Tera Childs: Goddess Boot Camp

Especially when he's wearing track pants. Call me a running geek, but I love a guy in training gear.

He hugs me back and whispers in my ear. "I missed you, kardia tis tardias mou."

And I love it when he calls me his heart of hearts. Leaning back, I give him a soft kiss. We've been going out for almost nine months, but I still can't get over kissing him. My real-life hero.

"Let me just lace up." I say, releasing him and going for my sneakers under the bed. "and I'll be ready to go."

"Hey, Nic." he says softly.

She gives him a little smile. "Hi Griff."

"You doing all right?" he asks.

"Always, jockhead."

She means that affectionately. I think.

Besides, all the descendants of Ares are jockheads. But there's more to him. She doesn't know he's a heroic descendant of Hercules, too. No one does.

I take a seat on my bright yellow rug and pull on my Nikes. Even though Griffin and Nicole worked through their major problems last fall-they had been best friends when they were little, until their parents got punished for something the kids did-they're still a little awkward around each other. They both like me, though, and they have some serious history behind them. I have faith.

"What were you saying about Goddess Boot Camp?" Griffin asks as I tie my laces into bows. "Why are you going?"

"Damian's making me." I let out a rough breath, "He's afraid I won't be able to pass the test."

"What test?"

"The one the gods are making her take." Nicole explains.

Griffin scowls, his dark eyebrows scrunching together over his bright blue eyes in an adorably concerned way. "I was afraid something like this would happen. What with your powers still so unpredictable-"

"Hey!" I smack him on the thigh. "It's not for lack of trying."

"I know." he says, reaching down and pulling me to my feet. "It's not your fault. Not with such late-onset powers."

"And the fact that you're only three steps down from Nike." Nicole adds. "They're stronger than most."

I feel a little better. I mean, most of the kids at the Academy are several generations or more removed from their ancestor god. The closer your branch is to the trunk of the tree, the stronger the powers. Mine are colossal strong. Which makes them colossal hard to control.

Clearly, the gods aren't taking that into account.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to snap." Sometimes I open my mouth and my emotions spill out before I can check them. "It's not your fault I'm a complete failure at the whole powers thing."

"You're not a failure," Griffin insists. "Just… inexperienced. Like training for the Pythian Games. Even though you already know how to run, you still need to train hard and in a different way for the marathon-length race than you do for cross-country. Right?"

"Of course."

"You just have to keep pushing yourself harder, further, until it becomes as natural as what you're used to."

One of the reasons I adore Griffin so much is his ability to speak my language. Runner-ese.

"What do you think will happen if I fail the test?" I ask. "Damian wasn't exactly forthcoming about the consequences."

Griffin shakes his head. "I don't know. Has anyone else ever taken a test like this?"

"There arc rumors." Nicole says. "No one's ever proven them."

"Damian told me there has been one other student tested since he became headmaster. But he didn't tell me who it was or what happened-"

Nicole snorts.

We all know Damian's big on secrecy. The man makes the CIA look like a gabfest. He is Mr. Need-to-know. As in, students never need to know.

I close my eyes. It's either that or give in to the despair. Of course I'm one of only two hematheos in recent history forced to take a powers test-and likely to fail that test. Life would be too good if I weren't about to be made a horrible outcast. I mean more of a horrible outcast. It's bad enough I'm already the girl who didn't know about her powers-and the entire hematheos world-until she was seventeen, and the girl who is so close to Nike she makes the other kids nervous and resentful. Now I'll be the girl strung up on the rack for the next seven or so centuries.

Rather than focus on something I don't have control over at the moment-exactly my problem, by the way-I focus on something I can control. Running.

"I can't think about this anymore right now," I announce. I ask Griffin. "Are you ready to run?"

"Of course." He flashes me a brilliant grin.

Turning to Nicole. I offer. "You're welcome to join us."

"No thanks." She climbs off the bed and grabs her messenger bag from the floor. "I'm allergic to exercise."

"So I've noticed." I tease. She and Troy have that in common.

"I was thinking we could run the north shore today," Griffin says. Then to Nicole, "You could walk with us as far as the village." He dips his head a little and lowers his voice. "If you're heading that way."

My fears of smoting and embarrassment and being turned into a goat are instantly gone. I'm so proud of Griffin for making inroads with Nicole. They'll be back to best friends in no time.

"Thanks." she says. "But I'm heading to the library for a little extracurricular research."

Or maybe their friendship will take a little more time to heal back to pre-incident levels. I'm not concerned. They've gone from mortal enemies to friendlies in under a year. It will all be behind them by the time we graduate.

"We can walk with you to the school." I say, snagging an elastic off my dresser and pulling my hair into a ponytail. "Since it's on the way to the village."

As we head through the living room. I hear Damian's voice coming from the master bedroom. "We will be gone for less than two weeks, Valerie," he says. "Is it really necessary to take three suitcases?"

"I've never been to Thailand before." she replies. "I'm not sure what to pack. Besides…" Her voice takes on a kind of purring tone. "We only have one honeymoon and I want to make it special."

Mom and Damian have been married for months now, but their lovey-dovey talk is still going strong. An image of what exactly my mom is packing in those three suitcases is about to pop into my mind. It has lace and sequins and-I shudder-feathers.

"Let's go," I say, grabbing Griffin and Nicole by the arms and hurrying them out the door. "With any luck, they'll be done packing when I get home."

As Griffin and I round a rocky outcropping on Serfopoula's north-shore beach, I'm thinking about Dad. That's not so unusual. I think about Dad a lot when I run. Lately, though-ever since I found out I was a descendant of the goddess of victory and exactly how Dad died-my thoughts have been a little different.

Before I found out, running usually brought back memories of training with him. Of running on Santa Monica beach in the early-morning hours and getting ice cream when we were done. Of him shouting encouragements: "Feel the victory inside you. Phoebester." (Yeah, victory has a completely different meaning now.)