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NEOFACTION
SOURCE: HEPHAESTUS
The ability to create an object out of nothing. Knowledge and understanding of the makeup of desired object is necessary for an accurate manifestation. Attempts to create new or unknown objects may yield surprising and/or dangerous results.
DYNAMOTHEOS STUDY GUIDE * Stella Petrolas
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"AUNT LILI SENT THESE for you." I show Mom the bag from the bakery.
Mom is standing at the foot of her bed, staring at the three open-and beyond full-suitcases and ticking things off on her fingers. She looks totally zoned out. She's a bit of an obsessive-compulsive when it comes to packing-which is exactly why I was hoping she'd be done when I got home.
"1 don't think I have enough bras." she says, giving one of the suitcases a despairing look.
Since they're going to be gone for under two weeks, I'm guessing she has… twelve. And will end up packing fifteen. Just in case.
"One more," she says. As she digs a bra out of her dresser-I turn away bceause I don't want to see anything lacy or sequin-y or feathery-she adds, "Ten should be just enough."
"I'm impressed," I say, making my way to the head of the bed and carefully avoiding the suitcases as I flop back across the pillows. "I expected you to take a dozen."
She spins quickly toward me. "Doyou think I need more?"
"No!" I backpedal. "Of course n-"
"You're right." She heads back to the dresser. "Two more. Just in case."
I could groan in frustration, but: (a) I've been through this whole packing enterprise dozens of times before: (b) I'm too exhausted from the training run: and (c) I'm still dwelling on Griffin. I mean, how can he not see that palling around with his ex-girlfriend might be undesirable to his currentgirlfriend?
"What is that?" Mom asks, pointing at the brown paper bag sitting on my stomach. "Do I need to pack it? Where will it go?"
"Relax, Mom," I say, handing her the bag without sitting up. I knew she hadn't heard me. "It's goodies from the bakery. You and Damian can eat them tonight. Or in the morning." I close my eyes and sigh. "Or never."
The bed shifts as Mom sits next to my head.
"What's wrong. Phoebola?"
Her hand smoothes a stray lock of hair across my forehead and behind my ear. Eyes firmly shut, I slowly shake my head. If I talk about it, then therapist Mom might make an appearance. And the last thing I need right now is a shrunken head.
"Nothing." I force a smile as I open my eyes. "Just a hard run today."
"Ooh, your first training session for the trials. How did it go?" Mom asks, proving she really has been paying attention to something other than honeymoon plans. "You're not overworking yourself, are you?"
"We did a beach run," I say, not answering the "Mom" question-like there's such a thing as overworking when it comes to running? "We're increasing gradually, but on an accelerated scale. Don't want to wear out our sneakers." I force a little laugh.
"That reminds me." She gets off the bed and crosses the room. "I almost forgot our running shoes."
While she tries to shove two pairs of Nikes-as if anyone in my family could own anything else-into an overstuffed bag, I go over to her vanity and sit on the little upholstered stool. The table is bigger and older than the one she had in L.A., but it's covered with the same collection of bottles and potions. Pulling the little stand mirror over in front of me, I check out my face. It's not a bad face. My skin is pretty clean and it's got kind of an athletic glow. Decent lashes and-my best feature-nice brown eyes. Puckering my lips, I wonder what I would look like in full face paint. I am not much of a makeup girl, but sometimes I envy those cover-model types. Those Adara types.
I push the mirror away and instead grab one of Mom's perfumes. I love the shapes of all the bottles, but this one is my favorite. The bottle is this long teardrop shape with a gold neck and a crystal ball on top. Dad gave it to her the day before he died.
Pulling off the crystal ball, I spritz a little on my left wrist.
The heavy scent of orchid and plum fills the air around me. Taking a deep inhale, I'm immediately filled with memories of Dad. His smile. His wink. His dirt- and grass-stained football jersey. Him waving to us from the grass-green-perfect turf of Qualcomm Stadium.
It's amazing how a scent memory can make seven years ago feel like yesterday.
As I rub my wrists together. I ask. "Do you still miss him?"
In the vanity mirror I see Mom freeze.
