GRIFFIN’S FLAME-BLUE EYES glare a hole in me.
My knees go a little weak at being so close to him. No matter how many times I tell myself this one is a L-O-S-E-R, my heart still beats faster whenever I think of him. I can feel the adrenaline coursing through my body-prepared to flee if the embarrassment meter reaches the warning zone.
“Um, I, uh…” Great start, Phoebe. Why don’t you just sink into a puddle at his feet? Then he can rinse off his shoes in your pathetic I lurch as I feel a sharp pinch in my butt. Spinning around, I see Stella and her friend laughing uproariously.
Grrr.
“Did you want something?” Adara asks, her voice dripping with disdain. “Or did you just want to stand close enough for us to see the pathetic look in your eyes?”
That does it! Suddenly, I know I am going to relish stealing Griffin away from her.
“Actually,” I focus my attention and my gaze on Griffin, batting my eyelashes at him like a flirting fan-girl. I tell myself Adara isn’t even there. “I wanted to ask for your help.”
Bat, bat, bat.
Biting my lip, I try for my most seductive girl pose.
Griffin snorts. “With what?”
“With the cross-country course,” I say as I step closer and increase my batting speed to mach two. “You must know all the bumps and…” I place my hands on my hips, tugging my T-shirt tighter across my chest in the process. “… curves.”
The corner of his kiss-begging mouth lifts up in a smirk. “Why would I want to help you?”
He talks tough, but his eyes never leave mine-like he’s really trying to figure out why I’m asking for his help.
Time to play my blackmail card. Stepping forward, I place my hands on his shoulder and lift up on tiptoe to whisper in his ear, “Because you don’t want me to tell Coach Lenny about the shoelaces.”
I can hear his jaw grind in frustration.
Lowering back to my heels, I add, “But if you’re all talk about running, then I guess you can’t help me after all.”
With nerves of steel, I turn away. My heart is racing and I can’t feel my hands or my feet. But somehow, I start walking and keep moving forward. I take three steps before he calls out.
“Meet me at the starting line at noon on Sunday.” His voice is cocky-without turning around I can tell he’s acting like this is some big joke. “I’ll show you how to run the course.”
“See you there,” I say casually and then keep walking.
Stella, who has been watching the entire show, smiles and nods at me. I guess she approves of my first effort. Hopefully, that means I won’t have to worry about her zapping my food into something from the low rungs of the animal kingdom anytime soon.
But if she knew how much I am looking forward to the meeting with Griffin, she wouldn’t be smiling at all.
Back at my lunch table, Troy is intently focused on his tapioca pudding. Nicole is staring at me like I’ve lost my mind.
“Have you lost your mind?” she demands.
I shrug, too elated and terrified by the whole situation to even answer. My mind races, imagining what I’ll say to Griffin on Sunday, how I’ll act, what I’ll wear. This isn’t about Stella-this is about me.
“Earth to Phoebe.” Nicole snaps her fingers in front of my face.
“What?” I shake myself out of the daydream.
“What were you thinking?” Her eyebrows jump up in disbelief.
“Griffin Blake is a centaur’s rear.”
“I just…” I struggle to find something to say that won’t be a total lie. Or the total truth. “… thought he could help me out.”
Nicole flings her fork down on her plate. “You’re crazy.”
Maybe… but I can’t keep the smile off my face.
Troy, who hasn’t said a word since I got back to the table, stands up and grabs his tray. “Maybe Blake can take you to the bonfire.”
Before I can answer he turns and walks away.
He sounded really upset.
I watch him walk over to the conveyor belt, toss down his tray, and leave the room. Without once looking back at our table.
“What was that about?” I ask.
Nicole stares at me. “Are you that dense?”
“What?” I look at her, confused.
She shakes her head. “No wonder you made a fool of yourself over that ass. You’re clueless when it comes to boys.”
She spears a bite of meat loaf with her fork. I think she is actually going to eat some of the questionable stuff, but instead she flicks it up in the air. The meat blob sticks to the ceiling for a few seconds before plopping back down on our table.
“Did you really not know what was about to happen?” she demands.
I can tell she expects me to know what she’s talking about-other than she thinks I should stay far away from Griffin, but I already know that and it doesn’t make a difference. “I don’t know-”
“Troy was going to ask you to the bonfire.”
