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HYDROKINESIS
SOURCE: POSEIDON
The ability to control and move liquids. Density of liquid affects level of control.Water is the easiest liquid to manipulate because, with the exception of dramatically dry environments (ie. Las Vegas, Sahara Desert, Australian Outback), it is always present in the surrounding air.
DYNAMOTHEOS STUDY GUIDE * Stella Petrolas
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I.
Am.
A.
Goddess.
An honest-to-goodness goddess.
With superpowers and everything.
Okay, so I'm just a minor, minor, minor goddess. Technically, I'm supposed to say hematheos,which means godly blood, or part god, but goddess sounds much more impressive (to the like ten people I'm allowed to tell). There's no percentage requirement or anything- all that matters is having a god or goddess somewhere up the line, and my great-grandmother, it turns out, is Nike. The goddess: not the shoe, that makes me a tiny leaf on a narrow branch of the massive and ancient family tree of the gods.
So I can say with only minor hesitation that I, Phoebe Castro, am a goddess. The thing is, I only learned this about myself a few months ago-when my mom married a Greek guy and transplanted me halfway around the world to the tiny island of Serfopoula.
I spent the first seventeen years of my life believing I was a perfectly normal girl from a semifunctional family with a deceased dad and a workaholic mom. Then wham-o,I find out Dad's dead because he disobeyed some supernatural edict and got smoted to Hades and I am, in fact, part of the fully dysfunctional family of Greek gods. Talk about your issues.
Being part goddess comes with some serious perks, though. Namely powers.1 can pretty much do whatever I want whenever I want so long as I don't break any of those aforementioned supernatural edicts. These include, but are not limited to: no bringing people back from the dead (not a problem because, even though I'm dying to see my dad again, I don't actually want to dieto do it. I have a lot to live for-like my fabulous boyfriend Griffin Blake), no traveling through time in either direction, and no using your powers to succeed in the notbos-the normal human-world.
These seem like no big deal, right? Well, they wouldn't be… if I could keep my powers under control. But that is way harder than I ever imagined.
My stepdad, Damian Petrolas-part god himself-says it's going to take time and training. Everyone else at the Academy-the ultra-private school for the descendants of Greek gods where he happens to be the headmaster-has known about their powers almost since birth. They started learning how to use them properly before they could walk. But even they sometimes have trouble keeping their powers under control, like last September when my not-yet-boyfriend Griffin accidentally knotted my Nikes together during cross-country try outs.
Like I said, I've only knownabout these powers for a few months and these things aren't exactly easy to control. Once, I slept through my alarm and tried to zap myself to class before the bell-my first-period teacher, "Ms.Tyrant" Tyrovolas, has a zero-tolerance tardy policy-and wound up crashing a parent-headmaster conference in Damian's office. Can you say detention?
Clearly it's going to take a while to figure this out.
So I could spend more time on my powers training. Damian banned me from running more than five miles a day until school let out (last week, thank Nike!). Even my cross-country coach at the Academy, Coach Lenny, supported the reduced running time. He says I can never race in the Olympics if there's a chance I might accidentally turn my competitors into molasses or something. Only the lure of the Olympics could convince me to cut back on running. That and the fear of accidentally getting myself smoted by the gods. Eternity in the underworld is a pretty big deterrent.
All the time I used to spend on cross-country I had to spend on learning to control my powers. Not that all the extra training helped much. Countless after-school sessions and weekend lessons-with Damian, Griffin, my friends Nicole Matios and Troy Travatas, various Academy teachers, or, on days when the Fates were feeling vengeful, my evil stepsister, Stella-and I'm still a menace. No matter how many times I close my eyes and concentrate on moving the book across the table, sensing my instructor du jour's thoughts, or manifesting an apple from thin air, it inevitably backfires. Hideously.
Sure, with Griffin's help I figured out how to turn Stella's hair green for Mom and Damian's wedding, but my attempt at zapping myself some new Nikes ended very, very badly. Let's just say I like my toes and I'm thankful every day that I have all ten of them.
Now it's summer break and I still have only limited control.
I'm back to my regular running schedule, training for the Pythian Games trials, which are just two weeks away, and wondering whether my next powers screwup will be the one that lands me in Hades.