I didn't mean to ask the question. We haven't talked about him since finding out he and I are descendants of Nike. Since finding out he died for football.
I should have kept my mouth shut. Talking about Griffin and Adara would be better than this edgy silence.
"Of course 1 miss him." Mom finally says, "Every minute of every day."
She walks up behind me and puts her hands on my shoulders.
"Just because he's gone doesn't mean he isn't still with us."
Her voice is so quiet and full of emotion I regret saying anything. She doesn't need me making her cry the day before her honeymoon. And I don't need another reason to cry today.
"I know." I force a bright smile. "Running makes me think of him."
That's one of the reasons I love running so much.
"He's with you all the time." She presses a kiss into the top of my head. "Not just when you run."
Great. More tears. Today has been a roller coaster, and I am so not used to being that girl. I've never felt as emotional as I do right now.
"I just- " My throat tightens, but I make myself say the words that have been churning inside for nine long months. The question I'm afraid to ask, but that just won't stay locked away anymore. "W-why did he do it?"
Her arms squeeze around my shoulders. I cover them with my own and squeeze back. For several long seconds we just hold each other, not moving, not saying a word. Like she's absorbing my pain, and I'm taking hers. We haven't shared such an intense moment since the day he died.
"I can't answer that, baby." Her voice sounds small and quiet and a little lost. "No one can."
Sometimes I forget Mom is going through this, too.
Great, now I feef like a selfish cow on top of everything else. The last thing Mom needs is my emotional mess the night before her honeymoon. She deserves her happiness with Damian.
I straighten up and pat Mom gently, signaling my return to my senses. She gives me one more squeeze before releasing me and turns back to her suitcases. I quickly wipe at the residual tears.
"So, are you all packed?" I ask, spinning on the stool.
She looks nervously at the bed. "I think so."
"Great," I say, hopping to my feet. "Let's zip these up so we can go eat Aunt Lili's loukoumades."
As we close up the suitcases I try to keep my mind from drifting back to Dad. Or Griffin. Or anything else that might call back the tear patrol. Between Griffin and Adara and Dad and the powers test, it's a wonder I can go five minutes without breaking down.
"All done." I say, pulling the last zipper tight.
Mom frowns. "Maybe I need another pair of sandals."
"You'll be fine." I promise. "Besides. If you take everything you need, how will you justify buying even more when you get there?"
"1 never thought of it that way." Mom looks at me, a huge smile on her face. "When did you get so devious?"
"Well. I have been hanging out with a bunch of gods." I say. "Maybe it's rubbing off."
"Come on," she says, giving me a teasing nudge toward the door. "Let's go see if we can sneak some ice cream past Hesper to go with the loukeumades."
"Uh-oh," I say, leading the way. "I think you're having delusional fantasies again."
She just laughs and follows me to the kitchen. The day we can sneak anythingpast Hesper is the day Dad knocks on the front door.
After being shooed out of the kitchen-not only without ice cream, but also without our loukoumades,which Hesper confiscated to serve with dessert (for a housekeeper, she's got skills that would make an army general proud)-Mom and I join Damian in the dining room.
"Phoebe," he says as I take my seat at the ancient table, "here is the information you need for tomorrow."
I take the pale blue paper from him. It looks like one of those back-to-school shopping lists you get from an office-supply store. What am I? In kindergarten? Do I need to be sure to bring crayons and safety scissors?
"What's tomorrow?" Mom asks.
"Goddess Boot Camp," I say absently, reading the introductory note.
Welcome campers!
Dynamotheos Development Camp (colloquially known as Goddess Boot Camp) is a life-changing experience that's also lots of fun. In the next two weeks, you will learn how to harness and control your powers and you will also bond with your fellowhematheos campers. We hope you will come away with not only a firm grip on your powers, but also firm friendships with the other girls.
"What is Goddess Boot Camp?" Mom asks.
"Dynamotheos Development Camp," Damian explains. "A training intensive for students who have not yet mastered control over their powers."
"And you think Phoebe needs this camp?"
Where has Mom been the last few months? I mean, I know she's been wrapped up in honeymoon planning and the idea of starting a part-time therapy practice in the village, but she can't have missed allof my powers-related disasters. Especially not the one that involved her bedroom turning into a Roman bath for a day and a half.