I can almost hear the unspoken stupid at the end of her statement. Yes, I knew Troy was going to ask me. And I was even going to agree.
“We can all go together,” I offer. “As friends.”
“You could do worse than liking Troy, you know.” She glances back to the golden couple, who are continuing their bid for the PDA record. “Wait-you already have.”
I sigh, because she’s right. After everything I went through with Justin, I know how much it hurts when bad crushes happen to good people. But no matter how many times I tell myself he’s pure bad news I just can’t get my mind off Griffin. I am living proof that crushes are blind, deaf, and dumb.
“I know,” I say. “But I can’t-”
I shake my head.
I’m afraid of blowing my friendship with her-and with Troy-all because I can’t control my stupid crush on Griffin. There, I’ve said it. I have a crush on Griffin Blake.
Okay, I didn’t really say it-I thought it.
Admitting there’s a problem is the first step to recovery, right?
“I understand,” Nicole says, her voice full of sympathy. “You can’t always choose who you fall for.”
“Exactly.”
“Don’t worry.” She sounds upbeat and I’m relieved that she’s not casting me away just because my heart has bad taste. “Eventually he’ll break your heart and maybe Troy and I will be there to glue the pieces back together.”
That’s a cheerful thought.
“I hope you won’t have to.” I smile. Nicole is a true friend-which makes me think of Cesca and Nola. They would love Nicole. Cesca would love her willingness to say what she’s really thinking and Nola would appreciate how she is an individual and doesn’t care what others think of her. We would make a great foursome. Maybe one day we can all hang out together.
“So, I can’t talk you out of this?”
I shake my head. Time for full disclosure. “There’s more to this than a, um, crush.”
She lifts her eyebrows.
“I made a bargain with Stella.”
She doesn’t say anything, just keeps looking at me expectantly.
“She’s offered to tutor me in Modern Greek and to help convince her dad not to keep me here for another year.”
“In exchange for what, your firstborn child?”
“In exchange for splitting up Griffin and Adara.”
Another low whistle. “You made a deal with Hades, you know.”
“Yeah,” I say, defeated. “I know.”
“Cheer up,” she says as she stacks our trays of untouched-exceptfor the blob she flung at the ceiling-meat loaf, “I’m going to help you in this idiotic quest for Blake.”
“Really?” I ask, suspicious of her sudden turnaround. “Why?”
“Because I think this bargain is just your excuse.” She grins wickedly. “You want him, and the sooner you catch him the sooner he’ll break your heart. And the sooner you can recover. I’d hate for you to spend the entire year pining over him.” She picks up our trays. “He’s so not worth it. And if you break his heart instead, so much the better.”
I have a feeling that Nicole has her own motives, but I just ask, “When do we start?”
“Tonight,” she says decisively. “We’ll launch Operation Anteros at the bonfire.”
“Anteros?”
“The god of avenging unrequited love.” Nicole flashes me a devious smile. “Blake doesn’t stand a chance.”
I float all the way to Physics, daydreaming about the romantic bonfire and how Nicole is going to help me catch Griffin Blake so I can get him out of my system. Something in the back corner of my mind screams that I don’t want to get over him, but I ignore it.
Evening is cool on the beach, but the sun-warmed sand and the roaring bonfire more than keep me warm. The water of the Aegean stretches out before me as far as I can see, until it disappears into the setting sun. An inky blue sea with crimson reflecting on every ripple. I can imagine those thousand ships setting sail, gliding silently over the waves to rescue Helen from Troy-whether she wanted to be rescued or not.
“The island is pretty romantic at night,” Troy says from behind me.
I turn, surprised to see him after he stormed off at lunch not that I blame him considering the fool I made of myself over Griffin. Only a great miracle of willpower kept me from losing my own lunch.
“Yeah,” I say brilliantly. “It’s beautiful.”
Boy is it.
Nicole and I had gotten to the beach just before sunset, so I am watching the sun turn the Aegean into a sea of flames. Everything glows in a million shades of orange. Even the village buildings walls of the same white plaster as Damian’s house-perched on the cliffs above the water reflect the warm light, turning them a pinkish shade of peach. It’s breathtaking.
For a few seconds I am even thankful to be on this stupid island, just so I could watch this sunset.
“They say that Leda, a handmaiden of Helios who was in love with the sun god, built this island by hand,” he explains. “She carried soil from Serifos one fistful at a time.”
