Goddess Boot Camp (7 page)

Until Adara says, “Make room in the circle for Phoebe, girls. She needs all the help she can get.”

My face feels like it’s on fire.

Now, Stella can goad me all she wants. I’ve learned to ignore her for the most part. But there’s just something about Adara—maybe it’s my tweak over her friendship with Griffin or her generally superior attitude—that makes me want to fight back. So, when she makes her little snide comment, instead of walking away, I walk into the circle. I take the position directly across from her—which happens to place me between Stella and Xander. I can feel Stella fuming next to me, but I don’t care. I’m busy staring Adara down.

“Can we start already?” Xander asks in a bored tone.

“Right,” Stella says, snapping out of her minisnit and brightening at the sound of his voice. “We’re going to start off with an overview of our schedule for the next two weeks. Dara”—she nods across the circle—“the welcome packets please.”

Adara pulls a rainbow stack of stapled papers from her bag and hands half to the girls on either side of her. The girls each take one and pass on the rest.

“These packets contain vital information for camp.” Adara holds up a rainbow packet. “Besides the schedule, there are handouts, work sheets, and study guides. The most critical is the
Dynamotheos
Study Guide.”

“This guide explains the powers passed down by the twelve Olympians to all
hematheos
. It is the foundation for our training,” Stella explains. “We expect you to study it thoroughly. Tonight.”

I take the packet Stella hands me and flip through it. This seems a lot like homework—something I was looking forward to
not
doing this summer. As if a work sheet is going to help me control my powers.

“Yes, Larissa?” Adara says.

A blonde girl to my right lowers her raised hand and asks, “Um, if
dynamotheos
comes from the twelve Olympians, why is Hades there? He doesn’t live on Olympus.”

“No,” Stella explains. “But he is one of the six original children of Cronus and Rhea. Demeter gave up her claim to a
dynamotheos,
preferring to pass on her agricultural abilities through outreach and education.”

“Oh,” Larissa says with a shy smile. “Okay.”

“Now let’s go over the schedule. And after,” Stella continues, “we will do some icebreaker activities so we can all get to know each other a little better.”

Even though she can’t look at him without being totally obvious, I’m sure Stella means
she
wants to get to know
Xander
best of all. The idea that Stella has a crush and I might get to witness her acting like a lovesick puppy makes me happier than it probably should, but a girl has to take pleasure where she can.

Maybe this won’t be the worst two weeks of my life, after all.

“My name is Pandora. I’m a descendant of, well, Pandora. I usually live with my mom in Geneva, but she’s doing relief work in the Congo and sent me to stay with my dad on Serfopoula for the summer.”

Everyone in the circle says, “Hi, Pandora!”

I swallow a groan. This is like the first morning of every cross-country camp I’ve ever attended. Only at cross-country camp I at least had hard-core running to look forward to. I don’t think I’m lucky enough to hope that after the icebreakers Stella’s going to say, “Warm-up’s over. Let’s run.”

We’re just over halfway through the circle, with three girls, the counselors, and—joy—me still to give our introductions.

“Welcome, Pandora.” Stella smiles sweetly at the frizzy-haired blonde. “What are your expectations for Goddess Boot Camp?”

“Well . . .” Pandora says, chewing on her lip as she thinks. “I’d like to be able to turn my little brother into a toad.”

The other girls all laugh.

Stella tsks. “You most certainly will
not
learn that.”

“Fine, then.” Pandora crosses her arms with a little pout. “Since I live in the
nothos
world, I want to learn how to keep my powers hidden.”

“Very good.” Stella nods in approval.

Everyone else claps.

I’m secretly relieved, because I need to learn that, too. As much as I love Mom and Damian—most of the time—I don’t intend to spend the rest of my life on this tiny island. If I am ever going to return to the
nothos
world, as Pandora put it—a world I happily inhabited until a few months ago—then I have to not only learn how to control my powers, but also how to conceal them.

Xander leans forward and says, “When camp is over, I can help you out with that toad thing.”

He seems completely serious—no hint of a smile or anything. That earns him a scowl from Stella, a giggle from Pandora, and an eye roll from Adara. I’m definitely intrigued. This is the most he’s said all morning. Up until now it’s been nods, raised eyebrows, and—when forced—a grunt of agreement. He’s definitely got the whole mysterious thing working.