Next on the paper is a supplies checklist.
All campers will need to bring the following items:
comfortable athletic clothing
Not a problem since that's pretty much all I own.
spiral notebook
writing utensil (pen or pencil only, no markers or crayons)
positive attitude
I roll my eyes. A positive attitude?What is this, cheer camp? And what's up with the no-crayons thing? Is that really a problem? I don't think I've even seen a crayon since elementary school.
"Her control has not progressed as quickly as I'd hoped," Damian says. "I think she will benefit from the intense training of the camp."
"What do you think, Phoebola?" Mom asks.
I look up, startled. It's been so long since someone actually asked me my opinion on something that affects my own life that I'm not sure how to answer.
"Um…" I say, buying time to come up with a response. "I think Damian's right. I'm a danger to society. My lack of control pretty much sucks. Unless you like waking up to a bedroom snowstorm."
That taught me a lesson about wishing for air-conditioning. An island breeze through an open window will do just fine.
"That was certainly a chilly surprise." Mom says. "It wasn't dangerous, though. None of your… mishaps have caused lasting harm."
"Not yet," I agree. "But what about the next time? Or the time after that? Or the time after that? If I don't get my powers under control. there's always the chance someone might get hurt."
And I might get smoted for it.
"If you think that's what you need." Mom says, though she still looks worried. "I don't want you to spend the whole summer working. You need to have fun, too."
"I will," I promise. "I can focus on fun and the Pythian Games as soon as I pass the stupid test."
"What test?" She looks at Damian. "What test?"
Jeez, didn't Damian tell Mom anything about this? He can explain while I finish reading the flyer.
On tbe first day of camp we will meet in the Academy courtyard at 10a.m. Camp will dismiss at 4 p.m. Lunch will be provided. Extra-camp tutorials will be scheduled at counselor discretion for campers needing additional or personalized help. Counselors will wait witb campers needing to be picked up on the front steps.
Needing to be picked up? Some of the other campers must be pretty bad off if they can't even go home without an escort. I must not be in as bad shape as I thought.
"The gods are concerned by Phoebe's lack of control." Damian says in his headmaster tone. They have decided she must pass a test before she can continue her studies."
"What kind of test?" Mom asks.
"I am not certain." Damian clears his throat. "In my only prior experience with such a situation, the gods placed the student in a situation designed to push his restraint to the limit."
"And what happens if she duesn't pass this test?"
I look up when Mom asks this because I want to know the answer, too. Surely he won't be quite as evasive with her.
He doesn't get the chance.
"Evening, everyone," Stella singsongs as she flounces into the room. She drops her giant pink purse-the Pepto color makes me want to retch- on the buffet table and slides into her seat across from me.
"You're late, " Damian says, giving her a stern look. He's good at stern looks, a talent I enjoy more when they're directed at Stella than at me.
"Dara and I were going over a few last-minute details for tomorrow." She flashes him her best I-can-do-no-wrong smile. "You wouldn't want us to be unprepared, would you?"
Before he can answer-though I know he would totally say, "Of course not"-Hesper sweeps into the room with a tray full of food.
'Mmmm.,it smells wonderful," Stella says, "Psaria plaki?"
Hesper just hums in agreement as she sets plates down for each of us. Arranged on the oval plate is a colorful bed of chopped vegetables-bright orange carrots, lime-green leeks, and warm yellow potatoes-under a whole fish. And by wholefish, I mean the wbo-o-olefish. Eyes, gills, and tail included.
1 suppress a shudder and wonder if moving the carrots and potatoes around on the plate will make it look like I ate the fish. From the skeptical look the fish is giving me, I doubt it.
As lHesper leaves with the empty tray, Damian asks.,"I trust you girls will manage all right on your own while we are gone?"
We've been going over this in a dozen different ways ever since they booked the trip back in January. It's not like Stella and I aren't adults. Stella's going to be at Oxford in the fall, and if I hadn't decided to stick around for Level 13, I'd be halfway to USC. I can even vote in the next election by absentee ballot. Not that I can convince Mom and Damian. They seem to think we're still in junior high and totally incapable of surviving sans chaperone without either killing ourselves or each other.
