Goddess Boot Camp(59)

Score one for Nicole. She always has my back.

“Why did you think the truth would hurt me?” I ask.

“What do you mean?”

“You asked her not to tell me,” I explain. “You said you didn’t want me to get hurt.”

“No, that wasn’t about Dara.” He turns completely serious. “You know that research project Nic’s been working on?”

I nod.

“She’s been trying to find a loophole in our parents’ punishment decree.”

“Wow.” I’m breathless. “Can you do that?”

“There have been a few cases.” He gives me a sad smile. “But it’s very rare.”

Rare, but not impossible. My mind floods with possibilities. If there was a way to undo an Olympic decree, then Griffin could get his parents back. Nicole’s parents could be un-banished. Dad could get un-smoted.

“Omigods, Griffin,” I gasp, overwhelmed with hope. “Do you know what this means? This means we could all—”

“No,” he says, cutting me off. “This is why I didn’t want to tell you what she’s trying to do. This is a one-in-a-billion long shot. The gods are as unyielding as they are fickle, if that makes any sense. They’ve had millennia to hone their skills at writing unbreakable decrees. The chance that they messed up in one of ours—” He shakes his head. “I don’t want to get your hopes up, just to see you get hurt all over again.”

His blue eyes are full of the same pain I felt at losing Dad. More, since he lost both his parents at once. But at the same time, deeper than the pain is his love for me. I don’t know how I let myself believe that wasn’t there.

And because of my love for him, I won’t push the issue right now.

“We can talk about this some other time,” I say. Relaxing in his arms, I snuggle my head against his neck. “Right now I’m too busy trusting you to think about anything else.”

I feel the rumble of his laugh against my chest.

I know he is dead serious about protecting me, about keeping me from pain. I also know that I can’t let this go forever. I’m not so dumb that I don’t realize what a crazy impossibility this loophole thing is. If there is a chance, though—even the teeny, tiniest, slimmest chance in history—for any of us to get back our lost parents, then I have to pursue that chance.

For now, I’ll hang back and let him and Nicole take the lead, helping when I can. But I’ll follow this through to the end.

However long it takes.





CHAPTER 10




CORPOPROTECTION



SOURCE: HESTIA



The ability to protect oneself from harm, whether seen or unseen. In some hematheos, this may manifest as the ability to sense impending danger. Others may be capable of deflecting a direct physical threat. Effectiveness diminished by mental distraction.



DYNAMOTHEOS STUDY GUIDE © Stella Petrolas





TANSY IS WAITING at the cross-country starting block when Griffin and I walk up the next morning. She’s wearing a tank top, supershort running shorts, and a pair of sneakers that look older than me. She’s also wearing a headband and matching wristbands in a very eighties white with blue stripes. Oblivious to our approach, she’s busy stretching. But not normal stretching—superexaggerated stretching, like a cartoon or something.

“Is that her?” Griffin whispers.

“Uh-huh,” I whisper back. With a shrug, I add, “She wants to be a runner.”

“She, um . . .” He swallows hard. “Certainly has the outfit down.”

“Don’t laugh.”

“I wouldn’t. Besides,” he says, “if she starts training with us, she’s gonna need those sweatbands.”

With a grateful smile, I take his hand and slip my fingers through his.

Tansy finally notices us approaching.

“Hi, Phoebe,” she calls out, waving excitedly. “Griffin, right?”

“Yeah,” he says, nodding. “I hear you want to be a runner.”

Her green eyes flick to me and back to him. With a breathless, dreamy voice, she says, “More than anything.”

I remember that kind of desperate wanting. If my dad had asked me the same question eight years ago, I would have replied in exactly the same way. For maybe a little bit of the same reason. More than anything—more than love of the sport or desire to win or the rush of endorphins—I wanted to be close to him. To be like him.

“Let’s get started, then,” I say, slipping off my hooded sweatshirt and hanging it on the drinking fountain. “Since this is your first training session, I think we should start out easy. Don’t want to kill you on your first day.” To Griffin, I suggest, “Why don’t we take the yellow course.”