“I CAN’T BELIEVE you guys are here,” I repeat for, like, the millionth time, as we walk back across campus. After my race, we had stayed to watch the boys run. Griffin won by nearly two minutes and, even though he was a sweaty mess when he met Nola and Cesca, they were suitably impressed. It feels so good to have my girls at my side.
“We thought you needed a little…” Cesca grins. “… extra support.”
Nola hugs me. Again.
“Damian and I made the arrangements with their parents,” Mom says. “They have to return on the ferry tomorrow, so they don’t miss any more days of school.”
“Only one day,” I cry. It’s not enough. But it’s way better than nothing.
Damian walks up next to me. “We also thought it might be easier for you to… explain your situation in person.”
“Explain my-” I stop cold. Is Damian saying what I think he’s saying? “You mean?”
He nods.
I’m floored by how much trust he just put in me. He doesn’t know Nola and Cesca from anyone, but he trusts me enough to trust them.
“Thanks,” I say. Then, I can’t help it, I fling my arms around him and give him a big hug.
“You are more than welcome,” he says in his typical, formal voice.
But there is a warmth in there that I never noticed before.
I can’t believe he’s really letting me tell Nola and Cesca about the school, the island, everything.
Now, all I have to do is figure out how to tell them.
“First, however,” he says in full on principal mode, “we need to have a discussion.”
Right. I knew this trust thing was too good to be true. My shoulders slump. I glance ahead at Mom and the girls who are getting ahead of us.
“Phoebe,” he says, laying a hand on my shoulder, “this has nothing to do with your friends.”
“Oh,” I say, surprised. “All right.”
“Why don’t we go to the school and your friends can look around while we talk?”
I nod, sensing that what he wants to tell me is a pretty big deal.
Considering all the major life-flipping news I’ve gotten lately, I’m a little nervous about what more he could possibly have to talk to me about. Maybe he knows that Troy cheated to help me win.
“Hey girls,” I shout, running to catch up with them. “Wanna see my new school?”
We detour across the central lawn toward the front steps.
“Pacific Park hasn’t been the same without you,” Cesca says.
“Did she tell you what she did to Justin?” Nola asks.
“No,” I say, grinning at my girls. “What?”
“It’s nothing,” Cesca says with a wink. “Really.”
Nola rolls her eyes at the understatement. “She pantsed him in front of the whole school at the homecoming assembly.”
I’m so not surprised. Cesca is not the sort of person whose bad side you want to be on. She’s vindictive as-well, as Stella, I guess.
I never really noticed it before, but Cesca can be a real bi’atch to people who cross her. Or who cross her friends. If I were on the other side of her anger I might feel the same way about her as I do about Stella.
And if I were on the other side of Stella’s anger, I might feel the same for her that I do for Cesca.
Huh. Stella as my best friend. Not likely. But still, I feel like maybe I understand where she’s coming from a little better.
“Suffice it to say I think he’ll have a hard time finding a date anytime soon.” Cesca checks her nails likes it’s no big deal. “Power Rangers boxers aren’t exactly en vogue right now.”
I laugh at the thought of Justin exposed to the entire student body.
“How old is this school, anyway?” Cesca asks, staring up at the massive templelike facade of the Academy. “This building looks ancient.”
“It is,” I say. “It’s fifteen hundred years old.”
“Holy hot tamale,” Cesca gasps.
“They have excellent landscaping,” Nola says. “I can’t believe the grass is so healthy in such an arid climate.”
“Yeah, well…” I glance back over my shoulder at Mom and Damian, following us across the lawn. “There’s a very good reason for that.”
“Phoebe!”
I spin around, looking up to see Troy standing at the top of the steps. He’s grinning like a crazy person. Maybe he is.
“You!” I shout.
“Where’d you go?” he asks, standing with his fists on his hips.
“You took off so fast I didn’t get a chance to congratulate you.”
I turn to the girls. “Give me a minute?”
“Sure,” Cesca says.
Nola nods. “No problem.”
Leaving them at the base of the steps, I stomp up to meet Troy.
“I can’t imagine why I’d want to get away quickly, can you?”
“What?” He looks genuinely confused. “You’re not making any sense.”
“What? What!” I jab my finger into his chest. “After what you did, you have the nerve to ask what?”