Some days I wish I'd never learned the truth. Life would be so much less complicated if Mom had never met Damian. Right now, I'd be back in LA. with Nola and Cesca, enjoying my last summer before college by spending hours on the beach. Maybe finally learning how to surf from some hottie surfer boy who would totally fall in love with Nola and-
"Phoebe!"
I shudder at the sound of Damian's voice echoing through the house. He sounds really, really, reallyupset.
"Yes?" I answer as sweetly as possible from the relative safety of my bedroom. Not that walls hinder his ability to read minds-or sense fear.
I watch the door nervously. I know it's a bad sign when I see water streaming under the crack, flowing into the grout lines between each tile and pooling in the depressions of the age-worn ceramic surfaces.
"Trust me," Damian says from the other side of my door, "you do not wish to make me open this door myself."
I leap up from my desk chair and, neatly avoiding the rivulets lacing across my floor, pull open the door. "Damian, I'm-"
My mouth drops open and my apology sticks in my throat.
Normally impeccably-dressed-in-a-suit-and-tie Damian is standing there wearing board shorts, Birkenstocks, and a shark's-tooth necklace. Oh, and he's soakingwet.
"Omigods, Damian," I blurt, staring instantly at the floor-I do not need to see my stepdad's bare chest, thank you very much. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to um…" I wave my hand up and down in his direction, still averting my eyes. "Sorry, sorry, sorry. I was just thinking about how much I miss LA. and that I've never learned how to surf and now that school's out I could go if 1 didn't have the Pythian trials and my stupid powers weren't-"
Damian holds up his hand and takes a deep, deepbreath. He lets it out super slow, with a little bit of a growl from the back of his throat. And then he takes another. And another.
I've really done it this time. I mean, the palm tree in the living room had been bad enough, but he is clearly beyond furious at the moment.
Instinctively I inch back a step… right into a growing puddle. The sloshing sound of me smacking into the water breaks his deep breathing.
"I am not angry with you," he says, carefully enunciating each word. "Truly."
I'm not convinced.
He runs a hand through his wet hair, sending a fresh spray of water droplets everywhere.
"Oh for Hera's sake," he mutters. For a second I'm nearly blinded by a bright glow, and when I open my eyes again, Damian is back to his dry, fully clothed self. The puddles are still there. "Let us speak in my office, shall we?"
I hang my head and follow Damian through the house. Why do these things keep happening to me? I mean, you'd think after all these months I'd have improved a little. At least enough so that things wouldn't go haywire when I'm just randomly thinking about completely non-powers-related stuff.
"Please," Damian gestures at a chair in front of his desk. "Have a seat."
Sinking into the soft leather-hard-core-hippie Nola would have a field day with the cruel and unnecessary use of animal hide-I try to clear my mind of all thoughts. It's thinking that gets me into trouble. If I could go the rest of my life without thinking, then-
"I know you are using your powers neither carelessly nor intentionally," Damian says as he lowers into his chair. "But in the several months since your powers first manifested, your control has not improved. In fact"-he pinches the bridge of his nose like the idea of my uncontrolled powers gives him a headache-"it may have gotten worse."
Worse? My heart sinks. I've been spending hours upon hours working on controlling my powers. All right, some of those hours-okay, manyof those hours-were spent with Griffin. And maybe we don't alwaysspend every second on my training, but hey, a girl can't focus on work all the time when in the presence of such a god. Can she?
"I don't blame you, Phoebe. We both know that, since you are the third generation removed from Nike, your powers are stronger than most. It is not surprising that you are having difficulty controlling them." He smiles kindly and my stomach kind of clenches.
I don't need pity… I need help.
"I don't know what else to do," I say, trying not to whine. I am so not a whiner. "I'm sorry. I've been working hard. Maybe I just need a little more time."
"Unfortunately," he says, "we have little time left."
