WHEN COACH LENNY crosses the finish line, I am sitting in the dirt, trying to unknot my sneakers without success. After trying to unravel the knot for nearly half an hour, it hasn’t budged a millimeter. Either I’m going to have to cut the laces or buy new Nikes.
“What happened?” he asks, slowing to a stop at my shoeless feet.
I shrug. “I tripped.”
“Tripped?” he asks between panting breaths. He starts pacing around me in little circles. “So you just give up?”
“What do you want me to do?” I shout, flinging my hopelessly joined sneakers into the woods. “I’m just a plain old, non-godrelated person. I can’t keep up.”
Even if I could, no one would let me. Except for my mom-and maybe Damian-nobody wants me on this stupid island. I wish I could go home. Only I don’t have a home to go home to. At this point, a year with Yia Yia Minta-with her stinky goat cheese, chain smoking, and spitting on everything for good luck-would be a blessing.
Coach Lenny squats in front of me. He stares into my eyes, like he’s trying to see all the way into my brain. Heck, he’s part-god.
Maybe he can.
The sounds of footsteps and heavy breathing coming from the course indicate the first group of racers. Griffin, of course, is in the lead. I wonder if he cheated against everybody else, too.
Coach Lenny looks from me to Griffin and back again. His lips firm into a tight line. I can see the muscles in his jaw clenching.
“Did he use his powers against you?” Coach Lenny pronounces every word very carefully. He sounds really angry.
Griffin, walking around the starting area with his hands on his waist, looks at me like a puppy caught peeing on the rug. Nicole and Troy said the whole powers thing is strictly controlled and that using them against someone else is a big no-no. Like when Stella zapped my backpack.
I bet sabotaging my race is worth more than a week of grounded powers.
His fate is in my hands.
I smile at Griffin, majorly satisfied to see his ears turn red. I don’t know if he’s embarrassed for being such a jerk or afraid that I’m going to rat on him, but I like both options equally.
Either I turn him in and get revenge for his jerkiness this afternoon, or I cover for him and then he owes me one. Big time.
“Oh no,” I say with a wide, innocent grin, batting my eyelashes for effect, “Griffin would never do something so underhanded, would he?”
I’m not fully sure why I don’t squeal. Maybe I like the idea of being one up on him. Or maybe I think the whole thing isn’t worth the trouble. Or maybe-and this is a terrifying possibility after what he’s done to me-I still want him to like me.
Or at least the him that I met that morning on the beach.
The him he’s showing this afternoon can go take a leap.
Griffin exhales loud enough for me to hear, like he’s beyond relieved that I didn’t rat on him.
A few more runners cross the finish line. Griffin congratulates them as they arrive, and then they pat him on the back for coming in first. They might dismiss his red cheeks and ears as a result of running, but I know he’s embarrassed. He knows he won unfairly.
Coach Lenny eyes me suspiciously. I’m a horrible liar and he can probably tell I am covering for Griffin. But he apparently decides to let this one slide and walks away.
Now it sinks in that I am going to have to walk all the way back to Damian’s house-across the whole campus and a very rocky hillside-in my socks.
I glare at Griffin, bent over the water fountain and showing off his cute butt-I mean his rotten backside. Well, I am not going into the woods sock-footed after a pair of shoes when it’s his fault I threw them in there.
Jumping to my feet, I stomp across the starting area as best as I can without shoes and tap him on the shoulder.
“Get my shoes back,” I demand.
He jerks up and spins around, like he’s shocked that I have the nerve to talk to him. “Excuse me?” he asks, like I’m the one being rude.
Only I can’t really remember what I was asking him because his lips are all glossy and wet from the drinking fountain.
“I, um…” I swallow hard, hoping that will clear my brain. “Shoes.
They’re… in the woods.”
I wave my hand back over my shoulder in the general direction that my shoes had gone. Then, while my eyes are locked on his lips, his tongue darts out to catch an extra drop of water at the corner of his mouth. I sort of shudder all over and I think it’s with only the biggest display of willpower that I don’t whimper.
His mouth kicks up at one side in that cocky grin.
Like he knows just what kind of thoughts I’m having.
That shakes me out of it.
I drag my eyes away from his lips and focus on his eyes-his bright blue, hypnotic…
“My shoes,” I say as forcefully as possible. “I tossed them in the woods. Get them back.”