“What I did? What are you talking about?”
“I know what your ‘good luck charm’ did, Troy.” I cross my arms across my chest. “I saw the glow.”
“The glow?” He frowns. “I saw it too, but I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Look, I know you were just trying to help. But cheating is cheating. You humiliated me. I can’t even face the team, let alone look at myself in the mirror.”
“Cheating? You cheated?” He shakes his head, as if he doesn’t understand. “You’re not making any sense.”
In all my years of running I’ve never cheated. When other racers were trying anabolic steroids, synthetic hormones, and amphetamines I just trained harder. I focused on perfecting my technique, improving my endurance, and obsessing about my nutrition.
Now, after all those years of hard work and integrity, in just one race on this island, I’m a cheater. Someone-and I have a pretty good idea who that powers-charmed-bracelet-giving someone isused godly powers to help me win. I won a race that I didn’t deserve to win.
Winning by cheating isn’t winning at all.
“ I didn’t cheat,” I say, barely keeping my volume under control because I am so irritated that he keeps playing dumb, “but it feels like I did. When you gave me your powers, I-”
“Whoa!” He jumps back, waving his hands in front of his chest defensively. “When I gave you my powers? I couldn’t even do that if I wanted to.”
Holding up my hand, I pluck at the friendship bracelet. “Then what do you call this?”
“A friendship bracelet.”
“Ha,” I snort.
“We can’t just give our powers to someone else.” He steps closer, his voice calm and certain. “Besides the fact that it would probably kill the person on the receiving end, your stepdad would expel me in a heartbeat. I like you a lot Phoebe, but I’m not about to throw away my future for anyone.”
“If you’re just going to lie to me, then I’d like you to leave.” I turn my back to him and head down the steps.
He doesn’t say a word, so I think he’s gone.
When I glance back he’s still there. Staring at me. He looks like I’ve kicked him in the guts. With that wounded look in his eyes, he turns and walks into the school. I shrug it off, telling myself I don’t care about the feelings of a cheater, no matter how cute and sincere he seems. No matter how good of a friend I thought he was.
Damian smiles oddly. “I wouldn’t be too hard on the boy,” he says. “Shall we go inside and have our talk?”
I nod and we all head up the broad stone steps. Now I’m even more confused. Either Damian doesn’t know about the cheating, or he doesn’t care.
Coach Lenny is waiting in Damian’s office. For a second I stare at him, shocked that he’s there. This must be about my cheating. I drop my gaze to the floor. I can’t face him. I can’t stand to see the look of betrayal in his eyes. After we worked so hard, so many extra hours, for it all to just not count because of Troy’s misplaced desire to help.
But I know it’s Coach’s right to confront me. He put in as much extra time and effort as I did, and he deserves to grill me about why I’ve quit the team.
“I’m so sorry, Coach,” I say, dropping into the chair next to his.
“I didn’t know what he did.”
Coach frowns. “What who did? And why in Hades are you sorry?
You’re my superstar. You won the race.”
Damian moves around behind his desk, lowering into his big leather chair. “Phoebe thinks she cheated,” he says as he pulls opena desk drawer. “She thinks Travatas gave her a power-granting charm.”
Lenny gapes at him. “But that’s not even-”
“I know.” Damian lays the folder on the desk.
“I quit the team,” I say, trying to at least save myself the embarrassment of getting kicked off. But even as I say the words my eyes fill with tears-I’ve never felt as close to a coach as I do to Coach Lenny. It breaks my heart to know I can’t run for him anymore. “I’ll send you an official e-mail of resignation when I get home.”
Mom comes up behind me and places her hands on my shoulders, softly massaging my tension. “Listen to what they have to say, Phoebe.”
“You’re still on the team,” he says. “And you didn’t cheat.”
I stare at him blankly. He’s clearly in denial.
“Even if you had wanted to, you couldn’t have,” he explains.
“Everyone’s powers were grounded for this race. Even yours.”
“I don’t know how he did it, Coach-” I wipe away a stray tear.
“But I know you saw the glow.”
“Of course I saw it,” he says. “Everyone saw it.”
“You can’t tell me that wasn’t someone’s powers.”
“No, Phoebe, I can’t tell you that.”
