospowers, I expect just one more obstacle. No big deal. I'm in the homestretch.
When I round a bend in the course and find myself up against a solid wall, I stop in my tracks.
In my mind I can see the wall perfectly. It's tall, maybe ten ortwelve feet, spans the entire width of the path and into the woods beyond, and is completely smooth. Focusing my powers, I search for a foothold or a rope or anything that will get me over. Nothing. It might as well be a wall of ice.
Maybe my mental image is wrong. Maybe it's not as tall as I think.
I walk forward until I'm about a foot away, bend down, and jump as high as I can, reaching for a ledge to grab onto.
My body smacks full-on into the wall. As I slide back down to the ground, I wonder how on earth I'm supposed to get over this obstacle.
"You can't defeat this obstacle so easily," Stella says from somewhere to my left. "Even if we removed the blindfold, you couldn't succeed through physical means alone."
"This is the ultimate test," Adara adds. "You can only get through by using your powers."
What on earth does that mean? Before I can ask them to explain, I feel a soft breeze and know that they're gone.
Okay, I can figure this out. I've made it this far trusting nothing but my powers-and my sense of self-preservation. Surely getting over a wall can't be that hard.
"It's not about going overthe wall," a distant-yet-familiar voice whispers within my mind. "Feel the victory inside you, Phoebester."
Dad?
That is notpossible. I give my head a brain-rattling shake. I must be suffering from sensory deprivation after being blindfolded so long. My subconscious is playing tricks on me. That's all.
"Come on," Adara shouts from the far side of the wall. "We have to start camp soon. I'd hate to leave you out here on the course."
She grunts, like someone just elbowed her in the gut.
"We believe in you, Phoebe," Stella says. "You just have to believe in yourself."
I roll my eyes behind the blindfold. As if that's not a cheesy, movie-of-the-week line. Still, I want to finish this course, to prove that I can handle anything they throw at me-the counselors andthe gods.
"Okay," I say to myself. Think this through. If there's no way aroundthe wall. And I'm not about to make it overthe wall. Then there's only one other option…"
Suddenly I know exactly what I have to do.
I managed it that night on the beach, when my emotions took the reins, and on the cross-country course the other day. Now I just need to use my mind to achieve the same result consciously.
Placing my palms to the wall, I picture myself on the other side.
I focus all my energy on having gotten myself throughthe expanseof two-by-fours. My mind shuts out all other stimuli. No sounds, notouches, no tastes, no smells. Just me, on the other side of this wall.
The hairs on the back of my neck stand up.
Someone's arms wrap around me.
"You did it!" Stella shouts. "Omigods, you were so awesome!"
I reach up and rip off the blindfold. Sure enough, I'm on the other side of the wall, at the end of the obstacle course. Stella's hugging me and shouting. Adara crosses her arms over her chest andsmiles smugly. As if she's the reason I made it through. Xander is clapping and smiling.
"We knew you would make it, Phoebola."
Twisting out of Stella's embrace, I turn to find Mom and Damian standing off to the side. Looking as proud as I've ever seen them.
I run into Mom's arms. "You're not supposed to get home until tonight."
"When Damian told me what they were going to put you through this morning," she says, squeezing me close, "I insisted we catch an earlier flight so we could be here to share in your triumph."
She sounds so certain, like there was never a doubt that I would make it through this obstacle course. I was never that sure.
"I'm glad you're here," I whisper.
As she tucks a loose clump of hair behind my ear, she says, "It killed me to be so far away while you were struggling." She smiles painfully. "But you're such a strong, independent girl, I knew you needed to process this on your own."
"I know." Besides, it's not like she could have helped me or anything. This is kind of beyond the realm of her psychoanalytical expertise. And if I'd really needed her, she would have skipped out on her honeymoon in a flash.
I hug her a little tighter.
"Come on," Damian says, clapping a hand to my shoulder. "Let's go celebrate. I think you can skip camp for today."
Emotions are boiling through me. I can't believe I made it through the whole course blindfolded. I can't believe I autoportedthrough the wall. But most of all, I can't believe I heard Dad's voice in my head.
After everyone has gone to bed, I sit down at my desk and power up my laptop. While I'm waiting, I dig into my pocket and pull out the merit badges Stella gave me after dinner. I pin them onto the bulletin board above my desk, next to the ones I've already earned. A dozen little badges of honor. I'm still getting used to the idea that my powers might actually be under control.