“Why?” I ask, wondering what would possess someone to undertake such an overwhelming task.
“Each night, when Helios drove his chariot below the horizon, she wept for the loss of him.” Troy’s voice is soft and hypnotizing.
“She built this island so she could watch him until the last ray of his light disappeared from view.”
“Wow.” That’s devotion. And one of the most romantic thingsI’ve ever heard. I turn away from the waning sunset to look up at Troy. “So the island was built for watching the sun set?”
He shrugs. “It’s just a fairy tale. A bedtime story men made up to tell around the fire at night.”
From the far-off look in his eyes-which are not looking at me-I can tell he’s still hurt.
“Until a few days ago,” I return, “I thought you were a fairy tale.”
“There’s a difference. Myths and fairy tales aren’t the same thing.”
“Then explain it to me.”
Still gazing at the water, he says, “A myth is a tradition, a legend created to explain the unexplainable. The gods are unexplainable, hence they are myth.”
“And fairy tales?”
I watch his face closely, looking for a reaction. Finally, after several long seconds, he turns to look down at me. He meets my gaze head on, concentrating like he’s trying to figure me out. Good luck with that. Eventually his features relax and he smiles a little.
“A fairy tale,” he says, “is a story we wish were true.”
I smile in relief. Whatever Troy and I are destined to become, I know we’re friends. And I’m glad my stupid deal with Stella hasn’t come between that.
Which reminds me… “There’s something I need to tell you.”
His eyebrows lift.
I stand up so I can tell him eye-to-eye.
“It’s about me and the evil stepsister.”
“I’m listening,” he says.
It’s better he knows what’s going on so next time I make a fool of myself with Griffin he doesn’t jump to any crazy conclusions. The reality of the situation is bad enough.
“What happened in the lunch room today wasn’t about me wanting Griffin.” At least, not just about me wanting Griffin. “Stella and I made a deal.”
He looks skeptical. “About what?”
“If I break up Griffin and Adara she’ll tutor me in Modern Greek-”
“I could help you with Modern Greek.”
Why hadn’t I thought of that? “That’s not the only thing. If I do this she’ll help convince her dad that I don’t need to stay on for Level 13.”
“And if you don’t?” He crosses his arms over his chest.
“She’ll convince him that I do.”
He scowls. “Why that conniving, blackmailing-”
“I know… but I agreed.”
“So,” he says slowly, “you want to get off this island so bad you’re willing to make a deal with the gorgon?”
“Yes.” He sounds so sad that I feel kinda guilty. But undeterred.
“I just wanted you to know, so you would understand, because I don’t want to lose your friendship.”
I place a little extra emphasis on the word friendship, trying to make him see that that’s how I think of him. As a friend.
From the look in his eyes, he knows exactly what I’m saying.
“All right.” He smiles, like he’s trying to show that he’s fine with that. “If that’s what you really want I’ll do whatever I can to help.”
I tug my zip-front sweatshirt tighter around my waist. The sun is gone now, and the beach is downright chilly. Maybe all that cool air blowing off the water.
“Thank-”
“Well, well, well,” a whiny voice I’m starting to get sick of says, “look who showed up at the bonfire uninvited.”
Flanked by two other cheerleaders, Adara is wearing a white crocheted bikini top and a pair of white cutoff jeans shorts. I’m shivering in my jeans and sweatshirt-she must be freezing.
The thought makes me smile.
“Hi, Adara,” I say with sugary sweetness. “I love your swimsuit.”
She scowls, but can’t resist the compliment. “Thanks-”
“Of course, I loved it when everyone in L.A. was wearing them last summer.” I turn to Troy and whisper dramatically, loud enough for everyone to hear, “It’s so last season.”
Adara’s mouth drops open. “Listen, kako. Tonight is for descendants only-no godly blood, no bonfire. Leave now before you embarrass yourself.”
“Leave off, Adara,” Troy says. “She’s with me.”
“Really?” she coos. “She was panting over my boyfriend at lunch today. Are your attachments always so fleeting, kako?”
Troy lunges forward, but I grab his shoulders and hold him back.
He gives me a look that says he’s clearly willing to throw down with Adara for me. I shake my head.
“She’s not worth it,” I say. “You have to pity someone who doesn’t understand the concept of friendship.”