“I’m telling you, it w-” His words register. “What?”
“You’re right,” he says. “That glow that surrounded you at the end of the race was the glow of immortal powers.”
“Then, why-”
“You’re missing his point, Phoebola.” Mom squeezes my shoulders tighter.
Coach looks at me expectantly. I shake my head. I don’t understand what he’s saying. It’s like I know something’s not sinking in, but I just can’t figure out what. He says I’m right and I’m wrong. How can I be both? Either someone helped me cheat or they didn’t.
Damian slides the file folder across the desk; Coach picks it up, opens it, and shuffles through the stack of papers inside. “Have you ever done something you thought yourself physically incapable of doing?” he asks.
Startled by the abrupt change of subject, I snap, “Other than winning the race?”
“Yes,” Damian says, patiently. “Other than that.”
“No,” I say flatly. Then I remember the time I sent Adara flying across the locker room. “I mean, I suppose so. Who hasn’t?”
“We’ve done some investigating, Phoebe.” Coach pulls out what looks like a computer printout of run times. “Ever since you kept up with me in the first warm-up session I had my suspicions. I mean, I’m a descendant of Hermes. No nothos should be able to keep my pace. But you did.”
“So?” I read upside-down that the title of the printout is “Castro Results.”
“And, like you said, your performance in the race was…” He reads over the report. “… Supernatural.”
“Listen,” I say, sniffling, “I appreciate whatever you’re trying to do to make me feel better, but I know I didn’t win the race fairly, so if you could get to the point-”
“Phoebe, you’re a descendant of Nike,” Mom says. “You have godly blood.”
I feel my jaw drop and I think I make a sound like, “Gah ung,” but everything else blanks out.
For about twelve seconds.
Then I’m fully conscious, mind racing. “What do you mean ‘a descendant of Nike’?” I twist around, staring up at Mom and trying to capture the thoughts jumbled around in my head. “Nike like the running shoe.”
“Not exactly,” she says with a huge grin. “Nike like the goddess.
The goddess of victory.”
“What!?”
“Here,” Coach says, handing me the folder. “Read this.”
I look down at a newspaper article. The familiar headline reads, “Football Star Mysteriously Dies on the Field.” It’s an article about my dad’s death. I don’t have to read it-I have it memorized.
At last night’s playoff game between the Chargers and the Broncos, San Diego star running back Nicholas Castro collapsed on the three yard line, ball in hand. The former USC all-star was only nine feet from the winning touchdown. Though he was rushed to Cedars-Sinai hospital for treatment he was declared dead on arrival. Doctors could find no obvious cause of death and have ruled it undetermined.
“So?” I shove the article back at him.
Why is he bringing Dad into this? “Your father did not die of natural causes.” Mom’s voice is whisper soft.
“What?” I gasp.
Damian leans across the desk and takes my hand. “The gods smote him because he broke the rules.”
“What rules?” I stare at him, furious that they’re saying all this stuff about my dad. “What are you talking about?”
“The primary rule among descendants choosing to live in the nothos world is they may not use their powers overtly to succeed in that world. The risk of exposure is too great.” Damian’s face is full of sympathy. “Your father used his powers to further his football career. On national television. He knew he would be punished.”
None of this makes sense.
Dad was part god?
I’m part god?
Dad died for football? “Oh honey,” Mom soothes, squeezing me tightly. “As soon as Damian told me I knew you’d be upset. Hell, I was upset. The fact that your father never-”
“Did you just swear?” I asked between threatening tears.
“Did I?” she repeated. “I suppose so. I’m just so mad that in all the years we were married, you father kept this secret from me. That he kept it from you.”
“Wait?” I interrupt. “When Damian told you?” This is deja vu all over again. “How long have you known?”
I’m having flashbacks to the whole you’re-going-to-a-schoolfor-the-relatives-of-Greek-gods thing. A sharp pain starts at the base of my skull and slowly spreads across my entire head. Why do people keep withholding major details of my life from me? Do I seem incapable of handling astonishing news? I would think that by now I’ve proven myself pretty rational in the face of unbelievable information.
I glare at Mom, daring her to lie to me.
“Damian told me his suspicions a few days after we arrived,” she admits. “Until he received a genealogical report on your father a few days ago we weren’t sure.”