Little time left?What is that supposed to mean? No one ever said anything about a time limit. No learn-to-use-your-powers-by-summer-or-else speech. Suddenly I have an image of myself, chained to the wall in the school dungeon-not that they have one, but this is my nightmare and I can be as creative as I want-being tempted by cheesy, yummy bougattaI'm not allowed to eat until I learn to-
"Phoebe." Damian says, interrupting my fantasy of torture and bringing my attention back to his desk-which is, I realize with sad resignation, now covered in the cheesy pastry treat. Damian waves his hand over the bougatta,erasing it as quickly as it came, and says, "Please, try to restrain your rampant imagination. No one is going to torture you for your lack of control."
"Sorry," I say for like the millionth time. I don't mean it any less, but it's starting to feel like the only thing I know how to say.
I shake off the self-pity. Feeling sorry for myself is not going to solve the problem.
Damian leans forward, resting his elbows on his pastry-free desk. "I was hoping this would not be an issue. That you would harness your powers in your own time without intervention from the gods, but-"
"Whoa!" I jump forward to the edge of my seat and wave my hands in front of me. "The gods?"
Damian smiles tightly and tugs at the knot in his tie.
Oh no.In the nine months since Mom and I moved in, I've learned that an uncomfortable Damian is never a good sign.
"Since we discovered your heritage, the gods have been closely monitoring your dynamotheosprogress."
"My dyno-what?"
"Dynamotbeos,"he repeats. "The official term for the powers derived from the gods. They've been observing you-"
"Observing me?" My teeth clench. "Like how?"
I imagine the sneaky gods spying on me in the shower or the locker room or when I'm "studying" with Griffin.
"Circumspectly, I assure you."
I am not assured.
Damian shuffles papers on his desk. "In any event, they are… ab-hem…. concerned about your progress."
Not the ab-hem.I have a feeling I'm in big trouble.
"The gods have decreed that you must… ab-hem… pass a test of their design before the upcoming summer solstice."
"And what exactlydoes this test entail?'" I ask, already fearing the answer. Whenever Damian breaks into ah-hemsand nervous shuffling, it always spells bad news for me.
My introduction to this nervous Damian was last year when he told me the Greek gods-you know, Zeus, Hermes, Aphrodite… those gods-were real, not myth. So there's probably something major-and majorly unpleasant-coming my way.
"I couldn't say, exactly. In my time as headmaster, they have only demanded such a test from one other student." His mouth tightens a little around the edges. "It will be designed with your personal strengths and weaknesses in mind. I can tell you, however, that it will put your powers-and your control of your powers-to the ultimate test. That is why I would like to accelerate your training."
"Why?" I shift nervously in my seat. "When exactly is summer solstice?"
"The precise date is… ah-hem… the twenty-first." He readjusts his tie. Again. "Of June."
"The twenty-first of June?" I leap out of my chair and start pacing. "That's only…" I count down on my fingers. "Sixteen days away."
"The gods do not prize patience as a great virtue."
"You think?" I ask, pulling out my best sarcasm.
I am not even pacified by the fact that he looks embarrassed.
He should be embarrassed. Even if this isn't his fault.
Why does this stuff happen to me? I mean, I barely make it through what should have been my skate-through senior year with a B average. Now, after deciding to stick around an extra year to work on my powers-and to spend another year with the previously mentioned amazing boyfriend, Griffin-I find out I have to pass a test that proves I know how to control my powers first. Talk about a contradiction.
"What happens if I fail?" I ask. "Do I have to repeat Level 12, or what?"
"You will not fail," he says, way too eagerly. "You have my word."
"Okay," I agree. "But what if I do?"
"If you do?" More paper shuffling. "You will be placed in a kind of… remedial program."
There is something more he's not saying, I can tell. I've learned to read him pretty well since he became my stepdad. But, at this point, I'm not prepared to dwell. I have an extreme imagination for coming up with all kinds of crazy punishment scenarios, but in this world-the world of myths and gods and dynamotheos powers- sometimes even my worst fears pale in comparison. Prometheus getting his liver pecked out daily by a giant eagle comes to mind. I don't want to know what he's not telling me.
"I will not allow you to fail," he says again.
"How exactly are you going to make sure I don't? Do you have some kind of magical get-out-of-Hades-free card?" I pace back and forth in front of his desk. "You and Mom are leaving in the morning for your honeymoon. You can't exactly work with me from Thailand, can you?"
"Of course not," he answers smoothly. "I have already arranged for an alternative training program."
