Tera Childs - Goddess Boot Camp

My mind drifts back to the Adara comment. I realize I'm being hypersensitive about the whole ex-girlfriend thing. I mean, I'm not jealous. Really. He's totally, one hundred percent into me. And the fact that he's still friends with his on-again-off-again girlfriend of like five years is not completely surprising. They have a history.

That doesn't mean I have to like it.

"You'll pass the test," Griffin says as we get within sight of the village.

I sigh. It's better to let him think I'm stressing about the test than confess that I'm really dwelling on his relationship with his ex.

"I know," I say, trying to sound convincing.

"I mean it." he says, slowing our pace to a light jog. "If anyone can learn to control insanely strong powers in the next two weeks, you can. You can do anything."

I love that he's my strongest supporter, my own personal Phoebe cheerleader. He sounds totally certain that I'll succeed… but I'm not.

"Listen," he says, pulling me to a stop as we reach the outer edge of the village. "Think about how much you've accomplished in the last few months. A weaker girl would have collapsed under the pressure of starting over at a new school populated with descendants of the gods. Not you. You thrived and proved to every last one of us that you deserve to be here. And you do."

His blue eyes are practically glowing with sincerity. My own feel a little damp. My only pre-Griffin experience with a boyfriend was jerky Justin Mars-a total sleaze who treated me like dirt and dumped me for an easy squeeze when I wouldn't put out. Having a boyfriend so fully and totally supportive is an experience I'm still getting used to.

"All you have to do is take all the energy you focused on winning that race last fall"-he reaches up and wipes at the tear that escaped down my cheek-"and focus it on controlling your powers. No problem."

I give him a watery smile. I am so not a girl who cries. And it's not what he's saying that makes me weepy, but the way he's saying it. Like he believes I'm capable of conquering the world. He believes in me. Unconditionally.

My heart thuds. I've never felt more supported, more confident, more-his eves glance over my shoulder and focus on something behind me-forgotten?

"Hey, Adara," he says, smiling. "We were just heading for the bakery. Wanna come?"

I turn just in time to see her scoff.

"No. Thanks." Her vapid blue eyes rake over me in an especially-not-if- she's -here way. "I'm meeting Stella at the bookstore. We have plans to discuss."

"No problem," Griffin says.

As much as I can't stand Adara, I can't stand the way she just shot Griffin down even more. He's nothing but nice to her and does not deserve to be dismissed like that.

Still, I'm going to let it go. She's nothing to me-as inconsequential as air. Except for the occasional run-in like this, I won't have to see her all summer.

But then, as I step around her to pass by, she whispers. 'You don't deserve him, kako ."

Oh. No. She. Didn't.

I whip back around.

"Too bad you can't join us," I say, in a totally fake voice. "Want us to save you some loukoumades?" I glance pointedly at her hips with a pseudo-sympathetic look. "Better not."

I give her an equally fake smile and then saunter off down the street, taking Griffin by the hand and pulling him with me.

"You didn't have to do that, Phoebe."

"Do what?" I should feel better for putting her in her place-after all, she's the one who dismissed Griff and called me "bad blood." But instead I just feel… wrong.

"Be so mean to her." He looks disappointed.

"Why not?" I snap, taking my hand away from his. His disappointment only reinforces the empty feeling in my gut. "She's always mean to me."

"Because it's beneath you, and…" His voice takes on that serious, descendant-of-Hercules hero tone. For a second, it seems like he's going to tell me something earth-shattering. Then he says. "You need to look beneath the surface."

That clears everything up. I know exactly what lies beneath Adara's shallow, superficial surface-a shallow, superficial inside. I'm still standing there, confused, as he heads off into the village.

I definitely have the feeling that I just failed some kind of test.

Great, another test I didn't know I was taking.

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NEOFACTION

SOURCE: HEPHAESTUS

The ability to create an object out of nothing. Knowledge and understanding of the makeup of desired object is necessary for an accurate manifestation. Attempts to create new or unknown objects may yield surprising and/or dangerous results.

DYNAMOTHEOS STUDY GUIDE * Stella Petrolas

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"AUNT LILI SENT THESE for you." I show Mom the bag from the bakery.

Mom is standing at the foot of her bed, staring at the three open-and beyond full-suitcases and ticking things off on her fingers. She looks totally zoned out. She's a bit of an obsessive-compulsive when it comes to packing-which is exactly why I was hoping she'd be done when I got home.

"1 don't think I have enough bras." she says, giving one of the suitcases a despairing look.

Since they're going to be gone for under two weeks, I'm guessing she has… twelve. And will end up packing fifteen. Just in case.

"One more," she says. As she digs a bra out of her dresser-I turn away bceause I don't want to see anything lacy or sequin-y or feathery-she adds, "Ten should be just enough."

"I'm impressed," I say, making my way to the head of the bed and carefully avoiding the suitcases as I flop back across the pillows. "I expected you to take a dozen."

She spins quickly toward me. "Do you think I need more?"

"No!" I backpedal. "Of course n-"

"You're right." She heads back to the dresser. "Two more. Just in case."

I could groan in frustration, but: (a) I've been through this whole packing enterprise dozens of times before: (b) I'm too exhausted from the training run: and (c) I'm still dwelling on Griffin. I mean, how can he not see that palling around with his ex -girlfriend might be undesirable to his current girlfriend?

"What is that?" Mom asks, pointing at the brown paper bag sitting on my stomach. "Do I need to pack it? Where will it go?"

"Relax, Mom," I say, handing her the bag without sitting up. I knew she hadn't heard me. "It's goodies from the bakery. You and Damian can eat them tonight. Or in the morning." I close my eyes and sigh. "Or never."

The bed shifts as Mom sits next to my head.

"What's wrong. Phoebola?"

Her hand smoothes a stray lock of hair across my forehead and behind my ear. Eyes firmly shut, I slowly shake my head. If I talk about it, then therapist Mom might make an appearance. And the last thing I need right now is a shrunken head.