“And you didn’t tell me about his ‘suspicions’ earlier-why?”
“Damian wanted to. But I stopped him.” She brushes my hair out of my eyes. “Once I knew what this world would be like, I wanted you to have a chance to find your own home at the school. If you had known-if others had known-you would have been judged solely on your association with Nike.”
“Instead I was judged as the only nothos. As a kako with bad blood.” No. Even as I say this, though, I realize it’s not true.
Sure, at first that’s what happened. But Nicole never thought any less of me for not being godly-in fact, I think she liked me better for being nothos. I may go down in her estimation now. Troy never cared, either. Oh crap, I have to apologize to him. And Griffin… well, he was a little more work. No matter what he thought of me, though, he never called me kako. I smile-Griffin liked me before he even knew it.
Plus, all my hard work paid off. I won the race. Even before the whole glowing incident I was leagues ahead of every last racer from the Academy.
“Wait a second,” I say, realizing something. “Coach, you said I didn’t cheat-that I couldn’t have because my powers were grounded. If that glow was my powers, how is that possible?”
Coach shifts uncomfortably in his chair.
“That was certainly a surprise,” Damian says. “Even with your heritage.”
“From what Damian told me,” Mom says, moving around to hisside of the desk and leaning her hip against his chair, “this is the most exciting part.”
More exciting than the whole I’m-a-descendant-of-Nike thing? “A general grounding of powers is usually sufficient to prevent any adolescent descendant from using them,” Damian explains.
“I didn’t think I’d need to use something more powerful,” Coach mutters.
“I believe the glow we all saw was your powers trying to manifest.”
Damian leans forward and rests his elbows on the desk. “The fact that yours-latent and dormant as they were-managed to appear at all suggests that they are quite potent.”
I stare at him. “How is that possible?”
“Like any other talent, powers strength vary greatly from person to person,” Damian says. “There is a correlation between strength and the concentration of godly blood you carry. In short, the closer your proximity to a deity, the stronger your powers.”
“Which is a complicated way of saying…?”
Mom beams. “That your father was Nike’s grandson.”
It’s a good thing I’m sitting down, because otherwise I think I’d fall over. I’m only one “great” away from a goddess? “Your powers,” Damian says, “have phenomenal potential.”
Coach pumps his fist. “We are so going to win the Mediterranean Cup this year!” When Mom, Damian, and I all glare at him, he hurries to say, “Not that we’d use her powers to win, of course.
Phoebe doesn’t need powers to kick tail on the course.”
Powers? My powers? I have phenomenal powers? Now that is a strange thought.
Yet somehow it makes sense. When I think about how easy running has always come for me, and how sometimes I can almost sense what other people are feeling (not to mention my almost unnatural obsession with Nike shoes) it seems almost logical that I’m descended from the goddess of victory herself. Being here, on Serfopoula, has made these things even more apparent. I dropped my already exceptional running time. I connect with Griffin and-I will never, ever admit this to Mom-I feel even closer to Dad. Maybe it was my godly blood coming home?
Another thought occurs. If I have godly blood then I must be able to zap stuff like everyone else. I know Nicole said you have to learn how to use powers, but I wonder if I can…
As soon as the thought enters my mind I get a tingling feeling in my hands. I look down and they’re glowing.
Mom gasps.
Coach’s jaw drops.
Damian smiles. Until the collection of framed diplomas and stuff hanging on the wall suddenly crash to the floor.
Maybe there’s more to this whole zapping thing than I thought.
“Powers are not something to be toyed with.” Damian waves his hand and the frames all zip back up onto the wall. “You will need to train. Extensively. Other students have had years to learn how to control their powers. If you can tap into yours this easily-and unintentionally-then you must take great care in your thoughts and actions until you have mastered them.”
I hang my head. “Sorry.”
Suddenly, the enormity of what I’ve just learned about myself hits me. I’m part god. I have supernatural powers. Powers I have no idea how to control.
“This is the other reason, besides your being my baby girl…”
Mom gives me a watery smile. “… that I think you need to stay on at the Academy for an additional year.”
She’s right. Who knows what kind of damage I can do? I could probably destroy this entire island without even No, I probably shouldn’t even think that.