“Why would you throw your-”
“Because I couldn’t get them unknotted, thank you very much.”
“Oh,” he mouths, scowling. As if he hadn’t realized I couldn’t untie his supernatural knot.
Then, before I can blink, he holds out his hand to the woods and then my shoes are there-laces unknotted and tied into neat little bows. He holds them out to me and, as soon as I take them, turns and walks away.
I stare after him, confused.
I feel like I’ve missed something again, like I should thank him for undoing the rotten thing he did in the first place. Like he’s pushing me away and pulling me in at the same time.
And I thought girls were supposed to be the complicated ones.
Forcing myself to forget Griffin and his contradictions, I slip back into my shoes and start for Damian’s house. No point hanging around to hear I didn’t make the team. Great! There goes USC.
There goes the one thing I could count on to keep me going on this stupid island. There goes my life for the next year-and beyond.
“Wait a minute, Castro,” Coach Lenny calls out. “We have a meeting in the locker room to announce the team roster.”
Yeah, right. Does he think I enjoy humiliation? I didn’t even finish the race-not that it was my fault or anything, but quitting is quitting. Oh well. Since I have to stop by school anyway to pick up my homework, I might as well sit in on the announcement. With Griffin coming in first, I’m sure there’s no way he’s not on the team, but maybe I’ll get the satisfaction of seeing Adara get cut.
The locker room is deafening loud with everyone talking at once.
The coaches are locked away in Coach Z’s office, making their decisions and everything.
Even surrounded by sixty kids I feel completely alone.
No one is talking to me, but plenty are talking about me. And staring at me. And pointing at me. And laughing at me.
Rather than sit there and take it, I go get a drink from the water fountain. A nice, long drink. I don’t think I’ve ever drunk so much at once-except for the time I ran the Death Valley Marathon. Being waterlogged is definitely more appealing than sitting around being stared at like a talking dog.
When I can’t drink any more, I glance around the hallway while wiping at my mouth. A little ways down I see a display case and wonder what this one holds. More Olympic medals? More artifacts from the first marathon?
No, just a big collage of pictures of last year’s track team.
A bunch of guys in blue running shorts dumping a cooler full of ice on Coach Lenny’s head. A group of girls posing around Coach Z. Adara and Griffin kissing on the starting line.
Gag me.
I’ve had enough. I’m not going to stand around and wait to hear how I suck and I should never run again and“She didn’t even finish the race,” a deep male voice says.
Looking around I don’t see anyone in the hall.
“Because Blake used his powers on her,” a voice that sounds like Coach Lenny says.
The voices are coming from a slightly ajar door. It’s wrong and sneaky and all those things, but I tiptoe up to the door and listen.
They are talking about me, after all. I think I have a right to hear.
“If he did,” the first voice-I think it is Coach Z-says, “then we will have to ground his powers.”
“I can’t prove it,” Coach Lenny responds, sounding exasperated.
“She wouldn’t admit what he had done. She’s protecting him.”
I knew he hadn’t believed me.
“That doesn’t change the fact that she didn’t complete the race.
How do we know what she can do on a course-”
“She kept up with me during warm-up, damn it!”
Wow, Coach Lenny sounds really upset. Maybe he doesn’t like the idea that a normal girl could run as fast as him. Man, these descendants sure are a bunch of egotistical freaks.
“I was going to keep it at a slower pace,” Coach Lenny explains, “so I didn’t wear her out. But she kept up. So I pushed harder. And she kept up. By the end I was almost running full out and still she kept up. She was barely winded when we stopped. The girl has phenomenal talent, powers or not.”
Wait a minute. He actually sounds impressed.
“Really?”
They both sound impressed.
“Petrolas said she might surprise us, but I’m not sure, Lenny,”
Coach Z says. “We still don’t know what she will do under the pressure of competition.”
I almost reveal my presence by shouting, I live for competition!
But I don’t think getting in the middle of this conversation is going to help my cause.
“Z, if you’re not convinced then give her a trial slot on the team.
Let her show us what she can really do in a race when no one zaps her laces together.”
There is a long, painful silence. I can picture Coach Z sitting there thinking, rubbing his big potbelly while he decides whether or not I’m worth a shot.