Adara sidesteps Troy, stepping right up into my face.
“Stella may be softening toward you, but I know better.” We are nose to nose when she sneers, “You are a disgrace to the Academy and your very presence sullies a reputation over two thousand years in the making.”
I know this shouldn’t bother me. I mean, she’s a jealous, vindictive cow. Still, I have a feeling that she’s not the only student at the Academy who feels that way. Since I can’t really argue that point-I mean, I can’t like suddenly make myself the descendant of a god-I resort to hitting Adara where it hurts.
In her superficial face.
“Wow, I have never seen pores that big,” I say with a gasp of awe, tilting my head for a closer look. “Those blackheads look like Dalmatian spots.”
While she struggles to think of some witty comeback-I’m not waiting around all night for that -I take Troy by the hand and lead him down the beach toward the blanket Nicole has spread out.
He stumbles a little as I tug him, but catches up quickly.
“She’s going to hate you.” He sounds genuinely concerned.
I roll my eyes. “She already does.”
From behind, she shouts, “At least I’m not wearing shoes from the last decade.”
I glance at my footwear.
My Chuck Taylors are brand-new. In fact, they’re so new they need a little wearing in and maybe a few scuffs. Besides, black All Stars are always the height of fashion.
And the originals date back to the fifties. Adara could use some work on her fashion history.
“You’re right,” I shout back over my shoulder, darting a glance at her standing petulantly with her hands on her hips. “Those beaded flip-flops you’re wearing are only two seasons old.”
“Aaargh!!!” Her scream echoes across the beach.
Everyone turns to stare at her as she stomps her foot on the sand. Does she think that’s making a statement? “You’d better get off this island as soon as possible,” Troy says, laughing. “The longer you stay the greater the chance that Adara blasts you to Hades.”
“I’m not afraid of her.” We reach the blanket and I drop down to sit next to Nicole. “If she does anything too horrible to me, Damian will ground her powers.”
“Yeah,” Nicole says as she pokes me in the arm, “but by then you’ll be smoted.”
I shrug and lay back on the blanket, my hands behind my head.
“No worries. With all the extra practices and workouts, Coach Lenny will kill me long before she gets the chance.”
Nicole lays out next to me. “I can’t understand why anyone would run on purpose, anyway. Are you masochistic?”
“Non runners don’t get it, I guess.” I close my eyes and picture myself running. A sense of calm sweeps over me. “There’s freedom in running. Escape. Power.”
“Insanity,” Troy adds.
I pry open one eye to glare at him. He’s sitting at the edge of the blanket staring out at the water.
Maybe it is insanity. Every time I hit the wall, when my body screams, No more of this running crap! I tell myself this is the last race ever. Am I so stupid that I want to run myself into utter exhaustion for no good reason? I’ll just finish this race and then hang up my sneakers. Forever.
Then I push through the wall. And everything becomes clear.
Euphoria sets in-along with a whole boatload of endorphins. I can’t remember why I was even thinking about giving it up.
Maybe that is insanity.
Everyone has to find their version of therapy. Running is mine.
I wonder what Troy’s is? “Don’t you have something that you just have to do, even though every time you do it you tell yourself you’re crazy to even try? But if you don’t do it you feel even crazier?”
He keeps staring at the water. He’s silent so long I think he’s not going to answer. I drop my head back and close my eyes.
“Music,” he finally says.
I lift back up on my elbows. “Music?”
“Whenever I play the guitar I feel like it’s a colossal waste of time, but I can’t stop playing.” His voice is almost reverent. “I want to be a musician.”
“That’s great,” I say.
He snorts. “Try telling my parents that.”
“The Travatas clan takes their heritage seriously.” Nicole exerts enough energy to roll onto her side. “They believe all descendants of Asklepios should pursue the medical profession.”
“So because your great-great-something was into medicine they want you to be a doctor, too?” I ask.
“A neurosurgeon.” He laughs. “I couldn’t even stand to dissect an earthworm in Level 4. How could I cut open a human skull?”
Ew. I shudder, but keep my disgust to myself. This is about Troy and his passions.
“If you want to be a musician-if you can’t be anything else-then you’ll find a way.” I lay a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “True callings aren’t easy to hide from.”
He covers my hand with his own. “Thanks.”