“Hey girls,” I say as I walk out of Damian’s office in a daze.
They’re standing in front of the trophy case with the golden apple, and when I speak they jump like they got caught watching the neighbor boy undress. I know this, because that’s just how we looked when we got caught spying on jerky Justin in eighth grade.
“Hi, Phoebes.” Cesca recovers first. “Have a good chat with the stepdad?”
Nola looks guiltily over her shoulder at the apple. I guess Damian is right: that apple is dangerous.
“Um, actually,” I say, knowing the time has come to tell them the truth about the island, “I have some pretty heavy stuff to tell you guys.” Nola still hasn’t looked away from the trophy case, so I suggest, “Why don’t we go out into the courtyard?”
Cesca and I each grab Nola by a shoulder and drag her around the corner and out through the double doors that open onto the courtyard. There is a line of stone benches circling the perimeter, so we head for one of those.
Nola elects to sit on the ground, pretzel-style, and turns her face up to absorb the sun.
Cesca checks the bench for dust. When it passes inspection, she sits and carefully crosses her legs.
I’m too wound up to sit. Instead, I start pacing. “I have something to tell you.”
“Sounds serious,” Nola says.
“Well…” I stalk three steps before spinning around. “It is.”
Nola and Cesca look at each other. Knowing from years of experience that I mean it, they settle in for whatever I have to say.
“Cesca,” I begin. “I don’t know if you told Nola about my IM slip-up-”
“I didn’t.” She looks offended that I would even ask.
“But,” I continue, indicating she shouldn’t interrupt, “I want to explain to both of you the secret of Serfopoula.”
“Aha!” Nola jumps up and points at me. “I knew there was something fishy about this island.”
“Nola, please,” I say.
Cesca smacks her on the leg. “Sit down and let her finish.”
Nola sinks reluctantly back to the ground, but I can tell she’s still gloating. And this time she’s right.
“It’s not a secret military testing ground or a witness protection hideout for the Kennedy conspirators.”
Her lower lip pouts out and I can tell she’s vastly disappointed.
“It is,” I say, drawing it out with a sense of the dramatic, “more mythology than conspiracy.” At their confused looks I continue.
“Serfopoula is protected because the Academy is a private school for the descendants of Greek gods.”
“For the what?” Nola asks.
Cesca uncrosses her legs and leans forward. “Get out.”
“Really,” I say. “Everyone at the school is descended from a Greek god. Even my stepdad.”
I can’t quite bring myself to say it out loud-to say that I’m a descendant, too. It’s not that I’m afraid of how they’ll react-they’re my best friends and they love me-but somehow, saying it makes it undeniable. My freak status in the normal world will be irrevocable.
“Wow,” Cesca says, her voice full of awe.
Nola is silent. She looks like she’s in one of those meditative trances she goes into when she’s deep in yoga. That’s her way of dealing with major shocks.
“That is…” Cesca shakes her head. “… flipping awesome. So, like, these kids are related to Zeus and Apollo and Aphrodite and all of them?”
“Yup.”
“I don’t believe it,” Nola finally says.
“Do they have powers and stuff?” Cesca asks.
“More than you want to know about,” I say, speaking from experience.
“I don’t believe it,” Nola says again.
“Like what?” Cesca asks. “What can they do?”
“Whatever they want, as far as I can tell.”
“I don’t believe it!”
We both stare at Nola, shocked by her vehement outburst. She’s usually so calm and balanced, it’s a major shock when she gets upset.
“Nola, it’s true,” I say.
“That explains it,” Cesca says.
“Explains what?” I ask.
“That glow around you at the end of the race.”
I freeze.
“Come on, Nola,” Cesca says as she pokes the unmoving Nola in the ribs. “You saw that glow. What else could it have been?”
“No,” Nola insists. “I don’t believe it. Nothing you can do or say-”
Nola suddenly floats three feet off the ground before plopping back down on a giant cushion that wasn’t there a few seconds ago.
I’m pretty sure I didn’t do that-wouldn’t know how to even if I wanted to. I look over my shoulder and see Troy standing in the doorway.
He winks.
I owe him one whopper of an apology.
Turning back to the girls, I say, “One second,” before running across the courtyard.
“She looked like she could use a little undeniable proof,” he says as I hurry over to him.