I am holding my breath. If he doesn’t answer soon I’ll probably pass out, and then they’ll find me in a heap outside their door.
“All right,” he finally says and I suck in oxygen. “She can train with the team and she’ll run in our first meet. If she doesn’t place in the top three then she’s out. That fair?”
Fair? Insanely! Because even though everyone else may have godly powers, I haven’t placed lower than second in… well, ever.
“Great,” Coach Lenny says, sounding very happy. “Let’s go announce the team.”
I turn and take off at a dead run for the locker room. I am just taking my place in the back corner of the room when the coaches walk in. It is a major struggle not to break into a massive grin. Adara glares at me from across the room, but I can’t even muster a scowl.
“Everyone, may I have your attention, please.” Coach Z thumps his clipboard against his leg until everybody quiets down and looks at him. “The team roster will be as follows…”
As he starts to read off names by event, I glance at Coach Lenny.
He is looking at me with a proud smile on his face. I give him a beaming smile. I can’t help it, even if it gives away my eavesdropping.
He smiles back. Then he cups a hand over his ear like someone listening at a door and winks at me.
I laugh out loud. Man, you can’t get away with anything at this school.
“How was your first day?” Mom asks as I fly into the house and let my backpack drop on the floor with a thud.
She is sitting at the dining table with magazines spread out in front of her. They are all wedding magazines. She has months to plan, so I don’t know why she’s obsessing.
“Long,” I answer before heading to the kitchen for my traditional after workout snack: Gatorade and a PowerBar.
Only we don’t have either.
“Oh, I forgot to tell you,” Mom says. “Hesper goes to the market on Serifos once a week. She’ll get what you need on Friday.”
Closing my eyes, I wonder what she’ll forget to tell me next? First, the whole immortal thing. Now, the once-a-week grocery shopping thing. Maybe next I’ll find out Alexander the Great is coming back to life and bringing his army to dinner.
“Whatever.”
I slam the refrigerator door shut and head back to the living room to grab my backpack. What I need right now is a refuge from life. I really wish there was a lock on my bedroom door.
“What were your classes like?” she asks. “Do you like your teachers?”
“They’re okay.”
“What about the students? Did you make any friends?”
“A couple.”
“What god do they belong to?” Her voice takes on that professional analyst tone. “Damian tried to describe the social dynamics of the school, but I’d like to hear your-”
“Just drop it, okay? I’ve got a ton of work to do.” I want to stomp off to my room, but my thirst gets the better of me. I drop my backpack and go get a glass of water-from the tap. Is bottled water too much to ask for? “Honey, I know this is a lot to face all at once.”
“I’m fine. So there’s no Gatorade. I’ll dehydrate like a normal person, all right.”
She looks a little hurt, but that was pretty much what I was going for. Everything about this situation is great for her and crappy for me.
“Do you think-” she starts to say, but then stops.
I fling my backpack over my shoulder and head for my room. I can sense Mom trailing behind me, but I’m happy to ignore her.
Unzipping my bag, I start setting the massive textbooks out on my bed. I think I have more homework tonight than I had in my entire three years at Pacific Park.
“Damian told me the cross-country tryouts were today,” Mom says from the doorway. “How’d they go?”
I shrug. “I made the team.”
“That’s wonderful. I never doubted you would.” She falls silent.
“Look, Mom.” I carry my Algebra II textbook to my desk and drop it on the smooth wood surface. “I have a ton of homework to do, so…”
“Oh.” She looks around and sees all my books on the bed. “Of course, I’ll just leave you alone to get to work. I’ll let you know when dinner’s ready.”
“Fine,” I say. And then, because I feel a little guilty for being so mean, I add, “Thanks.”
One hour and thirty quadratic equations later, my eyes are blurry from staring at so many numbers. I think I can solve for x in my sleep now. The house is oddly silent-the Stella monster must be out somewhere and I haven’t heard Damian come home. I haven’t even heard Mom moving around.
Emerging from my room for a glass of water, I see Mom still hunched over the magazines on the dining table.
“Hi, Phoebola.” She smiles as I approach.
“Hi.” I smile back.
Somehow, this feels more like the old us. Maybe because no one else is home, but I feel like we’re back in L.A. and giggling over fashion magazines again.
