Goddess Boot Camp omg-2

by Tera Lynn Childs

  "What you're-"

  "But," she says, glaring at me for interrupting again, "because I care about him so much, I will tell you."

  I try not to get hung up on the whole because -I -care-about-him-so-much bit and listen to her explanation. In the few months I've known her, she has never been this serious over anything that doesn't involve nail polish, designer shoes, or a halftime cheer at a wrestling match. An uneasy, my-life-is-about-to-turn-upsidc-down feeling settles in my stomach.

  "My mother is becoming a handmaiden of Apollo."

  Er, what?

  I know I look totally confused.

  "Becoming a handmaiden is an honor and a sacrifice. The chosen must pledge to serve the deity unwaveringly for the duration of her term. That means she is leaving me and my father." Her eyes well up again, and her voice catches. "She will serve on Mount Olympus for the next twenty-five years."

  "Wow, that's a long time to work for someone."

  "The worst is"-Adara gives me a weak smile-"she can't leave Mount Olympus during her service."

  Holy Hades. I shake my head, trying to wrap my brain around that idea. Nic told me that no one-not even hematheos-can visit Mount Olympus unless they are in service or on trial. Only an edictfrom the gods can grant a day pass, and that almost never happens. That means Adara won't see her mom for the next quarter century.

  I try to imagine what it would be like not to have Mom to talk to for that long. She'd miss out on my birthdays and my graduations and my-sometime in the distant future-wedding. There would be races, maybe even the Olympics, every day there are little things that I talk to her about, ask her about. If she weren't around… it's unfathomable.

  I should e-mail Mom when I get home.

  "Adara, I'm so-'

  "Sorry?" she asks with a sad laugh. "That's exactly why I didn't want Griffin to tell anyone. I'm not interested in a pity party. Besides, this is supposed to be a prestigious honor for the family. I'm supposed to celebrate"-one hand wipes at a tear streaking down her cheek-"not grieve."

  "So, Griffin has been helping you, uh…"

  "Prepare to lose my mother?" She gives a little snort. "Yeah, pretty much."

  I try to wrap my brain around this news. Griffin hasn't been romantically involved with his ex, he's been helping her through a tough time. I can't fault him for that, of course. Besides the whole descendant of Hercules obligation thing, deep down he's a sensitive and loyal guy.

  I've been so wrapped up in my own issues that I never thought that someone else might be having problems. Adara's life alwaysseemed so perfect, I never once thought she might be going through a tough time.

  But why did he lie to me?We're supposed to be partners. Equal. He should have known he could tell me the truth in complete confidence. But he couldn't-or wouldn't-confide in me, which means he doesn't trust me. Not completely. That means that, while he's not completely in the right, he does deserve another chance. We deserve another chance.

  "You gave Griffin a raw deal., she says.

  I never thought I'd say this, but she's right. "I did."

  "What are you going to do about it?"

  "I'll fix it," I vow. As soon as camp is out for the day, I'll be knocking on his door, prepared to work out this whole trust thing.

  "You'd better."

  When she starts to turn back to the courtyard, I reach out and touch her elbow. "Thank you."

  She stiffens. "Whatever," she says, back in old Adara form. "If you're over being pissed at me, maybe we can get on with the neo-factionexercise."

  Less than a minute later, she's standing there with a steaming-hot latte in her hand.

  I spin around, ready for my accolades.

  She takes a sip and then snorts. "Nice try." The cup glows for a second and then disappears. That was decaf."

  For a second I think about strangling her. But then my common sense kicks in. First of all, I need to focus on controlling my powersif I'm going to pass the test. And second, I don't fancy spending time in Hades.

  Sympathy for Adara has nothing to do with my decision to quietly turn around and try again.

  Promise.

  * * *

  "He didn't mention where he was going," Aunt Lili says when I ask her if Griffin's home.