I never knew Stella went for the jaded rebel-boy type.

“Next,” Adara says, moving the introductions along.

“I’m Gillian and my mom teaches here at the Academy. I’m a descendant of Athena, and I—”

“Sorry I’m late.”

Everyone turns to look as a woman rushes toward the circle, her sandals smacking on the stone floor with every step. Halfway to the circle, the strap on her tote bag breaks, sending the contents flying everywhere. She drops to her knees, gathering the stray papers back into a pile.

Next to me, Stella huffs.

“Everyone,” she says, her voice full of barely disguised exasperation, “this is our faculty sponsor. Miss Orivas.”

As Miss Orivas looks up and, still on all fours, waves, Stella points at the papers. They glow for a second and then are suddenly back in the tote bag. Another quick glow repairs the broken strap.

“Thank you,” Miss Orivas exclaims, climbing back to her feet. “Don’t mind me. The girls are in charge.” She points at Stella and Adara. “I’m just here to make sure no one blows up the school.”

“Lucky us,” Stella mutters under her breath. Then to the group, “Miss Orivas is an academic counselor here at the Academy. She advises
A
through
H
students in Level 13.”

“I’m a descendant of Harmonia on my mother’s side and Eris on my father’s,” she says cheerfully. “Which makes me a little conflicted.”

Everyone laughs. I force a laugh, too, even though I don’t get what’s so funny. I mean, I can guess that Harmonia is the goddess of peace and harmony or something, but I can’t remember who Eris is.

My total confusion must show, because the girl on the other side of Xander—who seems a couple years older than the rest—leans around him and whispers, “Eris is the goddess of discord.”

“Thanks . . . um . . .”

“Tansy,” she offers, then leans back into her spot.

Okay, I get it. Miss Orivas descends from war
and
peace. Major conflict.

“My family history made for good conflict-resolution training.”

I think she expects us to clap or ask questions or something, but we all look at her kind of confused. Well, except for Xander, who is leaning back on his elbows and looking up at the sky. At the unexpected response, Miss Orivas giggles uncomfortably as she takes a seat in the circle between me and Stella and says, “Please, continue with the introductions.”

“Of course,” Stella says, but I can tell she’s annoyed. Maybe because Miss Orivas separated her from Xander even farther, or maybe because Miss Orivas seems kind of nutty. Or maybe Stella’s cheerful veneer is finally wearing off—I knew it couldn’t last. In any case, she smiles at Gillian, and says, “Continue.”

The rest of the ten-year-olds introduce themselves in that painful, first-day-of-class way. Like you’re crazy nervous because you know everyone in the circle is staring at
you
. That was always my least favorite part of back-to-school.

When the last ten-year-old finishes, everyone’s eyes turn on me.

I blank.

“Phoebe . . .” Stella leans into the circle and gives me a fake encouraging look. I know it’s fake, because she looks totally innocent—and I
know
she’s not totally innocent.

“Um, hi,” I say, brilliantly. I’ve never been big on public speaking, even if the public in question is just a small group of ten-year-olds. But if everyone else can do it, so can I. “I’m Phoebe Castro. I just moved here last year. Actually, I just found out about this whole
hematheos
world last year. And then I found out that I’m a descendant of Nike—which totally makes sense, because I’m a runner and I
love
to win. But that’s a whole other story.”

I know I’m babbling.

I know I’m facing a whole circle of blank stares.

I know I should stop.

“Ever since I found out,” I continue, “I’ve had an awful time controlling my powers. I mean, it’s like they have a life of their own. They do things all the time without my even meaning to and now the gods are making me take some stupid test, so I really need to get my act together—”

“Your powers act independent of conscious effort?” Miss Orivas asks.

“Uh-huh.” I nod.

“Huh.” She sounds surprised. “How does it happen?”

If I knew, I would do something about it. And I wouldn’t be sitting in an icebreaker circle with a bunch of ten-year-olds, facing two weeks of torment by my least favorite person on this island, desperately hoping I can learn some measure of control when all I really want to do is train for the Pythian Games.