I silently hope this means even more private lessons from Griffin, but I know I'm not that lucky. And Damian's not that considerate of my love life.
"No, not private lessons," he says, proving again that he can read minds. "I have enrolled you in Dynamotheos Development Camp. You begin in the morning."
"Now I have to pass this mysterious test before summer solstice or I'll get held back a year." I flop back next to Nicole on my bed, staring at the white plaster ceiling while my feet dangle off the edge. "Or locked in the school dungeon or chained to a mountainside-"
"You're being melodramatic," Nicole interrupts. "No one's been chained to a mountain in centuries. And those rumors about the torture devices in the dungeon are completely fabricated."
At my panicked look, she relents. "I'm teasing." She grabs a pillow and smacks me over the stomach. "Lighten up, will ya?"
I try to relax with a deep breath and a heavy sigh. It doesn't work.
Nicole is so much better at the whole go-with-the-flow, leave-your-worries-behind thing. Me? I'm like a poster child for stressing about stuff you can't control.
I don't know what I'd do if she weren't staying on Serfopoula for the summer. Of course, she stays on Serfopoula every summer-it's one of the contingencies for allowing her back on the island to attend the Academy after her parents were banished by the gods. She can't leave until she graduates.
That sucks for her, but I'm glad she's here.
"Does Petrolas have a plan to boost your training?"
"Yeah, I sigh, wishing I was a little more spiky-blonde-haired extremist girl, instead of long-brown-ponytailed worry girl. "He's sending me to Dynamotheos Development Camp for the next two weeks."
"Goddess Boot Camp?" she gasps. "Seriously?"
Goddess Boot Camp?My stomach knots at the thought of a military-style training program. Multi-mile marches at dawn. Rope climbs in the rain, instructors standing on my back while I do a million push-ups. A far cry from the cross-country and wilderness camps I've experienced.
"Is there something wrong with that?"
"No." Nicole starts laughing uncontrollably, practically rolling off my bed. "Nothing"-laugh, laugh, laugh-"wrong"- laugh, laugh, laugh-"with that."
"What?" I demand, shoving her shoulder so she doesroll off the bed. "I'm going to be turned into a goat, aren't I? How can I train for the Pythian trials with four legs?"
I follow her off the bed and start pacing.
The Pythian Games are a huge deal. Apparently, the Olympics weren't always the only games in town. When the last ancient Olympics were held in the year 393, the Pythian Games became restricted to hematheos competitors and went underground. They've been held every four years-except during World Wars I and II-since forever.
Griffin and I were invited by the coach of the Cycladian team-who also happens to be Coach Lenny-to try out for this summer's games.
We're supposed to start training today. In fact-I check my watch-he's supposed to be here any second.
"Relax." Nicole says as she pulls herself off the floor. "It's not so much scary as…" She smiles. "Embarassing."
"Great. That's just what I need." I flop into the giant squishy chair Mom and Damian bought for my birthday, sinking into the turquoise velvet softness. "Another reason for everyone to make fun of me."
Being the new girl at a school full of descendants of the gods is no cakewalk. You'd think once I found out I was a descendant, too, they would let up. But no. Most of them still treat me like a total outsider. An interloper who can't control her powers. An intruder. Especially after I "stole" Griffin-as if you can steal someone who doesn't want to be stolen-away from cheer queen Adara Spencer. And don't think she has ever let me forget it. When we had to give our final speeches in Oral Communications two weeks ago, she made every word I said come out in pig latin.
Partly, Damian says, it's that I'm closer to Nike than most of them are to their gods. They're jealous, he says. Right. And jerky Justin dumped me because I was too good for him.
"Don't worry," Nicole says, trying to be reassuring after laughing herself into hysterics. "Maybe no one will find out you're in boot camp."
"Really?" I ask, hopeful even if she's just trying to make me feel better.
"Sure." She takes a seat an my bed. "Usually it's just a couple of upper-class counselors, a faculty director, and about a dozen, um, campers."
My racing heart calms down. A little.
"Okay." I say, breathing a sigh of relief. "That should be okay. Maybe the counselors will be friendlies."
