I had known something was wrong when Justin didn't show to pick me up. A smarter girl might have taken that as a sign, but I believed in him. Trusted him. Something must have come up. Rather than curl up with a boxof tissues and a cup of self-pity, I called Cesca and got a ride with her and her date. When I climbed into the limo and saw the look of pure sympathy in her eyes, that's when I knew.
By the time we pulled up at the glamorous Sunset Tower Hotel, I was ready for the confrontation. I stormed into the dance, scanned the room until I found Justin at a table in the far corner, and marched right up to him.
"Where were you?" I demanded.
"Let's not do this here, Phoebe," Justin had said. "Why don't we go out to my car and-"
"No," I shouted, hands fisted on my hips, on the silver satin of the bustier dress that had taken me weeks to find. The perfect dress. "I deserve to know."
He'd hesitated, deciding whether to lie.
Just like Griffin did tonight.
Only tonight feels infinitely worse. Because I love Griffin infinitely more.
That realization clenches around my heart.
"I-" He jams his fingers through his curls. "Phoebe, I can't tell you."
Everything inside me stills.
At least Justin had the decency to confess dumping me for Mitzi Busch because her knees weren't Super Glued shut like mine. Griffin wasn't even pretending to admit the truth.
"Then I don't believe you." My heart splinters a little with every word.
"I can't make you believe me," he says, dropping his hands and taking a step back. "I thought we were past the distrusting stage. I thought you knew me better than this. Better than anyone."
I can't look away from his blue eyes, a little less bright thanks to the betrayal I see there. But the truth is, he lied to me. More than once. And now, even though he's admitted to lying to me, he won't tell me the whole truth. He's not the only one who feels betrayed.
"So did I," I say, turning away and walking to my desk.
"Phoebe, I didn't mean to-"
"I'd like you to leave." My voice cracks as I add, "Now."
I stand in front of my desk, afraid to move until he does-afraid that my heart will shatter completely. For a long time there's just silence, stillness in the air, as I can feel him watching me.
"I'm not Justin," he whispers.
Then, all of a sudden, it's like a vacuum sucks all the air out of my room. The next thing I hear is the click of my door closing behind him as he leaves.
I collapse into my desk chair, folding my arms over my laptop and laying my check on the smooth, plastic surface. My heart feels like it's been ripped out of my chest. The oracle was wrong. Griffin and I aren't fated for anything more than heartache.
It's not until I feel the wetness on my arm that I realize I'm crying on my laptop. The last thing I need is to fry my connection to the outside world. I sit up, wipe away my tears, and lift the top on my laptop. I've never needed Nola and Cesca more in my life, and if one of them isn't online, I don't know what I'll do.
But when I log in to chat, I see blank little faces next to their screen names.
Right. Cesca's probably in Paris by now. Nola's probably at the library doing research for her study. How can they both have so much great stuff going on when my life is a mess?
Yeah, I know that's totally self-centered. It's not fair for me to begrudge them good stuff. Especially since we're best friends.
Not one person on my friends list is online. Not Cesca or Nola, not Nicole, not Troy. Not even the gorgon cheerleader queen-trust me, if I could get Adara off my friends list I would, but the Academy IM system seems to have a twisted sense of humor about this. How can everyone be unavailable when I need them?
While I'm staring at the screen through tear-fogged eyes, a yellow smiley face shows up next to Nola's screen name.
Thank the gods!
I open up anew chat window.
LostPhoebe: Nola!
GranolaGrrl: hey Phoebes
GranolaGrrl: what's up?
LostPhoebe: I think Griffin and I just broke up
GranolaGrrl: omigods, what happened??
I bite my lip to keep from crying. More.
LostPhoebe: he's cheating on me
GranolaGrrl: of course he's not!