I must look as sarcastic as I feel, because she adds, “What are the circumstances?”

Oh, that.

“All different circumstances,” I explain. “I mean, it happens at home, at school, and in the village. Sometimes it happens when I’m trying to do something, but my mind wanders. Sometimes it happens when I’m just thinking. I don’t know why any more than I can figure out how to make it stop.”

“Fascinating,” Miss Orivas mutters, and starts scribbling on her notepad.

“Most students struggle to manifest their powers,” Stella says, as if I need explanation. I do, but I won’t tell her that. “You have the opposite problem.”

Great, glad I could be a case study or whatever.

“The fact that you are a third generation,” Adara chimes in, “means they are stronger than most. You’re lucky we only had to evacuate the school once.”

My cheeks erupt in flames.

“You’re the one?” one of the girls on the opposite side of the circle gasps. I think her name is Tessa or Teresa or something.

“The one what?” I ask nervously, though I know what she’s about to say.

She leans forward, stage-whispering across the circle. “The one who
neofactured
lions during the pep rally.”

I’m too mortified to respond. No one was ever supposed to know that was me. I was only trying to show school spirit (go, Nemean Lions!). My mouth just kind of drops open, like if it hangs there long enough something will come out.

All the girls in the circle stare, their eyes glowing with fear and awe.

As if I need another reason for kids at the Academy to think I’m different.

“Okay, then,” Adara says, saving me—unintentionally, I’m sure, since she’s the one who dropped the bomb—from continued embarrassment, “time for the counselor introductions. I’ll go first.” She tilts her head to the side and smiles. “My name is Adara, I’m a descendant of Aphrodite, I’m an entering Level 13, and I plan on attending the Sorbonne when I graduate.”

Wow. I am totally surprised that she isn’t going to Oxford like everyone else. Like
Griffin
is. From what he says, pretty much everyone at the Academy goes there, since the school has an arrangement with the administration. If you’re an Academy grad, you’re in. No formal application required. That eliminates the background research on the applicants—and on the school.

“Hi, Adara,” everyone says obediently.

She looks at Stella. “Your turn.”

Stella takes a deep breath. “As I said before,” she says, her cheerful voice wavering just a little, “I’m Stella. I’m a descendant of Hera. I graduated from the Academy last weekend—”

Everyone cheers, applauding her success. I roll my eyes. As if Stella’s graduation hasn’t been the number one topic in the Petrolas household for the last few weeks. By the time she walked across the stage, I was ready to use her mortarboard to put myself out of my misery. I’m so over it.

“Thank you,” she says, blushing. “And in the fall I will be matriculating at Oxford, where I intend to study economics.”

I zone out while everyone oohs and ahhs. This is a story I know practically by heart. Instead, I imagine what life will be like without Stella in the house. Sure, we’ve only been housemates for a few months, but it feels like a lifetime. It’s like I can’t remember a time where she wasn’t there to torment me daily. No more desperately rushing to the bathroom, only to find the door locked and the shower running. No more having her knock on my door before sunrise, her face covered in one of her rainbow array of face masks, demanding I return something I haven’t borrowed—like I would borrow anything from her prep-trendy closet. No more facing her across the dinner table, worrying that my food will turn into something still living—and knowing I can’t return the favor without it going terribly wrong. Life without Stella is going to be amazing. Like a birthday party every day.

Little tingles of happiness sparkle down my arms.

“Great Zeus,” Miss Orivas cries.

My eyes snap back into focus. Everyone in the circle is staring, wide-eyed at Stella. If their mouths dropped any farther, they’d be cartoons.

A sense of dread shivers up my spine.

Slowly—in the hopes that maybe if I take my time it won’t be as bad as I’m imagining—I turn to face Stella. Nope, it’s my worst nightmare. The first morning of boot camp and I’ve already turned Stella into a birthday cake. Okay, not an
actual
birthday cake. Just decorated like one.

“I’m so sorry,” I blurt.

She has her eyes clenched shut—probably to keep the frosting from dripping into them—and I’m pretty sure her jaw is clenched, too. It’s hard to tell under the swirls of blue icing. She is going to smote me faster than I can say—