Not that there are many. Besides Nicole, our good friend Troy Griffin, and a couple of my cross-country teammates, there aren't many kids at the Academy I could call friendly, let alone friends.
With my luck, they'll be a couple of Adara's groupies who can't wait to expose my embarrassment to the world. It's not like I can do anything to make them like me since I didn't do anything to make them hate me in the first place. My existence is reason enough for them.
Besides, the truth is I am a little freaked out about controlling my powers, especially considering how my dad died. I haven't worked out all the details yet, but he used his powers to improve his football career… and wound up smoted by the gods. I don't think I'll ever know exactly what happened. The gods frown on the misuse of powers in the notbos world and they could just as easily smote me for using them accidentally.
Controlling my powers is a good thing, and I'm looking forward to the day when I can zap myself a Gatorade without worrying that I'll wind up wrestling an alligator.
"Who knows?" I say. "Going to Goddess Boot Camp could be fun."
"Goddess Boot Camp?" Griffin asks as he walks into my room.
"Hi!" I jump up and wrap my arms around his neck. Since school let out Wednesday, he's been in Athens with his aunt Lili, picking up an espresso machine for the bakery. 1 know it's only been four days, but seeing him again-all tall, lean, and dark, curly-haired dreamy-makes me shivery happy all over.
Especially when he's wearing track pants. Call me a running geek, but I love a guy in training gear.
He hugs me back and whispers in my ear. "I missed you, kardia tis tardias mou."
And I love it when he calls me his heart of hearts. Leaning back, I give him a soft kiss. We've been going out for almost nine months, but I still can't get over kissing him. My real-life hero.
"Let me just lace up." I say, releasing him and going for my sneakers under the bed. "and I'll be ready to go."
"Hey, Nic." he says softly.
She gives him a little smile. "Hi Griff."
"You doing all right?" he asks.
"Always, jockhead."
She means that affectionately. I think.
Besides, all the descendants of Ares are jockheads. But there's more to him. She doesn't know he's a heroic descendant of Hercules, too. No one does.
I take a seat on my bright yellow rug and pull on my Nikes. Even though Griffin and Nicole worked through their major problems last fall-they had been best friends when they were little, until their parents got punished for something the kids did-they're still a little awkward around each other. They both like me, though, and they have some serious history behind them. I have faith.
"What were you saying about Goddess Boot Camp?" Griffin asks as I tie my laces into bows. "Why are you going?"
"Damian's making me." I let out a rough breath, "He's afraid I won't be able to pass the test."
"What test?"
"The one the gods are making her take." Nicole explains.
Griffin scowls, his dark eyebrows scrunching together over his bright blue eyes in an adorably concerned way. "I was afraid something like this would happen. What with your powers still so unpredictable-"
"Hey!" I smack him on the thigh. "It's not for lack of trying."
"I know." he says, reaching down and pulling me to my feet. "It's not your fault. Not with such late-onset powers."
"And the fact that you're only three steps down from Nike." Nicole adds. "They're stronger than most."
I feel a little better. I mean, most of the kids at the Academy are several generations or more removed from their ancestor god. The closer your branch is to the trunk of the tree, the stronger the powers. Mine are colossal strong. Which makes them colossal hard to control.
Clearly, the gods aren't taking that into account.
"Sorry. I didn't mean to snap." Sometimes I open my mouth and my emotions spill out before I can check them. "It's not your fault I'm a complete failure at the whole powers thing."
"You're not a failure," Griffin insists. "Just… inexperienced. Like training for the Pythian Games. Even though you already know how to run, you still need to train hard and in a different way for the marathon-length race than you do for cross-country. Right?"
"Of course."
"You just have to keep pushing yourself harder, further, until it becomes as natural as what you're used to."
One of the reasons I adore Griffin so much is his ability to speak my language. Runner-ese.
"What do you think will happen if I fail the test?" I ask. "Damian wasn't exactly forthcoming about the consequences."
Griffin shakes his head. "I don't know. Has anyone else ever taken a test like this?"
"There arc rumors." Nicole says. "No one's ever proven them."
"Damian told me there has been one other student tested since he became headmaster. But he didn't tell me who it was or what happened-"
Nicole snorts.