Spurred by sentimentality, I slide into the chair next to her.
“Whatcha looking at?”
She groans. “Bridesmaid dresses. There are so many styles and colors to choose from I don’t even know where to start.”
“Well,” I say, studying the pictures laid out in front of her of skinny models in brightly colored shiny gowns, “maybe you should pick your wedding colors first. Then you can just pick a style you like.”
“What an inspired idea.” She pulls out some papers with scraps of color stapled to them. “Here are some of my color choices. What do you think?”
She looks at me all serious. I know that in the great big scheme of things choosing wedding colors is not an awe-inspiring responsibility, but the fact that Mom is seriously asking my opinion makes me feel really important.
I think she has almost every color in the world on these sheets, but they are grouped into a few coordinating palettes. One has a horrid pea green that wouldn’t look good on anyone-not even Adara. I shove that one aside. Some have different shades of orange and yellow that seem more Halloween-y than wedding-y. I put those aside with the pea green. That leaves two choices: one with three shades of pink that my mom would never be caught within spitting distance of and one with three shades of blue and a teal green.
“This one,” I say, pointing to the blue and green palette. “Everyone looks good in light blue. And it goes with the whole Mediterranean setting.”
Mom studies the colors, like she’s picturing the whole wedding and adding touches of blue and teal everywhere.
“I like it,” Mom says, smiling and warming up to the choice. “And blue and white are the colors of Greece. It seems only fitting since I will soon become a Greek citizen.”
“What!” My jaw drops and I stare at her. “You’re becoming a Greek?”
“Of course,” she says with that happy-mushy smile on her face.
“Damian cannot leave the Academy. His job and his life are here.
And here he is protected. In America, he would always be vulnerable to discovery.”
“But you can’t just un-become American,” I insist.
Okay, so my problem isn’t really that she wants to renounce her American citizenship. If she becomes a citizen of Greece then that makes this whole thing so much more real. Like she can’t ever turn back. Like I can’t turn back.
“What about me?” I ask.
“Damian and I love each other. We are going to make a life together and that can only happen here.” She takes the discarded color schemes and drops them in the wastebasket in the kitchen.
“That doesn’t mean that you’re not a major part of that life, even when you choose to return to the States. You are my daughter. My love. My everything. That will never change. But don’t you think I deserve a little happiness after all these years?”
We were happy. In California.
Mom had her practice and Aunt Megan and Yia Yia Minta.
I had Nola and Cesca and a track team full of friends.
Everything was great. So why did we have to move all the way around the world just for a guy? “Besides,” she says, her voice all wistful. “I like Greece. It makes me feel closer to your father to be in his homeland.”
“Homeland?” I ask, shocked. “Dad was from Detroit. Motown is his homeland.”
“His family is Greek. In his heart he was always Greek.”
“That’s creepy.” I stand up and start pacing. “You marry this new guy and move to Greece to be closer to your dead husband?”
She gasps as I say it. I know that was pretty harsh, but it’s the truth.
“Phoebe,” she begins, and I know she’s serious because she uses my real name, “what your father and I had was very special.
Nothing-not his death, not my remarriage-will ever change that.
Damian understands.”
Well, I don’t understand. Mom may think it’s fine to snag a new husband, but I don’t need a new father. And being in Greece will never make me feel closer to the one I had.
Sure, I’ve been thinking more about Dad since we got to Serfopoula than I have in ages, but that’s because of the stepdad thing.
Mom is probably going through the new husband thing. It’s displaced guilt or something because she feels bad for remarrying.
That’s her baggage.
Dad was perfect and now he’s gone. I can’t get him back and don’t want to replace him.
“Fine.” I stalk into the kitchen, wiping at the tears I don’t want Mom to see, and refill my glass of water. “You stay here and become Greek. I’ll send you a postcard from USC when I graduate.”
With a satisfying slam, I shut myself in my bedroom and fling myself on the bed. I can picture Mom watching me storm away, shrugging at my infantile behavior, and going back to planning her wedding.
It’s like I don’t even matter anymore.
Rolling to the edge of the bed, I reach over to the desk to grab my Physics II book. If it’s like everything else at this school myeight homework problems are going to turn into a major scientific treatise.
