"I definitely can't unlearn whatever I read in here." I wave the record in the air. "Once I know, I'll always know."

The important question is"-he lifts our joined hands and presses mine to his lips-"… what are you really afraid of finding?"

He's right. That's the question. Why am I really holding back?

From what everyone has said about Dad's death, he knowinglyused his powers to help the Charters win the AFC play-offs. That violates a major hematheosrule about using our powers for advancement in the nothosworld. If we didn't have that rule, then hematheoswould control the planet-which wouldn't necessarily be a bad thing, but it wouldn't be fair. He broke a rule and he was punished. That's the bottom line. Right?

But what if it isn't? What if he didn't knowingly break the rule? Or what if he hadn't been given a warning? Or what if he was forced to-

"I think…" I start, but my voice catches in my throat.

Griffin pulls us to a stop, tugs me into his arms, and just holds me. He doesn't say a word, doesn't press me to say anything, just comforts me until I get my emotions under control.

"I think," I finally say around the knot in my throat. "I'm afraid to find out that he was given a choice. That the gods asked him to choose between football and-"

More tears.

Griffin rubs my back in rhythmic circles.

"What if he was forced to pick football or us?" I choke out. "And he picked football?"

"Shhh." Griffin hugs me close, smoothing his hand over my hair and trying to calm me.

"I just…" I stammer between sniffs. "I just don't think I could stand it if I found out he'd been given the choice, and hadn't chosen us."

"Listen to me," Griffin says against my ear. There is nothing that says you have to read the record. Ever."

Damian said pretty much the same thing. But I fed like I should want to know. Like it shouldn't matter what I find. I should want the truth.

"Part of me wants to know, either way. Whatever the record says, knowing is better than not knowing." My voice is muffled against Griffin's chest. "But part of me is afraid." I bite my lip. "Afraid I'll lose the memory of him. That it will be forever changed because I'll always know that I-that I wasn't as important to him as football."

"You know that isn't-"

"No, I don't," I say, my voice tinged with desperation. "He might have made a conscious decision to use his powers in football-that would be bad enough. But what if he didn't knowingly use them? That would be a million times worse."

"I don't set why you-"

"Because that would mean deep down in his soul, football came first."

And what if, deep down in mysoul, running comes first? If my dad couldn't help breaking the rules to win, then I might do the same thing. I might wind up with the same fate.

I can't say that out loud. It's too… possible.

Griffin squeezes me tighter, like he can sense my thoughts. Or at least my emotions. Psychospectionis a welcome power at times like this. I let my tears soak into his shirt. I think we both realize that nothing he could say would make this any better.

Because all I can think is What if I have to spend the rest of my life in fear of crossing that invisible line?That's the scariest thing of all.

Chapter 12

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CORPOPROMOTION


SOURCE: HERMES

The ability to use the body to its fullest extent. This power may manifest as superior stamina, extraordinary healing ability, and athletic talent. Can., depending on thehematheos heritage, result in superior physical grace, rhythm, and affinity for dance. Descendants of Hephaestus lack this power entirely.


DYNAMOTHEOS STUDY GUIDE * Stella Petrolas

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"PHOEBE, WAKE UP." A voice penetrates my dream. Then the owner of the voice shakes me awake. "Dad and Valerie will be home in a few hours and you're going to be late for camp. Get up."

I try burrowing under the comforter, hoping Stella will take the hint and go away. Not that she's ever been one to take hints.

"Don't make me get the ice water," she warns.

I grunt in response.

I want to get back to my dream-in which I not only win the Pythian trials tomorrow, but also the Pythian Games andthe Olympics… but all while running underwater. I know, dreams never make sense.

Besides, Stella wouldn't really-

"I warned you," she says, a split seeond before my comforter is jerked away and a splash of freezing water hits my forehead.

Bolting up, I shout, "Are you insane?" Wiping at the water before it can trickle down to my neck and other sensitive areas, I give her my best you'd-better-run glare. "You can give a person a heart attack doing that."

"Stop being so dramatic." She holds the still-half-full glass over me. "Now get out of bed before I dump the rest on you."

She disappears before I can even begin to think of ways to murder her and hide the body.

Well, I'm fully awake now-my dream is out of reach-so I swing myself out of bed. It wasn't the ice water that jolted me awake so much as the reminder that Mom and Damian are getting home today.

Though I could be relieved that Damian is about to be home and can help me train, I'm terrified, even though he said it could happen at any time. I felt pretty certain the gods wouldn't spring the test on me while Damian was off the island. With his return comes the looming reminder that I'm going to be tested, and soon. Summer solstice is only days away.

As I splash water on my face, my stomach is full of butterflies. What kind of test will it be? Will I be able to figure out it's the test before I fail miserably? And what really will happen if I fail? I'm picturing me chained to a boulder while a giant eagle pecks out my liver when Stella opens the bathroom door.

"You're not even dressed," she points out.

Not willing to dignify her statement by turning around, I give her reflection a look that says, Duh.

"Hurry up already," she says, giving me the speed-it-up gesture. "I don't want to be late today."

Rather than point out that shedoesn't have to be late, even if I am-since when does she wait for me?-I ask, "What's the rush? Why are you so excited about today?"

"No reason," she says. But I see the twinkle in her eye.

She's up to something.

"Be on the front porch in five," she says. "Or I'm zapping you to camp, dressed or not."

As if the butterflies in my stomach weren't bad enough, now they're swirling up a storm at the thought of what she has cooked up for today. I can only imagine it will end in my total embarrassment-as always.

But, since my getting zapped into the middle of camp in my smiley-face boxers would mean certain humiliation, I speed up my routine and beat Stella to the front porch by a good thirty seconds.

"Are you going to tell me what's going on?" I ask as we descend the steps and head toward school.

"I don't think so," she says. "I like keeping you on your toes."

When we pass by the turn for the front entrance, I ask, "I thought we were meeting in the courtyard today?"

"We were." She smiles cryptically. "Plans change."

We round the back of the school, where Adara and Xander are waiting. Adara looks annoyed. Xander looks… well, also annoyed, but that's how he always looks.

There are no little campers around.

"What's going on?" I ask nervously. One or two of the ten-year-olds are always early. "Where is everyone else?"

"They'll be here later," Stella explains. "At ten."

"At ten?" I look for my watch, only to find my wrist empty. "I thought it was ten."

"It's eight," Adara says, crossing her arms across her chest.

Spinning on Stella, I ask, "Why am I here two hours early?"

Xander, silent until now,. steps forward. "This is my idea."

"We think this might help you take your powers control to the next level." Stella explains.

They are being intentionally vague and evasive. I'm immediately on guard. If this were some simple exercise, they'd just tell me without all the dramatic suspense. "What is 'this' exactly?"