“Oh, Troy,” I say, hoping he’ll forgive me. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have accused you when I didn’t have any proof. I shouldn’t have jumped to accusations at all, no matter what happened-”
“Hey,” he interrupts. “Don’t worry about it. It’s no big deal.”
“It is,” I insist. “Especially since it wasn’t you… it was me.”
He smiles like I’m totally dense. “Well, yeah. I could have told you that weeks ago.”
“You could have-” I shake my head. “How did you know?”
“A guy doesn’t come from a two-thousand-year line of doctors without being able to tell a little about a person’s physiology.”
“Then why didn’t you…?”
He raises his hands in surrender. “I didn’t want to be the messenger. You scare me.” When I act appalled, he adds, “I figured you’d find out in your own time. Besides, I don’t want to be on Petrolas’s bad side. I’m the creative type-I’d never survive detention.”
“You,” I say, leaning forward and giving him a peck on the cheek, “are a rock star in coward’s clothing.”
“Was that supposed to be a compliment?”
“Of course,” I insist.
He waves good-bye and I head back over to my girls.
“Who’s the yumsicle?” Cesca asks.
“That’s Troy,” I say. “He’s just a friend.”
“I suppose,” she says, “with a boy like Griffin around, Troy can be just a friend. Too bad there aren’t boys like that at Pacific Park.”
“If there were boys like that at Pacific Park, Southern California would be in for a world of trouble,” I say with a laugh.
Nola is staring at the ground, muttering silently to herself. If I could read lips I’d probably hear a whole vocabulary I’ve never heard from Nola before.
When she finally manages to speak, all she says is, “Okay. I believe it.”
“I can’t believe you went this long without telling us,” Cesca says.
And I feel horrible about that. “Like I said, it wasn’t my secret to tell. If Mom and Damian hadn’t given me the go-ahead I wouldn’t be telling you now. It kills me to keep secrets from you guys, but I swear this is the only one.” I bite my lip. “Only there’s one last part of it.”
They both look up at me eagerly.
Closing my eyes, I exhale fully. “I just found out… like five minutes ago… that well, I’m…” I suck in a quick breath-better to ripthe bandage off in one quick pull-and blurt, “I’m part-god, too.”
Cesca’s mouth falls open. “Get out!”
“Omigod,” Nola gasps, her eyes bulging wide with shock.
For what feels like hours they stare at me. Great, I’m a freak show. How can I expect to go out into the real world again when even my best friends think I’m a total abnormality?
Finally, Cesca speaks. “Oh, honey,” she says, smiling. “We’ve always known you were a goddess. This just makes it legit.”
Have I mentioned how much I love my best friends? In a heartbeat, they’re both on their feet and we’re in a massive group hug, complete with tears of joy.
“But that’s the last secret, I promise,” I say when I recover the ability to speak. “You know absolutely everything else.”
I step back so I can wipe away my tears.
Cesca gets a weird look on her face as she turns to look at Nola.
Nola looks just as strange. I recognize the looks. Guilt.
“Um, Phoebe,” Cesca begins.
I know something’s up because she sounds hesitant. Cesca is never hesitant.
“There’s something we’ve been meaning to tell you,” Nola says, having found her voice.
“What?” I’m getting scared, they are both acting strange.
Cesca clasps her hands together behind her back. “I know we’ve been planning on going to USC together since, like, forever.”
“But,” Nola says, wrapping an arm around my shoulders, “sometimes plans change.”
“What are you guys talking about?”
“Well…” Cesca looks around me to Nola, then nods. “I’m not going to USC next year. Parsons accepted me early admission. If I want to go into couture fashion I can’t be in L.A.”
Parsons? That’s on the whole other side of the country. “You’re going to school in New York?”
She nods and looks apologetic.
I turn as Nola says, “And I’m going to Berkeley.” She reaches out and tucks a stray lock of hair behind my ear. “It has the best Environmental Sciences program in the country.”
I know they’re right-about studying fashion in New York and environmental science at Berkeley-but I feel like they’ve betrayed me. We’ve been planning this for years now, and all of a sudden they change their minds at the last minute. How is that fair?