“If you two are done with the Hallmark moment, I’d like to watch the fireworks in peace.”
I glance up at the empty, silent sky. “What fireworks?”
“Just wait.” Troy checks his watch. “In five, four, three, two, one-”
The sky above us explodes in a shimmering burst of color. Red, blue, and green embers flicker through the darkness, raining down around us. Another big sphere of golden sparkles bursts into the sky.
“I didn’t even hear the launch,” I remark.
“Honey, we don’t need to bother with messy explosives,” Nicole replies. “All it takes is a little focus and a snap of my fingers.”
She snaps her fingers and a little blue spark shoots through the air, landing on Troy’s Green Day T-shirt. He quickly pats at the spot where the ember hit-a spot that starts smoking and leaves a little hole above the G.
“Hey,” he exclaims. “Watch where you throw the fireworks, Nic.”
I laugh out loud at the thought of Troy going up in flames from a single spark. Nicole just shrugs and says, “Sorry. Haven’t honed my fireworks skills recently.”
“Well don’t test them on my clothing.”
I settle back into the blanket, feeling the warm sand crunch beneath the blanket, and watch the fireworks while listening to my two friends bickering. It’s almost like being home. If not for the whole supernatural-descendants-of-the-gods thing and being thousands of miles away from everything I’ve ever called home, this island could be bearable.
Almost cool, even.
A sudden outburst sounds down the beach. With lazy heaviness, I loll my head to the side. Griffin and a bunch of other tricksters armed with a water balloon in each hand-are chasing after Adara and her cheerleader groupies. I recognize a couple of the long distance guys, Christopher and Costas. Christopher is super tall, blond, and actually very sweet-he volunteered to be my training partner at practice when no one else would. Costas, on the other hand, is like a shorter version of Griffin.
While I watch, the boys get the girls surrounded and hold the water balloons menacingly over their heads.
Did I say this island was almost cool? I meant juvenile.
I guess boys are the same everywhere-godly or not.
“Are you sure you want to get in the middle of that?” Nicole asks, drawing my attention away from the chase scene.
“Yeah,” I reply, reluctant. “I haven’t got a-”
“Aaack!” Adara’s scream pierces the air as Griffin and Costas trap her between them and pummel her with water balloons.
Now she’s cold and wet. I don’t envy her.
“-choice,” I finish.
“All right.” Nicole cocks her eyebrows. “But don’t say we didn’t warn you.”
“Consider me warned.”
Just then, Griffin-still shaking with laughter at his water balloon strike-looks our way. His eyes stop on me, intense and disapproving. He points at me. The sand next to me glows and a folded piece of paper appears.
Reaching across my chest, I pick up the paper and unfold the note.
Sunday. Noon. Be ready to work.
When I look back up he’s gone.
Mom and I stare at the glass display cases filled with shelf after shelf of bakery goodness. There are trays of biscuits, baklava, cakes, pies, and tortes. It seems like they’re all drizzled with honey and lit just right to make the reflection hypnotizing. On the wall behind the cases are shelves of baskets, overflowing with dozens of breads.
Everything from fist-sized olive rolls to three-foot-long tsoureki, a braided festival bread Yia Yia Minta bakes every Greek Independence Day. I bite my lower lip to keep from drooling.
“I’ve never seen such a variety,” Mom says, leaning closer to examine the pies. “No wonder your grandmother is always baking-she could make a different recipe every day of the year and never repeat one.”
“Don’t tell Yia Yia Minta,” I say, “but these look better than hers.”
“I hope so.” A short, round, middle-aged woman wearing a white chef ’s coat emerges from the back room, dusting flour off her hands. “We have the Hestia Seal.”
“What is the Hestia Seal?” Mom asks.
“Ah, you must be the new nothos on the island.” The woman smiles, her fleshy cheeks pushing out into pink apples. “I am Lilika, a descendant of Hestia. My recipes come from the goddess of the hearth herself and are unmatched in all the world.”
“So nice to meet you, Lilika,” Mom says. She wraps her fingers around my T-shirt sleeve and jerks my attention away from the baklava. “I’m Valerie Petrolas, and this is my daughter, Phoebe.”
I’m so captivated by the display of treats that I barely register the fact that Mom introduced herself as a Petrolas. “Holy crap!” I drop to my knees, pressing my face closer to the glass. Closer to the treat to end all treats. “Is that… bougatsa?”
