Oh. My. Gods.
Page 24

Looking around I don’t see anyone in the hall.
“Because Blake used his powers on her,” a voice that sounds like Coach Lenny says.
The voices are coming from a slightly ajar door. It’s wrong and sneaky and all those things, but I tiptoe up to the door and listen. They are talking about me, after all. I think I have a right to hear.
“If he did,” the first voice—I think it is Coach Z—says, “then we will have to ground his powers.”
“I can’t prove it,” Coach Lenny responds, sounding exasperated. “She wouldn’t admit what he had done. She’s protecting him.”
I knew he hadn’t believed me.
“That doesn’t change the fact that she didn’t complete the race. How do we know what she can do on a course—”
“She kept up with me during warm-up, damn it!”
Wow, Coach Lenny sounds really upset. Maybe he doesn’t like the idea that a normal girl could run as fast as him. Man, these descendants sure are a bunch of egotistical freaks.
“I was going to keep it at a slower pace,” Coach Lenny explains, “so I didn’t wear her out. But she kept up. So I pushed harder. And she kept up. By the end I was almost running full out and still she kept up. She was barely winded when we stopped. The girl has phenomenal talent, powers or not.”
Wait a minute. He actually sounds impressed.
“Really?”
They both sound impressed.
“Petrolas said she might surprise us, but I’m not sure, Lenny,” Coach Z says. “We still don’t know what she will do under the pressure of competition.”
I almost reveal my presence by shouting, I live for competition! But I don’t think getting in the middle of this conversation is going to help my cause.
“Z, if you’re not convinced then give her a trial slot on the team. Let her show us what she can really do in a race when no one zaps her laces together.”
There is a long, painful silence. I can picture Coach Z sitting there thinking, rubbing his big potbelly while he decides whether or not I’m worth a shot.
I am holding my breath. If he doesn’t answer soon I’ll probably pass out, and then they’ll find me in a heap outside their door.
“All right,” he finally says and I suck in oxygen. “She can train with the team and she’ll run in our first meet. If she doesn’t place in the top three then she’s out. That fair?”
Fair? Insanely! Because even though everyone else may have godly powers, I haven’t placed lower than second in . . . well, ever.
“Great,” Coach Lenny says, sounding very happy. “Let’s go announce the team.”
I turn and take off at a dead run for the locker room. I am just taking my place in the back corner of the room when the coaches walk in. It is a major struggle not to break into a massive grin. Adara glares at me from across the room, but I can’t even muster a scowl.
“Everyone, may I have your attention, please.” Coach Z thumps his clipboard against his leg until everybody quiets down and looks at him. “The team roster will be as follows . . .”
As he starts to read off names by event, I glance at Coach Lenny. He is looking at me with a proud smile on his face. I give him a beaming smile. I can’t help it, even if it gives away my eavesdropping.
He smiles back. Then he cups a hand over his ear like someone listening at a door and winks at me.
I laugh out loud. Man, you can’t get away with anything at this school.
“How was your first day?” Mom asks as I fly into the house and let my backpack drop on the floor with a thud.
She is sitting at the dining table with magazines spread out in front of her. They are all wedding magazines. She has months to plan, so I don’t know why she’s obsessing.
“Long,” I answer before heading to the kitchen for my traditional after workout snack: Gatorade and a PowerBar.
Only we don’t have either.
“Oh, I forgot to tell you,” Mom says. “Hesper goes to the market on Serifos once a week. She’ll get what you need on Friday.”
Closing my eyes, I wonder what she’ll forget to tell me next? First, the whole immortal thing. Now, the once-a-week grocery shopping thing. Maybe next I’ll find out Alexander the Great is coming back to life and bringing his army to dinner.
“Whatever.”
I slam the refrigerator door shut and head back to the living room to grab my backpack. What I need right now is a refuge from life. I really wish there was a lock on my bedroom door.
“What were your classes like?” she asks. “Do you like your teachers?”
“They’re okay.”
“What about the students? Did you make any friends?”
“A couple.”
“What god do they belong to?” Her voice takes on that professional analyst tone. “Damian tried to describe the social dynamics of the school, but I’d like to hear your—”
“Just drop it, okay? I’ve got a ton of work to do.” I want to stomp off to my room, but my thirst gets the better of me. I drop my backpack and go get a glass of water—from the tap. Is bottled water too much to ask for?
“Honey, I know this is a lot to face all at once.”
“I’m fine. So there’s no Gatorade. I’ll dehydrate like a normal person, all right.”
She looks a little hurt, but that was pretty much what I was going for. Everything about this situation is great for her and crappy for me.