We all know Damian's big on secrecy. The man makes the CIA look like a gabfest. He is Mr. Need-to-know. As in, students never need to know.
I close my eyes. It's either that or give in to the despair. Of course I'm one of only two hematheosin recent history forced to take a powers test-and likely to fail that test. Life would be too good if I weren't about to be made a horrible outcast. I mean moreof a horrible outcast. It's bad enough I'm already the girl who didn't know about her powers-and the entire hematheosworld-until she was seventeen, and the girl who is so close to Nike she makes the other kids nervous and resentful. Now I'll be the girl strung up on the rack for the next seven or so centuries.
Rather than focus on something I don't have control over at the moment-exactly my problem, by the way-I focus on something I can control. Running.
"I can't think about this anymore right now," I announce. I ask Griffin. "Are you ready to run?"
"Of course." He flashes me a brilliant grin.
Turning to Nicole. I offer. "You're welcome to join us."
"No thanks." She climbs off the bed and grabs her messenger bag from the floor. "I'm allergic to exercise."
"So I've noticed." I tease. She and Troy have that in common.
"I was thinking we could run the north shore today," Griffin says. Then to Nicole, "You could walk with us as far as the village." He dips his head a little and lowers his voice. "If you're heading that way."
My fears of smoting and embarrassment and being turned into a goat are instantly gone. I'm so proud of Griffin for making inroads with Nicole. They'll be back to best friends in no time.
"Thanks." she says. "But I'm heading to the library for a little extracurricular research."
Or maybe their friendship will take a little more time to heal back to pre-incident levels. I'm not concerned. They've gone from mortal enemies to friendlies in under a year. It will all be behind them by the time we graduate.
"We can walk with you to the school." I say, snagging an elastic off my dresser and pulling my hair into a ponytail. "Since it's on the way to the village."
As we head through the living room. I hear Damian's voice coming from the master bedroom. "We will be gone for less than two weeks, Valerie," he says. "Is it really necessary to take three suitcases?"
"I've never been to Thailand before." she replies. "I'm not sure what to pack. Besides…" Her voice takes on a kind of purring tone. "We only have onehoneymoon and I want to make it special."
Mom and Damian have been married for months now, but their lovey-dovey talk is still going strong. An image of what exactly my mom is packing in those three suitcases is about to pop into my mind. It has lace and sequins and-I shudder-feathers.
"Let's go," I say, grabbing Griffin and Nicole by the arms and hurrying them out the door. "With any luck, they'll be done packing when I get home."
As Griffin and I round a rocky outcropping on Serfopoula's north-shore beach, I'm thinking about Dad. That's not so unusual. I think about Dad a lot when I run. Lately, though-ever since I found out I was a descendant of the goddess of victory and exactly how Dad died-my thoughts have been a little different.
Before I found out, running usually brought back memories of training with him. Of running on Santa Monica beach in the early-morning hours and getting ice cream when we were done. Of him shouting encouragements: "Feel the victory inside you. Phoebester." (Yeah, victory has a completely different meaning now.)
Since finding out, running makes me think about how he died.
About how, even though he knew there would be consequences for using his powers, he loved football so much he was willing to risk it. To risk us."
I still can't believe he loved football more than me and Mom.
"How we doing?" Griffin asks, pulling me out of my thoughts.
I shake my head back into the moment.
"That's our halfway mark for today." I point at a low-hanging tamarisk tree at the edge of the beach.
"What's our time?"
Lifting my wrist. I check my watch. It reads 1:42 PM. Not good
"Crap." How could I be so stupid? "I forgot to start the stopwatch."
"No problem." He flashes me a quick smile. "We can start logging our pace tomorrow. Today can be a warm-up."
"I don't know what's wrong with me," I say, matching his strides with every step. It's not like me to mess up a training session like this. "Every time I get to the starting line lately, it's like my brain goes to mush."
"You're worried about your powers," he says as we reach the tree and turn to run back the way we came. "Understandable."
"Yeah," I agree, although he's only half right. "I know."
I am worried about my powers… but not for the stupid test. Whatever consequences I'll have to face if I fail the test are pudding play compared to smoting. That's irreversible.
"You'll pass," he insists. "Just like you made the cross-country team last year. Just like you got your B average. Just like you master everything you go after with your whole heart."