So little trust.
"Of course, Daddy. We'll be fine." Stella looks at me. "I'll keep my eye on Phoebe."
"What is that supposed to mean?" I ask, stabbing at a carrot.
Stella just smiles and shrugs.
I scowl.
This is how our uneasy truce works. She makes obnoxious remarks like that-it's who she is. Queen of the cutting comments. Sometimes I let them slide. Sometimes I'm itching for a fight.
After the day I've had, my tolerance meter is on zero.
Focusing on one of the big fat kalamata olives on her plate, I picture a big ugly beetle. I know I can do this. I'm visualizing the olive turning into the beetle. I can see it. It's going to-
The hair on the back of my neck stands up.
As I stare at the olive, suddenly little black legs that look like licorice laces pop out on each side and start to wiggle around. All right, so the legs aren't even long enough to reach the plate. But still, it's a success. I wanted the olive to become a beetle and it (kinda) did.
My powers control is definitely improving.
At least I didn't conjure up real beetles or anything-
"Phoebe!" Damian roars.
I tear my eyes away from my success on Stella's plate.
Crawling up Damian's tie-and along his collar and out of his shirt pocket and over his cuff links-are real, live beetles.
"Good heavens." Mom gasps.
Damian closes his eyes, his jaw clenched in clear loss of patience.
Not again. "Here, let me-"
"No." Damian interrupts. "I'll take care of them."
He glows for a second and then the beetles are gone.
Why can't I have that kind of easy control? I mean, I know he's had a lifetime to learn, but just a little taste of containment would be nice.
"Damian, I'm sorry," I say, giving him my best apologetic look. "I shouldn't have tried to use my powers at the dinner table."
"No, you should not have." He releases a heavy sigh. When he opens his eyes, he smiles and picks up his fork. "Let's continue our meal, shall we?"
I glare at Stella, as if this is all her fault.
On the outside, she's all composure and highlights and happy, preppy chic. But her gray eyes are full of smug. Like my reaction- my botched powers usage-is exactly what she wanted. I think she enjoys our not-quite-sisterly sparring sessions as much as I do.
Sometimes I think it's more habit with us than actual dislike. Secretly- and I would never admit this under torture or threats of smoting or promises of ice cream-I actually kind of admire her. She never pretends to be anything but herself. Can't say that about most people.
She grabs an olive-the legs now hanging limp-and says, "I think it's lucky for all of us that you're going to boot camp. Mealtime will be safe again."
She pops the olive in her mouth and I'm only partly satisfied by the disgusted look on her face. The rest of me is still disappointed that my success turned to failure so quickly.
As much as Stella's snarky comment about boot camp bugs me, I know that controlling my powers is really important.
I'm tired of being a supernatural hazard.
After dinner, I retreat to my room and my laptop. I call up my IM chat and am relieved to find Nola and Cesca online. If anyone can cheer me up it's my two best friends.
LostPhoebe: hi girls!
PrincessCesea: Phoebe!
GranolaGrrl: we've been waiting for you forever
LostPhoebe: what's up?
PrincessCesea: we have exciting news
PrincessCesca: I got a summer internship with A La Mode magazine
PrincessCesca: in PARIS!!
LostPhoebe: omg Paris?!? awesome
PrincessCesca: tell me about it
LostPhoebe: when does it start?
PrincessCesca: the end of the month
LostPhoebe: maybe I can visit you
Paris is only a three-and-a-half hour flight from Athens, and Athens is only a three-hour ferry ride from Serifus-the next island over. I bet once I pass the test I can sneak away for a quiek visit. Of course that implies that I pass the test and don't end up hanging from some medieval torture device in the dungeon. With all my other distractions, that's nowhere near a sure thing.
For now, though, I'm just excited for Cesca. I know how much she loves Paris and fashion. This is perfect for her.
LostPhoebe: thats so awesome C!
PrincessCesca: thanks
PrincessCesca: I'm beyond excited
LostPhoebe: what's your news N?
GranolaGrrl: I might get a summer research grant from Berkeley
LostPhoebe: cool, what are you going to research?