“The young lady has a favorite, no?” Lilika moves around behind the case, sliding open the panel in the back. “This is my favorite as well.”
“We have to get some, Mom.” I look up at her, pleading. She doesn’t answer, so I crawl closer until I’m at her feet. The bell over the front door rings but I don’t care. I’m focused on begging. Nothing but that sweet custard and cheese pastry could reduce me to begging-well, that and the new Nike+ with built-in iPod sensor.
“Please, please, please.”
Mom laughs.
Lilika, who is busy pulling the bougatsa out of the case, glances up to see who walked in. “ Moro mou! ” she squeals. She slides the tray back into the case. “ Pou sas echei ontas, Griffin?”
I only understand one word of what she says, but that name is all I need to know that mortification is in my future. My very near future.
“I’m sorry I haven’t been by in a while, Aunt Lili,” the voice that I dread hearing says. “I’ve been busy.”
Maybe it’s my imagination, but I can feel him staring at me.
Who wouldn’t stare at a girl on her knees in the middle of a bakery, pleading with her mom for some stupid pastry. Even if it is the most delicious, custardy pastry she’s ever eaten.
Carefully, so I don’t draw attention to myself in the off chance that he hasn’t noticed me, I push off the floor. Still, I can’t turn around. Having Griffin laugh at me at school in front of a ton of kids I don’t even know was bad enough, but I don’t think I’d survive him laughing at me in front of Mom. The kids at the Academy won’t even exist on my radar in nine months. Mom is my mom forever.
“Silly boy,” Lilika says. Then she gasps. “Of course, you must meet Phoebe. She is new to the Academy. Sweetheart,” she says and I can tell she’s turned her attention back to me, “I’d like you to meet my nephew, Griffin.”
“Phoebe,” he says, his voice low and steady. No emotion.
Against my better judgment I turn around to face him. I clasp my hands behind my back so I’m not tempted to wave like a total dork. “Griffin.”
He looks adorable, as always. Droplets of water hang off his dark curls, like he just took a shower, and the red cotton of his T-shirt clings in a few choice places. He’s watching me with a fixed, unreadable gaze.
I can’t tell if he’s furious or completely unaffected by my presence.
“Wonderful.” Lilika claps her hands. “You have already met.”
“We’re on the cross-country team together, Aunt.”
I expect him to add something jerky like, “For now.” Or, “Until she loses that first race.” When he doesn’t, I tilt my head, wondering if I’m looking at the real Griffin Blake. Sure looks like him.
“You must be Mrs. Petrolas,” he says, stepping forward and holding out his hand to Mom. “Griffin Blake.”
“Valerie, please,” she says. As she shakes his hand she gives me a look that clearly says, Cute one! “I’m always pleased to meet Phoebe’s teammates. Though she might not say it, she’s very excited to be on the team.”
Thanks, Mom.
Griffin smiles politely. He flicks his eyes over at me as he says, “We’re excited to have her on the team. She is the most challenging runner I’ve ever practiced with.”
What was that? Sarcasm? Mockery? It didn’t sound fake, but it had to be. Well, I’m not going to stick around to be laughed at with backhanded compliments.
“Speaking of practicing,” I say, grabbing Mom by the hand, “I have tons of homework to finish before my afternoon session.”
Mom frowns, like she doesn’t understand what’s gotten into me, but lets me lead her out of the store. “Phoebe, honey,” she says when we get out onto the cobblestone street, “is everything okay?”
“Sure,” I say. “Why wouldn’t it be?”
“One minute you’re begging for bougatsa, the next you’re dragging me out the door.”
Darn! I totally forgot the bougatsa. For a second I think about going back, but decide that even custardy goodness isn’t worth facing Griffin’s thinly veiled ridicule again.
“Yeah, well, the sugar would mess up my training diet.” Which is a total lie.
Mom doesn’t let it go. “This has something to do with that boy, doesn’t it-”
“Phoebe, wait!”
I turn to see Griffin jogging down the street toward us, a brownpaper bag in his left hand. My heart rate speeds up and I know it’s because I’m hoping he’s running after me to apologize. To say he wasn’t teasing and that he really is glad to have me on the team.
Ha! “Here,” he says, handing me the paper bag. “Aunt Lili didn’t want you to leave without your bougatsa.”