"This isn't exactly the same." It's not at all the same. "I can't pass this test by running faster or studying harder."
"You'll find a way."
"But what if I-" Aargh. I'm tired of worrying about this. "Forget it. Let's just focus on the running, okay?"
He's silent for a long time and I think he's going to let it go. Which is what I want. Right? Except something inside me is willing him not to forget it. Then he asks, "What's really bothering you, Phoebes?"
Nothing, I-"
"It's your dad, isnt it?"
My shoulders tense. I haven't really talked about this with anyone since I found out. Not even Mom. She seems just as willing to keep the topic buried as I am. But maybe I need to talk about this. About him.
Finally, after what feels like hours of tension, I say, "Yeah. Kind of."
"Tell me."
As our sneakers push into the pristine sand, I try to form the sentence. Try to figure out how to express what I'm feeling. How can I tell him that I'm terrified every second that I'll cross some invisible line and pay the ultimate price for my mistake? Everything I come up with sounds wrong, childish. Like a scared little girl.
"I-" I want to tell him. Really I do. I want to bare my soul and have him tell me everything will be all right and I won't get smoted to Hades if I screw up. But what if? What if he can't reassure me?
What if he can't make a promise he knows he can't keep? I don't think I can face a confirmation of my fears. "I can't."
"That's okay." His voice is soft and quiet, like our footfalls in the sand. "I'm here when you're ready."
And just like that, with one little promise, I feel a million times better. Knowing he's there for me makes the fears fade into the background. Even if it's only for a little while.
Thanks. I don't have to say the words out loud for him to know.
"So," he says, in a cheerful let's-get-past-this-dark-moment tone. "Tell me more about our training schedule."
I flash him a quick smile, thankful for the distraction. Knowing my luck, the more I worry about the whole smoting thing, the more likely I am to accidentally smote myself.
"It's a tiered program." I explain, launching into the more comfortable topic. "We build up our mental and physical stamina on an accelerated schedule, increasing the workout a little each day. By the time race day is here, 26.2 miles will feel like no big thing."
Because the long-distance race in the Pythian Games is marathon length-and the trials are just two weeks away-we have to train hard and build our endurance quickly. Griffin has never run anything longer than a cross-country race, and even though I've run in marathons before, I've never raceda marathon. Running to finish and running to win are two totally different things.
Per Pythian Games rules, Coach Lenny can't actually train us until after the trials, but he helped me develop this training strategy. If we don't make the cut, he's promised to make our lives miserable when cross-country season starts up in the fall.
"Sounds good."
I'm glad Griffin and I are going through this together. Even though I've been running all my life, the idea of actually racingthose 26.2 miles is a little scary. That's like running a race from downtown LA. to Malibu. It feels less intimidating knowing he's by my side.
"Wanna stop by the bakery on our way back?" he asks. "Aunt Lili made some loukoumadesshe wants you to try."
"Mmm" I say, my mouth watering at the thought of the decadent little doughnut balls. "I think your aunt is trying to fatten me up."
Griffin's aunt is a descendant of Hestia and, true to her goddess-of-the-hearth heritage, operates an amazing bakery in the village. She makes more varieties of bread every day than most people have ever even heard of. Walking into the store is like walking into a fresh-baked dream.
Lately I've been her favorite taste tester.
"She's just relieved that you eat." he explains. "Adara wouldn't even go near the bakery in case the carbs could seep into her body by osmosis or something."
1 fall silent
Adara is still a dangerous subject. Not only has she not forgiven me for "stealing" her boyfriend-go figure-but Griffin is still friends with her. I'm not jealous or anything, I just don't understand how he can actually like her. She's never been anything but an evil harpy to me.
Griffin, clearly unaware of my mood swing, says. "Aunt Lili is excited that our nutrition plan requires lots of carbs. She thinks that means we'll be in there to taste-test every day."
"Hmm," I grunt noncommittally.
"I didn't have the heart to tell her we need complex carbs, like pasta and potatoes." He sounds completely unconcerned by my silence. "Breads, maybe. If she uses whole grains. But sugars and sweets are not exactly ideal training fuel."