GranolaGrrl: native cycladian flora
LostPhoebe: English please?
GranolaGrrl: the flowers of Serfopoula
LostPhoebe: OMG! does that mean you'd be coming here?
GranolaGrrl: yes!
GranolaGrrl: *if* I get the grant
I haven't seen Nola and Cesca since Mom and Damian's wedding last December. There was talk of me spending part of the summer with Yia Yia Minta in LA, or maybe visiting Aunt Megan in San Francisco, but when the Pythian Games trials came up, those plans got put on hold. If Griffin and I make the team, then we'll be training all summer for the games in late August. This is a once-every-four-years opportunity, so I can't just toss it aside.
But if Cesca is as close as Paris and Nola comes to Serfopoula itself, then it won't matter if I can't get to Cali.
LostPhoebe: when do you find out?
GranolaGrrl: who knows?
GranolaGrrl: whenever the grant committee comes back from summer hiatus
LostPhoebe: you guys do not know how much you just made my day
GranolaGrrl: something wrong?
LostPhoebe: no, just a tough day
LostPhoebe: so much better now
GranolaGrrl: gotta go
GranolaGrrl: mom calling
PrincessCesea: me too
PrincessCesca: Tons of packing to do
LostPhoebe: night girls
LostPhoebe: so glad you're heading my way
When I sign off my computer i feel a million times better. It's amazing what a difference a little chat can make.
As I fall into bed, I'm not even thinking about tomorrow. Or about Griffin and Adara. Or the stupid test. Or Dad. Or accidental smoting. In my mind it's already weeks from now and my two best friends are here.
Now, if only actual time would fly that fast.
"Rise and shine, camper."
Through the fog of sleep I hear a disgustingly cheerful voice. Stella's disgustingly cheerful voice. I must be having a nightmare. In real life Stella is never cheerful. Condescending? Yes. Obnoxious? Absolutely. Just. Not. Cheerful.
"Come on. Phoebekins." the voice says. "You need to get up and see Dad and Valerie off. And you don't want to be late for camp."
I'm blinded as my comforter is jerked away and my eyes are exposed to the morning sunlight streaming in my window. Squinting, I force one eye open.
"What are you doing in my room?" I grumble.
"Waking you up, silly." She takes me by the wrist and pulls me into a sitting position. "They're leaving in ten minutes."
The instant she releases my wrist I fall back into my fluffy white bed.
But my eyes are open.
As she walks away I eye her warily. It's not like Stella to be so sickeningly enthusiastic. She's more the scowl-of-superiority type. But today, everything about her screams joyfulness. From her sunny yellow twinset to her bright white Keds.
Wait. Stella doesn't wear sneakers. Not even the casual preppy kind.
Something is definitely suspicious.
"Are you up. Phoebola?" Mom asks, poking her head in my door. "You know we're leaving in-"
"I'm up already." I say, flinging my comforter to the side.
"Is Phoebe awake?" Damian asks, walking up next to Mom. When he sees me climbing out of bed he adds. "Good, your mother and I are about to depart."
"I know." I rub the sleep out of my eyes as I stumble across the room. "Just give me two minutes in the bathroom."
I squeeze around Mom and Damian and then past Stella, who is waiting in the hall. When did my room become Union Station? Thankfully I sleep in a modest T-shirt and smiley-face boxers.
In the bathroom I quickly splash cold water on my face and run a hairbrush through my hair. I don't have the energy to pull it into a ponytail, so I just leave it hanging over my shoulders. I can always secure it later.
When I open the bathroom door, all three of them are standing there waiting for me.
"For the love of Nike," I say, exasperated. "Would you two bon voyage already so 1 can go back to waking up in peace?"
Mom gives me a ha-ha-very-funny look. What were they thinking leaving at eight in the morning, anyway? Thailand will still be there in the afternoon.
I shuffle into my room, closing the door before any of them can follow me. Thirty seconds later I've traded my boxers for sweats and have pulled on my All Stars so I can see them off.
