Considering the twelve dynamotheos powers, I expect just one more obstacle. No big deal. I’m in the homestretch.
When I round a bend in the course and find myself up against a solid wall, I stop in my tracks.
In my mind I can see the wall perfectly. It’s tall, maybe ten or twelve feet, spans the entire width of the path and into the woods beyond, and is completely smooth. Focusing my powers, I search for a foothold or a rope or anything that will get me over. Nothing. It might as well be a wall of ice.
Maybe my mental image is wrong. Maybe it’s not as tall as I think.
I walk forward until I’m about a foot away, bend down, and jump as high as I can, reaching for a ledge to grab onto.
My body smacks full-on into the wall. As I slide back down to the ground, I wonder how on earth I’m supposed to get over this obstacle.
“You can’t defeat this obstacle so easily,” Stella says from somewhere to my left. “Even if we removed the blindfold, you couldn’t succeed through physical means alone.”
“This is the ultimate test,” Adara adds. “You can only get through by using your powers.”
What on earth does that mean? Before I can ask them to explain, I feel a soft breeze and know that they’re gone.
Okay. I can figure this out. I’ve made it this far trusting nothing but my powers—and my sense of self-preservation. Surely getting over a wall can’t be that hard.
“It’s not about going over the wall,” a distant-yet-familiar voice whispers within my mind. “Feel the victory inside you, Phoebester.”
Dad?
That is not possible. I give my head a brain-rattling shake. I must be suffering from sensory deprivation after being blindfolded so long. My subconscious is playing tricks on me. That’s all.
“Come on,” Adara shouts from the far side of the wall. “We have to start camp soon. I’d hate to leave you out here on the course.”
She grunts, like someone just elbowed her in the gut.
“We believe in you, Phoebe,” Stella says. “You just have to believe in yourself.”
I roll my eyes behind the blindfold. As if that’s not a cheesy, movie-of-the-week line. Still, I want to finish this course. To prove that I can handle anything they throw at me—the counselors and the gods.
“Okay,” I say to myself. “Think this through. If there’s no way around the wall. And I’m not about to make it over the wall. Then there’s only one other option . . .”
Suddenly I know exactly what I have to do.
I managed it that night on the beach, when my emotions took the reins, and on the cross-country course the other day. Now I just need to use my mind to achieve the same result consciously.
Placing my palms to the wall, I picture myself on the other side. I focus all my energy on having gotten myself through the expanse of two-by-fours. My mind shuts out all other stimuli. No sounds, no touches, no tastes, no smells. Just me, on the other side of this wall.
The hairs on the back of my neck stand up.
Someone’s arms wrap around me.
“You did it!” Stella shouts. “Omigods, you were so awesome!”
I reach up and rip off the blindfold. Sure enough, I’m on the other side of the wall, at the end of the obstacle course. Stella’s hugging me and shouting. Adara crosses her arms over her chest and smiles smugly. As if she’s the reason I made it through. Xander is clapping and smiling.
“We knew you would make it, Phoebola.”
Twisting out of Stella’s embrace, I turn to find Mom and Damian standing off to the side. Looking as proud as I’ve ever seen them.
I run into Mom’s arms. “You’re not supposed to get home until tonight.”
“When Damian told me what they were going to put you through this morning,” she says, squeezing me close, “I insisted we catch an earlier flight so we could be here to share in your triumph.”
She sounds so certain, like there was never a doubt that I would make it through this obstacle course. I was never that sure.
“I’m glad you’re here,” I whisper.
As she tucks a loose clump of hair behind my ear, she says, “It killed me to be so far away while you were struggling.” She smiles painfully. “But you’re such a strong, independent girl, I knew you needed to process this on your own.”
“I know.” Besides, it’s not like she could have helped me or anything. This is kind of beyond the realm of her psychoanalytical expertise. And if I’d really needed her, she would have skipped out on her honeymoon in a flash.
I hug her a little tighter.
“Come on,” Damian says, clapping a hand to my shoulder. “Let’s go celebrate. I think you can skip camp for today.”