  "Oh," I say, deflated. I want to talk to him as soon as possible. For the first time in a while, I do notthink the worst. Despite my better judgment-maybe it was her tears or the phase of the moon or a curse of understanding-I believe Adara. "Can you tell him I stopped by. And-" I almost ask her to tell him I'm sorry, but that's definitely the sort of thing a girl needs to say in person. "And that I'll try again tomorrow."

  And the day after that. And the day after that. And every day until we're good again. Because what we have is definitely worth the effort-and definitely worth my eating some humble pie.

  "My nephew isn't perfect," Aunt Lili says as I reach the door. "But he has a good heart."

  "Yeah," I say giving her a confident smile. "I know that." Now.

  If my trust issues have driven him away, I have no one to blame but myself.

  As the door closes behind me, I think about how unfair I was toGriffin-and to myself-for thinking the worst. After nine months, I should trust him-and my instincts-more than that.

  Without thinking, I kick into a jog as I hit the edge of the village. My Nikes pound the smooth stone path with a soft thud, every step I take sends more blood, more oxygen, pumping through me. My worries start to ooze away. Griffin and I will be fine. If he can't forgive me right away, then I'll work to win him back. We're fated. That's not the kind of thing a girl can let slip away.

  I'll pass my test. My control over my powers is getting better every day. Last week I autoportedand today I materialized-neofactured-a dozen lattes for Adara,even if none of them was to her exacting specifications, she still gave me the merit badge, (this one has an orange ring of color, a yellow background, and a gray factory-building design. I'll line it up on my dresser, next to the other six, when I get home.)

  Tomorrow night, I'll meet my mystery e-mailer and find out what happened to Dad. And maybe learn how to keep whatever happened to him from accidentally happening to me.

  Running always makes everything so clear.

  Maybe this is why I've been so stressed. Most of the running I've done lately is training runs. All business and focus. No time for daydreaming and working through things while physically exhausting myself. Running is definitely my therapy. Starting tomorrow, I'm going to schedule regular fun runs-training-free time.

  Before I know it, I'm jogging toward home, following the path that curves around the front lawn of the Academy. But I haven'tfinished exercising my problems, so I steer off toward campus. A hard run around the cross-country course should do the trick.

  Nearly two hours later I'm racing up the front steps at home, exhausted in the best possible way.

  Giddy on endorphins, I bust in and shout, "Stella, I'm-"

  I stop midsentence.

  Lying on the living-room couch, feet propped up on the arm and clearly asleep, is Griffin. He didn't stir when I came shouting into the room. Obviously, he's been out for a while.

  "He was on the front porch when I got home from camp," Stella says. She's leaning against the far wall, casually stirring up the fruit in a peach yogurt.

  My heart melts big-time.

  How could I have been such an idiot? He's made it clear every day in a million different ways how much he cares for me. I was ready to dismiss it all because he was talking to another girl. Because he was helping out a good friend.

  I will never be that stupid again. Well, I'll try not to be anyway.

  In an instant, I'm sitting on the coffee table at the end by his head.

  "I've got some work to do," Stella says, pushing away from the wall. "I'll be in my room. With the door shut. And my headphones on."

  I flash her a grateful smile. She's giving us-me-some privacy and I appreciate it. I don't need her to see me begging for forgiveness-
she'd never let me live it down.

  As soon as she and her yogurt disappear down the hall, I lean forward over Griffin. I take a second to absorb him before I wakehim up. I've never seen him sleep before-his thick lashes fan out below his eyes like exotic palm fronds. There is no sign of worry or pain or the weight of his Herculean obligations. Just pure, innocent boy.

  Mypure, innocent boy.

  Hand hovering above his shoulder, I sigh. I don't want to wake him up. I don't want to disturb his peace.

  But my sigh must have been a touch too loud or too close- or maybe he just sensed I was there-because his palm-frond lashes flutter open, and instead I'm staring into his bright blue eyes.

  For about half asecond, his eyes are just as worry-free as his sleeping face had been. He smiles. Then a cloud shadows their brightness.

  "Phoebe,'' he exclaims, lurching up to a sitting position. "I was waiting for you."

  I smile nervously. "Clearly."