In a bizarre little parade, we all traipse down to the dock. Zenos, the yacht captain, is carrying two of Mom's megasuitcases and Damian is carrying the other. I'm struggling with Mom's carry-on- which I suspect has at least a week's worth of clothes. Mom is walking hand in hand with Hesper, who is way more like family than staff. Stella is carrying-yep, you guessed it-nothing. How does she always manage to get out of these things? She's like the Houdini of grunt work. Makes Tom Sawyer look like an amateur slacker.
As Damian and Zenos load the suitcases, Mom faces me and Stella.
"Now you're sure you girls will be all right?" she asks, again.
I'm tempted to employ sarcasm, but the fear that she might actually take it seriously makes me say. "Of course, Mom."
"Really. Valerie." Stella adds. "I have everything under control."
I drop Mom's carry-on on Stella's Keds-clad foot.
"Because we can cancel the trip," Mom says. And I know from the supersad look in her eyes, she'd do it, too. She wouldn't want to- she's been dreaming of this trip for months-but she would.
I scoot the carry-on off of Stella's foot.
"Seriously, we'll be fine," I say, giving her my best I'll-behave-like-an-adult sincerity. "Stella and I can get along for a few days." I don't look at Stella because I don't think I can hold a straight face. "I'll be busy training and going to camp."
"If you're sure…" Mom's eyes get all watery.
"Besides, we're on an island protected by the gods," I say, throwing my arms out wide. "What could possibly go wrong?"
know, I know. Whenever someone says that in movies, something goes terribly wrong. But seriously, this is the island of the gods-they even have the souvenir T-shirts to prove it. There are supernatural safeguards.
"Don't work too hard." she insists, pulling me into a hug.
"I won't."
"Don't spend all your time worrying about the test."
"I won't."
"1 wish this was something I could help you with, she sniffs. "I feel so powerless and-"
"I know, Mom." I lean back and give her my best seriously-I'm-an-adult-and-I'm-totally-fine look. "Really, I have to figure it out on my own."
Hopefully with a little help from Goddess Boot Camp.
"The yacht is ready,Valerie," Damian says. "We must depart or we will miss the ferry in Serifos."
Mom's tears start to fall. "I'll call you every day, she says, squeezing me one last time.
"You will not, I insist. "This is your honeymoon. Enjoy it. Don't spend all your time worrying about me."
When she releases me,she quickly wipes away her tears. Stella steps forward and gives her a quick hug.
"I'll take care of your girl, Valerie." she promises.
Okay. I am seriously getting tired of Stella's patronizing comments. Like I'm some kind of little kid who needs to be watched over. She's months-not years-older. But I am not about to try for revenge with Mom and Damian standing right there. If I mess up- or maybe I should say whenI mess up-they'll cancel their trip in a second. And then I'd feel really, really guilty.
"Go, I say, shooing Mom toward the boat.
With one last little hug, she hurries to join Damian. Zenos unties the yacht from the dock and takes his place at the wheel. As they pull away, Stella and I stand there waving-perfectly fake smiles pasted on both our faces. Hesper steps to the end of the dock, pulls a white handkerchief from her dress, and starts waving it at the retreating yacht.
"Don't worry," I shout as they escape hearing distance. "If I have to kill Stella, I'll bury her body in the rose garden."
Not that we have a rose garden.
I brace myself for Stella to zap me into the water. When she doesn't, I sneak a peek from the corner of my eye. She's still smiling and waving.
There is definitely something wrong with her.
"Are you feeling all right?" I ask nervously.
"Wonderful, she says, never taking her eyes off the yacht.
"Why are you being so-"
"You'd better hurry, she interrupts, turning abruptly to give me a brilliant smile. "Wouldn't want to be late for the first day of camp."
She turns and walks away and I'm left staring after her, totally confused.
"The house will feel so empty." Hesper says sadly, still waving her white hankie.
"If you want, I offer, "I could conjure up a houseguest or two."
"No, she chides with a cluck. "You girls will keep me busy enough. Besides, she says, giving me a sly look, "with your luck the entire Greek navy would appear at our door."
"Hesper," I gasp.
"Run along, girl," She motions me up the path to the house. "Your camp will hold more surprises than you can imagine."
As I climb the path, I think Hesper must be exaggerating. I mean, it's just a summer camp. How surprising can it be?