The beeping and whirring stops and I click open my IM. I don't really expect my girls to be online-it's crazy early in LA. and I have no idea if Cesca even has Internet access in Paris-but amazingly enough, the smiley faces next to both their user names are bright yellow.
Cesca starts chatting before I can even say hello.
PrincessCesca: about time!
LostPhoebe: Hi!!!
PrincessCesca: I only have a few
PrincessCesca: have to meet Francois in twenty
LostPhoebe: Francois?
GranolaGrrl: new French bf
LostPhoebe: you've only been there like a week!
PrincessCesca: not my bf
PrincessCesca: but he is deliriously yummy
I can't help laughing. Leave it to Cesca to find a hotFrench boyfriend in record time. She never seems to have trouble attracting aguy-she just never seems to want to hold onto them for very long. Maybe this one will be different.
GranolaGrrl:speaking of bfs, what happened with yours?
LostPhoebe: we're totally back together
LostPhoebe: I can't believe I thought he was cheating on me
PrincessCesca: wait, what? you and G broke up?
LostPhoebe: only for a weekend
GranolaGrrl: I don't believe in saying I told you so
GranolaGrrl: but I told you so!
LostPhoebe: I know
PrincessCesca: a girl makes one little trip to France and all hell breaks loose
I can just picture Cesca, crossing her arms over her chest and pursing her perfectly glossed lips in annoyance. It's been too long since I've seen her and Nola.
LostPhoebe: any updates on visiting Serfopoula?
PrineessCesca: my schedis pretty busy
PrineessCesca: but I can always sneak away for a weekend
GranolaGrrl: the grant committee met
For several long, torturous seconds I stare at the blinking cursor. Waiting. Hoping. Waiting. It's not like Nola to make us sweat like this.
LostPhoebe: and…???
PrincessCesea: dish already, envirofreak
PrincessCesca: I got a hot date
GranolaGrrl: I
GranolaGrrl: won't
GranolaGrrl: be
GranolaGrrl: there
My heart dips into my stomach. I know it was a long shot, but I was so counting on her coming, so looking forward to her visit.
PrincessCesca: damn
GranolaGrrl: until August!
LostPhoebe: omigods, yay!!!
PrincessCesca: well played, bi'atch
GranolaGrrl: you two can't have all the fun
PrincessCesca: gotta run
PrincessCesca: e-me the dates and I'll be there
PrincessCesca: luck in your race tomorrow P
LostPheobe: thx Cesca
LostPhoebe: have fun with Francois
PrincessCesca: always XOXO
GranolaGrrl: night
Cesca's smiley face goes blank. I'm always sad to say good-bye, but this time I'm more excited about them coming to the island at the end of the summer.
LostPhoebe: you know the Pythian Games are in August
LostPhoebe: If I make the team you guys can come
GranolaGrrl: of course you'll make the team
GranolaGrrl: "victory" is assured ‹wink›
I smile at Nola's Nike joke. Even though Damian let me tell my girls about the whole descendant-of-the-gods thing, we're still not supposed to chat about it online. He's convinced someone is going to intercept the transmission and spill the hematheossecret to the world.
He's way paranoid, but I do notwant to be on his bad side.
GranolaGrrl: I'm glad things worked out with Griffin
GranolaGrrl: he's your perfect match
LostPhoebe: I think so too
GranolaGrrl: you better get to bed
LostPhoebe: yeah, gotta get up early
LostPhoebe: love you
GronolaGrrl: love you!
We sign off and I shut down the computer. I give the merit badges one last look before I tuck in. For the first time since Damian told me about the test, I'm feeling pretty confident. All I have to do is get through tomorrow's trials and then everything will be cake.
"Ground my powers."
Griffin rolls his eyes at me. "I am not grounding your powers," he says. "Even if I could, I wouldn't. You can control them on your own now."
I'm not so sure. I mean, yeah, I completed the obstacle course yesterday with flying colors, but that's because I was totally concentrating. I didn't have anything else on my mind. Like, say, the freakin' Pythian Games trials!
This is the biggest race of my life, so I might be a little distracted.
"Please," I beg. "Just for this race. Just to make sure I don't… accidentally use them."
"You won't." He presses his lips to mine. "Besides, I told you. I can't."