I stare at the bag. Why did my heart have to get its hopes up? “Thanks,” I mumble. “But we didn’t pay for this.”
When I try to give the bag back he waves me off. “Lili wants you to have it.” He dips his head a little so he’s looking into my eyes.
“She says you have excellent taste in pastry.”
“Really?”
He nods, smiling just a tiny bit. I almost miss it.
“Tell her thank you,” Mom says, breaking that momentary connection between me and Griffin.
He looks up at her, his eyes wide like he’d forgotten she was even here. “Sure,” he says. That polite smile returns. “No problem.”
Without another word, he turns and runs back up the street.
“He seems like a nice young man,” Mom says, watching him retreat.
“Yeah,” I say. “If you catch him on a good day.”
Too bad he doesn’t have many.
“You’re not wearing that,” Nicole says the second she walks in my room. “Fuzzy gray sweats will send Griffin into Adara’s arms-not yours.”
She is wearing a dark denim miniskirt and layered red and white tanks and more bangle bracelets than I ever thought a person’s arm could hold. Her look is more back-off than boy-attracting, but I’m not about to argue. Dressing for boys is not in my repertoire.
“Fine,” I say, stepping out of my Nikes and heading to my dresser.
“What should I wear?”
“Let me see.” She pushes me out of the way and begins digging through my drawers, tossing pants and tees over her shoulder.
“No.” Throws item. “Nope.” Throws item. “Nuh-uh.”
I catch my baby blue velour track pants before they can land on the floor. “Do you have to throw everything?”
She keeps rummaging, ignoring my question. “Ah-ha!” Pulling a pair of shorts triumphantly from the pile, she waves them over her head. “Put these on.”
They’re the gray shorts with pink pinstripes I bought for the Race for the Cure last year. Pink is so not my color-except for the occasional furry pillow, of course.
“Nicole, these aren’t really-”
“Don’t you have anything besides T-shirts?”
“Um, no. Not-”
“Here then.” She pulls her arms inside her tank top, wiggles around for a second, then emerges with the white under tank in hand. “Put this on.”
“I don’t-”
“Hurry up.” She flings the tank at me. “You shouldn’t be late for your first meeting.”
I catch the tank, think about arguing, then decide it’s futile. Tank and shorts in hand, I head to the bathroom and change out of mycomfy gray sweats. I feel practically naked with my legs and arms fully exposed. I’m not used to showing so much skin except on competition days.
When I get back to my room, Nicole is sprawled on my bed, flipping through an old issue of Runner’s World.
“You actually read this stuff?” she asks, lifting her head. “Holy dolmades!”
She sounds shocked.
“What?”
“You,” she says, dropping the magazine to the floor, “look hot.”
I can feel my cheeks burning red.
Not just because of the compliment. The shorts hug my hips closer than I’m used to, and the tank stretches tight across my breasts, even in my chest-flattening jog bra.
“I had no idea you had curves under those T-shirts.” She circles me, gauging my appearance from every angle, I guess. “We can definitely use those to your advantage. And your legs are great-lean and toned and shapely.”
“Th-thanks,” I stammer. “Do you really think I can…”
I can’t make myself ask the question.
Nicole looks at me for a long time before saying, “If you want him, we’ll get him. Don’t worry. And those…” She gestures at my chest. “… will just make the bait more appealing.”
I’m not sure how good I’ll be at using those at all, but if they’ll help me, then I’m all for it.
“Now that your appearance is set-though you might want to try something other than a ponytail for your hair,” she waves a hand at my apparently inadequate hairstyle. “Let’s discuss strategy.”
I reach up and tighten my ponytail. My hair only has two styles: ponytail and down. Ponytail for running. Down for school.
Not even the great Griffin Blake can induce anything more elaborate from me.
“Before we get to, um, strategy,” I say, knowing that this is a question I need answered before this goes any further, “I want to ask about your history with Griffin. It seems like you have some bad blood and I don’t want to-”
“There’s no history,” she snaps. “Not the romantic kind, anyway.
It’s just a personal disagreement. Don’t worry about it.”
Keep your nose out of my business. I hear the unspoken caution as clearly as if she’d said it aloud.
“Okay.” I can take a blatant hint to move on.