LostPhoebe: he is
LostPhoebe: with Adara
GranolaGrrl: his ex? that's nuts
GranolaGrrl: he's crazy about you
LostPhoebe: he's been spending lots of time with her
GranolaGrrl: maybe there's a reasonable explanation
Nola always sees the good in people. While this is a great trait in a best friend-she always looks past my bad attitude when I'm in a crappy mood-she's not the most discerning when it comes to character. She blindly believes the best until presented with incontrovertible proof. Sometimes not even then.
LostPhoebe: there's more
LostPhoebe: he was in her dorm room this afternoon
LostPhoebe: when he told me he was helping his aunt
GranolaGrrl: are you sure?
GranolaGrrl: did you ask him about it?
LostPhoebe: he admitted it
LostPhoebe: he says it's not what I think
LostPhoebe: but he won't tell me what it *is*
GranolaGrrl" I'm so sorry sweetie
New tears rush to my eyes. If even Nola is willing to accept that I'm right, then all my niggling doubts are gone. How could I have been so stupid over a guy… again?
GranolaGrrl: I know how much he means to you
LostPhoebe: guess it wasn't mutual
GranolaGrrl: you never know
GranolaGrrl: he might still surprise you
LostPhoebe: doubt it
GranolaGrrl: promise me you'll give him a chance to explain
LostPhoebe: I did
LostPhoebe: he wouldn't
GranolaGrrl: give him one more chance
GranolaGrrl: for me
I almost say I won't. I don't want to. But for Nola, only for Nola.
I will.
LostPhoebe: okay
LostPhoebe: for you
GranolaGrrl: I need to go
GranolaGrrl: you okay?
LostPhoebe: I'II be fine
GranolaGrrl: I'll be online again later
GranolaGrrl: love you
LostPhoebe: love you too
LostPhoebe: thanks
I stare at the chat screen until her smiley face disappears.
Instead of feeling better, reassured, I feel a little more empty after chatting with Nola. She didn't exactly say what I wanted to hear. That's Nola, though. She always says and does what's right, not what's convenient or comforting.
Almost automatically, needing something to keep my mind busy, I click on the icon to check my e-mail. Three new messages. One from Adara-no thank you. I click on the message and am about to drag it to the trash when I see the folder I made when I was mad at Griffin last year. "Liars." I drop here-mail in there. Even if she hasn't lied to me, I bet she would if I gave her the chance.
The second e-mail is from Mrs. Philipoulos.
To: Library Employees
Cc: [email protected]
Bcc: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: Secret Archives Access
Former Academy library employees,
Upon a recent inspection of the library secret archives, I have discovered two missing volumes in the Mount Olympus records. If you have any knowledge of the theft or whereabouts for these volumes, please contact me immediately. No punitive action will be taken if the volumes are returned within the week.
Also, please remember that your right to access the secret archives depends on your status as a library employee. If you are no longer working in the library, you should not access the secret archives for ANY reason.
Yours,
Philippa Philipoulos
At least she only blind-copied me. Damian won't know
I'm involved. I wouldn't want him to get suspicious and rush home from his honeymoon. The last thing I need is Mom and Damian nosing around in the middle of my trying to find out what happened to Dad.
Mrs. Philipoulos said two volumes are missing. Clearly, one of them is Dad's trial record. I wonder what else was taken. The last e-mail is yet another blocked message.
To: [email protected]
From: [Blocked]
Subject: [No Subject]
Urian Nacus will not be able to decrypt my identity before our meeting.
Do not be late.
Just for ducks, I click print. When the blank page spits out, I slide it back into the paper tray. I'm so not surprised. If e-mails one and two wouldn't print, it would be some kind uf divine intervention if the third did.
Closing down my computer, I decide I need to get out of my room, out of this house. I need the clarity of thought that only running can bring. I grab the zip-up sweatshirt off the back of my chair. As I hurry through the living room, I try not to make eye contact. Xander is back and I'm not up for conversation. I can see him and Stella sitting on the couch-Stella flirtatiously turned to face him with one foot tucked up underneath her and Xander nonflirtatiously focused on whatever he's writing in a spiral notebook.