"But what if-"
"I know you're worried about accidentally using your powers," he says. That's the understatement of the millennium. "I've been thinking about what you said about your dad's record. How you're afraid to read it."
The record has been sitting under my bed ever since I got home from meeting Damian in the courtyard that night. Every time I catch a glimpse, it's like it's taunting me. Tempting me to face my fears. But I'm far too chicken.
"First of all," he says. "I never knew your dad, but I can't imagine a parent that selfish could have raised such an amazingly compassionate daughter."
I give him a half smile, because I think he's definitely overstating my compassion. After the way I've treated him and overreacted in the past, I think I'm currently pretty low on the compassion scale.
"And second," he says, oblivious to my unspoken self-deprecation. "I want you to consider this: Would yougive up the people you love for a cross-country win?"
"Of course not!" How could he even think that? "I would never-"
Griffin holds up a hand to stop me. "That's my point," he says. "I've never known anyone who loved their sport as much as you. If you wouldn't make that choice, I can't imagine your father would."
My rant deflates. He's right. I love running more than almost anything. But only almost. I don't love it more than Mom or Griffin-or, on a good day, Damian and Stella. Dad musthave loved us more than football.
"You're right," I say slowly, smiling. "I don't think he chose football over me and Mom consciously or otherwise."
My insides are calm-maybe for the first time in a long time. When Dad died, I remember being so very angry. At him, at Mom, at whatever deity or act of nature had taken him from us. At myself, too, for the possibility that I'd taken him for granted while he was alive. Then, when I found out that he was hematheos,that he was smoted for that, the anger had returned. Maybe I didn't even recognize it, but it was there. Bubbling under everything.
Griffin made me see what I couldn't-that the anger had come from fear.
Now, even though nothing has changed except my perspective on the situation, the anger is gone.
Maybe I'll even read the record-someday. It suddenly doesn't seem like such an important decision. I know and love and trust my dad. I don't need to read a trial transcript to know that.
"Good," Griffin says, tugging me to his chest and slipping his arms around my waist. "Because you have a race to run, and you won't win if you don't focus. And if you don't make the team, Coach Lenny will blame me. He'll probably make me run to Beijing and back."
I love that my overactive imagination is rubbing off on him.
"Racers to the starting block," Coach Lenny's voice booms through the megaphone, "for the women's long-distance trial."
Griffin gives me a squeeze and a shove in the direction of the race.
My heart rate quadruples. People in the notbos world may not have ever heard of the Pythian Games, but in this world they're the equivalent of the Olympics. Making the Cycladian team, competing against the best hematheos racers in the islands, is not going to be a cakewalk.
When I step into the starting box, though, my anxiety disappears. This is my home turf-literally, since we're racing on the Academy course, but also figuratively. Distance running is my world, hematheos or not.
Coach Lenny lifts the starting pistol into the air and fires.
I turn on the autopilot, taking off with the two dozen other women competing for the three precious spots on the team. They're all strangers, mostly older than me and from other islands in the Cyclades. There was no planning and strategizing how to beat the other racers ahead of time. This is just me, running my race. Five laps around the five-mile white course plus one around the yellow.
Tuning out everything but my feet and the course ahead, I run.
By the time I finish the fifth white lap, I can't feel my legs. My lungs burn fire with every breath. I don't know how long I've been running, but it must be over two hours. The end of my pain is just a mile and a quarter away.
As I make the turn from the white course onto the yellow, I begin to take stock of my surroundings. Not the trees and bushes and woodland critters; the other racers. There aren't any.
Although I can't see them anymore, I know there are two racers ahead of me on the track. Through my pain, I'd absently taken note when the two blondes had pushed out from the lead group a couple miles back.
I risk a glance back over my shoulder. I don't see any racers behind me, either, but I can hear their footbeats on the path.
The anticipation of victory eases my pain. Third place means a spot on the team, and right now that's all that matters to me.
When I face back to the front, there is a racer on the course. Her long brown ponytail bounces with every step, obscuring the competitor number pinned to her shirt. I blink my eyes, certain that I'm seeing things. She wasn't there a second ago. But, no matter how many times I squeeze my lids shut and reopen them, she's still there.
She also isn't one of the two blondes who'd pulled into the lead. That means I'm in fourth place. There are no prizes for fourth.
"Impossible," I mutter between gasping breaths.