  "I mean, I wanted to talk to you." He looks over my shoulder. "What time is it?"

  I check my watch. "Six-thirty."

  "Skata.I was supposed to meet Dara at six." His eyes pop wide. "I mean-not that I-she doesn't-"

  "It's okay," I say, laying a hand on his arm. "She told me."

  His eyebrows pinch into a frown and he looks like he's in pain. "I wanted to tell you. You know I did. I just-"

  "I know," I say, trying to ease his pain. "You have to help her. It's your Hercules complex."

  "No." he says. "It's more than that."

  "Then what?" I say, trying to be as open as possible. I won't let there be any more lies and half-truths between us.

  "Adara is my friend. Until you helped me work through things with Nicole last year, she was my oldest friend. That's never going to change." He takes my hands and holds them between his, between us. "Neither is the fact that you're my girlfriend."

  "I know." I ignore the wetness in my eyes. "I'm sorry I doubted you. I trust you. I really do. But sometimes I just don't trust my own instincts."

  "We'll have to work on that," he says, grinning and pulling me off the coffee table and onto his lap.

  When he's got me settled, I slip my arms around his neck. "While we're at it, let's work on you trusting me, too."

  "Me? I trust you," he insists. "What makes you think I-"

  "I saw you with Nicole on the beach the other night." I think back to that night. When I got so upset I'd shimmered myself home. Griffin always said my powers would be affected by my emotions until I learned to master them. "She knew what was going on with Adara."

  His brows scrunch over his blue eyes. "You were there?"

  I refuse to blush. He doesn't need to know I was hiding behind a boulder. "Why could you tell her the truth and not me?"

  His head flops back against the couch. "I didn't tell her," he groans. "She guessed."

  "Really?" That's a pretty uncanny guess.

  "Interpol could use someone with her instincts. If it makes you feel any better, she was pretty pissed that I hadn't told you." He gives me a half smile. "She let me have it."

  Score one for Nicole. She always has my back.

  "Why did you think the truth would hurt me?" I ask.

  "What do you mean?"

  "You asked her not to tell me," I explain. "You said you didn't want me to get hurt."

  "No, that wasn't about Dara." He turns completely serious. "You know that research project Nic's been working on?"

  I nod.

  "She's been trying to find a loophole in our parents' punishment decree."

  "Wow." I'm breathless. "Can you do that?"

  "There have been a few cases." He gives me a sad smile. "But it's very rare."

  Rare, but not impossible. My mind floods with possibilities. If there was a way to undo an Olympic decree, then Griffin could get his parents back. Nicole's parents could be un-banished. Dad could get un-smoted.

  "Omigods, Griffin," I gasp, overwhelmed with hope. "Do you know what this means? This means we could all-"

  "No," he says, cutting me off. This is why I didn't want to tell you what she's trying to do. This is a one-in-a-billion long shot. The gods are as unyielding as they are fickle, if that makes any sense. They've had millennia to hone their skills at writing unbreakable decrees. The chance that they messed up in one of ours-" He shakes his head. "I don't want to get your hopes up, just to see you get hurt all over again."

  His blue eyes are full of the same pain I felt at losing Dad. More,since he lost both his parents at once. But at the same time, deeper than the pain is his love for me. I don't know how I let myself believe that wasn't there.

  And because of my love for him, I won't push the issue right now.

  "We can talk about this some other time," I say. Relaxing in his arms, I snuggle my head against his neck. "Right now I'm too busy trusting you to think about anything else."

  I feel the rumble of his laugh against my chest.

  I know he is dead serious about protecting me, about keeping me from pain. I also know that I can't let this go forever. I'm not so dumb that I don't realize what a crazy impossibility this loophole thing is. If there is a chance, though-even the teeny, tiniest, slimmest chance in history-for any of us to get back our lost parents, then I have to pursue that chance.

  For now, I'll hang back and let him and Nicole take the lead, helping when I can. But I'll follow this through to the end.

  However long it takes.