Maybe I can get to the front door-
"Phoebe," Stella calls out before I can escape, "are you okay'?"
"Fine," I say, hoping she'll take the hint.
Of course subtlety is not her strong suit.
"Griffin looked pretty upset when he left." She climbs off the couch and approaches me. Dropping her voice to a whisper, she asks. "Is everything all right?"
"Just peachy," I say, and I can't quite keep the emotion out of my voice.
But instead of pouncing on my trauma-I can just see her gloating to Adara over my continued torment-she puts her hand on my shoulder and says, "I'm sorry." And then shocks the Hades out of me by adding, "If you ever need someone to talk to…"
"Sure." I try to smile-and hide my shock at her apparently sincere offer. "Thanks."
She smiles sympathetically.
"I'm going for a run," I say, uncomfortable with this friendly Stella. I jerk my hand back over my shoulder. "I need some fresh air."
Xander looks up at me, his lavender eyes wide and intent. He looks like he might say something, but I turn and head outside before he gets the chance.
I take the front steps two at a time. Those same steps where Griffin almost first kissed me. Right after I found out he was a duty-bound descendant of Hercules. Right before I found out I was part of some elaborate bet between him and Stella and Adara. I should have listened to my gut the first time. Then my heart wouldn't be shattering right now.
Maybe I shouldn't be surprised at our rocky end. We had a pretty rocky beginning, even if the time between was smooth and wonderful.
"Phoebe," Xander calls out. Then, when I don't stop, he shouts. "Castro!"
I. Have. Had. Enough.
Whipping around and jogging back to the porch, I snap, "What?"
"I'm sorry," he says-like he knows an apology is the only thing that can undermine my fury. "I shouldn't have stormed out like that earlier. You're going through a tough enough time without my making things worse."
"Fine," I say. "Apology accepted. Can I go now?"
Before he can answer, I turn and jog down the path leading to the dock-to the beach. To my left, the front lawn of the Academystretches out into a rolling green hill that leads down to the cove. Ahead, I can see the Aegean, inky black and rippling in reflected moonlight from the starry sky. It's so peaceful and calming and completely at odds with the emotions running through me.
How can Griffin make me feel so good and so rotten at the same time? Why did he go back to Adara? Does she have something I don't-other than bleached blonde hair and a cheerleader uniform?
Does she, like Mitzi Bosch, offersomething I haven't?
When he said he didn't know why he'd stayed with her so long, I'd believed him. When he told me about his mom's oracle reading, I'd really thought we'd be together forever. I'd thought he was my one.
Had I really been such a fool?
With only a hint of a moon out tonight, I can barely see the path down to the dock. It's only because I've climbed this path dozens of times that I make it to the bottom without stumbling. Usually I take a right, to the long stretch of perfect white beach that just screams for a run. But tonight the tide is really low and there's a thin sliver of shore leading off to the left.
Without another thought, I head left. The strip of sand-still wet from a higher tide and solid beneath my Nikes-winds beneath the cliffs and the village perched overhead. It's quiet and secluded-the beach isn't usually bustling with activity after dark unless it's bonfire night-and it's a relief to know I won't be running into anyone. Company is the last thing I'm looking for. As I hurdle a low rock outcropping, I think about my promise to Nola. She always gives people second chances. And third and fourth and fifth chances. Soit's not exactly a surprise that she wants me to give Griff a second opportunity to explain. I don't want to-I feel like I've already given him tons of opportunities-but I can't break a promise. Not to Nola.
I'm just wondering how to go about giving Griffin another chance to explain-do I go after him, or do I wait until he comes to me?-when I feel water slosh over my Nikes.
"What the-?"
I look down. The sliver of beach is two feet thinner than when I started out. I hope it just naturally narrows down as it goes. But a quick glance behind me reveals that the entire strip of beach is disappearing. About a hundred yards back, it's completely gone. Which can only mean one thing.