Then, realizing the futility of denial, I turn off my shock. She is only about ten paces ahead of me. I can catch up with her on this final lap-maybe not easily, with my legs feeling al dente, but I can do it. When it comes to running, I can do anything.
Drawing on every last ounce of my energy, I increase my pace.
She must sense my acceleration, because she speeds up identically and keeps her solid lead.
I try again.
She matches me again.
Three times I speed up, only to watch her lead stay constant.
Finally, when I know I have next to nothing left to give, she starts pulling away. I'm getting left behind and there's nothing I can do. Tears of frustration sting my eyes. I was so close-so close- tomaking the team, but my body just doesn't have the juice to catch her.
We round the final bend in the yellow course, onto the straightaway to the finish line, and I watch her twelve-pace lead extend to thirteen. Fourteen.
"Aaargh!" I scream at myself. "Do something!"
My body responds by sending a shooting pain up my spine.
It's so unfair. I ownedthis race. I deserve a place on the team.
But even as I rant in my mind, I know the truth. No one deservesto win- You have to earn the honor. And clearly the racer in front of me earned that honor today.
I focus my gaze on the finish line, intent on finishing this race with the pride that a fourth-place finish deserves. Maybe I can learn from this racer, from this loss. I'll become a better athlete-
"What the-?"
In an instant, the girl with the long brown ponytail disappears. Not she-crossed-the-finish-line-and-disappeared-from-sight. Just… vanished. She glanced back over her shoulder, gave me what looked like a wink, and then evaporated. In a puff of smoke. Well, that was different.
Seconds later, I'm across the finish line. Coach Lenny is the first to rush me, grabbing me around the waist and lifting my dying body into the air.
"I knew you'd make the team, Castro." he screams. Then, to the crowd, "This is my girl!"
"But… but…" I'm too exhausted to form the simple, burning question.
Coach Lenny drops me, nearly sending me to my knees, to record the time of the next racers to cross the finish line.
"Congratulations, Phoebola," Mom says, hurrying to my side and placing supportive hands on my hips.
Doubled over in utter exhaustion, I manage to twist my head enough to glance up. Griffin is there, beaming at my victory. And Damian looks like he just won the lottery.
"Yes, congratulations," he says, unable to hide a grin beneath his stuffy exterior. "You just passed your test."
"What?" I gasp.
"That was your test," he says.
"My what?" I manage to pull myself vertical. "My test? You mean that racer…"
"She was no competitor. Actually," he says, clearing his throat. Leaning close, he whispers in my ear, "that was Nike."
My jaw drops and I am incapable of speech.
"Despite your drive to win," Damian explains, "you did not use your powers."
"So that was it?" I ask. "Not cheating was my test?"
"No," he says. "Proving that you and not your emotions master your powers was the test. It was not about honor-even the gods cannot regulate a person's honor-but about mastery. You did not want to cheat even more than you didwant to win."
I can't believe it. I passed my test! Even as Griffin steps past Mom to wrap me in his arms, whispering congratulations in my ear, I can't believe I just passed the test… by losing to Nike!
"Racers to the starting block," Coach Lenny calls out again, "for the men's long-distance trial."
I release Griffin and shove him toward the box, like he'd done for me.
While he's jockeying for position with the other racers, I take my place in front of the spectator section, prepared to cheer him on at every lap.
"He's going to win, you know," Adara says as she slides up next to me.
"For once," I reply, giving her a grin and a sideways glance, "I think I'm actually going to agree with you."
"Someone call the Chronicle.She stifles a fake yawn. This is headline news."
Coach Lenny fires the starter pistol into the air. As the guys take off to follow the same course I've just run, I break out in a grin. Next to me, Adara eyes me warily, as if I might seek revenge for her months of torture, now that I've got my powers under control.
Now that I trust myself to control them.
With all the people I care most about in the world-yes, even Stella (who is here withXander!)-gathered around to cheer my victory, and Nola and Cesca just an e-mail away, I can't help thinking I'm a pretty lucky girl. I've got my powers under control. I'm going to be racing in the Pythian Games. I just ran on the same course as my goddess ancestor. And-although I could never prove it and I'd deny the insane idea if anyone suggested it-I have a feeling that Dad was right there by my side with every step.
Out of all the moments in my life, this is the most perfect.
I sling an arm around Adara, ignoring how she cringes away. She has nothing to worry about from me. We goddesses have to stick together, you know.