She runs her hands through her spiky blonde hair, sending it in all different directions. “Listen,” she says, taking a seat on my bed. “I don’t really like to talk about this. I mean, I never have talked about this with anyone.”
“I get it.” I sit down next to her. “You don’t have to tell me anything.”
“No.” She shakes her head. “You should know.” Taking a deep breath, she says, “Griffin and I used to be friends. Best friends.”
Wow, I did not see that one coming.
“When we were young we got into trouble. Big trouble.” Her eyes shine bright with unshed tears. “My parents wound up exiled from Serfopoula. That’s why I didn’t start at the Academy until Level 9.”
“Oh, Nicole, I’m so sorry.”
“The worst of it was,” she says, wiping at her tears, “they were punished because of what Griffin and I did. Because he wouldn’t accept responsibility for his actions. He let the gods ruin my parents’ lives to save his own skin.”
“I can’t believe that.” I know Griffin can be jerky, but the boy I met on the beach-the one I’m going through all this for-has a good heart. “He wouldn’t do something that would knowingly hurt-”
“He went in to testify,” she snaps. “When he came out, my parents were banished.”
Tears stream down her cheeks. Wrapping my arms around her, I squeeze tight. This is what Mom would call the release of repressed emotion. I think it’s just good for her to let it all out. I can’t believe she never talked to anyone about this before. Then again, everyone else probably already knows the whole story. I’m just glad I could be here for her.
For several minutes we sit there, Nicole crying and me hugging her. Eventually, the tears stop and she begins to sniff.
“So,” I say to alleviate the post-traumatic release silence, “you said something about strategy?”
“Yes,” she says matter-of-factly, jumping to her feet and pretending like she was never crying. “You can’t go in without a game plan.
It’d be like…” She thinks for a second. “… running a race without knowing the course.”
Why do I have a feeling I’m not going to like this? “Okay,” I relent. “Strategy.”
“I recommend one part helpless girl, one part ample cleavage, and three parts ego-petting.” She must see the blank look on my face because she adds, “Do I need to write this down?”
“No,” I reply. “But you’ll have to explain it.”
With a whole body sigh, she sits on the bed. “To get Griffin’s attention-in a good way-you need to appeal to his weaknesses.
Those would be playing the hero, ogling breasts, and colossal arrogance that could fill the Parthenon.”
I nod, but am still not really sure what she means.
Nicole rolls her eyes at my continued confusion. “He’s a chauvin istic, hormone-driven, egotistical jerk.”
Oh. Is that all? I already knew that.
“The real question,” she continues, “is how to use that against him.”
“I bet you have a plan.”
“As a matter of fact-” She grins wickedly. “I do.”
I know I’m not going to like this.
“Are you ready for pain?” Griffin asks as I walk up to the starting line.
Nicole suggested I play it weak-no arguing, no witty retorts, nothing but sweetness and sugar. The second I see Griffin’s smug smile I know I can’t play that part.
“I can take anything you dish out, Blake.”
He looks me up and down, hovering over my chest and thighs on the way back up. I’m filled with a little bubble of satisfaction that my clothing is worth the embarrassment. If nothing else, I know that he likes what he sees.
“Let’s get started,” I say when he doesn’t seem to be in any hurry.
“Right,” he says, his eyes snapping back up to my face. “You warmed up?”
“On fire.”
He smirks. “Then on my count.”
We line up at the starting line.
Griffin counts down, “Three, two, one-”
I take off before he says go, speeding down the trail, knowing he’s at least one pace behind. A quarter-mile into the course he catches up with me.
“You cheated.”
“No,” I say casually. “I was just evening the score.”
He has no comeback for that. He knows he cheated last time and I’m confident he’s not going to cheat again. There’s no one here but the two of us to see who wins.
Besides, I bet he’s dying to find out for real who’s faster.
Right then I know I can’t go through with Nicole’s plan. It feels too good to be in a real race for victory-I can’t not compete. I’m going to run this race until my feet bleed. And I’m going to win.
I see a blaze of red out of the corner of my eye.
Turning, I see Nicole’s spiky blonde hair amidst the shrubby trees and undergrowth. What is she doing hA flash of light glows at my feet and next thing I know I’m pitching to the ground, face-first. Even as I tumble, I feel my feet fly out from under me and I know it’s not another case of knotted shoelaces.
No, Nicole just sprained my ankle for me.