Stomping after her, I’m about ready to unleash my tirade when I catch sight of her eyes. They’re all red. And full of tears.
That stops me in my tracks.
If she’s so mad at me, why is she crying?
“No,” she interrupts before I can say anything. “You listen to me, Phoebe Castro. We both know you’re not my favorite person on this island, but I’m going to put that aside for the sake of someone I care about very much.” She takes a deep breath, like she’s composing herself, before saying, “What you are doing to Griffin is awful.”
“What I’m doing to him?” I shake my head. “I’m not doing anything—”
“You’re breaking his heart.”
I freeze, midsentence. My mouth drops open. It’s not just what she said, but how her voice cracks as she says it. Had anyone asked me fifteen seconds ago, I would have sworn up and down on a stack of gold medals that Adara Spencer was incapable of actual human emotion.
“You’ve ignored his e-mails and dodged his phone calls. He tried to catch you at home half a dozen times this weekend. He’s been running every beach on this island hoping to find you.”
I actually back up a step, shocked by the emotion in her outburst and by what she’s telling me.
“I’m only going to say this once,” she says quietly. “So listen up. Griffin Blake is head over heels about you. He would never treat you the way you’ve been treating him.” Her voice drops another notch, so low I have to lean in to hear. “He would never doubt you.”
“I don’t—” I almost say that I don’t doubt him, but that’s not true. Over the past few days I’ve proven over and over that I do. Not that my doubts are unfounded. “You’re right. I—I don’t trust him.”
“He doesn’t deserve that.”
What about me? What do I deserve? Lies and deception?
“Then why won’t he tell me what you two have been doing together?”
Adara’s gaze is unwavering. “Because I asked him not to.”
Doesn’t that confirm my doubts?
“Not because there’s anything to conceal from you in particular.” She tucks her blonde hair behind her ears. “Because I don’t want anyone to know what I’m going through.”
“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-upside-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 edict from 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.”