When Mom knocks on my door to call me to dinner I ignore her.
The last thing I want is to face another meal of goo-goo eyes and green sea slugs-even though Stella’s powers are grounded, I don’t put it past her to bring real ones this time. Besides, I still have half a book to read for Ms. T.
My door swings open. “Phoebe, dinner is-”
“Mom!” I shout, jumping off my bed. “You can’t just barge into my room. Don’t I get any privacy?”
“I’m sorry. When you didn’t answer I-”
“Look, I don’t want dinner. I’m not hungry.” Actually, I’m starving, but I would rather go hungry until lunch tomorrow than have a family dinner. “I have a lot of work to do, so just leave me alone.”
The hurt in her green eyes makes my heart ache. Not enough to take back what I said, though.
I’m surprised she’s not shouting right back at me.
“All right,” she says softly. “I understand your need for distance.
I’ll ask Hesper to leave a plate of leftovers in the fridge.”
I shrug, like I’m not interested. Like I’m not already plotting to sneak out and consume that plate after everyone’s in bed. “Whatever.”
Her sad smile says she already knows what I’ll do.
Without another word, she turns and walks away.
Animal Farm in hand, I collapse on the bed.
All animals are equal, but some animals are more equal than others.
Sounds like my life.
Maybe this book won’t be so bad, after all.
Two hours and forty-seven pages later I’m still twenty pages from being done with my reading assignment.
I can’t face another page of Animal Farm without a break, so I head to Damian’s office to check e-mail. He’s there, bent over a stack of papers. It’s a really big stack and I wonder if he has to get through the whole thing tonight.
He sure seems to be busy all the time.
I’m not sure if I should interrupt, so I hover in the doorway. He looks up and smiles.
“Good evening, Phoebe.” He pushes his papers aside and smiles at me. “How is the homework coming?”
“All done,” I say cheerfully.
Okay, so I still need to read another twenty pages of Animal Farm and choose a painting from the Art History book to study for the semester, but everything else is finished.
“Please,” he says, gesturing to the computer, “feel free to check your e-mail. But be sure and leave enough time to finish your reading.”
How did he know? Either I’m that transparent or he can read minds.
“I don’t read minds so much as I read emotion,” he says. “I sensed your guilt over lying to me.”
“I wasn’t ly-”
“You were stretching the truth.” He gave me a disapproving principal look.
“Fine,” I relent. “I’m almost done.”
He points to the chair in front of his desk. “Please, take a seat.”
Nervous about his “discussion” tone of voice, I sink into the chair with a sense of despair. I’m about to be lectured, I just know it.
“Don’t worry,” he says, again reading my mind-or emotions, or whatever. “I know this is a difficult transition for you. There are many changes occurring simultaneously. Whatever your opinion of me and my relationship with your mother, I would like you to trust me. No matter what problem you are having you can discuss it with me and I will advise you as best I can. In the strictest confidence.”
I nod, knowing this is a really kind offer. There is still some part of me that won’t just open up and accept his help. Not out loud anyway. But it’s good to know it’s there. If I need it.
“You should know,” he adds, pulling his pile of papers back over and starting to look through them again. “Ms. Tyrovolas frequently gives a detailed quiz over reading assignments.”
“Oh.” Cool. Insider information. I’m beginning to see how having Damian as an ally could be really useful. “I’ll just check my e-mail real quick, then.”
He nods and keeps reading his papers.
Anxious to see if Cesca and Nola e-mailed me and get back to finishing the Animal Farm pages, I jump into the chair in front of the computer and log on to my account.
I have two messages.
From: [email protected]
Subject: Training Meeting
Phoebe,
As you overheard, your place on the team is conditional on your placing in the first meet. That is in three weeks.
Come by my office after school so we can talk about your training schedule.
Coach Lenny
I send him a response saying I’ll be there as soon as I get out of Philosophy. Then I save his message in my Running folder and move on to the second message. It’s not from California.
From: [email protected]
Subject: No Subject
Making the team was the easy part.
G
Teeth grinding, I click the delete button. That message disappears… but another pops up in its place. I hit delete again.
Another message pops up. Delete. Pop-up. Delete. Pop-up, pop-up, pop-up. Delete, delete, del
From: [email protected]
Subject: No Subject
You can’t get rid of me with the delete key.