But as I look at them-both looking totally guilty for going separate ways-I realize how selfish I’m being. How could I ask them to give up their futures just so we can go to school together? “You know,” I say, putting my arms around them and pulling them back into a big hug, “I think this is great.”
They both look at me like I’ve lost my mind. Maybe I have. But if I’ve learned anything from moving halfway around the world, it’s that a change of plans can be a good thing. Sometimes it can even be a great thing. Right now, I can’t imagine what my life would be like if Mom and I were still in L.A. No Greek gods. No Griffin. No Nicole and Troy. No learning that I’m part-goddess. All those things feel like a natural part of my life now. Who knows what the next set of changes might bring? “We’re best friends, no matter how far apart we are,” I say. “Just because we have to go after life in different directions doesn’t mean we’re not still sisters on the inside.”
When Damian leaves to take Nola and Cesca back to Athens and their plane, Mom goes with him. I go running.
As I lace up my Nikes I stop and stare at that perfect little swish.
For years it’s meant so much to me-a symbol of my running, my passion, and my connection to my dad. Now I know that all those things are part of me that can’t be contained by a scrap of colorful leather.
Quickly knotting my laces, I head out the front door and toward the beach.
As my adrenaline flows, my mind clears and it’s like every moment of my life leading to this moment makes perfect sense. Nike is in my soul. In my blood. And so is my dad. Maybe I feel so close to him when I run because that’s when he’s closest to me-that’s when my Nike genes kick into full gear, and that’s my dad.
I smile and shake my head. I’m a descendant of Nike!
Maybe Mom was right-about not telling me sooner about my heritage. I mean, if I’d been labeled as a Nike I’d have been tossed in with the Ares crowd in a flash. Nicole and Troy and I might never have become friends. They would have been off-limits to me.
And the truce I have with Stella would have been completely fake.
We might not be best friends, but at least I know how to read her bullcrap and that she is genuinely starting to like me-even if it’s against her will.
Reaching the rocky cliffs at the far end of the beach, I sink down into the powder-soft sand. Sure, Griffin and I could have still ended up together since we’d have been in the same clique, but nothing else about my life would be “I figured I’d find you here.”
I look up as Griffin sits down on the sand next to me.
“I was just thinking about you,” I say.
“I would hope so,” he says, smiling, “I’ve been trailing you since you hit the beach.”
“Couldn’t keep up, huh?”
He shrugs. “Thought you needed some time.”
He sits there, arms resting on his knees as he stares out over the water, looking at me with those breathtaking blue eyes. Though he doesn’t say anything, I know he knows.
“Who told you?” I ask.
“About your heritage?” He focuses on the water. “Travatas.”
Suddenly there’s a distance between us, and not the physical kind. Griffin is miles away on the inside and I’m not sure what that means. What if that means there’s some kind of Olympic law against our dating? Maybe Ares’s and Nike’s aren’t allowed to“There was a prophecy,” he says, interrupting my increasingly panicked thoughts.
“A prophecy?” This could be even worse. I remember that prophecy from Oedipus -what if Griffin is supposed to kill me, or, ew, what if we’re related or something.
“Before I was born, my mother visited the oracle and requested a reading.” There’s a hint of sadness in his eyes. My panic vanishes as I realize that he’s thinking about his mom.
“What did the oracle say?”
He smiles sadly and shakes his head. “She told my mother that her son would find his match in a daughter of victory.”
“Oh,” I say. Then, “Ohhh! Wow.”
Daughter of victory. That’s me.
Turning to look at me-a few stray curls falling across his forehead-he says, “Yeah, wow.”
I tuck one of the curls behind his ear. “Well, I am the only one who beat your tail on the racecourse.”
He throws back his head and laughs. “Oh Phoebe,” he says-I still get shivers when he says my name-and hugs me close to his side. “That’s the least of it. You just found out you’re Nike’s greatgranddaughter. You can do-almost-whatever you want in the entire world.”
I close my eyes. It’s the almost that brings sudden tears to my eyes.
All I can think is why did Dad choose football over staying with us? He loved us, I know he did. I have enough memories of him to know that without a doubt. Was football worth more than that?
More than us?
For six years I’ve thought he died in a freak accident, in some bizarre act of nature. That if he had known about it beforehand, he would have never played in that game. If he had only known, he would still be with us.