  Chapter 10

  __________________________________________________________________________________________________________

  CORPOPROTECTION

  SOURCE: HESTIA

  The ability to protect oneself from harm, whether seen or unseen. In some hematheos, this may manifest as the ability to sense impending danger. Others may be capable of deflecting a direct physical threat. Effectiveness diminished by mental distraction.

  DYNAMOTHEOS STUDY GUIDE * Stella Patrolas

  __________________________________________________________________________________________________________

  TANSY IS WAITING at the cross-country starting block when Griffin and I walk up the next morning. She's wearing a tank top, supershort running shorts, and a pair of sneakers that look older than me. She's also wearing a headband and matching wristbands in a very eighties white with blue stripes. Oblivious to our approach, she's busy stretching. But not normal stretching-super/exaggerated stretching, like a cartoon or something.

  "Is that her?" Griffin whispers.

  "Uhhuh," I whisper back. With a shrug, I add, "She wants to be a runner."

  "She, um…" He swallows hard. "Certainly has the outfit down."

  "Don't laugh."

  "I wouldn't. Besides," he says, "if she starts training with us, she's gonna need those sweat bands."

  With a grateful smile, I take his hand and slip my fingers through his.

  Tansy finally notices us approaching.

  "Hi, Phoebe," she calls out, waving excitedly. "Griffin, right?"

  "Yeah," he says, nodding. "I hear you want to be a runner."

  Her green eyes flick to me and back to him. With a breathless, dreamy voice, she says. "More than anything."

  I remember that kind of desperate wanting. If my dad had asked me the same question eight years ago, I would have replied in exactly the same way. For maybe a little bit of the same reason. More than anything-more than love of the sport or desire to win or the rush of endorphins- I wanted to be close to him. To be like him.

  "Let's get started, then," I say, slipping off my hooded sweatshirt and hanging it on the drinking fountain. "Since this is your first training session, I think we should start out easy. Don't want to kill you on your first day." To Griffin, I suggest, "Why don't we take the yellow course."

  "Makes sense." He shrugs out of his zip-up sweatshirt and hangs it over mine. That's the shortest course," he explains to Tansy. "That way if you get worn out, we can stop after one lap."

  "I won't get worn out," s
he insists. "We don't need to do the baby course." She looks personally offended that we would even suggest she couldn't keep up.

  I remember feeling like that, like I had something to prove. Like I didn't need people cutting me slack because I could keep up on my own, thank you very much. Just last year I felt like that, actually.

  Still, we've never seen her run. To be on the safe side we should at least test the waters before we push her to the limit. That's how injuries happen.

  "How about this?" I suggest, going for a middle ground that will save her pride and make sure we don't push her too hard, too fast. "We'll take one lap on the yellow course and then we'll do interval training around the stadium."

  "Sounds perfect to me," Griffin says, jogging in place to warm up his muscles. "I read an article about interval training last year. The alternation of sprinting and jogging builds up cardiovascular efficiency and overall stamina faster than running alone."

  Tansy looks skeptical, like we're trying to pull one over on her. I am, in a way, but she doesn't necessarily know that.

  Finally, after eyeing me and chewing on her lip, she nods. "Okay."

  I shake out my arms and legs, checking to make sure they're still warm and loose from when I'd stretched earlier. Everything feels in working order, so I lead us to the starting line.

  "Not that you will," I say to Tansy, "but if your muscles start burning or you can't catch your breath enough to speak, then pull up. Stamina is easy to fix. Injuries are not."

  "Fine., she says, jamming her hands on her hips.

  I can tell we're on the verge of witnessing a huff.

  "Then let's go," Griffin says. "I'll take the lead; Tansy, you'll run middle, and Phoebe will bring up the rear. She's used to that," he teases.

  "You'd better run," I say, lunging for him.

  Before I can smack him on the shoulder, he pushes into a run and starts following the little yellow flags marking our course.

  Tansy follows him, easily matching his gentle pace. I remember to start the stopwatch and then fall in behind her, knowing Griffinplaced me here so I could watch her form and her condition.