"Rising tides," I exclaim.
How could I have been so stupid? If the tide is low and I'm suddenly seeing a beach that's never been there before, it's probably because it's not there during high tide. "Stupid, stupid, stupid."
I have to decide quickly what to do, because it's not like I can scale the cliffs if the tide comes in. Behind me, the beach is already underwater. My only choice is to press on and hope the beach opens up around the curve up ahead.
Kicking into a sprint, I try to calm my racing heart. Fear sends adrenaline pumping through my blood, and that's only going to cloud my judgment.
I've never been a short-distance dasher, but I make the two hundred yards to the curve in the beach in record time.
My calves are on fire and my heart is racing out of control. I've never felt so keyed up.
As I speed around the rocks, I heave a huge gasp of relief. There's a nice wide beach, deep enough to stick around for high tide. Some of it even looks familiar.
There's a cluster of bushes along the cliff wall that I know I've seen before. I remember-it's the beach where Griffin took me when we made up last fall. The last training session before the Cycladian Cup.
That's when I know that one day I'll thank Nola for making me give Griffin a second chance. The memory of how great it felt to know he cared about me, how great it felt to take his hand and know that nothing stood between us anymore. I want that again.
"What do you mean you didn't tell her?" a muffled female voice demands.
I'm not sure what makes me do it-instinct, fear, or knowledge beyond my years-but I dive behind a big boulder. I hear the sound of footsteps on gravel and then silence. Whoever was talking must have just reached the beach.
"How could I?" an intimately familiar male voice replies.
Griffin.
"She still doesn't trust me," he says. "She thinks I'm cheating on her."
"Oh, and nottelling her what's going on is definitely going to make that better."
Is that Adara? I can't see for sure. I dare a peck around the edge of the boulder and catch a glimpse of blonde. Her back is to me, so I can't tell. But it has to be… right?
"I know that, Nicole," he says.
Nicole?
Everything crashes to a stop. There's no wind whistling through the trees. No waves crashing on the beach
. No breath leaving my body.
"You can't tell Phoebe," he says. "If she knew what was going on, then she might…"
The rest of his sentence gets lost as the world rushes back to life around me. There's a roaring in my ears that I can't shake away. Then my hearing finally clears as he says, "I don't want her to get hurt."
Why does Nicole know the secret I'm not allowed to know? And why would whatever they're doing wind up hurting me? It's bad enough knowing Griffin has betrayed me with Adara. I expect that from her and should have known better about him. But Nicole? She is the closest thing I have to a best friend on this island.
How could they do this to me?
In that instant, my mind focuses entirely on one thing; getting away from this beach. Away from where I learned about this latest betrayal. Away, away, away.
Eyes closed, I feel a tingling spread over my skin.
When I blink open, I'm in my room.
Great, I finally do something useful with my powers, and I can't even enjoy it. I'm too busy worrying about my world crumbling around me.
"I didn't hear you come home," Stella says when I stumble out of my room two tear -filled hours later.
I barely glance at her before continuing to the kitchen. All my crying has left me severely dehydrated and I need liquid like nobody's business. Taking a dirty glass from the sink, I fill it with tap water and chug. I don't even have the energy to twist the cap off a Gatorade.
"What happened to you?"
I flick Stella a glance over my glass. Her generally superior look gradually fades as I just stare at her.
When I finish the last drop in my glass, I set it in the sink and start to leave the kitchen. Stella steps in front of me. She grabs my shoulders with both hands, dips down to look in my eyes, and announces. "You autoported."
"What?"
"Autoported,"she repeats. "You shimmered yourself home, didn't you?"
"How can you tell?" Then I remember she can read minds. "Never mind."
"No," she says, shaking her head. "Your mind's too much of a mess for me to read right now. You have a residual glow in your eyes. That only happens when someone has recently autoported."
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