When Coach Lenny asked us to try out for the Pythian Games, we agreed to divide up the training prep work. I'm in charge of physical training sessions-running, weight training, stuff like that. Griffin is in charge of our nutritional program. Which is probably a good thing, because I have a major weakness for things like Aunt Lili's treats, the occasional Twinkie shared with Nicole, and-the worst weakness of all-ice cream. I'd eat ice cream at every meal if I could.
It's definitely a good thing Griffin's the diet dictator.
More silence as we both fall into a contented run.
My mind drifts back to the Adara comment. I realize I'm being hypersensitive about the whole ex-girlfriend thing. I mean, I'm not jealous. Really. He's totally, one hundred percent into me. And the fact that he's still friends with his on-again-off-again girlfriend of like five years is not completely surprising. They have a history.
That doesn't mean I have to like it.
"You'll pass the test," Griffin says as we get within sight of the village.
I sigh. It's better to let him think I'm stressing about the test than confess that I'm really dwelling on his relationship with his ex.
"I know," I say, trying to sound convincing.
"I mean it." he says, slowing our pace to a light jog. "If anyone can learn to control insanely strong powers in the next two weeks, you can. You can do anything."
I love that he's my strongest supporter, my own personal Phoebe cheerleader. He sounds totally certain that I'll succeed… but I'm not.
"Listen," he says, pulling me to a stop as we reach the outer edge of the village. "Think about how much you've accomplished in the last few months. A weaker girl would have collapsed under the pressure of starting over at a new school populated with descendants of the gods. Not you. You thrived and proved to every last one of us that you deserve to be here. And you do."
His blue eyes are practically glowing with sincerity. My own feel a little damp. My only pre-Griffin experience with a boyfriend was jerky Justin Mars-a total sleaze who treated me like dirt and dumped me for an easy squeeze when I wouldn't put out. Having a boyfriend so fully and totally supportive is an experience I'm still getting used to.
"All you have to do is take all the energy you focused on winning that race last fall"-he reaches up and wipes at the tear that escaped down my cheek-"and focus it on controlling your powers. No problem."
I give him a watery smile. I am so not a girl who cries. And it's not what he's saying that makes me weepy, but the way he's saying it. Like he believes I'm capable of conquering the world. He believes in me. Unconditionally.
My heart thuds. I've never felt more supported, more confident, more-his eves glance over my shoulder and focus on something behind me-forgotten?
"Hey, Adara," he says, smiling. "We were just heading for the bakery. Wanna come?"
I turn just in time to see her scoff.
"No. Thanks." Her vapid blue eyes rake over me in an especially-not-if-she's-here way. "I'm meeting Stella at the bookstore. We have plans to discuss."
"No problem," Griffin says.
As much as I can't stand Adara, I can't stand the way she just shot Griffin down even more. He's nothing but nice to her and does not deserve to be dismissed like that.
Still, I'm going to let it go. She's nothing to me-as inconsequential as air. Except for the occasional run-in like this, I won't have to see her all summer.
But then, as I step around her to pass by, she whispers. 'You don't deserve him, kako."
Oh. No. She. Didn't.
I whip back around.
"Too bad you can't join us," I say, in a totally fake voice. "Want us to save you some loukoumades?"I glance pointedly at her hips with a pseudo-sympathetic look. "Better not."
I give her an equally fake smile and then saunter off down the street, taking Griffin by the hand and pulling him with me.
"You didn't have to do that, Phoebe."
"Do what?" I should feel better for putting her in her place-after all, she's the one who dismissed Griff and called me "bad blood." But instead I just feel… wrong.
"Be so mean to her." He looks disappointed.
"Why not?" I snap, taking my hand away from his. His disappointment only reinforces the empty feeling in my gut. "She's always mean to me."
"Because it's beneath you, and…" His voice takes on that serious, descendant-of-Hercules hero tone. For a second, it seems like he's going to tell me something earth-shattering. Then he says. "You need to look beneath the surface."
That clears everything up. I know exactly what lies beneath Adara's shallow, superficial surface-a shallow, superficial inside. I'm still standing there, confused, as he heads off into the village.
I definitely have the feeling that I just failed some kind of test.
Great, another test I didn't know I was taking.