Remember who has powers.
G
“Son of a-”
“Something wrong?” Damian looks up from his papers.
“Um, no,” I mumble.
From: [email protected]
Subject: Balance of Power
Remember who can tell Coach Lenny about zapped shoelaces.
P
I send the message and Griffin’s annoying pop-ups disappear.
Very satisfied, I am about to close out of e-mail when the instant messenger opens.
TrojanTiger: Phoebe? you there?
Who is that? Maybe it’s Griffin trying to get at me another waythat guy spends way too much time devising ways to torment me.
And all I’ve done is dare to go to his school. Can’t he tell I don’t want to be here any more than he wants me here?
Besides, isn’t a Trojan-something a really bad virus? Maybe he’s trying to trash my computer. I almost think about letting him, because he’d really be destroying Damian’s computer and that would get him in a lot of trouble.
But I decide it’s not worth it. I need to get back to my reading.
My cursor is over the close button when another message comes through.
TrojanTiger: it’s me Troy.
LostPhoebe: Troy! I thought you were someone else.
TrojanTiger: disappointed?
LostPhoebe: no!!!
LostPhoebe: relieved
TrojanTiger: ‹vbg› how were tryouts?
LostPhoebe: made the team
TrojanTiger: knew you would
LostPhoebe: that makes one of us
TrojanTiger: ha ha
The cursor blinks at me. I don’t know what else to say. I mean, Troy is being super nice to me, but why? And do I want a guy to be super nice to me? Sure, he’s cute and sweet and everything I should want in a guy, but do I? When do girls ever like the guy they should?
Besides, it doesn’t look like he knows what else to say, either.
Blink, blink, blink.
TrojanTiger: still there?
LostPhoebe: yeah
LostPhoebe: you?
TrojanTiger: yeah
LostPhoebe: okay
Blink, blink, blink.
TrojanTiger: well
TrojanTiger: just wanted to check in
LostPhoebe: thanks
TrojanTiger: better go finish my homework
LostPhoebe: me too
LostPhoebe: more reading for lit
TrojanTiger: finish!
TrojanTiger: tyrant quizzes
I glance at Damian. He’s focused on his stack of papers and doesn’t notice me watching. I’ll give him one point on the plus side for cluing me in about the quiz.
LostPhoebe: heard about that
LostPhoebe: almost done
TrojanTiger: okay see you tomorrow?
LostPhoebe: of course!
TrojanTiger: save me a seat at lunch
TrojanTiger: unless you sit with Ares now
LostPhoebe: as if!
LostPhoebe: they wouldn’t have me even if I wanted to
LostPhoebe: and I so don’t want to!
TrojanTiger: good ‹vbg›
LostPhoebe: night
TrojanTiger: night
The message window closed.
I sigh. Animal Farm is calling.
Sliding the keyboard tray back under the desk, I stand and head for the door.
Damian stops me before I get there. “Since you rely so heavily on electronic communications to keep in touch with your friends,” he says. “Your mother and I have decided you need a laptop computer.”
I spin back to face him. “Really?”
“And an Internet connection in your room.” He hasn’t looked up from his papers, but I can see him smiling just a little at my enthusiastic reaction.
“That’s great!”
“Hesper will pick up the computer when she travels to Serifos on Friday. The connection will be installed tomorrow.”
Friday? That’s only two days away. Two days until complete freedom of Internet access in the privacy of my room.
“Wow, Damian, that’s-” Amazing? Wonderful? Terrific? Nothing seems to say exactly what I mean, so I just say, “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
Turning, I start to bounce out of the room.
“Just don’t spend all your time conversing with Mr. Travatas.Your studies come first.”
Man, I can’t keep any secrets.
“Hey, Damian?” I ask over my shoulder. “Can you read emotions through walls?”
“No,” he says with laughter in his voice.
“Good.” I move through the doorway, to the other side of the wall. “Because I’d probably get in trouble for what I’m feeling right now.”
To my total shock, Damian laughs out loud.
“I don’t need to read emotions to know what you’re feeling at the moment,” he says. “But I promise not to use it against you.”
With a smile, I hurry back to my room.
For the first time since we landed on this island I feel like more than two things in a row are going right. It might not last, but I’ll take it while I can.