But now I know he did know. Maybe not that he would be smoted at that particular game, but eventually.
Everything I ever thought about my dad is wrong.
Like I never knew him at all.
Then again, when I’m running I can’t imagine giving that up for anything. I don’t think I would ever cheat, but maybe the temptation of greatness was more powerful than questionable ethics for Dad. Or maybe, like how mine tried to come out during the race, he hadn’t meant to use his powers.
“I didn’t mean to try to cheat,” I say, wanting Griffin to know I would never cheat on purpose. “I know if Coach hadn’t grounded everyone’s powers, mine would have come out, but that’s not me.
That’s not how I-”
“Come on, Phoebe.” He levels an exasperated stare at me. “You’ve just realized you have powers. Of course it’s going to take some training to learn how to control them.” His lips creep into a small smile. “When I first got my powers I was eight. I zapped my nanny to the Amazon.”
“But see…” I turn to face him. “… you’ve had ten years to practice. How can I expect to control them like you-”
“You won’t,” he says, squeezing me closer. “Not at first.”
I shake my head, overwhelmed by the idea of having powers and having to learn to control them.
“For a while-maybe even a long while-they’ll be controlled by your emotions.” He places his hand over mine, lacing our fingers together. “Like today.”
I turn to face him. “That’s what I’m worried about. I didn’t even know what I was doing. What if I-”
“You wouldn’t have been driven to using your powers by the need to prove yourself if I hadn’t let my emotions get the better of me at tryouts.” He looks out at the water, his cheeks red. “I didn’t consciously knot your shoelaces, you know.”
“What do you mean?”
He takes my hand and starts rubbing his thumb in little circles against my palm.
He sighs. “I was so conflicted about my feelings for you-feeling like I should scare you off because I thought you were a nothos and at the same time feeling overwhelmingly attracted to you… to something inside you. Since that first morning on the beach. Even though I knew who-what-you were, I couldn’t stop feeling this way. I just-” His cheeks turn redder. “My powers responded to my emotions and-”
“Sent me tumbling face-first into the dirt?” I say, joking. “Yeah, I remember that part.”
“I’m sorry,” he says, squeezing my hand tighter. “I wish I could go back and-”
“So you’re saying even you can’t fully control your powers?”
With his free hand, he rubs his palm against the knee of his jeans. “It takes a lifetime to have complete control. We all have to work at it.” Looking up at me from beneath his lids, he adds, “The teachers at the Academy can help you learn control faster than you ever could on your own.”
Is he right? Would it be better if I stayed on Serfopoula through next year and learned how to use-I mean control my powers? “Who knows what havoc you might wreak on the poor, unsuspecting citizens of Los Angeles?” He leans over and nudges me with his shoulder. “You’d be endangering the safety of millions of people.”
“Really?” I ask with feigned awe. “Am I that powerful?”
He looks like he wants to lie, but thinks better of it-and a good thing, too, because I’ve had enough lies and half-truths to last me a lifetime.
“No,” he admits. “Probably not. But you could level a house or two.”
“Well, then. For the safety of Los Angeles,” I say in mock severity, leaning into his shoulder, “I should learn to control my powers before I return.”
“So you’re staying?” he asks, his voice full of anticipation.
“Through Level 13?”
“Maybe…” I hedge. “If you’ll teach me one trick.”
“Anything.”
“Teach me how to turn water green.”
He frowns at me. “What have you got planned?”
“Nothing,” I promise innocently. “I just want to help my mom with her wedding color scheme.”
“All right,” he says, laying back and pulling me down next to him. “I’ll teach you on one condition.”
Smiling, I nudge closer until my mouth is inches from his.
“What’s that?”
“You never…” He leans forward to peck a kiss on my cheek. “… ever…” On my other cheek. “… use that trick…” On the tip of my nose. “… on me.”
Instead of answering, I kiss him.
I wonder if he realizes that no answer means no promise. Then he reaches up and cradles my cheek in his hand and I stop wondering anything.
I’m kissing a boy with godly powers and movie-star-worthy looks.
I’m part god myself. I’m surrounded by the turquoise Aegean, and stretched out on the pristine beach of Serfopoula, a tiny island I’m suddenly glad no one has ever even heard of.